Chapter 42: From Death - Life

Bena found Yren just after dawn the next day. The night had been sweltering and the bright sunlight of the day without a single cloud in the light blue sky suggested there would be no respite from the heat. The early morning smell of dew and grass trickled over the barest of breezes but all she could smell were the remembered odors of death and decay from days earlier. She shuddered at the memories for a moment, then set her shoulders in defiance.

Yrin was seated outside the blacksmith shop, his back leaning against the light gray, painted wood of the storefront. She noted the dust and dirt staining the outer wall and the windows filled with small shards of broken glass. Her mother would, of course, need to give the wood a thorough cleaning. It was something her mother had always done, never ceding the responsibility of cleaning the outer wall of the shop to any of her children, even when they’d grown old enough to do it. It was something she took pride in and only one of the many ways she helped Ardt support them. Her father of course would have to replace the windows...

She trembled and shook for a moment as she realized her father would NOT replace the windows. Her father would never do anything again. Tears escaped her eyes before she could catch them, so she closed her eyes in an attempt to turn them off. She would never see her father again. She’d never clutch him again. She’d never hear his booming laughter. He’d never lead them in before meal prayers. She’d thought she’d come to terms with the fact – but it still hurt. She could feel a pain in her chest as her heart beat out its melancholy.

It took her a few minutes to regain herself. It took a few minutes for the tears to stop. When she was steadier, she again opened her eyes on her betrothed. Focusing on him, she was able to keep her grief at bay. Mostly.

She moved forward, noting his head was tilted to the right and slightly forward. As she approached, she could see his eyes were closed and the soft rumbling of a gentle snore arose from his chest. His hands were loose in his lap, and he had his left leg settled over his right. She couldn’t help the small smile that curled the edges of her lips as the massive man that was her brother looked so peaceful as he slept. Even just the sight of him helped keep her sorrow at bay.

She paused a moment, the dawning sun’s rays still striking far up on the storefront wall, the shadow of the building across the street cast large upon her family’s shop. She had not slept well. There was the grief for her father that pervaded her thoughts when she was both awake and asleep, but also the uncertainty of the bond to this young man. When Yren hadn’t returned from burying the priest, her heart had trembled. She feared he was upset about Deia’s plans for the two of them.

She’d loved him forever. As a brother, of course, but as she’d grown, her love for him had grown as well. Whenever she imagined the future, she always imagined it with him by her side. Silly childhood dreams – but she’d never considered a future without him in it. Even when she’d found she was going to be forced to become a priestess of Tyln, she’d always considered him as her destiny.

When Deia had ‘given’ her to him, Bena was ecstatic. It was as if the goddess were rewarding her for her loyalty. Being ‘his’ would make everything okay because she knew he would never allow anything to happen to her. He was her rock, as much if not more than her father or mother. She’d always known it, but it wasn’t until Deia betrothed the two of them that she was able to see it clearly for the first time. Her mother and father were the foundation of her past – Yren was the foundation of her future.

Even his apparent interest in Teran or Issa didn’t dissuade her. If anything, it was a supporting argument instead of being a negative. If he was husband to all of them, he could keep her family together. While the arrangement would be unusual, it was not unheard of.

Of course, Issa had ruined it. Bena had long known Issa was selfish but lately her slightly older sister had been so self-absorbed Bena barely even recognized her. It was as if Issa’s majority had unleashed her selfishness.

Maybe it had. Maybe this was who Issa was always destined to be. Bena hoped Issa could reconcile with Yren – but Issa’s own actions pushed such a reunion into doubt. Issa’s self-absorption and Yren’s innate jealousy were working at odds.

Chugad fathering a child on Issa didn’t help much, either.

After the previous night, she was concerned that Yren was rejecting her, as well. He hadn’t returned last night – and it had worried her. Bremer had whispered Yren was at the smithy but, far from reassuring the younger girl, it had only driven her deeper into despair. She felt he was so upset by their betrothal he couldn’t even stand to sleep in the same building.

She wasn’t going to face it – wasn’t going to face him – but Deia was a demanding goddess. All through the night, the voice inside of her told her to seek Yren out, to discuss it with him. Bena couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to hold onto as much time being Yren’s betrothed as she could. Maybe, if she didn’t bring herself to face his rejection, it would go away.

As the night progressed, Deia’s ‘suggestions’ had turned more and more into demands. Just before dawn, Bena couldn’t ignore her goddess’ commands any longer. With a heavy heart, she’d gone in search of her betrothed.

He looked so peaceful. So handsome. He had a square, chiseled face – a face a sculptor might use to show divinity. High, angular cheekbones curled under inset, wide eyes and a firm, curved brow angled above them. His nose was straight, if somewhat wide, and it led to thin, expressive lips which could curl in happiness or flatten into concentration with equal ease. His jaw was hard and steadfast, angling down to a solid, notched chin.

She didn’t want to wake him. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him. Waking him could mean the end to all of the hopes and dreams a silly little girl had ever had. She couldn’t defy her goddess – but she just couldn’t bring herself to wake her brother, either.

Yren may have looked peaceful, but his sleep was filled with nightmares. In all of them, he was running. Running from monsters in black robes, running from magic-users hurling fire and ice, running from pillars of fire that roared up into the heavens and threatened to consume him and the world around him. Every single nightmare, though, held a common theme: he was searching for Teran. In some of his nightmares she was taken from him. In others, she ran from him. Always, though, she was missing.

It echoed how he felt. There’d been no time the previous day to look for his adopted sister. In the back of his mind, he didn’t want to – he was terrified at what he’d find. He hadn’t asked about her but no one had offered information about her, either. No one had spoken of her. He had been busy – first with Tyln’s corrupt priest, then with the priest’s corpse burial, and finally with Honor Hawksley who’d all but tried to force him to leave Hasp immediately – but in the back of his mind, he was certain his pact with Deia had been nothing more than a dream or hallucination. He was certain he was going to have to bury his adopted sister and lover beside his adopted father.

The duality plagued him. It haunted him. He both did and didn’t want to know Teran’s fate. He needed to know if she was alive, but he was terrified to know if she was dead. Finding out meant potentially losing her permanently.

After losing Ardt, he wasn’t sure he could handle another loss.

As he stirred, Bena realized she wasn’t going to have to wake him. He was going to awaken on his own – and her hopes for the future were going to come crumbling down around her. She steeled herself against it.

As his eyes fluttered open, his fears took hold. His first sight was little more than a shadow to his unadjusted eyes. A dark figure haloed by sunlight. In that half-state between sleep and wakefulness, all of his torment came out in a single, pained word. “Teran?”

With that word, Bena’s hopes and dreams were crushed. She took it as a sign. Yren belonged with Teran. Bena was a usurper. While he would fulfill the bargain made with Deia, she would never truly be his.

“Bena?” He asked, looking up in confusion as his eyes worked to resolve the person in front of him. His eyes widened and then closed, his head shaking before rotating on his neck. Bena heard several slight crackles and pops as his neck rotated. “What time is it?”

“Early,” she responded, trying desperately to hold together the pieces of her broken heart.

Though she felt she could barely breathe, she somehow found the ability to speak. She tried desperately to keep her voice normal even as her mind told her to turn and run. She didn’t want him to know her pain. It would be better that way. Though her heart was broken, she loved him enough not to cause him anguish. “Late. Maybe six or seven. Without the Town Hall, it’s hard to say. The sun has been up for near an hour.”

“Dawn, either way,” he murmured, stretching his arms high. He wriggled a bit, stretching out his back. His voice sounded tired and troubled. “It was a long night.”

“Yes,” Bena agreed.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. She twisted a moment, her shudder having nothing to do with the slight breeze cooling a warm start to what was probably going to be a hot day. She knew it was not the right time – but her mind was consumed with its fear. She felt sure it would kill her, but she needed to set him free to be with Teran. “If you – if you don’t want to be – to be betrothed ... we don’t have to...”

Yren’s head snapped back slightly in surprise, his brow drawn and his face shocked. He was still shaking the vestiges of sleep from his brain – but he heard something tight in Bena’s voice. There was a painful note within her words he couldn’t quite understand.

Betrothed?

Deia. It hadn’t been a dream. It hadn’t been a hallucination. Or if it had, they’d both shared it. He’d not been whole yesterday. He had passed the entire day as if he were not completely present, as if part of his mind had been filled with fog. He stopped and seemed to think for a moment, trying to clear his head, trying to remember clearly. Clarity was a desperate need. “If I remember it correctly, Deia didn’t sound like we had much choice.”

Bena couldn’t speak, instead just looking at the ground. Yren studied her closely, his frown deepening. There was pain etched there, indecision. He wasn’t certain what she was thinking but he could tell she was hurting. Did the thought of being betrothed to him hurt her so much?

“But that wasn’t your real question, was it?”

He sighed. He could feel ... something. Some pain in his chest. When Deia had betrothed the two of them, he hadn’t really had time to think. He’d not had time to consider the totality of what Deia had done.

The betrothal had struck his heart, however. The thought of joining his life and Bena’s warmed him.

He’d never truly considered the future before. Like any normal teen, he’d had dreams and, if he was being completely honest, most of them had revolved around either Bena, Issa or Teran or, he was ashamed to admit, some combination of the three of them. He’d made no plans, though. He’d never really considered his future in concrete terms.

Now, though, he realized what Deia had done just felt right to him.

If Bena didn’t want it, though... “I’m not sure we can avoid it – Deia’s decision seemed...”

He paused, thinking his words through. “She seemed determined in her orders.”

He looked up and sighed yet again. “If you don’t want to go through with it, though – I won’t make you. I’ll bear her wrath alone. I know she didn’t ask you about it...”

“Wait,” Bena stopped him. “I thought you didn’t want to go through with it? I thought you belonged with Teran.”

Yren’s face grew surprised again. “It’s true I love Teran – but I love you, too.”

He paused and grimaced. “Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about you like that. I mean, I’d thought of everyone that way at one time or another but ... you’re so young and ... I felt guilty for my feelings, so I pushed them aside.”

He sighed, noticing it was becoming a habit within the conversation. “You’re so far from your majority, considering you as a – as a – mate just seemed wrong and perverted.”

He chuckled. “Ardt told me that men think of all women in such a way, it’s just in our nature. He said it was okay to think of women so long as you didn’t act upon your thoughts unless they were equally willing to pursue them.”

His face fell. “Ardt. Dad.”

He drew a deep breath, firming his resolve and pushing aside his melancholy, and looked back up at his adopted sister. “What made you think I wouldn’t go through with Deia’s bargain? I mean, I’d never truly and fully considered it before ... but I’m not opposed to the idea...”

“But you didn’t return last night,” Bena blurted. “I just – I thought...”

She took a deep breath of her own and let it out before continuing in a tiny voice. “I thought you just didn’t want to spend time with me.”

Yren shook his head, his brows raised in shock. “I wasn’t avoiding you, Bena.”

He snorted, his hands wiping down his face as he raised it to the sky. “I think I was just ... running from myself.”

He chuckled as he realized the running he’d done yesterday was similar to the running he’d done in his nightmares all night. “I was running from everything. From the truth. From myself. Even in my nightmares, I was running.”

He patted the ground next to him and Bena hesitantly sat beside him. He put his arm around her, pulling her close like he’d done since she was just a tiny, little girl. It was so normal, as if nothing had changed between them. For that moment, all seemed right with the world again.

“I’m a little lost,” Yren admitted. “I’m not certain who I am anymore. I’ve killed so many ... I’ve killed without hesitation, without thought, without remorse ... How can I be with anyone if I don’t know who I am?”

“You killed because you had to,” Bena interrupted. “They were going to kill us.”

“Dal was going to kill us?” Yren asked quietly. “I ... I tortured him. I considered it vengeance – but now I know it was nothing more than revenge.”

He shuddered as he continued. “He begged me for mercy – for forgiveness – and, instead, I cut him down. When did I become this – this killing thing?”

“Dal was something else,” Bena replied, words whispering in her mind. “Dal was about retribution. About justice. And yes, about vengeance. But it was mostly about making sure no one would ever again be forced to succumb to his advances.”

“Was it?” Yren whispered forlornly. “Or was it just me becoming who I am turning out to be?”

She watched his face, realizing she wasn’t getting through to him. She reached up her hand and gently but firmly turned his face to hers. “Deia said it best when she made you promise her to ‘do only what is necessary and no more’.”

“You heard that?” Yren asked in surprise.

“Not then,” Bena said softly, her eyes searching her brother’s. “Now, though – now I can somehow remember both conversations. Both sides. I know what Deia asked of you ... and what she asked of me.”

“I’m just not sure Dal was necessary,” Yren sighed. He tried to look away, but Bena held him firmly, her hand softly stroking his face.

“Dal was necessary,” Bena disagreed. “Did you like his advances? Did you enjoy what he made you do? Would you do the things he forced upon you on your own? If he weren’t forcing you?”

“No.” Yren’s face hardened. “I couldn’t stand it.”

“Would you then sentence other children to the same fate?”

“Of course not,” Yren replied.

“Then what you did was necessary,” Bena smiled. “Because he wasn’t going to stop. He’d justified it in his mind as a little thing, easily forgiven by Tyln, as a recompense for his service. He wasn’t going to stop unless someone stopped him.”

She shuddered again. “He was going to do it to me!”

She collected herself and shrugged. “You took his life – and the world is better off for it.”

Yren was quiet for a few moments. “So, my recent homicidal streak doesn’t worry you?”

“My love, my goddess is not wrong,” Bena intoned softly. “You did what was necessary – and no more.”

Yren shook his head, his face growing less somber. He was less sure of the necessity than Bena was, but he let it pass. “When did you get so wise?”

“Having a goddess talking in your head tends to do that to you,” Bena rejoined wryly. She looked away, slightly embarrassed at her admission, her eyes squinting slightly at the light bleeding over the edges of the building across from them.

Yren looked surprised. “She’s actually talking in your head?”

“Getting her to talk isn’t the problem,” Bena sighed. “Getting her to shut up is the problem.”

Bena winced with a smile. “I’m going to pay for that one.”

“I’m sure she knows you were just joking,” Yren snorted.

“She knows,” Bena chuckled, relief breaking through her as she realized she might still end up with the man she loved. “I’m still going to pay for it.”

The young girl looked around. “So, why did you spend the night out here.”

“I didn’t,” Yren remarked, looking out at the street. His head tilted back and forth in uncertainty. “Well, I didn’t spend all night out here.”

“Oh?”

Yren glanced side-long at Bena. “Honor Hawksley visited me as I was burying Dal.”

Yren winced at his words but continued on. “She didn’t help, though. Evidently, she remembers Sir Givens’ mantra, too. ‘If you make the mess, you clean the mess.’”

He shook his head. “She was happy to see me awake. She wanted to leave before dark yesterday. Evidently, the King has her on a schedule and she’s worried she won’t make it. I told her she could go any time, but I wasn’t leaving until we buried Dad.”

“I bet she didn’t take that well.”

“Not at all. Evidently, Princess Ataya won’t let her leave without me.”

“You’re her champion,” Bena interjected simply.

“You’ve heard that nonsense, too,” Yren gasped, amazed.

“You mean she didn’t claim you as her champion in the clearing?” Bena asked intently. “She told everyone she had.”

Yren shook his head and took a deep breath. “No, she did – but it isn’t really binding, is it? I mean, doesn’t she have to have a tournament or something? I could swear I remember Mom teaching us they used to have tournaments or contests of some kind to find a champion back in the olden days.”

“When did you start calling her Mom?” Bena asked, her eyebrows drawn together in interest. It was – odd – to hear Yren use the words ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’. For as long as he’d been there, he’d always used their first names. She wondered when that had changed.

Yren blushed, his head falling. “When Dad – when Dad died.”

He paused a moment. “I’d always called them Ardt and Elva because – because I thought it would be disrespectful to my birth parents. When he died trying to save all of us, though ... it just seemed silly, not to acknowledge him and Elva for what they were. What they’ve always been, if I’m honest.”

Bena paused, taking in his statements. Yren’s use of her parents’ names had never really mattered. His love for them was in his actions and the respect he showed them. She knew, even without him formally accepting it, he considered her parents as his own. “I can understand that.”

She took a deep breath of her own. “I remembered Mom talking about the tournaments myself, so I went to ask her about it – but she’s ... she grieves for Dad. I couldn’t bring up such a trivial thing. The princess, however, came by daily to check on you.”

“I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak to her directly,” Bena chuckled, “but I’m still young enough my impertinence was overlooked. I asked her about it. Evidently, in olden times they did have tournaments and contests to try to find someone suitable to protect the crown prince or princess. It wasn’t necessary, though. All the royal had to do was name his or her champion. The tournament was a way to select who they would name. Ataya has named you, so you are her champion.”