Chapter 7 - The Last Messenger

Chapter 7 - Aael

Swiping the final piece of flatbread across the plate, Aael pinched the last of the green chutney. He smiled, happy that breakfast would end in such balance. Stuffing the bread into his mouth, he stared at his dad across the table. Aael still hoped his dad would take him to Hylt’s library.

Aael’s dad finished smoothing his chutney into a perfect mound and began rearranging his bread around the chutney. It had taken his dad most of breakfast to cut the bread into six identical triangles, and his plate now looked like a flower. If his dad touched a piece of bread on one side, he always touched its opposite in the exact same place. His knife sat to the left of his plate, his fork on the right, both parallel with each other.

A glance to the right confirmed Aael’s mom hadn’t moved. She stood at the window looking at the Abbey courtyard, her hands clasped behind her, tight against the small of her back. She stood in Krava, a stance to hide your weapons from an enemy. Mom couldn’t even look out a window like a normal person. The spiciness of the chutney still warmed his tongue, and he admitted that his mom sometimes acted like the other Moms. She liked to cook for them at least, but rarely ate herself.

Aael looked at his dad and cleared his throat, but his dad didn’t look up. Instead, an image of his dad, clothes on fire, appeared in Aael’s head. Aael choked in surprise and started to cough. 

Saniel moved from the window and strode to the table, a frown on her face. Stopping between them, she reached down and moved a piece of bread on Dad’s plate, pushing it into two others. Then she tapped Dad on the back of the head.

“You’re supposed to eat it, not play with it,” Saniel said.

Caden smiled but didn’t look up. Saniel took a step away, relaxed back into her Krava stance, and looked at Aael.

She stood five feet away, and Aael returned her stare. His dad fixed the damage his mom had caused to the food’s design, but Aael knew better than to look away from his mom. His instincts told him something had changed.

“Good,” Saniel said.

She brought her hands out from behind her back, gripping his dad’s knife in her right hand. She set it on the table, and his dad immediately straightened it to match the fork on the other side of the plate.

“Did you see me palm it?” Saniel asked.

Aael shook his head.

“At least you recognized the danger,” Saniel said with a sigh.

She had stabbed Aael in the shoulder three weeks ago during lunch. Usually, his fighting lessons were outside, so he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t been able to relax at a meal since.

She grabbed his plate and walked to the small kitchen. “Maybe you aren’t as hopeless as your father after all.”

A slight pressure appeared in Aael’s head, and then images tumbled into his mind. His mom, her mouth open, fire and ice alternating as she threw her head back and forth. His dad tried to stand, but was frozen and then burned, over and over again. Aael laughed, unable to contain it.

Saniel whirled, her empty hand thrust toward them. “Out!”

A blast of air struck Aael, and he braced himself against the table. Caden smiled and placed his arm around the plate to protect it.

Things were different. Whatever Aael’s parents had decided, it had changed their behavior. His dad joked with him now, and his mom’s anger was manufactured. His near-death had shattered their routine, and he’d never been happier.

Aael followed his dad to the front door, his mom’s prediction yesterday about his impending death was still a fresh memory, but he didn’t believe it. Three months seemed like an eternity, and his parents would never let it happen. They would always be there for him.

Caden pulled the door open, spread his arms to touch each side of the frame, and then reached up and touched the top with both index fingers. Years of his dad’s odd habit had made the wood shine in those spots. He followed his dad into the morning sunshine and snapped the shirt’s hood over his head.

“I really am sorry,” Caden said.

Aael sighed, resigned, and nodded.

“Stay out of trouble,” Caden said and then strode toward the north gate.

Trouble? Aael never got into trouble. He started toward the workshop. Bacchus might be there, and he wanted to tell him about the Shade. Aael swung his arms in a circle and arched his back. The day spent in bed had left him rested but stiff, and his bones still ached where they’d been broken, and re-broken.

“Door!” Saniel shouted.

Aael rolled his eyes and turned around. The two-story building they lived in had pine walls, patched here and there with cedar. The pine had come from the forest that surrounded the Mountains of Despair to the north. Most of the other buildings in the Abbey were adobe. Sand crows chirped from the juniper bushes next to the door. He leaned into the house and grabbed the door handle.

“Practice after lunch,” Saniel said from the kitchen.

“Really?”

She turned from the dishes and stared at him. 

Aael held her gaze for a second before looking down. “Fine.” As he pulled the door shut, his mom’s voice reached him.

“Stay out of trouble,” Saniel said.

Aael closed the door harder than necessary. He hated that his parents always told him that. They treated him like a child. He strode toward the workshop again.

The birds were the only sound, and Aael looked around as he entered the large courtyard in the middle of the Abbey. His house stood on the western edge of the courtyard along with the infirmary and monk dorms. The eastern side held the Idlewood grove, the southern side the workshops, and the northern side held the barn, craftsman houses, and the school. The courtyard always had someone walking through it. 

He frowned when he realized why the Abbey looked deserted. Because it was. Everyone had left for Hylt to celebrate the last day of the Moon Festival and to watch the championship fight in the Blood Dance. For the first time in ten years, he would miss it, and his frown deepened.

Aael thought about going back home since no one would be at the workshop, but his mom might make him practice early. Better to avoid her as long as possible. Plus, he could give the sheaths he’d been working on another look. He had finished them a few days ago, but it wouldn’t hurt to look one more time. They had to be perfect. He started for the workshops again.

The large clump of juniper bushes that mostly hid the workshop came into view. Aael stopped when he heard voices. Bacchus would be in Hylt for sure. Who would be here? He stood still and cocked his head to listen.

After a moment he recognized the Abbot’s voice.

“…it’s not wood from the trees, it’s the fruit they produce. We call it aln.”

Someone else spoke, their voice muffled, like they faced away from Aael. He crept forward a few steps, curiosity stronger than the guilt of eavesdropping.

The Abbot spoke again. “No, most perform simple transformations. It’s exhausting work, which is why the cost is high. Even if you only manage simple things, you’ll make an excellent income.”

A short, indistinct sentence came from the other voice.

The Abbot spoke, his words clipped. “I know. It’s Aael. You’ve already met,” then much louder, “Aael.”

Aael grimaced. No matter how quiet he moved, he could never sneak up on that old man. Aael walked around the bushes and into the workshop.

The workshop, one of the largest buildings in the Abbey, didn’t have walls. Instead it had cedar posts spaced every ten feet to support the pine roof. Workbenches were grouped in clumps, and chairs were arranged in circles so the craftsman could talk while working. The Abbot stood in the middle of the workshop, a young woman next to him. Aael stared at her.

The slender woman’s black hair was tucked behind her ears and fell over her chest. Aael had never seen hair so long. Most women wore their hair short because of the heat. Her skin was the color of damp sand, lighter than normal, as if she hadn’t spent much time in the sun. Her shorts and shirt were plain, the thin cotton a greyish brown. She frowned at him and arched her back, proud and defiant.

A sick realization hit Aael, and he swallowed hard. He pictured her covered in dirt with her hair pulled back. It was Mia! The girl who had tried to kill him!

Anger erupted in Aael. He grabbed a small chunk of aln from the nearest workbench and threw it at her. Mia’s eyes widened, and Aael smiled. He wanted her to feel some of the pain he’d endured.

Mia moved, but it wouldn’t matter. Coldness washed across Aael. He’d felt something similar when he’d talked with Elu. The aln’s trajectory drifted upwards. Why wasn’t it falling? 

Aael’s breath caught as he realized it would hit Mia in the face. Gods have mercy, he’d only wanted to sting her, not smash her face. She’d almost killed him, and he’d wanted to get even. It upset him that she’d been allowed into his home. Still, it was hard to justify breaking her nose. Actually, he couldn’t justify this at all. Why hadn’t he thought it through!

Coldness pierced Aael’s chest like a knife, and the aln disappeared. A loud bang from above echoed through the room, and Aael looked up to see the aln fall from the ceiling. It landed with a thump halfway between Aael and Mia.

Aael rubbed his chest to ease the pain. What had just happened?

Mia frowned, a hand on her hip. The Abbot’s expression Aael knew well.

The Abbot’s face burned red. “What in Raln’s name is wrong with you? She’s a guest.”

Aael’s shame fueled his anger. “Why is she here? She tried to kill me!”

The Abbot sighed. “That gang would’ve killed her. She didn’t want to hurt you.”

Aael clenched his hands. “Well, she did.”

The Abbot held up his hands. “I ask for perspective, Aael. She was a tool. No different than the arrows she fired.”

Aael laughed. “Arrows we made. Choices are the soul’s prism. I’ve seen hers, and it’s black.”

“Choices? Like throwing aln at a woman?” the Abbot asked.

Aael opened his mouth and then closed it. He hung his head, his face hot. He deserved that, but he wasn’t as bad as her.

“He’s right,” Mia said.

Aael looked up as Mia approached. Her brown eyes met his, and she stopped, her brow furrowed. She looked down for a second, and Aael thought she might kneel. When she looked back up, her face was a neutral mask. Aael smelled the sweet scent of fury kisses and took a deep breath.

“I am sorry, Aael. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I…” She paused to wipe her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Mia walked past Aael as she left the workshop, and something inside him broke. Had he really made her cry?

“She was alone. Afraid.” the Abbot said.

The Abbot’s disappointment made the pain in Aael’s chest unbearable, and he wanted to vomit. Aael lifted his arms and tried to speak, to give some sort of explanation. But nothing he could say would make it better.

“I’ll go apologize,” Aael said.

“A good idea. The first you’ve had,” the Abbot replied.

Aael turned and ran.

Aael saw Mia disappear into a guest house not far from the workshop, and he sprinted across the hard-packed sand. He slowed and then came to a stop in front of her door. Aael raised a fist to knock on the half-open door.

A hand shot out, grabbed his wrist, and jerked him into the room. Aael tucked into a ball and rolled. Mia’s room was small, though, and he struck the opposite wall before he could unwind. The force of his impact cracked the adobe wall. He stood, feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, ready to fight.

“I said I’m sorry!” Mia yelled. “What else do you want?”

Aael stood dumbfounded. Her hair pulled back into a bun, revealed the curve of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed with adrenalin, and her chest heaved with deep breaths. Aael pulled his eyes away and looked at her face.

“Uh, I shouldn’t have thrown that aln. I’m sorry,” Aael stammered.

“Why? I wasn’t in danger. You throw like a child.”

Aael ground his teeth. What was her problem? He was trying to apologize.

Mia bent and picked up her pack and bow.

“Where are you going?” Aael asked.

Mia shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“I think the Abbot wants you to stay.”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “The Abbot?”

“I upset him with my,” Aael paused, “greeting back there.”

Mia cocked her head and looked upward. “I’m not sure. It seems dangerous here. Your clumsiness damaged the ceiling of one building and ruined the wall of another.” Mia looked at him. “It might be safer in the city.”

Aael bit his lip. He had upset the Abbot, and he still felt bad for trying to hurt her, although she was doing her best to rid him of that. And, well, she kind of smelled nice. A vase of flowers stood on her headboard. Each flower had five dark blue petals around a yellow center.

“You shouldn’t pick the fury kisses. The Abbot will be mad,” Aael said.

Mia put a hand on her hip. “He told me to help myself. He probably doesn’t want a camel like you trampling around in the grove.”

Aael changed tactics. “You almost killed me. At least stay a few days, so the Abbot doesn’t punish me.”

Mia placed her head through the bow. “I do like the old man. You cause him a lot of stress, and I hate to upset him more, but I can’t stay here.” She backed away from him into the sunlight.

“Please stay. I’m begging you to reconsider.”

Mia shook her head. “I can’t stay here.”

Aael felt pressure in his chest, a combination of shame for trying to hurt her, guilt for disappointing the Abbot, and frustration with himself for acting so rash. And maybe something else, too. He didn’t want her to leave. 

Aael looked down and told the truth. “I want you to stay.” 

“How sweet, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not staying here.” 

It felt like someone had scooped Aael’s insides out. He looked up and nodded, but didn’t trust himself to speak. He had really messed this up.

The Abbot appeared. “Did the idiot apologize?”

Mia nodded. “In his own bumbling way.”

The Abbot looked at him, and his expression darkened. “Are you going to punch her now? Get out here.”

Aael had never relaxed from the stance he’d rolled out of. He lowered his hands and walked out, tensing as he passed Mia. The scent of flowers struck him again. He had spent thousands of hours in the Idlewood grove and had never noticed how great they smelled. 

The Abbot narrowed his eyes. “I’m taking Mia to her permanent room. Meet us in the grove in an hour. I want to show her the first Ring.”

“But I thought she was leaving?” Aael asked.

“Why? She just arrived.” The Abbot responded.

“She said she couldn’t stay here,” Aael said even after he’d begged.

Mia laughed. “Silly boy, it’s true, I can’t stay here. The Abbot insisted I move closer to the other crafters.”

Aael closed his eyes. Relief that she would stay perfectly balanced with his anger at being played.

“Grab Mia’s flowers and follow us,” the Abbot said. “We need to get her settled in.”

Aael opened his eyes. Mia smiled, winked, and then followed the Abbot. The black rings of a tattoo, no bigger than his palm, were visible through the back of her shirt. The five circles, just below her shoulder blades, meant she had mastered archery. He stood in the doorway and tried to sort through his feelings. It was useless. He reentered Mia’s room, old room now, and grabbed the vase of fury kisses.

Aael shook his head and muttered to the flowers. “I liked her better as an assassin. Her arrows were less painful.”