He began to pray.
His hand came upwards, and with a gentle motion he closed her eyes.
"...Above the dreams of ravens where Only the hawk remembers death Then let her shade to Huma rise... "to Huma rise... "Beyond the wild, impartial skies."
He'd finished the prayer by shear will alone. Jared pulled himself to his feet, standing above her. He ran his hand along her cheek.
"I always thought I'd scare you if I told you... and now you cannot hear. Forgive me, Mythos. And if you can hear this, where your soul lives now..."
"I love you."
In a long life of battle, victory, and glory, Sir Jared uth Wistan had finally tasted defeat.
*****
She absentmindedly stroked the kitten on her lap, watching the world pass time outside the office window. The Mire had already shown signs of receding, a fact that gave her no small measure of satisfaction, all things considered. A knock at the door shattered the reverie. Sighing, she turned about in the chair. "Enter."
He stepped just inside the door, closing it behind him. "Grandmother," came his voice, not a question but a greeting in his way.
"Jared," she said, rising. "Please... how fare you?"
He approached, coming into the light and smiled softly, moving forward to clasp her hands. Gwyn noticed that the smile did not shine in his eyes, and the sadness was apparent in every part of him -- even the ridiculous moustaches seemed to droop with the burden she was sure he felt. A burden she'd tried to warn against.
"Thank you for seeing me," he said, with a quick shake of the head to refuse her offered chair. "I need to ask of you a great favor."
"Go ahead," she said, as an uneasy feeling began to manifest itself deep within.
Jared slowly unbuckled one of the belts from around his waist, and pulled a sheathed blade up and onto the High Priestess' desk. "I am afraid I must ask for a extended leave of absence. I'll be leaving Amber in the morning."
She felt something like this might happen, but hearing it from him was still a shock. "I.. guessed you'd need time after all that has happened, but why do you return Redemption? You may need the blade if..."
"I no longer serve the blade, and so it shall no longer serve me," he responded slowly, looking out the window seemingly at nothing in particular -- or perhaps something beyond the perception of anyone other. "I will not need the blade for where we go."
"But what about..."
"He will ride with me. His grandmother objected, but His Majesty decided to intervene on my behalf."
Gwyn sat down, stunned. "Not that they could have stopped you, of course."
He actually chuckled at that. "Of course."
"When will you return?"
"That much is uncertain."
"You mean to say you're not," she replied somewhat sharply.
Jared looked at her for a long moment. "I cannot make you understand, Grandmother, though if anyone can, it might be you. Since that day, that damned dark day... I have lost contact with my Gods. My prayers go unanswered." She noticed that his hands gripped the edge of her desk, betraying that legendary self control the others had often commented on. "Caspian declared it 'psychosomatic,' that my feelings and emotions were blocking my ability to harness the magical forces." Jared's lips curled, as if he'd tasted something bitter, for a brief moment, but then the soft sadness reigned once more. "He wouldn't understand. He couldn't understand... that there is only a darkness, a vacuum left inside..."
"I think I understand better than you might know," she said softly, and with a soft swoosh of her robes was standing next to him. "I would have spared you this, many years ago," she began, "but I know... I will hold your Grandfather's sword for you until you return."
He embraced her. "Priam is more than competent to fill my duties. You may want to give it to him; it is only a replica."
She held the embrace, looking forlorn. "Nonetheless, it is something I'd rather keep in the family." The scene outside her window, which had seemed so pleasant just moments before, was now tinged with darkness.
*****
"What does 'arrow-gant' mean?"
Jared frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"Grampa Q kept saying that about you taking us into Shadow. 'Arrow-gant.' 'Arrow-gant son-of-a..."
"Let's change the subject."
They came to the crest of a large hill, and what was there was a tremendous sight.
Down in the valley below a great city stretched out before them, one edge along a great azure sea. On the opposite side of the sprawl, just between the mountains could be made out a great tower, spires fiercely reflecting the afternoon sun.
"This, my son, is my homeland, Solamnia."
The child strained to see around the head of the horse in front of him, and so Jared soothed the command to turn about from his steed. With this, the silence of the awe of youth reigned. "This is Palthant... Planthant.."
"Palanthas," his father corrected.
"And that has to be the High Clerist's Tower. Father, can we go to the top?"
This wide-eyed look of earnest wanting had been enough to win over nine of ten members of the royal family of Amber, with a clean sweep of the child's surviving grandparents and great-grandparents. His father possessed a bit more discipline, and he'd seen that look somewhere before. "We will, I promise, but first things first. Like Amber, you have family here -- your great-Uncle is still the head of the Knights, barring catastrophe. Our ancestral lands are just off of this valley, and if we hurry, we can arrive in time for supper."
"Yes, father," came the reply, only somewhat disappointed. They pressed ahead down the path, where all thoughts of the Tower were erased upon meeting with a group of traveling gnomes.
*****
"Again."
A thin, raven-haired young man sprung towards the knight with his sword, chopping down at him with both hands. The knight deftly turned the blade aside with his shield, which pulled the attacker's body to one side, allowing the knight to swat the young man's backside with the flat of his blade.
"Shit! This is hopeless," he cried, throwing down the blade and rubbing his arse. "You can't believe I'd ever beat you."
Jared chuckled. "Not... soon. But it is important for you to understand the basics. These lessons are the building blocks upon which all further advancement will be based."
The boy shrugged. "What does it matter? Give me one Magnum and I could stop anyone from even getting into swords-length..."
The knight sighed and put down his sword and shield. "Perhaps we should stop. You know better than I that those weapons will not work here, and they are not the weapons that a knight..."
"Here we go again!" yelled the young man, throwing his hands up in the air. "That takes some nerve, assuming I'm going to follow right in your footsteps. Who the heck do you think..."
Jared stood up. "I am your FATHER!," he cried, in a previously unknown outburst of emotion. He turned and walked back towards the forest surrounding the estate upon which they lived. "You have to be ready... I need to prepare you and to steer you clear of those things that..."
And just that quickly, his son had one hand on Jared's shoulder. "Father."
"Yes, Logan?"
"Tell me about my mother. Tell me about Mythos."
Jared turned to look at his son and could no longer try to convince himself that what he'd been doing all of this time was right. He was the spitting image of his mother, with the black-as-night hair and crooked smile. The things he saw of himself in the boy were often overpowered by the brash and impulsive nature, but they were there.
He pointed the boy -- no, he was a young man now, as old as Jared was when he petitioned to be a squire in the Knights -- towards a log, and as Logan took his seat there, Jared wiped his eyes clear of the tears that had welled up. He sat down with a sigh, and looked up at the sky. "Many years ago," he began, "I was tracking the demons who had absconded with your Grandmother, and I'd rescued your Aunt Cordelia along the way..."
Logan eyes widened. "You rescued the Empress of Chaos?!?"
"Yes. Well, at the time she was just... I'll come back to that. Anyways, we rode along, and in the valley up ahead we saw several people on horseback..."
*****
The bells rang mid-day from the towers of the Cathedral, and Jared looked out the window of his office toward a land mostly purged of the dankness and evil that was the Black Road. Looking down below, the crowds were already beginning the gather, and the acolytes were hurriedly setting up for the festivities.
A knock at the door snapped him back into focus, and he turned, leaning against the sill heavily. "Come in, please."
A mass of black curls flashed through the doorway as a petite young woman bounded into the room. "Greetings, great one," she smirked.
Jared smiled softly. "Good afternoon, Candida. And I wish you would not call me that."
The girl put on a pouting face. "Why not? I can't call you just Grandfather, I mean, I have too many of those to keep track of as it is."
"I sympathize, little one. Perhaps you can just call me Jared." He motioned towards a nearby couch, and she flopped into it as he sat in a nearby chair. "What brings you by?"
"David and Lexis called in from FarMire; they'll be back with their squadrons before dusk. Samantha is in Rebma but will Trump back soon, and my mom is headed back from Arden Isle as we speak."
Jared's brow arched. "Seems like everyone's in quite a hurry to get back here," he said softly.
Candida rolled her eyes. "Well it's not every day that your homeland celebrates its dodecka... dedoci... twelve thousandth year of freedom."
"True," was the only response, as Jared stood up to look out the window.
"Great... Jared?" The girl had come to his side in the blink of an eye.
"Yes, granddaughter?"
"When I look at you, I see... this bundle of darkness," Candida began, haltingly. "Ever since I was a little girl, you always fascinated me, 'cause your aura would flash both bright and dark, white and black. Something eats at you and no one else will explain it to me."
He looked down at her. "Many, many years ago I lost someone very dear to me, and that loss has clouded my heart, shaped my world ever since."
"Logan's mother?"
"Yes."
They were quiet for a long time, until the girl leaned up to kiss Jared on the cheek. "I'll be down below," she whispered, heading for the door. On her way out she hesitated. "Consider, great one," she said softly, smiling, "that all of us who look to you, who love you as our grandfather, might not know you the same, if things were different." With that, she was gone.
Jared continued to look out the window, spotting friends and family who were gathering on the lawn. The girl made sense. Who knows what would have come of their life should things had been different?
"If I knew you as I thought I did," he said out loud, "You'd never be content with settling down." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then walked to the bookshelves, pulling out a very old tome.
"And more thy buried love endears Than aught except its living years."
Jared set the book down and sat in the couch, bringing his hands to his face, and then down again. He stared at them, wet with tears.
A small mote of light flickered, then popped into existence in his hands.
Jared looked, unbelieving.
His magic had returned.
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