Post by Solana on Aug 19, 2014 17:07:13 GMT -5
Chapter Eighteen- Crossroads
What to do? Have you lost your way? When that happens we each have to take a good long look at our selves. There's always something in the deepest reaches of our hearts. Something buried, or something forgotten. Remember it... Whatever that is, must certainly be what you are all looking for...
Bugenhagen, Final Fantasy VII
Once through the Hasan Pass, Aryn figured it would only be a short ride over the Shenioka Plains to the Crystal Citadel. The three women stopped for lunch in the foothills of the Great Simbel Range, and Aryn was grateful for one more rest in the lovely mountains that had given her birth and life. Spreading out to the north like a never ending afghan of countless greens and golds were the beautiful plains, though the Crystal Citadel itself was not in sight yet.
A small cooking fire was quickly built, and Aryn used it to toast some of the nomad-style bread and cheese for her companions and passed out the mutton jerky. She had saved the good stuff from her home kitchens for herself, and sat down to take an enormous bite of toasted peppered bread. She closed her eyes in bliss, savoring the richly spicy flavor. Man, there was just nothing in the universe like the tastes from home-
"Aryn, look out!" Nessa shrieked.
"Huh?" Aryn asked, opening her eyes slowly, then yelled in surprise as a seagull (seagull?!) nearly divebombed her. Something cream-colored fluttered from its beak onto the ground, just missing the fire. The bird snatched up Aryn's piece of bread right out of her hand before landing on a rock. It watched her as it started to peck at the purloined prize.
For a moment, Aryn was too stunned to act, but that didn't last long. "What- hey, you thief! Give that back!" she demanded, drawing her sword. "That was mine! So unless you wanna be roasted rotissierie-style..."
Nessa had gone over to where the seagull had dropped something, and picked up what proved to be a rolled-up piece of paper. She quickly noted the signature at the bottom. "Lady Aryn, you should look at this first."
The Fire Guardian accepted it and began to read, but kept her sword in one hand. Her hazel eyes grew huge as she also noted the signature. "This is...Solana's handwriting! How the hell did she pull this off?"
"What's it say?" Nessa asked eagerly, trying to read it. Trista glanced up, then back down quickly, seemingly concentrating on her supper.
Aryn tried to smooth out some of the crinkles to make it clearer. "She and Joshua are on the Tethys right now, and they wanna meet up with us in the Ayadoia Glade near the Citadel. Sounds like Raoul and Eziban are okay and relatively close." A twisted grin appeared. "Hey, she got her power back, too! This is great! If the boys also did, then Bachlan will be extra screwed!"
"Yes...great..." Trista mumbled unnoticed, eyes still on her meal.
Aryn glanced at the seagull happily devouring her treat, then shook her head in defeat and sheathed her blade. "I guess you earned it, little one. Enjoy," she said. The seagull cocked its head at her, as if to make it obvious that it had intended to do just that. Aryn unhooked the canteen from her belt and held it high. "This calls for a toast, right? To stubborness, and the fall of Bachlan!"
Nessa raised her canteen as well. "Hear, hear!"
Trista finally looked up and glowered at the younger Guardian. "You little child. Do you really think that just defeating Bachlan will make everything better?"
"Well, if the alternative is this 'Great Rebirth' mumbo-jumbo, then yeah. We can worry about everything else later," Aryn answered, sitting back down to continue her meal.
But Trista was far from placated by such an easy answer. "What if things were more complicated than that?" she demanded, hands trembling on her bowl. "What if there were...extra factors?"
Aryn laughed, waving that line of thought away carelessly. "After our little trip, I don't think Bachlan can throw much at us that will be a surprise." She tucked Solana's note into her nearby pack and regarded Trista seriously. "Trista, our job is to go and take down the bad thing before it takes down our people. In a few days, it'll all be over."
Trista suddenly slammed her bowl down and stormed off without another word, tears trickling on her cheeks.
"What did I say this time?" Aryn grumbled, watching her comrade in shock. She debated following her for a few moments, but sometimes it was better to just let Trista cool off in peace. Besides, she had no idea what she was supposed to be apologizing for.
"Lady Aryn, what you said before, is being a Guardian all that simple?" Nessa asked curiously.
Aryn sighed grimly and picked up another piece of toasted bread from the Caldera kitchens to finish off. She shot a warning glare at the seagull before answering, "I said it's our job, Nessa. I sure as blazes didn't say it was simple."
Once out of sight of the camping area, Trista broke into a run, tears flying from her eyes to speckle the dusty rock under her feet. But no matter how far or fast she went physically, she could not outrun her pain. Each step mercilessly echoed Aryn's words in her head like a doomed prophecy.
In a few days, it'll all be over...
...it'll all be over....
...it'll all be over...
Aryn was right, as much as she hated to admit it. In a few days, Bachlan could be dead at the hands of those who had sworn to serve him. Or Merna would be at the hands of her main protector. No matter what happened, one of the things she loved most in life would be gone. It was time, past time, to finally make a decision.
Trista made it to the little clearing where the nomad ponies were grazing, her gaze going up to the azure skies in desperate need of guidance. The sprawling heavens, always a source of comfort in the past when she had found it nowhere else, were useless to calm her heart now.
Trista shut her eyes with a moan, and Bachlan's face was summoned. That stunned gaze hadn't left her mind in all the days that had passed since he had stolen her power. She had loved Bachlan so much, almost to the point of worship, and loved his vision of what she thought had been looking after Merna. She had dreamt of being by his side, being his queen, ever since that enchanted night on the roof of the Citadel. In his arms, Trista had always felt safe and loved and wanted and respected.
She let out a cynical laugh at how foolish she had been. That vision had now transformed into a nightmare. And now, she was expected to tag along and help destroy this man she had loved for so very long. This man that she knew had loved her too, and was the first one she could ever remember doing so.
The Air Guardian wiped away her tears violently. Now, all the dreams she had had of being by his side lay shattered in a pool of despair. She was alone again, with nothing but the buffets of air around her. "Is that what being a Guardian means?!" she screamed in agony at the silent clouds. "We give up our lives and our loves in the name of 'duty'?! How can I be expected...to destroy the man I love... who saved me...?" Trista sank to her knees, hugging herself and choking back sobs. "No...I can't do this anymore...I just can't..."
But the majestic clouds remained as silent and stoic as always. The breeze played with a few loose wisps of her silver hair as the pony who had carried her so faithfully came to munch on a patch of grass near her. Its swishing tail butted the back of her head, and Trista, momentarily broken out of her misery, looked up at him. The pony trained a single eye on her, let out its breath in a whoosh, and returned to its meal.
Perhaps there was a third path that she had never even considered. She didn't have to go with Aryn and the others to their rendezvous, and didn't have to face Bachlan or the rest of them ever again. She would return the pony to the Tribe of the Hawk, give her thanks to Lady Owl, and search for a new life away from the Guardianship. Maybe she could even recover some of the innocence she had lost after everything she had been through. Aryn probably hated her already, but Solana would maybe understand. Hadn't she done the same?
Trista gathered her share of their supplies and began saddling her pony, carefully tightening the straps under its belly. The pony didn't look happy at having his supper cut short, but allowed her to coax the bit into his mouth. Maybe she could stop at Fief Caldera and give her thanks to Rakaj as well. A decision made at last, she could regret her behavior towards the baron and his healers earlier.
Carefully, she mounted the pony and let out a ragged sigh of relief. Soon she would be free from all of this. It would take a while for her shredded heart to heal, but she had learned to cope in her childhood all too well. She nudged the pony into a southbound trot, following the path that Aryn had been guiding them through that morning. It should be easy enough to backtrack her way to Fief Caldera, and she could get directions there to the best route back to the Tribe of the Hawk.
Lost in these thoughts, Trista came to a crossroads in the steep path and stopped. Did she need to go left or right at this point? Trista bit her lip in thought, then spotted an unusually large oak growing off to the right that she remembered passing that morning. She shifted the reins to direct her pony to go to the right.
"Stop right there, you little brats!"
"Don't let them get away!"
Trista looked up. The sounds seemed to be coming from further down the left-hand road.
"AHH!! I'm scared!"
"Don't worry, I'll protect you!"
Children. Children being chased by brigands of some kind. Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the reins, but she tried to block out the sound. Right, she needed to take the right-bound path to get back to the fief...
"There you are! You can't get away from us now!"
"Please, let us go! We didn't do anything!"
"No, please, I didn't do anything!"
Trista closed her eyes against the memory that came like a cold slap, shoving it back into the distant past where it belonged. Those were supposed to be locked away. She nudged the pony to walk to the right, and he obeyed.
The sound of a whip hissing through the air came to her sensitive ears, as well as a helpless cry of pain. Trista cringed...
...as five more times the whip came down on her back. Each lash burned like fire, and she screamed and begged for mercy. The man wielding it was not moved by her tears, and never had been. "You'll learn, whelp."
"No, please! I'll be good, I'll do whatever you want! Please!"
"Useless! My generosity all these years, and this is how you repay me!"
Even now, thousands of years later, Trista trembled at hearing that voice in her memories. Bachlan had always helped her to keep that evil voice at bay.
Away, she had to get away from this place that awakened memories that had NO PURPOSE in being reawakened. She shifted her foot to give her pony a sharper nudge as more sealed memories rushed forth and past and present seemed to merge into one.
"Now come with us!"
"Obey me!"
"Please, let us go!"
"Please!"
"Help us! Anyone!"
"Help me!"
Trista's eyes snapped open, and with a feral roar she turned the pony around to go onto the left-hand path. The pony went immediately into a gallop, sensing his rider's unbridled rage, and his hooves were soon flying over rock and kicking up clouds of dust.
She followed the noises into a clearing, her bow in her hand and ready. Slung over her shoulder was a quiver packed with her precious collection of arrows, plain and enchanted. Trista collected different types of arrows the way Aryn collected recipes, and many had been magically tweaked by herself, the other Guardians, or other Mernan mages over the millennia.
A small group of brigands had three children cornered in a clearing amongst tall rock monoliths. Most of them were mounted, all were armed with swords or bows, and all were laughing at a terrible sight. One brigand woman had a leather whip in her hand, and a little boy sprawled on the ground in front of her was covered in bleeding slashes and mud. He had been bravely trying to shield two smaller children from any harm.
"LET THEM GO!!!" Trista screamed in fury.
The brigands looked up in horror at the apparition that had appeared out of nowhere. Was this rider with her bow and flashing eyes an angel of death? Those eyes weren't showing any mercy at all, only the remains of tears and pure rage. The archers started fumbling for the longbows on their backs while the others brought out their blades.
Trista used their hesitation to select two arrows, one that had been tweaked by Oriana and another by Joshua. She fired them off simultaneously, and they landed between the brigands and the children. A glowing ring encircled the children that quickly solidified into a powerful magical barrier that also threw off blinding light. The brigands screamed and clapped their hands to their eyes, cursing the mysterious archer. The leader curiously tapped the barrier, then pulled her hand away quickly when it began to sting from the contact.
"You-" she began heatedly as she turned around, then stopped when she realized that Trista had vanished. She drew her scimitar. "She can't have gotten far! Spread out and find the little chit!" she ordered. Her troupe obeyed, kicking their mounts into a frenzied gallop or breaking into sprints.
Trista had ducked behind a rock outcropping, her bow in one hand and an arrow in her teeth as she opened a small pouch at her side. This pouch held a special powder to dip her arrows in to knock out her targets. Deciding that stealth was going to be the way to go against superior numbers and more archers, she had sent the pony safely back to camp during the light flash from Joshua's arrow.
Trista quickly dipped a handful of the obsidian arrows from Nessa's tribe into the powder. Only when each was fully coated did she replace them in her quiver. Returning her bow to her back, Trista then carefully scaled the mass of rock that had served as a hiding place. The sensible nomad clothes were a lot easier to manage than her usual velvets and silks, she noticed with gratitude, and made a note to thank Nessa when possible.
Reaching the top of the rock, she paused to listen for her adversaries. Her breath quieted down to almost nothing as her ears strained.
All too soon, she heard the faint clop, clop of hooves striking rock. Sure enough, two riders were coming her way.
Trista was stretched out flat on top of the rock to stay hidden. She grabbed her bow and put one of the drugged arrows on the string. The riders came closer, completely oblivious to their danger as they only looked off to the sides and in front of them, until Trista spotted an iron helmet glinting in the sun as it passed below her. Luckily, only leather covered the riders' backs. Trista sneered at their tightfistedness as she sighted carefully and released her arrow.
Her target slumped over without even a squeak of surprise. His companion started looking around wildly, trying to spot her, but Trista sent him off to dreamland after his buddy before he could even think to raise an alarm. She then listened closely once more, but the only sound the wind carried to her sensitive ears was that of the horses' confused whickering.
She climbed back down the rock, and gave each horse a firm rap on the flank to gallop to the east. She herself went off to the west, staying under the cover of the monoliths and alert for any noise.
"...did you hear something?" a feminine voice, though not their leader, asked two other brigands. Trista ducked back behind a boulder, cursing. A group of three stood between her and some very good cover to the north, and they didn't look certain whether to move on or stay there. She would have to encourage them to move, or better yet, to split up.
Trista reached into her quiver and pulled out one of Eziban's arrows, this one spelled to reflect off of any type of rock. If the arrowhead encountered any, it would bounce off as if made of rubber and take off in an entirely new direction. This arrow wasn't designed for precision, but was certainly good for a distraction. She raised her bow and sighted off to the northwest for a huge boulder. If this group was as intelligent as their colleagues, the brigands would think she had shot from that direction.
The arrow flew true and hit the boulder squarely, then bounced off and hit a rock to the north before setting off yet again. The group whipped around in a panic, searching for the tiny ricocheting arrow and its archer. "She can't be shooting from all directions! Let's try for the west!" the female ordered.
Another crunching sound was heard as the arrow hit a boulder to their south and shot off yet again. "I don't like it. It's possible that she had some allies lying in wait and approached us by herself to lead us into an ambush," one of the others pointed out.
Trista scowled, now wishing that she had thought to get Aryn and maybe even Nessa for backup. The only thing worse than a stupid opponent was the one who made you look even more stupid by comparison.
The female nodded slowly. "True enough. Fan out, but stay in sight of each other. Maybe the others have seen something."
Damn, that first one's intelligence was spreading like a rash and would have to be dealt with. Luckily, the smart one had chosen to fan out in her direction, and was coming closer and closer. While the other two were still in sight, a distraction might allow her to take this one down and move on before they could pinpoint her location. She'd have to be quick, though.
Trista reached back into her quiver and pulled out the next arrow, then almost dropped it. This one was a stealth arrow, wreathed in a spell that would make anyone who saw it forget that they had done so. It had been made by Bachlan.
A little sob escaped Trista's throat before it could be stopped, and the smart brigand looked up like a hunting terrier, ears cocked for more noise. He started trotting towards her hiding place, a longsword in one hand and leather targe in the other, and a very businesslike look on his face. The other two had noticed his reaction and were turning in their direction to provide backup, one with a raised blade and the other with an arrow on a bowstring already.
Trista didn't have a choice. She grabbed a fire arrow out of her quiver and yanked off one of the leather fringes from her shirt. Using the leather, she bound the fire and stealth arrows together and found a target.
An old, dead tree that had been split asunder by lightning some time ago was located a few dozen yards behind the two brigands. Being careful to stay undercover, she reached around her boulder and fired the arrow straight for the tree.
Aryn's fire was powerful, to say the least. The tree lit up like a centenarian's birthday cake with a loud whoosh! While the two backups turned around in shock, and even the smart one did, Trista grabbed a drugged obsidian arrow and let it fly, and the smart one sagged and finally collapsed. Another arrow took down the other archer. Just as she was firing towards the third brigand, he turned around and blocked the drugged arrow with his blade and shot an evil grin her way.
Enraged, Trista grabbed a handful of arrows and shot them all at once in his direction, but the brigand merely chuckled and dove behind a rock of his own. Moments later, the clear blasts of a horn filled the air in a certain rhythm, likely an alarm and their location.
So much for stealth. Trista ran off to the west as the brigand pursued her, calling out new blasts every few moments. Every time she turned around to fire at him, he got out of sight and let out a fresh call to his comrades, which urged her to keep going. If only she had her essence, that horn would have been useless. Forget it, she would have been able to manipulate the air to make them all pass out in a few moments back in the clearing. Now she felt so...
Helpless? Take away Bachlan, take away your air essence, and you're nothing? Fool, you still have your wits and your bow and the power of your friends in your arrows, and you survived for sixteen years on only one of those!
Trista's eyes narrowed, and she now watched her surroundings more carefully while still running as if only in fear. Far off behind the pursuer came the clatter of more hooves swiftly catching up to them.
Up ahead was a very wide gorge that overlooked a mighty river about thirty feet down, with a massive oak tree growing at its very edge. Trista scrambled up the tree for a sighting advantage and waited with her bow in her hand. Her first pursuer spotted her in the tree and ducked behind another to let out one final call, though his confusion at her location was evident.
Only a few minutes later, two horses arrived, bearing the brigand leader and a mage dressed in dirt brown robes.
Air hissed through Trista's teeth. She hadn't known that they had a mage.
The leader dismounted and drew her scimitar, though was careful to stay out of Trista's bowsight. "You did well, whoever you are. Unfortunately, my men are now conscious and will be here shortly," she began, then waited for a reaction. She got none. "Your archery skills are impressive. How would you like to join us? Obey me and I'll reward you well, starting with the parents of those little brats-"
An arrow thunked the rock next to the leader for a reply, and she jumped back. Her men started to snicker, but were swiftly cut off by an annoyed glare. "Mage, shake our acorn out of the tree and we will deal with her on the ground. Archers are useless close-range," she ordered.
The mage nodded and got a look of concentration on his face. Trista gasped as the ground under the tree began to rumble. She tightly gripped the branch under her with her legs as her hand fished for another arrow. The three brigands were out of her sight, but were not her current target.
Instead, Trista twisted and managed to shoot between the whipping branches of her tree into the river. The arrow tweaked by Solana flashed a bright blue as it touched the water, and the blue glow spread into the river.
Suddenly a piece of it seemed to break away, like a sea serpent of pure water rising up into the air and over the gorge. Hissing, it fell onto the ground and starting sweeping straight towards the brigands.
The fighters yelped while the mage's eyes went wide as he quickly summoned a wind blade to split the water in front of the group. The water pushed them back as the mage kept trying to hold it off, and pushed them away from the protective trees and out into the open.
Trista snagged the opportunity, even with the trembling ground. She sighted and loosed a pair of knockout arrows at the mage, who collapsed. The other two had bolted off to the side and had gotten out of the water's path until it ran out, eventually trickling back to the river from whence it came. The pair of outlaws looked frightened, and the leader seemed to be trying to decide if they should wait for backup or cut their losses and make a run for it. Trista raised her bow again, eager to end that particular dilemma.
The quake spell gave one last heave as its creator lay unconscious, and Trista yelped as the whipping branch under her tore away from her frantic grip and she was sent straight to the ground like a fallen apple. She bounced once, then reflexively rolled away from the gorge's edge as the ground finally calmed down.
"Now!" the leader yelled, that Trista was finally on the ground. She came from one side, the man with her from another, as they both raised their blades to attack.
Trista shifted her grip on her bow towards one of the tips. She ducked the man's swipe at her and struck back with the bow, swinging the metal grip straight at his knee. As he twisted away and brought his sword crashing down at her, Trista removed the pouch of knockout powder from her belt and tossed it straight at his face. He had time for one sneeze before dropping like a stone, probably for more than a month or two.
"Foolish girl!" the leader screamed, lunging at Trista. Trista leaped back, then brought up her bow to block another blow. The leader had gone crazy, swiping with her blade like a sharp and pointy tornado. Only Trista's agility saved her, but all she was able to do was defend and dodge the fast slashes without getting a single attack of her own in.
The rush of the river behind them got louder, and Trista risked a glance back. The leader was edging her towards the gorge, with the ground still unstable from her mage's spell. She was going to push Trista over and...what?
Maybe kill the children for Trista's interference?
NO!
Trista brought her bow up to block an overhead attack, then jabbed the point towards the leader's thigh. She leaped back, which gave Trista time to grab an arrow from her quiver. It was one of her own modified ones, singing with the touch of power that was rightfully hers.
The leader had recovered and engaged again, not giving Trista any room to fire. Trista continued blocking with the bow in her right hand, the arrow still clenched in her left. Suddenly, she feinted and dropped to her knees to avoid a high blow. The leader swept her blade down like a broom towards Trista's heart, victory glinting in her eyes.
Trista smiled back and made a lightning quick dodge to the left, then used the bow in her hand to drive the brigand's missed strike into the open air to the side. Her left hand came in the now-unprotected area and stabbed the arrow in the leader's right shoulder with everything she had.
The wind spell contained within blasted her opponent back a good thirty feet and into one of the rock faces, and her sword went flying from her hand. Coughing, she managed to sit up and pressed a hand around her injury. Though Trista thought she was done fighting, another arrow was on the bowstring and ready to go just in case. "Why? You're a Guardian, and all you do is sit in your floating glass house and cast your magic from there. Why take an interest in such petty brats?" the brigand asked sourly.
Trista's eyes narrowed. All the confusion and battle lines and pain she'd been going through, and she had just sat in a floating house all this time?! Who the hell did this stupid little snit think she was?! "I've been there, scared and beaten by a monster all throughout my childhood," she hissed. "I didn't have anyone come to my rescue until I was a teenager. And now, that rescuer is going to do the same to this world that the monster did to me."
The woman's eyes widened, and Trista gasped as the truth of her statement sank in. Not just literal truth, but her own truth out of her own heart when it had finally been allowed to speak without the tangled chains of her misery to bury it.
No, not only the chains of her misery. Bachlan had worked with her, helping to keep the worst of the memories of her childhood locked away and the others tempered to a point where she could stand them. Her nightmares had slowed down as her body and heart were able to mend, and she had finally been able to think of truly living for the first time. A life without constant fear, drudgery, and being kept away from anyone with a kind heart.
But in doing so, Bachlan had also dulled those of the aftertimes, when the beauty of the skies and the lovely birds, artisans and acrobats, wheeled across the sky and brought her hope. That hope had kept her strong, and it was a strength that she had almost lost as a Guardian. She had given it up to live in Bachlan's shadow, and had been back to the tiny frightened girl she had been so long ago. But, now...
The buffeting winds picked up as she shut her physical eyes, but truly opened her mental ones. Bachlan had done the same to himself. He had all but buried his heart, his goodness, as he wrongfully came to see them as weaknesses. Almost everything else had been thrown away in this pursuit of power, this fear of failure.
Living in fear could do terrible things to a person. They forgot to see the honest glories that filled each and every day. They couldn't believe that tomorrow could bring a better day. In the worst of it, they would willingly throw away the key that could free them from their obsessions, so stuck that any change was only seen as a negative and not as a possible improvement. Except for precious lost moments that were growing more and more rare as time passed, Bachlan was not the same man that she had fallen in love with.
Now she knew what she had to do and why she had remembered what she had to remember. She had sworn herself as a Guardian to those winds, that sky, this land that had sustained her long before Bachlan had ever come to her. Trista hadn't been able to choose between the two greatest passions in her life, but it seemed to her now that there was a choice to serve them both. The greatest thing that she could do for him was to help stop this, to see if he could possibly be brought back to the man he had been.
And if... Trista shuddered... if such a thing was not possible, then she was prepared to prevent the man she loved from completely turning himself into a monster by any means necessary. Trista threw back her head, her gaze on the eternal heavens overhead. "THIS is why I am a Guardian! This is why I WILL NOT RUN!!" she shouted, raising her bow in proclamation of her renewed vow.
The winds suddenly began to sparkle with a silvery white light. This light came to Trista from all angles, filling her as she took a deep breath and playfully wrapping around all parts of her, like birds investigating a friend bearing treats. There was the fresh breeze off of a snowy mountain peak, the lazy warm hazes over a tropical ocean, and air picking up the scent of freshly turned earth. Invisible, untouchable, yet touching all aspects of life. Bit by bit, the air essence that had been hers to command for so long was fully restored.
Trista smiled evilly at the brigand leader, who was frozen in terror. Losing her band to a lone archer had been humiliating. The lone archer proving to be a Guardian meant that this wasn't going to end well for her at all.
"Now, do you really want to challenge a fully powered Guardian for the sake of some ill-gotten gold? If you come along quietly, I'll make sure the magistrate in the next village feeds you," Trista said with a deadly softness and a smile that promised no mercy.
The woman slumped in defeat, apparently not as stupid as she had first appeared. Trista hardened ropes of air and bound her wrists and ankles, bound up the wound her arrow had caused, then brought her along with a wind gust to go see to the kids.
They seemed unharmed, and even cheered and came to hug her after she took down the magical barrier. It was a bit of a shock at first, but was also quite... nice.
"YAY!!"
"You saved us!"
"Thank you, lady! That was so cool!!"
Trista smiled as more tears came to cascade down her cheeks. When was the last time she had allowed herself to be hugged by someone other than Bachlan? She couldn't even remember...
"Man, and all we got were the ones that tried to make a run for it?" a familiar voice whined.
Trista looked up to see Aryn entering the clearing, putting away her weapons with a disappointed look on her face. Nessa was next to her, carrying her fighting staff in one hand. Aryn gave Nessa a proud pat on the back. "We caught them all, by the way. They were half terrified as it was, and Nessa spins a mean staff. What did you do to them?"
"She was awesome! Those meanies were all, 'GRRRR!', and she was like, 'I don't think so!' and stopped them all! By herself!" a little boy declared proudly. Trista blushed hotly, not quite knowing what to say.
As usual, Aryn did. "That does sound pretty cool. I bet you kids could use a good meal before we bring you back home, right?" she asked. They nodded enthusiastically. "Come on back to our camp," she continued, then turned to Trista's captive with a merciless smirk. "As for you...behave yourself, and maybe you and all your little buddies will get to eat after the kids."
The brigand leader grumbled a little, but said nothing. Aryn hung back while Nessa led the kids back to camp, then came to Trista. Her voice was quiet and completely serious. "That's a real good thing you did here, Trista. But I gotta ask- why were you by the ponies?"
Trista glanced up sharply, ready to justify herself against an attack, but Aryn's eyes were only curious. "I was thinking about leaving, but I heard them crying out in pain. I couldn't leave them to that...." she hesitated. For once, Aryn waited patiently, knowing this was important. "....when I didn't know salvation for so long myself. My parents died when I was very young, and I was sent to live in an inn with an.... uncle who was abusive. It only got worse as I got older and began developing my magic. The only happy childhood memories I have are watching the clouds and birds and wishing to fly away," she finished softly. She held out her arms and pushed her sleeves up, exposing some of the faint purple scars that ran all over her body.
"Bastard," Aryn mumbled as the two women began walking back to camp, Trista levitating the brigand a good distance in front of them.
"I gave Bachlan my heart the day he rescued me from that hellhole, and he gave me his some years after," Trista added.
"Say WHAT?!" Aryn exploded, stopping deadstill.
She'd been right? Trista and Bachlan, in love? Forget that, Bachlan actually having a heart to give to a human being?
Did the Nine Hells just freeze over?
Trista started to bristle at Aryn's reaction, but remembered that their love had been secret. "If you must know, it actually happened like this..."
Pain burned in the slashes and wounds covering Trista's body as she pulled herself out of the shed and along the ground. The cool dew on the grass gave her some relief, but did nothing for the ankle that had cracked under tonight's unusually brutal beating. Although it felt like she'd already spent a lifetime's worth of tears after the death of her parents when a toddler and a cruel life under her uncle, salty drops ran down her cheeks to pool with the warm blood left behind her like a trail.
Her destination was the woodpile just outside the mocking haloes of light emanating from that monster's- her uncle's- inn that she lived and slaved in. Hidden in a small hollow under the chopped logs rested her treasures- a fine scarf, some thin boards, and a small jar of ointment said to have been made by the Life Guardian herself. The scarf had once belonged to her mother, and it gave Trista a small sense of comfort that this memento was also used to care for her injuries.
A cool breeze sprang up, drying her tears and feeling like a refreshing caress on her wounds. As she withdrew the boards that had served as splints so many times, she heard one of the windows open. Panicked, she scooted behind the woodpile to remain out of sight, wincing as a chunk of wood imbedded itself in a gash on her palm. The customers must never see her injuries!
"Barkeep, where's our little Chinook tonight?" drawled a voice Trista knew well. It was one of her favorite patrons, who knew of her love of the skies and birds and had given her this nickname, as well as a small kite, years ago.
"Visiting an aunt in Ninaz, I'm afraid. It drained some of the funds I'd set aside for the summer festival, but who could tell that little darling 'no' after what she's been through?" replied that sickly-sweet voice, so like sugared venom. Trista's hands trembled as she assembled the boards and began to expertly tie them with the scarf, remembering the hatred-loaded hisses that had accompanied the punishment she had suffered mere hours ago.
Kind and hearty laughter greeted this pronouncement. "You spoil the girl, but who could blame you? I've just come back from Sagia, and had to pass on stories of that little sweetheart..." the patron began.
Trista covered her mouth to hide the small moan of agony at the onslaught of lies and deception going on in that room, with its false sense of security and warmth. Clenching the jar of ointment in her teeth, she began crawling up to her favorite place, a small hill that could catch every breeze that traveled through her small village. Luckily, it wasn't far, and had a gentle slope that she could traverse with all but the worst injuries.
Finally reaching it, she dropped the jar and stretched out on the grass to rest. Twilight was approaching, her favorite time of day, and she turned her gaze to the heavens that were still dusted with the dusky crimson of sunset. Fat purple clouds, just the color of her eyes, lazily drifted like lilies in a pond. A flock of robins flew off to the west, calling out good nights in their sweet little voices.
Trista sighed, longingly following the birds with her eyes as she applied medicine to her injuries. What would it be like to finally leave all this behind, to just sprout wings and fly away? To swirl and dip in the open skies, free to follow naught but the wind?
All of Trista's dreams of freedom were tied into the skies. The winds felt like old friends, brushing her silvery hair and flowing around her clothes and even following some small commands. The monster had always feared this bit of magical ability in her, wondering if it could be turned on him, and laid down a punishment every time he caught her using it. Though she no longer dared to in front of him, she would never give up the small amount of power and comfort it gave her when on her own.
The monster couldn't hurt the sky, or the wind. Even when he threw stones at the birds that raided their garden, or threw stones at her for trying to protect them, they could just rise above him and move on. The monster could hurt her, could try to break her and make her cry, but he couldn't hurt the only thing in this world that gave her comfort and seemed to be looking out for her.
Trista wriggled around a bit on the grass, teary at the relief the medicine was giving her, and rested her head on her uninjured hand. If she ever had the chance, she would like to give back to this which had sustained her for so long.
"Insolent...little....BRAT!!!!"
Trista's eyes flew open as she stared up at the monster, realizing she had fallen asleep out here on the grass. Was she to be punished for being out in the open like this?
He pulled her to her feet, ignoring her cry of pain from the injured ankle being forced to bear her weight. "I have told you...I have told you so many times to keep your mouth shut around my customers. You are a disobedient, ungrateful little chit that should have died with her parents!"
"But I have said nothing, I swear!" Trista protested feebly. He scowled and threw her back down onto the grass.
"You lie! Last night, my best customer claimed that he'd been telling others about you and your little tricks. He's even spoken to the Memory Guardian Bachlan, as if he hoped you'd be chosen to join him!" the monster bellowed, then began to laugh. "Imagine, a little rat like you a Guardian! But we can't have you embarrassing my inn by passing off little parlor tricks as true magic in front of such a man."
Trista tried to crawl back a few paces. She knew that tone, and that look. This was going to be worse than last night, and no amount of pleading would save her.
He came closer, that familiar whip in his hands still stained with her blood from before. "You will obey me if I have to break you to do it." He raised his arm, and Trista clenched her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first lash.
It never came.
The monster cried out in surprise, and Trista dared to open her eyes. The whip was coiled around a fist belonging to what must be an avenging angel. Auburn hair fluttered around his fine bronze-colored cloak, and his brown eyes burned with the fury of a thousand suns. He made the monster look tiny and insignificant.
"How dare you lay a hand on one destined to become a protector for this world?" the newcomer growled.
The monster tried to free his whip. "Now, see here, she belongs to me! You can't just-"
The angel's other fist slamming into his jaw and sending him back several yards cut off any more protests. "Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do, worm. I am Bachlan, the Guardian of Memory. Unless you wish your entire life's memories replaced with those of that creature, you will stay silent!" the angel growled, and came to kneel by Trista.
An eternity seemed to pass as Guardian and girl stared at each other. Amethyst eyes were lost in wonder, while harsh brown eyes acquired a hesitant softness, as if not certain how to go about it. Finally, Bachlan spoke, his voice much richer and calmer. "What's your name, girl?"
"Tr-Trista, sir," she answered quietly.
"Trista. I have heard stories of your devotion to the skies and winds. Several state that you can already manipulate them to a small extent. Show me," Bachlan stated in a tone somewhere between a command and a request.
Trista took a few deep breaths and concentrated. A bit of air pulled away from a passing breeze, and slowly took the shape of a miniature tornado. Bits of dried grass and leaves were picked up as it grew to the size of an apple, then a pumpkin, and at last a wagon wheel. Bachlan's eyes were locked on her face as if he were searching for something, and he finally nodded in satisfaction. "It is well. You will accompany me to the Crystal Citadel, and become Merna's Guardian of Air."
Trista gasped, and fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. "M-me?! But, that is nothing..."
Bachlan cut her off. "The air essence will supply all the power you need, but without the passion and will needed to master and sustain it, it will come to naught." His face took on a stern expression that looked far more natural to him. "Do you have that will, Trista? Will you leave this life to come serve me, and serve this world?"
Trista's eyes shone. "Yes. For now and forever."
"Good. Gather whatever you wish to bring along, and we will depart immediately. You can leave that rag behind, since Oriana will see to your wounds properly," Bachlan said.
Trista's eyes flashed. "This is a memento of my mother, and no rag! It alone shall accompany us!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she covered them with a gasp of fear and tensed, waiting for a strike.
To her surprise, Bachlan laughed. "So, you still have your pride. Hold your head up high, Trista. One who spends their life in service to our world deserves respect." He frowned, glancing at the monster, then motioned for her to wait a moment as he walked over to the man who had made her life hell for so very long.
"I risked my life and lost a lot of good fighters in the Rise of the Classes against small-hearted, petty folk who exploited whatever and whomever to get what they wanted. People like you." The monster trembled as Bachlan's smirk grew. "Yes, they looked about like that just before they fell. But you're no Golden One, and your magistrates will take out this trash."
The monster sighed in relief, one hand still clenching his jaw. "Go ahead and take the ungrateful brat, with my bless-argh!" He crumpled into a fetal position after Bachlan's hard kick to his chest, gasping for air and coughing up a bit of blood. Judging from the cracks heard with the kick, a rib or two had snapped.
"For the girl. Your lawfolk will finish," Bachlan explained simply. He returned to Trista and gently scooped her up into his powerful arms to carry her away from this past for good.
Trista's heart was pounding and her head was dizzy with a mixture of relief and an odd excitement as she snuggled into his chest. Free. She was free at last, and about to begin the life she had never dared to dream of. The monster would never, ever touch her again.
A hint of an odd aroma, something called 'frankincense' that one of the inn's patrons had shown to her one night, clung to his soft yet strong cloak. It gave her a sense that this avenging angel was truly something otherworldly, someone who would have and should have been beyond her reach for all time. She felt like the man that now held her so tightly would protect her against anything bad from ever touching her again.
Still, as safe and warm as Bachlan's arms felt, were they trembling a bit?
Aryn was trying to wrap her mind around this image of Bachlan as a hero. She had had the tale of the Rise of the Classes shoved down her throat all those years in the Citadel like the others, but that was twenty-five thousand years ago. That was enough time to change him into the maniac he was today.
Still, if he had saved her like that, Aryn could grudgingly understand how Trista would come to love him. It was suddenly clear why she had gotten so angry every time Aryn had proclaimed how they would defeat him, and why Trista had been so adoring and attentive to him all those millennia. No wonder Trista had been so torn on this trip, caught between the world and man that she loved. "I can see where you're coming from. Trista, what do you want to do now?" she asked. "If you wanna leave, I won't stop you."
"Boo hoo, poor little unwanted brat," the brigand mocked.
"Be quiet!" Aryn and Trista roared in unison, as flames and winds surrounded the two for a moment. The brigand squeaked and obeyed.
"Didn't you understand anything about that story? I gave my allegiance to the winds and skies of our world that kept me going long before Bachlan came to me!" Trista explained in irritation.
"Does that allegiance overcome whatever is between you two?" Aryn asked seriously.
Trista glanced up at the sky, her eyes sad. A slight breeze came up, ruffling her hair and the nomad leathers. "No, but I've learned that the best way to really serve someone isn't always to give them what they think they want," she replied in a soft voice. "Aryn, I'm sorry. I didn't want to realize the truth, and I was so angry at Bachlan and myself that I lashed out at everyone."
Aryn grudgingly admitted, "It's my fault, too. I kept making things worse with this stupid big mouth of mine." Trista smirked and nodded in agreement, while Aryn blew her a raspberry in response.
Suddenly, Trista's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, how did you two find us anyway?"
Aryn snickered and held up a hand encased in orange power. "A little trick. If I'm under a celestial body like the moon or sun or even stars, and so are you, they can show me a path from Point A to Point B." The snicker vanished. "We were going to see what you were going to do. If you had really wanted to leave, we wouldn't have stopped you."
Trista smiled faintly. "You mean you desperately needed my help."
"Whatever lets you sleep at night," Aryn shot back, then chuckled. "I don't think we'll ever be best buddies or anything, but what say we at least agree not to kill each other until we take care of this first?" she asked, offering out her hand.
"Only if you don't push me," Trista agreed, shaking it firmly and understanding what Aryn wasn't saying.
"I'm going to be sick," the brigand moaned.
"SHUT UP!"
Nessa wasn't quite sure what had happened between the two Guardians, but they seemed to be getting along much better. Sure, on the way to the next village to drop off their charges, Trista had threatened to forcefeed the brigand leader the rest of Aryn's Caldera supplies if she didn't shut her mouth. Aryn had demanded to know what she meant by that, and the two had started an argument. This time, there were little smirks on their faces, and merriment in both sets of eyes. It seemed like they enjoyed these exchanges to some extent.
She was even more surprised when Trista pulled her aside at their last rest stop before the Ayadoia Glade. "Nessa, I wanted to apologize to you as well. All you've tried to do is help us, ever since you brought us into your camp, and I've treated you with nothing but scorn in payment. I'm sorry," she stated immediately.
"I understand, Lady Trista. You were in the shadow valley," Nessa replied.
Trista blinked. "Shadow valley?"
"Sorry, it's a nomad tale. A long time ago, there was a man on a spiritual quest who came to a small valley in the shadow of the two greatest peaks in the Great Simbel Range. There, he encountered a wise old guru woman who explained that each mountain held one of his greatest desires, but that it would take the rest of his life to climb one or the other," Nessa began.
Trista's mouth quirked. "Which did he choose?"
"Neither. He spent the rest of his life in the valley, trying to choose which mountain to climb until the day he died. Because of that eternal hesitation, he acquired neither," Nessa replied solemnly.
Trista looked down. "Two mountains for two desires. I guess that's true," she murmured, then smiled sadly at the nomad girl. "Your people are very wise, Nessa. Where do you all travel?"
"Everywhere on this continent," Nessa replied dreamily. Her gaze was far away as she thought of her tribe and the life she loved. "We follow the wind, going where there is food for us and our herds. Every year, the tribes reunite for two weeks in the Great Simbel Range. There's a great feast, and games, and a market, and people are free to join other tribes for a year, for adventure or to seek a spouse. If conditions are really good or dangerous, a few tribes will travel as one. We are all one people, just on different roads."
"It sounds wonderful," Trista sighed. She had never known such a comradeship. The one strong bond that she had ever known in her life had been her love for Bachlan, which had been severed. She and Joshua had been friends, and Oriana had tried to get close to her, but she had reserved most of herself for her leader.
Suddenly, Nessa had the craziest idea. "Why not come stay with us, after...after this is over?" Trista gasped and began to shake her head, but Nessa excitedly took her hand. "No, really, I think Lady Owl would love to have you. Archery is highly prized in our tribe, since we do so much hunting, and I would be your sponsor!"
Trista smiled weakly. Tears were threatening at the invitation to join the warm and safe circle that Nessa had spoken of so fondly over this entire trip. "I'm happy that you would still want me to join you, but I need to think about it first. And Nessa....thanks. For everything."
What to do? Have you lost your way? When that happens we each have to take a good long look at our selves. There's always something in the deepest reaches of our hearts. Something buried, or something forgotten. Remember it... Whatever that is, must certainly be what you are all looking for...
Bugenhagen, Final Fantasy VII
Once through the Hasan Pass, Aryn figured it would only be a short ride over the Shenioka Plains to the Crystal Citadel. The three women stopped for lunch in the foothills of the Great Simbel Range, and Aryn was grateful for one more rest in the lovely mountains that had given her birth and life. Spreading out to the north like a never ending afghan of countless greens and golds were the beautiful plains, though the Crystal Citadel itself was not in sight yet.
A small cooking fire was quickly built, and Aryn used it to toast some of the nomad-style bread and cheese for her companions and passed out the mutton jerky. She had saved the good stuff from her home kitchens for herself, and sat down to take an enormous bite of toasted peppered bread. She closed her eyes in bliss, savoring the richly spicy flavor. Man, there was just nothing in the universe like the tastes from home-
"Aryn, look out!" Nessa shrieked.
"Huh?" Aryn asked, opening her eyes slowly, then yelled in surprise as a seagull (seagull?!) nearly divebombed her. Something cream-colored fluttered from its beak onto the ground, just missing the fire. The bird snatched up Aryn's piece of bread right out of her hand before landing on a rock. It watched her as it started to peck at the purloined prize.
For a moment, Aryn was too stunned to act, but that didn't last long. "What- hey, you thief! Give that back!" she demanded, drawing her sword. "That was mine! So unless you wanna be roasted rotissierie-style..."
Nessa had gone over to where the seagull had dropped something, and picked up what proved to be a rolled-up piece of paper. She quickly noted the signature at the bottom. "Lady Aryn, you should look at this first."
The Fire Guardian accepted it and began to read, but kept her sword in one hand. Her hazel eyes grew huge as she also noted the signature. "This is...Solana's handwriting! How the hell did she pull this off?"
"What's it say?" Nessa asked eagerly, trying to read it. Trista glanced up, then back down quickly, seemingly concentrating on her supper.
Aryn tried to smooth out some of the crinkles to make it clearer. "She and Joshua are on the Tethys right now, and they wanna meet up with us in the Ayadoia Glade near the Citadel. Sounds like Raoul and Eziban are okay and relatively close." A twisted grin appeared. "Hey, she got her power back, too! This is great! If the boys also did, then Bachlan will be extra screwed!"
"Yes...great..." Trista mumbled unnoticed, eyes still on her meal.
Aryn glanced at the seagull happily devouring her treat, then shook her head in defeat and sheathed her blade. "I guess you earned it, little one. Enjoy," she said. The seagull cocked its head at her, as if to make it obvious that it had intended to do just that. Aryn unhooked the canteen from her belt and held it high. "This calls for a toast, right? To stubborness, and the fall of Bachlan!"
Nessa raised her canteen as well. "Hear, hear!"
Trista finally looked up and glowered at the younger Guardian. "You little child. Do you really think that just defeating Bachlan will make everything better?"
"Well, if the alternative is this 'Great Rebirth' mumbo-jumbo, then yeah. We can worry about everything else later," Aryn answered, sitting back down to continue her meal.
But Trista was far from placated by such an easy answer. "What if things were more complicated than that?" she demanded, hands trembling on her bowl. "What if there were...extra factors?"
Aryn laughed, waving that line of thought away carelessly. "After our little trip, I don't think Bachlan can throw much at us that will be a surprise." She tucked Solana's note into her nearby pack and regarded Trista seriously. "Trista, our job is to go and take down the bad thing before it takes down our people. In a few days, it'll all be over."
Trista suddenly slammed her bowl down and stormed off without another word, tears trickling on her cheeks.
"What did I say this time?" Aryn grumbled, watching her comrade in shock. She debated following her for a few moments, but sometimes it was better to just let Trista cool off in peace. Besides, she had no idea what she was supposed to be apologizing for.
"Lady Aryn, what you said before, is being a Guardian all that simple?" Nessa asked curiously.
Aryn sighed grimly and picked up another piece of toasted bread from the Caldera kitchens to finish off. She shot a warning glare at the seagull before answering, "I said it's our job, Nessa. I sure as blazes didn't say it was simple."
Once out of sight of the camping area, Trista broke into a run, tears flying from her eyes to speckle the dusty rock under her feet. But no matter how far or fast she went physically, she could not outrun her pain. Each step mercilessly echoed Aryn's words in her head like a doomed prophecy.
In a few days, it'll all be over...
...it'll all be over....
...it'll all be over...
Aryn was right, as much as she hated to admit it. In a few days, Bachlan could be dead at the hands of those who had sworn to serve him. Or Merna would be at the hands of her main protector. No matter what happened, one of the things she loved most in life would be gone. It was time, past time, to finally make a decision.
Trista made it to the little clearing where the nomad ponies were grazing, her gaze going up to the azure skies in desperate need of guidance. The sprawling heavens, always a source of comfort in the past when she had found it nowhere else, were useless to calm her heart now.
Trista shut her eyes with a moan, and Bachlan's face was summoned. That stunned gaze hadn't left her mind in all the days that had passed since he had stolen her power. She had loved Bachlan so much, almost to the point of worship, and loved his vision of what she thought had been looking after Merna. She had dreamt of being by his side, being his queen, ever since that enchanted night on the roof of the Citadel. In his arms, Trista had always felt safe and loved and wanted and respected.
She let out a cynical laugh at how foolish she had been. That vision had now transformed into a nightmare. And now, she was expected to tag along and help destroy this man she had loved for so very long. This man that she knew had loved her too, and was the first one she could ever remember doing so.
The Air Guardian wiped away her tears violently. Now, all the dreams she had had of being by his side lay shattered in a pool of despair. She was alone again, with nothing but the buffets of air around her. "Is that what being a Guardian means?!" she screamed in agony at the silent clouds. "We give up our lives and our loves in the name of 'duty'?! How can I be expected...to destroy the man I love... who saved me...?" Trista sank to her knees, hugging herself and choking back sobs. "No...I can't do this anymore...I just can't..."
But the majestic clouds remained as silent and stoic as always. The breeze played with a few loose wisps of her silver hair as the pony who had carried her so faithfully came to munch on a patch of grass near her. Its swishing tail butted the back of her head, and Trista, momentarily broken out of her misery, looked up at him. The pony trained a single eye on her, let out its breath in a whoosh, and returned to its meal.
Perhaps there was a third path that she had never even considered. She didn't have to go with Aryn and the others to their rendezvous, and didn't have to face Bachlan or the rest of them ever again. She would return the pony to the Tribe of the Hawk, give her thanks to Lady Owl, and search for a new life away from the Guardianship. Maybe she could even recover some of the innocence she had lost after everything she had been through. Aryn probably hated her already, but Solana would maybe understand. Hadn't she done the same?
Trista gathered her share of their supplies and began saddling her pony, carefully tightening the straps under its belly. The pony didn't look happy at having his supper cut short, but allowed her to coax the bit into his mouth. Maybe she could stop at Fief Caldera and give her thanks to Rakaj as well. A decision made at last, she could regret her behavior towards the baron and his healers earlier.
Carefully, she mounted the pony and let out a ragged sigh of relief. Soon she would be free from all of this. It would take a while for her shredded heart to heal, but she had learned to cope in her childhood all too well. She nudged the pony into a southbound trot, following the path that Aryn had been guiding them through that morning. It should be easy enough to backtrack her way to Fief Caldera, and she could get directions there to the best route back to the Tribe of the Hawk.
Lost in these thoughts, Trista came to a crossroads in the steep path and stopped. Did she need to go left or right at this point? Trista bit her lip in thought, then spotted an unusually large oak growing off to the right that she remembered passing that morning. She shifted the reins to direct her pony to go to the right.
"Stop right there, you little brats!"
"Don't let them get away!"
Trista looked up. The sounds seemed to be coming from further down the left-hand road.
"AHH!! I'm scared!"
"Don't worry, I'll protect you!"
Children. Children being chased by brigands of some kind. Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the reins, but she tried to block out the sound. Right, she needed to take the right-bound path to get back to the fief...
"There you are! You can't get away from us now!"
"Please, let us go! We didn't do anything!"
"No, please, I didn't do anything!"
Trista closed her eyes against the memory that came like a cold slap, shoving it back into the distant past where it belonged. Those were supposed to be locked away. She nudged the pony to walk to the right, and he obeyed.
The sound of a whip hissing through the air came to her sensitive ears, as well as a helpless cry of pain. Trista cringed...
...as five more times the whip came down on her back. Each lash burned like fire, and she screamed and begged for mercy. The man wielding it was not moved by her tears, and never had been. "You'll learn, whelp."
"No, please! I'll be good, I'll do whatever you want! Please!"
"Useless! My generosity all these years, and this is how you repay me!"
Even now, thousands of years later, Trista trembled at hearing that voice in her memories. Bachlan had always helped her to keep that evil voice at bay.
Away, she had to get away from this place that awakened memories that had NO PURPOSE in being reawakened. She shifted her foot to give her pony a sharper nudge as more sealed memories rushed forth and past and present seemed to merge into one.
"Now come with us!"
"Obey me!"
"Please, let us go!"
"Please!"
"Help us! Anyone!"
"Help me!"
Trista's eyes snapped open, and with a feral roar she turned the pony around to go onto the left-hand path. The pony went immediately into a gallop, sensing his rider's unbridled rage, and his hooves were soon flying over rock and kicking up clouds of dust.
She followed the noises into a clearing, her bow in her hand and ready. Slung over her shoulder was a quiver packed with her precious collection of arrows, plain and enchanted. Trista collected different types of arrows the way Aryn collected recipes, and many had been magically tweaked by herself, the other Guardians, or other Mernan mages over the millennia.
A small group of brigands had three children cornered in a clearing amongst tall rock monoliths. Most of them were mounted, all were armed with swords or bows, and all were laughing at a terrible sight. One brigand woman had a leather whip in her hand, and a little boy sprawled on the ground in front of her was covered in bleeding slashes and mud. He had been bravely trying to shield two smaller children from any harm.
"LET THEM GO!!!" Trista screamed in fury.
The brigands looked up in horror at the apparition that had appeared out of nowhere. Was this rider with her bow and flashing eyes an angel of death? Those eyes weren't showing any mercy at all, only the remains of tears and pure rage. The archers started fumbling for the longbows on their backs while the others brought out their blades.
Trista used their hesitation to select two arrows, one that had been tweaked by Oriana and another by Joshua. She fired them off simultaneously, and they landed between the brigands and the children. A glowing ring encircled the children that quickly solidified into a powerful magical barrier that also threw off blinding light. The brigands screamed and clapped their hands to their eyes, cursing the mysterious archer. The leader curiously tapped the barrier, then pulled her hand away quickly when it began to sting from the contact.
"You-" she began heatedly as she turned around, then stopped when she realized that Trista had vanished. She drew her scimitar. "She can't have gotten far! Spread out and find the little chit!" she ordered. Her troupe obeyed, kicking their mounts into a frenzied gallop or breaking into sprints.
Trista had ducked behind a rock outcropping, her bow in one hand and an arrow in her teeth as she opened a small pouch at her side. This pouch held a special powder to dip her arrows in to knock out her targets. Deciding that stealth was going to be the way to go against superior numbers and more archers, she had sent the pony safely back to camp during the light flash from Joshua's arrow.
Trista quickly dipped a handful of the obsidian arrows from Nessa's tribe into the powder. Only when each was fully coated did she replace them in her quiver. Returning her bow to her back, Trista then carefully scaled the mass of rock that had served as a hiding place. The sensible nomad clothes were a lot easier to manage than her usual velvets and silks, she noticed with gratitude, and made a note to thank Nessa when possible.
Reaching the top of the rock, she paused to listen for her adversaries. Her breath quieted down to almost nothing as her ears strained.
All too soon, she heard the faint clop, clop of hooves striking rock. Sure enough, two riders were coming her way.
Trista was stretched out flat on top of the rock to stay hidden. She grabbed her bow and put one of the drugged arrows on the string. The riders came closer, completely oblivious to their danger as they only looked off to the sides and in front of them, until Trista spotted an iron helmet glinting in the sun as it passed below her. Luckily, only leather covered the riders' backs. Trista sneered at their tightfistedness as she sighted carefully and released her arrow.
Her target slumped over without even a squeak of surprise. His companion started looking around wildly, trying to spot her, but Trista sent him off to dreamland after his buddy before he could even think to raise an alarm. She then listened closely once more, but the only sound the wind carried to her sensitive ears was that of the horses' confused whickering.
She climbed back down the rock, and gave each horse a firm rap on the flank to gallop to the east. She herself went off to the west, staying under the cover of the monoliths and alert for any noise.
"...did you hear something?" a feminine voice, though not their leader, asked two other brigands. Trista ducked back behind a boulder, cursing. A group of three stood between her and some very good cover to the north, and they didn't look certain whether to move on or stay there. She would have to encourage them to move, or better yet, to split up.
Trista reached into her quiver and pulled out one of Eziban's arrows, this one spelled to reflect off of any type of rock. If the arrowhead encountered any, it would bounce off as if made of rubber and take off in an entirely new direction. This arrow wasn't designed for precision, but was certainly good for a distraction. She raised her bow and sighted off to the northwest for a huge boulder. If this group was as intelligent as their colleagues, the brigands would think she had shot from that direction.
The arrow flew true and hit the boulder squarely, then bounced off and hit a rock to the north before setting off yet again. The group whipped around in a panic, searching for the tiny ricocheting arrow and its archer. "She can't be shooting from all directions! Let's try for the west!" the female ordered.
Another crunching sound was heard as the arrow hit a boulder to their south and shot off yet again. "I don't like it. It's possible that she had some allies lying in wait and approached us by herself to lead us into an ambush," one of the others pointed out.
Trista scowled, now wishing that she had thought to get Aryn and maybe even Nessa for backup. The only thing worse than a stupid opponent was the one who made you look even more stupid by comparison.
The female nodded slowly. "True enough. Fan out, but stay in sight of each other. Maybe the others have seen something."
Damn, that first one's intelligence was spreading like a rash and would have to be dealt with. Luckily, the smart one had chosen to fan out in her direction, and was coming closer and closer. While the other two were still in sight, a distraction might allow her to take this one down and move on before they could pinpoint her location. She'd have to be quick, though.
Trista reached back into her quiver and pulled out the next arrow, then almost dropped it. This one was a stealth arrow, wreathed in a spell that would make anyone who saw it forget that they had done so. It had been made by Bachlan.
A little sob escaped Trista's throat before it could be stopped, and the smart brigand looked up like a hunting terrier, ears cocked for more noise. He started trotting towards her hiding place, a longsword in one hand and leather targe in the other, and a very businesslike look on his face. The other two had noticed his reaction and were turning in their direction to provide backup, one with a raised blade and the other with an arrow on a bowstring already.
Trista didn't have a choice. She grabbed a fire arrow out of her quiver and yanked off one of the leather fringes from her shirt. Using the leather, she bound the fire and stealth arrows together and found a target.
An old, dead tree that had been split asunder by lightning some time ago was located a few dozen yards behind the two brigands. Being careful to stay undercover, she reached around her boulder and fired the arrow straight for the tree.
Aryn's fire was powerful, to say the least. The tree lit up like a centenarian's birthday cake with a loud whoosh! While the two backups turned around in shock, and even the smart one did, Trista grabbed a drugged obsidian arrow and let it fly, and the smart one sagged and finally collapsed. Another arrow took down the other archer. Just as she was firing towards the third brigand, he turned around and blocked the drugged arrow with his blade and shot an evil grin her way.
Enraged, Trista grabbed a handful of arrows and shot them all at once in his direction, but the brigand merely chuckled and dove behind a rock of his own. Moments later, the clear blasts of a horn filled the air in a certain rhythm, likely an alarm and their location.
So much for stealth. Trista ran off to the west as the brigand pursued her, calling out new blasts every few moments. Every time she turned around to fire at him, he got out of sight and let out a fresh call to his comrades, which urged her to keep going. If only she had her essence, that horn would have been useless. Forget it, she would have been able to manipulate the air to make them all pass out in a few moments back in the clearing. Now she felt so...
Helpless? Take away Bachlan, take away your air essence, and you're nothing? Fool, you still have your wits and your bow and the power of your friends in your arrows, and you survived for sixteen years on only one of those!
Trista's eyes narrowed, and she now watched her surroundings more carefully while still running as if only in fear. Far off behind the pursuer came the clatter of more hooves swiftly catching up to them.
Up ahead was a very wide gorge that overlooked a mighty river about thirty feet down, with a massive oak tree growing at its very edge. Trista scrambled up the tree for a sighting advantage and waited with her bow in her hand. Her first pursuer spotted her in the tree and ducked behind another to let out one final call, though his confusion at her location was evident.
Only a few minutes later, two horses arrived, bearing the brigand leader and a mage dressed in dirt brown robes.
Air hissed through Trista's teeth. She hadn't known that they had a mage.
The leader dismounted and drew her scimitar, though was careful to stay out of Trista's bowsight. "You did well, whoever you are. Unfortunately, my men are now conscious and will be here shortly," she began, then waited for a reaction. She got none. "Your archery skills are impressive. How would you like to join us? Obey me and I'll reward you well, starting with the parents of those little brats-"
An arrow thunked the rock next to the leader for a reply, and she jumped back. Her men started to snicker, but were swiftly cut off by an annoyed glare. "Mage, shake our acorn out of the tree and we will deal with her on the ground. Archers are useless close-range," she ordered.
The mage nodded and got a look of concentration on his face. Trista gasped as the ground under the tree began to rumble. She tightly gripped the branch under her with her legs as her hand fished for another arrow. The three brigands were out of her sight, but were not her current target.
Instead, Trista twisted and managed to shoot between the whipping branches of her tree into the river. The arrow tweaked by Solana flashed a bright blue as it touched the water, and the blue glow spread into the river.
Suddenly a piece of it seemed to break away, like a sea serpent of pure water rising up into the air and over the gorge. Hissing, it fell onto the ground and starting sweeping straight towards the brigands.
The fighters yelped while the mage's eyes went wide as he quickly summoned a wind blade to split the water in front of the group. The water pushed them back as the mage kept trying to hold it off, and pushed them away from the protective trees and out into the open.
Trista snagged the opportunity, even with the trembling ground. She sighted and loosed a pair of knockout arrows at the mage, who collapsed. The other two had bolted off to the side and had gotten out of the water's path until it ran out, eventually trickling back to the river from whence it came. The pair of outlaws looked frightened, and the leader seemed to be trying to decide if they should wait for backup or cut their losses and make a run for it. Trista raised her bow again, eager to end that particular dilemma.
The quake spell gave one last heave as its creator lay unconscious, and Trista yelped as the whipping branch under her tore away from her frantic grip and she was sent straight to the ground like a fallen apple. She bounced once, then reflexively rolled away from the gorge's edge as the ground finally calmed down.
"Now!" the leader yelled, that Trista was finally on the ground. She came from one side, the man with her from another, as they both raised their blades to attack.
Trista shifted her grip on her bow towards one of the tips. She ducked the man's swipe at her and struck back with the bow, swinging the metal grip straight at his knee. As he twisted away and brought his sword crashing down at her, Trista removed the pouch of knockout powder from her belt and tossed it straight at his face. He had time for one sneeze before dropping like a stone, probably for more than a month or two.
"Foolish girl!" the leader screamed, lunging at Trista. Trista leaped back, then brought up her bow to block another blow. The leader had gone crazy, swiping with her blade like a sharp and pointy tornado. Only Trista's agility saved her, but all she was able to do was defend and dodge the fast slashes without getting a single attack of her own in.
The rush of the river behind them got louder, and Trista risked a glance back. The leader was edging her towards the gorge, with the ground still unstable from her mage's spell. She was going to push Trista over and...what?
Maybe kill the children for Trista's interference?
NO!
Trista brought her bow up to block an overhead attack, then jabbed the point towards the leader's thigh. She leaped back, which gave Trista time to grab an arrow from her quiver. It was one of her own modified ones, singing with the touch of power that was rightfully hers.
The leader had recovered and engaged again, not giving Trista any room to fire. Trista continued blocking with the bow in her right hand, the arrow still clenched in her left. Suddenly, she feinted and dropped to her knees to avoid a high blow. The leader swept her blade down like a broom towards Trista's heart, victory glinting in her eyes.
Trista smiled back and made a lightning quick dodge to the left, then used the bow in her hand to drive the brigand's missed strike into the open air to the side. Her left hand came in the now-unprotected area and stabbed the arrow in the leader's right shoulder with everything she had.
The wind spell contained within blasted her opponent back a good thirty feet and into one of the rock faces, and her sword went flying from her hand. Coughing, she managed to sit up and pressed a hand around her injury. Though Trista thought she was done fighting, another arrow was on the bowstring and ready to go just in case. "Why? You're a Guardian, and all you do is sit in your floating glass house and cast your magic from there. Why take an interest in such petty brats?" the brigand asked sourly.
Trista's eyes narrowed. All the confusion and battle lines and pain she'd been going through, and she had just sat in a floating house all this time?! Who the hell did this stupid little snit think she was?! "I've been there, scared and beaten by a monster all throughout my childhood," she hissed. "I didn't have anyone come to my rescue until I was a teenager. And now, that rescuer is going to do the same to this world that the monster did to me."
The woman's eyes widened, and Trista gasped as the truth of her statement sank in. Not just literal truth, but her own truth out of her own heart when it had finally been allowed to speak without the tangled chains of her misery to bury it.
No, not only the chains of her misery. Bachlan had worked with her, helping to keep the worst of the memories of her childhood locked away and the others tempered to a point where she could stand them. Her nightmares had slowed down as her body and heart were able to mend, and she had finally been able to think of truly living for the first time. A life without constant fear, drudgery, and being kept away from anyone with a kind heart.
But in doing so, Bachlan had also dulled those of the aftertimes, when the beauty of the skies and the lovely birds, artisans and acrobats, wheeled across the sky and brought her hope. That hope had kept her strong, and it was a strength that she had almost lost as a Guardian. She had given it up to live in Bachlan's shadow, and had been back to the tiny frightened girl she had been so long ago. But, now...
The buffeting winds picked up as she shut her physical eyes, but truly opened her mental ones. Bachlan had done the same to himself. He had all but buried his heart, his goodness, as he wrongfully came to see them as weaknesses. Almost everything else had been thrown away in this pursuit of power, this fear of failure.
Living in fear could do terrible things to a person. They forgot to see the honest glories that filled each and every day. They couldn't believe that tomorrow could bring a better day. In the worst of it, they would willingly throw away the key that could free them from their obsessions, so stuck that any change was only seen as a negative and not as a possible improvement. Except for precious lost moments that were growing more and more rare as time passed, Bachlan was not the same man that she had fallen in love with.
Now she knew what she had to do and why she had remembered what she had to remember. She had sworn herself as a Guardian to those winds, that sky, this land that had sustained her long before Bachlan had ever come to her. Trista hadn't been able to choose between the two greatest passions in her life, but it seemed to her now that there was a choice to serve them both. The greatest thing that she could do for him was to help stop this, to see if he could possibly be brought back to the man he had been.
And if... Trista shuddered... if such a thing was not possible, then she was prepared to prevent the man she loved from completely turning himself into a monster by any means necessary. Trista threw back her head, her gaze on the eternal heavens overhead. "THIS is why I am a Guardian! This is why I WILL NOT RUN!!" she shouted, raising her bow in proclamation of her renewed vow.
The winds suddenly began to sparkle with a silvery white light. This light came to Trista from all angles, filling her as she took a deep breath and playfully wrapping around all parts of her, like birds investigating a friend bearing treats. There was the fresh breeze off of a snowy mountain peak, the lazy warm hazes over a tropical ocean, and air picking up the scent of freshly turned earth. Invisible, untouchable, yet touching all aspects of life. Bit by bit, the air essence that had been hers to command for so long was fully restored.
Trista smiled evilly at the brigand leader, who was frozen in terror. Losing her band to a lone archer had been humiliating. The lone archer proving to be a Guardian meant that this wasn't going to end well for her at all.
"Now, do you really want to challenge a fully powered Guardian for the sake of some ill-gotten gold? If you come along quietly, I'll make sure the magistrate in the next village feeds you," Trista said with a deadly softness and a smile that promised no mercy.
The woman slumped in defeat, apparently not as stupid as she had first appeared. Trista hardened ropes of air and bound her wrists and ankles, bound up the wound her arrow had caused, then brought her along with a wind gust to go see to the kids.
They seemed unharmed, and even cheered and came to hug her after she took down the magical barrier. It was a bit of a shock at first, but was also quite... nice.
"YAY!!"
"You saved us!"
"Thank you, lady! That was so cool!!"
Trista smiled as more tears came to cascade down her cheeks. When was the last time she had allowed herself to be hugged by someone other than Bachlan? She couldn't even remember...
"Man, and all we got were the ones that tried to make a run for it?" a familiar voice whined.
Trista looked up to see Aryn entering the clearing, putting away her weapons with a disappointed look on her face. Nessa was next to her, carrying her fighting staff in one hand. Aryn gave Nessa a proud pat on the back. "We caught them all, by the way. They were half terrified as it was, and Nessa spins a mean staff. What did you do to them?"
"She was awesome! Those meanies were all, 'GRRRR!', and she was like, 'I don't think so!' and stopped them all! By herself!" a little boy declared proudly. Trista blushed hotly, not quite knowing what to say.
As usual, Aryn did. "That does sound pretty cool. I bet you kids could use a good meal before we bring you back home, right?" she asked. They nodded enthusiastically. "Come on back to our camp," she continued, then turned to Trista's captive with a merciless smirk. "As for you...behave yourself, and maybe you and all your little buddies will get to eat after the kids."
The brigand leader grumbled a little, but said nothing. Aryn hung back while Nessa led the kids back to camp, then came to Trista. Her voice was quiet and completely serious. "That's a real good thing you did here, Trista. But I gotta ask- why were you by the ponies?"
Trista glanced up sharply, ready to justify herself against an attack, but Aryn's eyes were only curious. "I was thinking about leaving, but I heard them crying out in pain. I couldn't leave them to that...." she hesitated. For once, Aryn waited patiently, knowing this was important. "....when I didn't know salvation for so long myself. My parents died when I was very young, and I was sent to live in an inn with an.... uncle who was abusive. It only got worse as I got older and began developing my magic. The only happy childhood memories I have are watching the clouds and birds and wishing to fly away," she finished softly. She held out her arms and pushed her sleeves up, exposing some of the faint purple scars that ran all over her body.
"Bastard," Aryn mumbled as the two women began walking back to camp, Trista levitating the brigand a good distance in front of them.
"I gave Bachlan my heart the day he rescued me from that hellhole, and he gave me his some years after," Trista added.
"Say WHAT?!" Aryn exploded, stopping deadstill.
She'd been right? Trista and Bachlan, in love? Forget that, Bachlan actually having a heart to give to a human being?
Did the Nine Hells just freeze over?
Trista started to bristle at Aryn's reaction, but remembered that their love had been secret. "If you must know, it actually happened like this..."
Pain burned in the slashes and wounds covering Trista's body as she pulled herself out of the shed and along the ground. The cool dew on the grass gave her some relief, but did nothing for the ankle that had cracked under tonight's unusually brutal beating. Although it felt like she'd already spent a lifetime's worth of tears after the death of her parents when a toddler and a cruel life under her uncle, salty drops ran down her cheeks to pool with the warm blood left behind her like a trail.
Her destination was the woodpile just outside the mocking haloes of light emanating from that monster's- her uncle's- inn that she lived and slaved in. Hidden in a small hollow under the chopped logs rested her treasures- a fine scarf, some thin boards, and a small jar of ointment said to have been made by the Life Guardian herself. The scarf had once belonged to her mother, and it gave Trista a small sense of comfort that this memento was also used to care for her injuries.
A cool breeze sprang up, drying her tears and feeling like a refreshing caress on her wounds. As she withdrew the boards that had served as splints so many times, she heard one of the windows open. Panicked, she scooted behind the woodpile to remain out of sight, wincing as a chunk of wood imbedded itself in a gash on her palm. The customers must never see her injuries!
"Barkeep, where's our little Chinook tonight?" drawled a voice Trista knew well. It was one of her favorite patrons, who knew of her love of the skies and birds and had given her this nickname, as well as a small kite, years ago.
"Visiting an aunt in Ninaz, I'm afraid. It drained some of the funds I'd set aside for the summer festival, but who could tell that little darling 'no' after what she's been through?" replied that sickly-sweet voice, so like sugared venom. Trista's hands trembled as she assembled the boards and began to expertly tie them with the scarf, remembering the hatred-loaded hisses that had accompanied the punishment she had suffered mere hours ago.
Kind and hearty laughter greeted this pronouncement. "You spoil the girl, but who could blame you? I've just come back from Sagia, and had to pass on stories of that little sweetheart..." the patron began.
Trista covered her mouth to hide the small moan of agony at the onslaught of lies and deception going on in that room, with its false sense of security and warmth. Clenching the jar of ointment in her teeth, she began crawling up to her favorite place, a small hill that could catch every breeze that traveled through her small village. Luckily, it wasn't far, and had a gentle slope that she could traverse with all but the worst injuries.
Finally reaching it, she dropped the jar and stretched out on the grass to rest. Twilight was approaching, her favorite time of day, and she turned her gaze to the heavens that were still dusted with the dusky crimson of sunset. Fat purple clouds, just the color of her eyes, lazily drifted like lilies in a pond. A flock of robins flew off to the west, calling out good nights in their sweet little voices.
Trista sighed, longingly following the birds with her eyes as she applied medicine to her injuries. What would it be like to finally leave all this behind, to just sprout wings and fly away? To swirl and dip in the open skies, free to follow naught but the wind?
All of Trista's dreams of freedom were tied into the skies. The winds felt like old friends, brushing her silvery hair and flowing around her clothes and even following some small commands. The monster had always feared this bit of magical ability in her, wondering if it could be turned on him, and laid down a punishment every time he caught her using it. Though she no longer dared to in front of him, she would never give up the small amount of power and comfort it gave her when on her own.
The monster couldn't hurt the sky, or the wind. Even when he threw stones at the birds that raided their garden, or threw stones at her for trying to protect them, they could just rise above him and move on. The monster could hurt her, could try to break her and make her cry, but he couldn't hurt the only thing in this world that gave her comfort and seemed to be looking out for her.
Trista wriggled around a bit on the grass, teary at the relief the medicine was giving her, and rested her head on her uninjured hand. If she ever had the chance, she would like to give back to this which had sustained her for so long.
"Insolent...little....BRAT!!!!"
Trista's eyes flew open as she stared up at the monster, realizing she had fallen asleep out here on the grass. Was she to be punished for being out in the open like this?
He pulled her to her feet, ignoring her cry of pain from the injured ankle being forced to bear her weight. "I have told you...I have told you so many times to keep your mouth shut around my customers. You are a disobedient, ungrateful little chit that should have died with her parents!"
"But I have said nothing, I swear!" Trista protested feebly. He scowled and threw her back down onto the grass.
"You lie! Last night, my best customer claimed that he'd been telling others about you and your little tricks. He's even spoken to the Memory Guardian Bachlan, as if he hoped you'd be chosen to join him!" the monster bellowed, then began to laugh. "Imagine, a little rat like you a Guardian! But we can't have you embarrassing my inn by passing off little parlor tricks as true magic in front of such a man."
Trista tried to crawl back a few paces. She knew that tone, and that look. This was going to be worse than last night, and no amount of pleading would save her.
He came closer, that familiar whip in his hands still stained with her blood from before. "You will obey me if I have to break you to do it." He raised his arm, and Trista clenched her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first lash.
It never came.
The monster cried out in surprise, and Trista dared to open her eyes. The whip was coiled around a fist belonging to what must be an avenging angel. Auburn hair fluttered around his fine bronze-colored cloak, and his brown eyes burned with the fury of a thousand suns. He made the monster look tiny and insignificant.
"How dare you lay a hand on one destined to become a protector for this world?" the newcomer growled.
The monster tried to free his whip. "Now, see here, she belongs to me! You can't just-"
The angel's other fist slamming into his jaw and sending him back several yards cut off any more protests. "Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do, worm. I am Bachlan, the Guardian of Memory. Unless you wish your entire life's memories replaced with those of that creature, you will stay silent!" the angel growled, and came to kneel by Trista.
An eternity seemed to pass as Guardian and girl stared at each other. Amethyst eyes were lost in wonder, while harsh brown eyes acquired a hesitant softness, as if not certain how to go about it. Finally, Bachlan spoke, his voice much richer and calmer. "What's your name, girl?"
"Tr-Trista, sir," she answered quietly.
"Trista. I have heard stories of your devotion to the skies and winds. Several state that you can already manipulate them to a small extent. Show me," Bachlan stated in a tone somewhere between a command and a request.
Trista took a few deep breaths and concentrated. A bit of air pulled away from a passing breeze, and slowly took the shape of a miniature tornado. Bits of dried grass and leaves were picked up as it grew to the size of an apple, then a pumpkin, and at last a wagon wheel. Bachlan's eyes were locked on her face as if he were searching for something, and he finally nodded in satisfaction. "It is well. You will accompany me to the Crystal Citadel, and become Merna's Guardian of Air."
Trista gasped, and fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. "M-me?! But, that is nothing..."
Bachlan cut her off. "The air essence will supply all the power you need, but without the passion and will needed to master and sustain it, it will come to naught." His face took on a stern expression that looked far more natural to him. "Do you have that will, Trista? Will you leave this life to come serve me, and serve this world?"
Trista's eyes shone. "Yes. For now and forever."
"Good. Gather whatever you wish to bring along, and we will depart immediately. You can leave that rag behind, since Oriana will see to your wounds properly," Bachlan said.
Trista's eyes flashed. "This is a memento of my mother, and no rag! It alone shall accompany us!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she covered them with a gasp of fear and tensed, waiting for a strike.
To her surprise, Bachlan laughed. "So, you still have your pride. Hold your head up high, Trista. One who spends their life in service to our world deserves respect." He frowned, glancing at the monster, then motioned for her to wait a moment as he walked over to the man who had made her life hell for so very long.
"I risked my life and lost a lot of good fighters in the Rise of the Classes against small-hearted, petty folk who exploited whatever and whomever to get what they wanted. People like you." The monster trembled as Bachlan's smirk grew. "Yes, they looked about like that just before they fell. But you're no Golden One, and your magistrates will take out this trash."
The monster sighed in relief, one hand still clenching his jaw. "Go ahead and take the ungrateful brat, with my bless-argh!" He crumpled into a fetal position after Bachlan's hard kick to his chest, gasping for air and coughing up a bit of blood. Judging from the cracks heard with the kick, a rib or two had snapped.
"For the girl. Your lawfolk will finish," Bachlan explained simply. He returned to Trista and gently scooped her up into his powerful arms to carry her away from this past for good.
Trista's heart was pounding and her head was dizzy with a mixture of relief and an odd excitement as she snuggled into his chest. Free. She was free at last, and about to begin the life she had never dared to dream of. The monster would never, ever touch her again.
A hint of an odd aroma, something called 'frankincense' that one of the inn's patrons had shown to her one night, clung to his soft yet strong cloak. It gave her a sense that this avenging angel was truly something otherworldly, someone who would have and should have been beyond her reach for all time. She felt like the man that now held her so tightly would protect her against anything bad from ever touching her again.
Still, as safe and warm as Bachlan's arms felt, were they trembling a bit?
Aryn was trying to wrap her mind around this image of Bachlan as a hero. She had had the tale of the Rise of the Classes shoved down her throat all those years in the Citadel like the others, but that was twenty-five thousand years ago. That was enough time to change him into the maniac he was today.
Still, if he had saved her like that, Aryn could grudgingly understand how Trista would come to love him. It was suddenly clear why she had gotten so angry every time Aryn had proclaimed how they would defeat him, and why Trista had been so adoring and attentive to him all those millennia. No wonder Trista had been so torn on this trip, caught between the world and man that she loved. "I can see where you're coming from. Trista, what do you want to do now?" she asked. "If you wanna leave, I won't stop you."
"Boo hoo, poor little unwanted brat," the brigand mocked.
"Be quiet!" Aryn and Trista roared in unison, as flames and winds surrounded the two for a moment. The brigand squeaked and obeyed.
"Didn't you understand anything about that story? I gave my allegiance to the winds and skies of our world that kept me going long before Bachlan came to me!" Trista explained in irritation.
"Does that allegiance overcome whatever is between you two?" Aryn asked seriously.
Trista glanced up at the sky, her eyes sad. A slight breeze came up, ruffling her hair and the nomad leathers. "No, but I've learned that the best way to really serve someone isn't always to give them what they think they want," she replied in a soft voice. "Aryn, I'm sorry. I didn't want to realize the truth, and I was so angry at Bachlan and myself that I lashed out at everyone."
Aryn grudgingly admitted, "It's my fault, too. I kept making things worse with this stupid big mouth of mine." Trista smirked and nodded in agreement, while Aryn blew her a raspberry in response.
Suddenly, Trista's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, how did you two find us anyway?"
Aryn snickered and held up a hand encased in orange power. "A little trick. If I'm under a celestial body like the moon or sun or even stars, and so are you, they can show me a path from Point A to Point B." The snicker vanished. "We were going to see what you were going to do. If you had really wanted to leave, we wouldn't have stopped you."
Trista smiled faintly. "You mean you desperately needed my help."
"Whatever lets you sleep at night," Aryn shot back, then chuckled. "I don't think we'll ever be best buddies or anything, but what say we at least agree not to kill each other until we take care of this first?" she asked, offering out her hand.
"Only if you don't push me," Trista agreed, shaking it firmly and understanding what Aryn wasn't saying.
"I'm going to be sick," the brigand moaned.
"SHUT UP!"
Nessa wasn't quite sure what had happened between the two Guardians, but they seemed to be getting along much better. Sure, on the way to the next village to drop off their charges, Trista had threatened to forcefeed the brigand leader the rest of Aryn's Caldera supplies if she didn't shut her mouth. Aryn had demanded to know what she meant by that, and the two had started an argument. This time, there were little smirks on their faces, and merriment in both sets of eyes. It seemed like they enjoyed these exchanges to some extent.
She was even more surprised when Trista pulled her aside at their last rest stop before the Ayadoia Glade. "Nessa, I wanted to apologize to you as well. All you've tried to do is help us, ever since you brought us into your camp, and I've treated you with nothing but scorn in payment. I'm sorry," she stated immediately.
"I understand, Lady Trista. You were in the shadow valley," Nessa replied.
Trista blinked. "Shadow valley?"
"Sorry, it's a nomad tale. A long time ago, there was a man on a spiritual quest who came to a small valley in the shadow of the two greatest peaks in the Great Simbel Range. There, he encountered a wise old guru woman who explained that each mountain held one of his greatest desires, but that it would take the rest of his life to climb one or the other," Nessa began.
Trista's mouth quirked. "Which did he choose?"
"Neither. He spent the rest of his life in the valley, trying to choose which mountain to climb until the day he died. Because of that eternal hesitation, he acquired neither," Nessa replied solemnly.
Trista looked down. "Two mountains for two desires. I guess that's true," she murmured, then smiled sadly at the nomad girl. "Your people are very wise, Nessa. Where do you all travel?"
"Everywhere on this continent," Nessa replied dreamily. Her gaze was far away as she thought of her tribe and the life she loved. "We follow the wind, going where there is food for us and our herds. Every year, the tribes reunite for two weeks in the Great Simbel Range. There's a great feast, and games, and a market, and people are free to join other tribes for a year, for adventure or to seek a spouse. If conditions are really good or dangerous, a few tribes will travel as one. We are all one people, just on different roads."
"It sounds wonderful," Trista sighed. She had never known such a comradeship. The one strong bond that she had ever known in her life had been her love for Bachlan, which had been severed. She and Joshua had been friends, and Oriana had tried to get close to her, but she had reserved most of herself for her leader.
Suddenly, Nessa had the craziest idea. "Why not come stay with us, after...after this is over?" Trista gasped and began to shake her head, but Nessa excitedly took her hand. "No, really, I think Lady Owl would love to have you. Archery is highly prized in our tribe, since we do so much hunting, and I would be your sponsor!"
Trista smiled weakly. Tears were threatening at the invitation to join the warm and safe circle that Nessa had spoken of so fondly over this entire trip. "I'm happy that you would still want me to join you, but I need to think about it first. And Nessa....thanks. For everything."