He's going to die! Lady Kyla screamed in her mind, since screaming out loud would probably get her killed. Like most things. And if he doesn't, I'm going to kill him.
She had followed the Domrae boy since he had left Hyrbn. It appeared he would follow a northwestern route as to skirt the Bay of Muth and then angle back east toward the kingdom's capital, Elafino. And at his current pace, he would arrive sometime next year.
The average man could cover the distance between Hyrbn and Haimlant's capital, in some four weeks traveling off the trails as Masis was. In far less time if the person went on the roads, perhaps a fortnight. If the boy had been able to travel by what those fools, the mages, called the lines, he would have arrived in the capital in less than a day.
She growled, clawing her fingers in front of her eyes. How by Manu could he be the one?!
Both Werold and Wilo remained silent, but she could have sworn a faint chuckle tickled at the back of her mind. It was easy for them to laugh. They did not have the task of turning this mewling stripling into the savior of Haimlant.
At this rate, the fool of a boy would finish off his supplies some fifty miles from the nearest settlement and from what she had seen from his general morale would more likely lie down and wait for death than hunt for more food.
After a few days, Lady Kyla held very little hope for the boy.
At times, tears would burst from him and he would spend half the morning wrapped in his bedroll, shaking as sobs came again and again, to gag out his mouth. Other times, he would sit atop his horse, eyes vacant, and hardly direct the beast, passing sights that Kyla knew would have fully arrested his attention less than a week ago. His lifelight, tarnished with despair, appeared more like a mud puddle—sludge-like—than that burnished star it once was.
Kyla could well imagine, glaring at the boy's absent expression, how the past kept pulling him inward, downward. Like a whirlpool, she pictured it dragging the Domrae whelp under memory's turbulent surface, drowning all rational thought with sadness and guilt.
Those two pesky emotions could destroy a person. Lady Kyla knew that fact all too well. After she had killed her son, that duo had tried to take her. Tried to rob her of purpose. Of the last traces of her humanity. She had killed them too.
She shivered as an image of her son, cradled in her arms, life draining from his body, surfaced in her mind. He had smiled at her through the pain and thanked her. Thanked her for killing him. For freeing him. He had thanked his own mother for ending his life.
Her eyes pricked. Enough! Kyla thought, clenching her teeth. Enough.
A twig snapped, pulling her attention back to Masis. When had she stopped watching him? She grimaced, not able to answer the question.
Masis' horse had misstepped, snapping a branch. Of a sudden, his eyes filled with consciousness and then sharp confusion as he glanced around him. His expression drooped as a memory glazed his eyes again, tears leaking pathetically down his cheeks.
His emotions ruled him. Kyla would break him of that. First, she had to stoke the fires within him again.
Kyla sniffed, frowning. And then the real work will begin.
At this point, Kyla had kept a running tabulation of everything Masis would have to improve on.
First and foremost among them: awareness. Even when not befuddled by grief, he did not pay enough attention to his surroundings. Not the terrain. Not the lay of the land. Nothing. All these things determined how one would best engage an enemy. Scents, even his nose could have detected—the hint of some rotting carcass, the rank of fox scat—clearly did not register with him. Tracks went unnoticed—both animal and human. Smoke curling up from amongst the trees a league off failed to leave an impression.
Though Werold and Wilo may have picked him, she still had her doubts. He was green, in need of seasoning, and though his family's death had served to start the process, her ministrations would either finish it or finish him.
In this there existed no middle ground. For him or her.
Trust us. Wilo's soothing presence and voice filled Kyla's mind.
She sighed, perturbed that doubt died at his and his wife's presence. We're running out of time.
Time is infinite, little one, Werold said. There is no way to run out of it.
Frowning, Kyla peered out from behind a tree as the Domrae boy headed toward her. You know what I mean. The wighties killed a duke, a Forest Lord. They're escalating. They have a plan and I cannot see their endgame. We might have already lost and not known it.
Peace, child, chided Wilo. We are very aware of what is at stake.
Then why didn't you get involved sooner? Kyla asked, fingers digging into the bark. Why did you let me wander across all Haimlant for four centuries before intervening? Why? Why now and not then?
Her son's face again rose from her memories' depths. She hissed, swallowing back a sob. Every time they came, so did her pain. Every time. She both needed and hated their nearness.
We did not know. Werold's sad response was so faint, Kyla almost shook it away as some passing fancy.
What do you mean you didn't know?! Kyla nearly scoffed out loud. You're gods. You know everything.
Silence. Her mind lay still without a ripple. The clip-clop of hooves drew her back to Masis, as he passed her position.
Manu, our wayward Child, said Wilo, his voice heavy as though with tears, hid them from us. She still does. You well know how deceitful she can be.
Kyla ran her tongue over the tips of her canine teeth, as she moved to follow Masis through the underbrush. She tried not to think about Manu. Such thinking only distracted her with more pesky feelings.
It wasn't for some time until we realized the damage she had and was causing, said Werold, her voice subdued. Worse was the day when we saw what her actions would lead to. When we did, we immediately sought to correct our Daughter's evil.
And what did you do? Kyla asked.
We brought the boy into being, answered Wilo, and then you to him.
Kyla was still. The gods had chosen her. Obviously, they had chosen her. They had directed her to Haimlant and then the boy, for Manu's sake. But to have it put so bluntly to her, from deity no less, made the absolute absurdity of the situation crash upon her. She had made a deal with Manu, sold off more than half her lifelight to that demon, effectively transforming her into a half-mad animal of a woman, and here she was supposed to shape a hero out of this near-constant blubbering boy.
She picked up another twig, rot-riddled, and snapped it between her hands. Masis did not react. She groaned. Prospects did not look good.
Have faith, daughter, Wilo said, withdrawing.
Kyla looked skyward. Faith in what?
That all good can be accomplished, said Werold, departing as well.
Kyla huffed. Easy for you to say.
Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders. She had work to do.
Her feet, always barefoot, tested the ground, as they habitually did. Firm. Slightly muddy. Moist. She tested the air. Some smoke still lingered from that distant campfire. In her mindeye, nothing bigger than a squirrel revealed itself. The forest, quiet, lazy, on a cool summer day held no immediate threats, but that could change in an instant.
Dashing after the boy, Kyla grimaced immediately after catching up to him. The fool had built a fire. Anyone near would either see or smell it. One more thing to train out of him.
Circling his temporary camp, Kyla watched as Masis ate his simple fare. His movements sluggish. His senses ignored. He sat, his back against a fern-encrusted log, staring into the flames, mouth working with no savor. His body no longer held its rigid properness. His neck sagged from its former etiquette. Her scrutiny did not even draw his attention as it had in the past.
She stepped out into the open, deliberately cracking and crunching sticks and foliage.
He spun.
At least he isn't entirely gone, she thought, smiling. She slipped back into the persona she had assumed when they had first met, a woman of subtle mystery and innuendo. The kind of human that twisted her insides with disgust. A perfect disguise.
Masis' eyes focused on her after a moment. Recognition sharpened them two seconds later.
Too slow, tsked Kyla, marking a tally against him.
"I know you," he said, slowly rising.
"Do you?" Kyla asked, grinning. "Yes, we might have met each other once before. I do travel quite a bit." Her smile stayed tactically fixed in place.
Masis suddenly flinched away, covering his Shadow brand with a hand.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Unwilling to use fear, thought Kyla, the corners of her mouth tightening. She made yet another mental tally against him. That needs to change.
"I saw your fire and thought you might like to share it with me."
"And why would you want to share anything with a person like me?" Masis asked, his words clipped.
Two weeks certainly had worked the bitter poisons of loss and isolation quickly into him.
That could be useful, Kyla thought, tilting her head in consideration.
"A person like you?" she asked, coloring her words with feigned confusion. "Are you a thief that will try to rob me of more than just my money?" A provocative slant of her eyes accompanied the question.
Face quivering, Masis turned toward her fully, exposing his mark. His lifelight brightened as well in Kyla's mindeye. "Do you not see what I am?"
"You look to be a lad of about twenty and by all appearances I am a woman of about thirty. It's not too far beyond the realm of possibilities that you, like most of your sex, would like to share a bit more than your fire with me." Her face had all the earmarks of offering, of invitation.
Disbelief drew his eyebrows downward. Or was it confusion? He seemed frozen with one of the two.
Losing her alluring mannerisms, Kyla straightened, glad to let the greasy seductress go. At least, he has some control unlike many of his gender, she thought, reluctantly marking a tally for the lad.
"Who are you?" he asked, his face still constricted.
"Yes, I suppose I didn't introduce myself the last time we met."
"So, we have met," he said, triumphantly though subdued.
"Yes. Briefly. Near your home."
"My home," he said, his voice becoming distant. "I have no home."
Self-pity. Inwardly scowling, she added another mark to the 'against' column. So far, the boy was losing miserably.
"What do you want?" he asked, keeping his face's unsullied side slightly more angled toward her.
"A bit of warmth from your fire and perhaps a drink of water. Nothing more. There are no streams nearby." She lied. She had passed a stream not even a league back.
Turning from her, he went to his horse's saddle bags.
Giving his back to someone he doesn't know. Tick. Yet another mark against him. Oh, Wilo, give me patience...
He dug into the bag, searching for his waterskin. Something he brushed made him pause. He withdrew a heavy-laden leather pouch, jingling with the smell of silver.
Kyla let her eyes close with pained deliberateness, forgetting her tally entirely. How could he be so foolish? He was asking to die. That much silver would slit his throat.
"Best be careful with that much silver," she said. "It's liable to draw some attention if you go showing it off to every passing stranger."
He shoved the pouch back into the saddle bag, withdrawing the waterskin a moment later.
"Drink your fill," he said, tossing it to her. "There's more than enough water in Asthurn to have to worry."
"True, very true," she said, before taking a long pull. "And thank you kindly. Not many would be so kind to a stranger, what with the night wights roaming this far east these days."
She extended the waterskin back toward him with a smile.
He did not take it.
Face cold and lifeless, he trudged back to his fire. He plopped back down onto the log where he had been sitting, his breath rushing out as he slumped back into place.
Good, she thought. His first reaction was not anger. That earned another tally for him. So far, he had a few in his favor and...well, she had lost count of how many he had against him.
She gasped, her hand coming to her mouth in faux shock. "I'm so sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I'd heard of what happened to your family, but I didn't think...I don't think sometimes...this tongue of mine is always getting me into trouble."
Her words ceased, but it made no change with Masis. His form sagged in on itself. In her mind's eye his lifelight, almost as bright as Wilo himself, flickered, collapsing inward. It oozed up only to sink back inward, cycling like bog water. Its colors muted; its brilliance subdued. Having had observed him ecstatic and generally content and now morbidly despondent, she wondered what he would become, what would flare to life in him if anger or passion stoked his inner fire.
"So, you know who I am," he said, his face turned toward the dirt, his eyes unfocused.
"Yes," Kyla confirmed, nodding. "I knew who you were even before you told me that day at the stream."
"Seems so long ago." He shook himself, expression tightening. "But who are you? The first time we met you disappeared like a hounded doe."
"Yes, I can be abrupt. Bad habit of mine, I suppose." As her words ended, his eyebrows raised, silently repeating his query. "You may call me Kyla. Simply Kyla."
"What do you want with me?"
"Want with you? I don't want..."
"It might have been a coincidence the first time," he said, cutting her off, "but a second supposedly chance encounter in the woods can hardly be considered random."
Another tick for the boy. Maybe there is hope, she thought. Maybe. Best not try to balance too much too early on expectation's fragile and precarious peak.
"I've traveled to many places," said Kyla, stepping up to the fire, her hands extending toward its warmth. "I meet many people and see them any amount of times. Why do you think I have any particular reason for seeing you again?"
"I might not be the brightest person in the world, but I would like to think my parents," – drawing a shuddering breath – "taught me to know what is and isn't coincidence."
His lifelight flared in a single aggressive burst, before it immediately settled back into its dormant state. Not as quite subdued though, simply waiting for more fuel.
There's the fire I need, she thought, unconsciously touching the pouch on her belt.
"It's not so much what I want," she replied, casually, "but rather what you want."
"What I want?" he asked. "What is it that I want?"
"You can't tell me? There isn't something you want more than anything else? Something you would sacrifice everything for, even your own life, to get?"
Silence. A bird flitted by, twittering away carefree. Kyla tracked it in her mindeye, its lifelight ebullient. Masis' eyes never left the fire.
"It's impossible. Even if I did give everything," he said. Then in a hoarse whisper, "I have nothing left to give."
"But what is it?" asked Kyla, her voice becoming dangerously excited, almost crazed. "Voice it aloud. Give it life."
Though still distant, Masis' face hardened. "To see every last wightie dead." The period on the end of that statement could be felt sealing it into existence.
Kyla nearly trembled with a feral hunger, barely keeping herself from licking her lips. Images of nightlings torn to pieces, unraveling into trailing smoke, like the two she had had to dispatch less than a fortnight ago, bled into her mind. Masis' next words instantly soured her deliciously violent thoughts.
"But it's impossible. There is no way to kill a night wight."
"What if there were a way?" asked Kyla, not all her eager violence gone. "What then? What would you do then?"
Masis shook himself, a bitter chuckle barking from his mouth. "The next thing you'll be telling me is that there is a way. Something magical that will kill them all. Let me guess you have it in that pouch of yours. The one you keep fingering."
Throwing her cloak over the pouch, she chastised herself, lips puckering. I told you you had to stop doing that. Begrudgingly, she marked another tally for the boy. Then placed one against herself.
"Just imagine though," she said, though more subdued. "For one moment allow yourself to believe that night wights can be exterminated. What would you give to see it happen? What wouldn't you give to be a part of it?"
His back straightened with some of his former nobility, but his eyes had none of their former gentleness, especially his right, the dark edging seemingly sucking it all away.
"I'd give all to have just one die by my hand." His voice was dead, ageless. The sound one might hear when cracking open a crypt, the air hissing from its confines. The nobility drained from his spine. His eyes fell earthward. "Foolish. That kind of thinking is just foolish. It can't be done. It never will be done. And it is pointless to think about."
Grinding her teeth together, Kyla nearly slapped the child before her. Every time she got the fire of vengeance going, he doused it with a heaping bucket of pessimism and doubt. How was she supposed to work with someone like that?
A faint chuckling from Wilo brushed her consciousness as if to say 'now, you know how we feel.'
Kyla's face flattened as she rolled her eyes skyward. I'm not that bad.
Werold joined Wilo in his laughter.
All Kyla could do was silently harrumph sullenly.
More laughter tickled the back of her mind.
"What if I were to tell you there was a way?" she asked Masis, ignoring Werold and Wilo's merriment at her expense. "What if I had the means to kill night wights?"
"I'd call you crazy," he said, pausing. "But I'd ask you how anyway."
Glancing about as the wind rustled the underbrush, Kyla stilled the remainder of her fidgety energy. "You know your history, do you not?"
"History?" he asked, his eyes traveling up to hers, dumbfounded. "That's a bit of a broad question. Would you mind at least limiting that to a particular century?"
"By the kingdom's calendar it would be between 500 and 2000."
Kyla watched as the cogs caught in his mind. A second later, a hoarse croak caught in Masis' throat and then ripped itself free—a hollow laugh, like food in the mouth of one who cannot taste.
"The Warden?" he asked, incredulously. "That's your grand plan? That's how you're going to kill the night wights? By resurrecting a legend that has been dead for over four hundred years?"
Again, he burst out laughing, uncontrolled, near frantic.
Kyla's face was flat, a rock letting waves of laughter beat on it without a flinch.
And wave after wave of laughter vomited from the boy, clogging his throat with undigested humor. Gagging on it, his expulsions nearly strangled him as they became sobs. He doubled over and swallowed back the emetic comedy, now retching out tears.
Lady Kyla stood with unsympathetic stillness, watching as each new tear and gasp erupted from him. He had to work the despair and melancholy out sometime. Better now than later.
With time his tears dried and his gasps ceased. His body slumped forward. Kyla forgotten. His food discarded.
Kyla remained by the stone encircled coals. Had she been so weak after killing her son? Four hundred years may have distorted her memory to a degree, but she could not have been this incapacitated with grief.
"I could give you your revenge," she whispered, hungrily. She dropped into a crouch. "I can give you that moment. That moment where you watch that green-eyed witch die."
Before her, Masis did not move. If he had not been breathing, one would think him dead. His chest rested on his legs as he stayed doubled at the waist. Both hands covered his face.
All about them the forest stilled. No movement. No sound. It was as if the wood had taken a giant breath and held it.
"How did you know it was her?" he whispered, though she still heard him easily.
She stiffened. Her body quivered with shock. How could she have let herself be so careless?
Stupid, she thought, scolding herself. Still she had to give him a tally.
Reflexively, she smothered her lifelight. A sharp burning raced through her entire frame, like cupping a coal tightly between her hands. No one—not night wight nor Awakened person—could See her lifelight now. Cloaking herself from his eyes as well, she leapt back amongst the foliage in a single bound. Landing as light as a leaf, she concealed herself behind a maple.
From his body's attitude, Kyla knew Masis had not detected her flight.
His head snapped up. "How did you...."
Words trickling away, like the last few drops of water in a pitcher, he rose to his feet. Hesitating in his actions, his eyes, wild for a clue of her passing, scanned the forest. No effort he made would find her. Human eyes simply could not compete with a bargain struck with Manu.
His face hardened. "How did you know it was her?!"
The green wood devoured the screamed words. But not quickly enough for Kyla.
Control, she thought, marking a tally against him. He has to learn control.
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*