Chapter 39: Time of Remembrance

“That piece doesn’t move like that,” Iranwyn chastised her younger brother. The room was dark, lit only by a single candle set on a small table near the door. The two were sitting on a small rug covering the dirt floor, the small game board set between them.

“But I want it to move like that,” Yren replied, his eyes wide. He looked at his sister closely, the lavender sent of her hair somehow drifting to his nose though she was several feet away.

He frowned for a moment. There was something he should remember about her – but he couldn’t remember what it was. There was a sound at the very edges of his hearing. A choir he couldn’t quite place, and it kept drawing his thoughts away from pursuing memories of his sister.

Aggravated, he looked around the room. It seemed small to him. It seemed small and barren. The walls were thin, vertical strips of cheap wood, the separation between individual strips filled with some kind of dried mud. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that the wood was scratched deeply. He tried to focus his attention on the wood. He looked around and the room was smaller than he expected. For some reason, he remembered it as being bigger. His memories, though, like his attention, were scattered by that understated melody.

A stray memory flit through his mind and he remembered most of the house was made the same way – strips of wood with mud filling. Only the main room had plaster on its walls. He’d asked about it once, but his dad had just said it wasn’t necessary for bedrooms to have plaster because the dried mud kept the weather out just as well.

Then the melody closed in and scattered his thoughts once more.

They were in Iranwyn’s room, playing Kings and Queens. It was one of the few games they had and then only because they could draw the grid on an old piece of wood and use stones their mother had carved for them. Their father had taught them to play only a few days ago.

“Well, you can’t make it move like that just because you want it to,” Iranwyn shook her head. “It’s a knight – it has a horse, remember? So, all it can do is charge. It can move only four squares and only in a straight line.”

“Then I don’t want to move that one,” Yren whined. Whining seemed wrong to him, for some reason, but with the melody tumbling through his ears and mind, he couldn’t seem to understand why.

Over the distracting melody, he heard a howling and looked to the driving snow beyond his sister’s window. Just looking at it made him feel colder, so he pulled the blanket tighter. Momma had draped the threadbare blankets over them – a black one over Iranwyn and a gold one over him – as they were setting up the board. He touched one of the small rocks and moved it diagonally three squares. The rock was carved in the shape of a woman. “I’ll move this one. It can move in any direction.”

“Yes, but only one square,” Iranwyn replied, moving the piece back two blocks.

“Come on you two, it’s time for a bath.” Yren looked up and saw his mom standing in the doorway, her long black hair tied in its normal braid, hanging over her left shoulder and down the front almost to her waist. He wanted to cry but he wasn’t certain why. He felt a sense of loss when looking at her – like he was missing something, but he couldn’t figure out what he was missing. The melody wouldn’t let him.

“A Bath!” Iranwyn called, jumping up from the game. “Can we go to the lake?”

“Of course,” his mom answered. “Where else are we going to take a bath? The bath houses cost money and the lake is free!”

“Isn’t it too cold for a bath in the lake?” Yren asked in confusion.

“Too cold?” She laughed. “It’s so hot outside, I almost melted on my way back from the market!”

Yren looked up at the window – but the sky was clear with only a few puffy, white clouds. The sun was shining, and a small blue bird flew past the window, alighting on a heavily leafed limb jutting just into his vision. He reached up to take his blanket off – but he wasn’t wearing one. He could have sworn he was wearing a blanket just a few moments ago.

He stood up, towering over his mother and sister. That, too, seemed wrong but he couldn’t figure out why. Every time he tried to follow the thought, the song at the edge of his understanding caused it to just flutter away into nothingness.

It was aggravating.

“Wow! My little man is certainly getting big!” She walked over and hugged him tightly. Her head barely reached his sternum – which, again, seemed wrong. It was as if there were something he should remember, something on the very edge of his mind, but he couldn’t ... quite ... touch ... it. Every time he tried, the song would get just the slightest bit louder and burst it like a bubble.

“Come on! Come on!” his sister yelled, tugging on their mom’s hand. He held the woman more tightly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He felt so happy and yet so sad, and he wasn’t sure why. He never wanted to let go of the woman. He couldn’t quite understand why he was terrified that if he let go, she would just disappear, like the snow. Except he couldn’t really remember the snow... “I want to go to the lake!”

“I swear it gets hotter every year,” his dad grumbled. His father, like his mother before, seemed to be shorter than he should, his head ending just above Yren’s shoulders. It didn’t seem right...

The melody coursed just a bit louder, scattering his mind like the wind rushing around him.

They were walking along a forest path, with thick, green bushes on either side, and tall trees with broad leaves set not much further back. The path was shadowy with dappled light streaming through the trees unevenly. He looked up. Rays of the sun shone majestically through the leaves and branches. All seemed perfect with the world...

... except he couldn’t remember getting here. He had just been holding his Mom tightly, afraid to let her go and now he was walking along a path in the forest next to his father. A familiar path. Why did it seem familiar?

He looked down. His sister was in front of him, wearing a long, dark blue dress that reached to just below her knees. Her long, black hair shimmered in the mottled light, the tresses hanging down around her in waves. Her hair reached down to the top of her butt, even with all the waves. She was skipping happily.

Yren couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re just getting old, Yen,” his Mom laughed at his Dad. It was a silly name she’d called him for as long as he could remember...

Except, there was something else. Something beyond the memory...

The song billowed through his ears, pushing his memories far away...

Yren’s smile widened. His Mom and Dad were always laughing and joking with each other. His Mom was a stonemason, and his father was a spinner. Stonemasonry wasn’t used much in Beldrin. Beldrin lay in the western part of a large plain which was surrounded by forest. Beldrin, itself, was surrounded on three of its sides by forest and, with plenty of wood for building, his mother mostly did carvings. Her carvings sold – but not extremely well.

His father’s spinning brought in most of their coin, but Beldrin had a lot of spinners. His father didn’t make much either. They didn’t have much, but they had enough. His parents were happy. He and his sister were happy.

As he walked, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure how he knew these things. He was barely five seasons old. It was ... incongruous. He shouldn’t be this tall at five seasons either. What was going on? Was he really only five seasons old?

“Yren, I think you’re now old enough to learn how to swim,” his father said with a laugh. The man’s words completely broke Yren’s train of thought.

Or was that the hauntingly familiar song?

Swimming? He was going to learn how to swim? He frowned for an instant, certain he knew how to swim already but, like everything else, the thought just seemed to flutter away in the face of that tune. His father was going to teach him to swim!

“Really?” he asked, his eyes widening. “You’ll teach me to swim?”

“Of course!” His father answered. “I told you I would when you got older. Well, now you’re older.”

The water was cool, a welcome relief from the blistering heat of the day. Along its shore, the edge of the lake had a rather large, circular pool which opened out into the much larger lake. The pool was barely four feet deep and was surrounded by trees, mostly keeping the sun from shining on it directly.

Yren frowned as he sat in the pool. He couldn’t remember getting here. They’d been walking and laughing ... and suddenly he’d just been sitting in cool water. Something was wrong.

He heard people talking and looked over. They weren’t the only ones in the pool anymore. Had they ever been? Why couldn’t he remember?

There were a lady and a man, now – two people he felt he’d seen somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. The woman was tall – just a few inches shorter than his father. She was really skinny with very thin, straight, brown hair that was fluttering in the breeze, going every which way. She was flat, too, her breasts just small, barely existent mounds. Yren felt strange looking at the woman’s breasts. He wasn’t sure why he even noticed them. What age was he? Was he old enough to notice a woman’s figure? Before he could concentrate on the thought, the sound of the song once again rose ever so slightly and the thought flittered away.

The man was hardly taller, but certainly bigger. His shoulders were far wider than the woman’s and his chest protruded further. He was muscular, in an understated way. His most defining feature was a weird scar which started at his right hip and went all the way to midway up his stomach on the opposite side. It seemed significant to Yren but, like every other thought he had, the memory wouldn’t come.

“Mom?” he asked, turning to his mother. She and his father were splashing each other. Iranwyn was out near the mouth of the lake. She could go out that far because their dad had already taught her to swim. “Who are these two people?”

His mom looked up before turning to him. “It isn’t polite to stare, Yren,” she answered. “That’s Goodwoman Hedleddy and Goodman Barent. They’re guards.”

“Oh,” Yren frowned, trying to remember. “I thought I knew them.”

“You did know them,” his mom replied. “You killed them.”

“I killed them?” Yren questioned, his heart starting to pound.

“Of course,” his mom answered. “They were very upset about it, too. They understand a bit better now. I even think they’ve forgiven you.”

“But-but-but,” Yren stuttered, looking between his mom and the two guardsmen. “I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

“You don’t remember?” His mother shook her head. “It’s even more rude not to remember someone you killed, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Yren closed his eyes, on the verge of tears. “I can’t help it, though.”

“Can’t help what?” His mother asked.

When he opened his eyes, she was drying off with a towel.

Suddenly, he was shivering. He was so cold. His hand held a long, white towel and he wrapped it around him tightly, trying to get warm. It didn’t work. He just shivered more.

“Don’t wrap yourself up in it, Yren.” His mother shook her head. “Dry yourself off and get dressed. I guess this will have to be the last time we wash in the lake until next year. Honestly, I’m not sure why your father wanted to go to the lake. I told him it was too cold.”

Yren looked around as he rubbed himself dry with the towel. The sky was dark and menacing. Big, angry clouds flew across the sky, driven by the piercing wind. Yren couldn’t help the shudders wracking his body.

“Go on, get dressed,” his mother ordered. “You’re dry enough for now. We’ll get you home and in front of the fire. You’ll be warm and toasty in no time.”

“W-w-w-where’s d-d-Dad and Ir-ir-iranwynn?” Yren asked, his teeth chattering. He grabbed his small clothes and put them on, tying them off.

“Probably home by now, I’d imagine,” his mom responded. “You were taking your time getting out of the water. It’s like you enjoy being cold.”

“N-n-no, I d-d-don’t,” Yren argued, pulling his pants up and his shirt on.

“All evidence to the contrary,” his mom joked.

She walked over and helped him with his coat. As soon as he got it on, he felt warmer, but he was still freezing. He sat on a log and pulled on his winter boots, struggling to keep his shaking hands steady.

“Come on,” his mom helped him up and they started up the trail at a fast pace. The forest was brilliantly colored in oranges, reds and browns. Some branches were already bare, their leaves long since fallen. The denuded branches lifted high overhead, like multi-fingered arms stretching to the sky. There was a satisfying crunch to his step as he walked over dry, dead leaves. A hidden branch or tree root tripped him and he fell...

He looked up and found he was in front of the fire, lying on a small, threadbare rug. Iranwyn was sitting near his head, a blanket covering her. The front door shuddered, clacking against the door jamb. He could hear the howl of the wind outside.

“I hate cold, windy, winter days,” Iranwyn said softly. “We can’t go out and play and if we complain Mom puts us to work cleaning.”

She sighed. “I like dinner time, though. Mom’s making stew. My favorite.”

“With carrots and onions?” Yren asked, snuggling into the blanket. The floor was hard, but he found he didn’t mind. He liked spending time with his sister. She could be mean, but she always came up with fun games.

“And peas,” she said, crinkling her nose. “I don’t like the peas. They’re always squishy.”

“That’s the best part!” Yren exclaimed happily. “They’re squishy, so you can put them between your teeth and bite down hard and – SQUISH! – they turn to mush!”

Iranwyn shook her head with a chuckle. “I’ll save you my peas, then.”

She sighed. “But we have company today, so we probably won’t get seconds.”