Eyes Closed to the Sun--An
Epilogue
Part 3
Sydney tightened his jaw as he stood slowly from the bed. He had never felt this weak before, not in his entire life. He was cold. To most this would have been nothing extraordinary--he was, after all, only half-clothed on a chilly night. But for Sydney Losstarot, the feeling of his flesh tingling with cold was another first-time experience. His body had since his birth retained a natural warmth; it almost radiated from him as proof of the power his human skin encased. Now, that power was all but drained out of him. Alone in the quiet room, he felt a loneliness descend upon him. A familiar, penetrating loneliness.
Being careful not to upset the still healing flesh on his back, Sydney wrapped the bed sheet around his shoulders. It was only a mild comfort against the temperature. He moved with slow steps to the open window, and seated himself upon the sill. He couldn’t remember how many nights he’d spent this way, staring out at fresh stars with a quiet, solitary longing. Ever since that day, when his body cried in pain, and his blood flowed like rain….
Sydney felt his metal arms growing tense, and he forced himself to relax. There was no use in feeling bitterness or regret now. Ashley had been right--the hunt was over. He’d been snared, stabbed, even skinned--he grinned ironically at the thought--and now, was waiting only for the inevitable outcome.
/Not yet. Not until I am certain./
He sighed, closing his eyes. He reached inside himself, slipping deep into the darkest recesses where he rarely dared to travel. Into his memories. He recalled that hot summer day with a startling clarity: the stifling, humid air within the underground temple; the damp feel of the rocks; the dozens of shadows created by hundreds of tiny glittering candles. Hardin’s hand was on his shoulder--for a moment he could feel it, pressing against flesh that was now gone. There were others there, faces hidden in the corners, afraid to speak or even breathe least they disturb the ceremony. The axe handle smelled thickly of leather in the moist air. The blade shone in the dim light like reflections off a golden moon.
/That was the night that gave me hope,/ Sydney thought distantly, still gazing wistfully at the far-off stars. /When I knew someday a man would come, and grant me salvation from that wretched life. Without knowing his name or countenance, only the imprint of his soul upon my own, waiting…always wondering…./
Sydney sighed deeply, grimacing as the pain spread through his back. /I…I chose true, did I not? Ashley, I waited all my life to meet you. You cannot be false./ He pursed his lips into a thin frown, his metal hands curling around each other in frustration. /You cannot. My soul would not lie to me--you must be the one./
Ashley stalked out of the small village, uncaring that he was shirtless, barefooted, and unarmed. The night air was chill against so much uncovered flesh--nothing beyond what he was used to. The tiny rocks that bit into the soles of his feet when unnoticed. He didn’t even realize that the Blood Sin carved into his back had begun to sting anew, as if digging deeper into his flesh, seeking to place its mark upon his very bones. He only continued to march to the edge of the forest. The dark thicket of trees that would have made anxious even the bravest of men was now inviting him to lose himself inside their twisting maze of bush and shadow. He accepted, pushing without reserve or falter into its core.
/Tia…I thought that you had forgiven me./
He stumbled, growled at himself, and continued on. His limbs were stiff and resistant to the movement--why should he be here, seeking answers from the wilderness when rest and slumber awaited him back at the inn? Running from Sydney, from Merlose, from the nightmare would not grant him peace, but only a momentary reprieve from the madness. As soon as he returned, it would start again; as soon as sleep was achieved, the visions would ignite. This restless wandering was his only peace.
At last Ashley slowed, too weary to continue. Only now did his scarred and blistered feet voice their complaint at his cruel treatment. With a heavy sigh he sank to the ground, and leaned his back against the rough bark of a nearby tree. /What am I doing?/ he wondered, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. / Coming out here…have I gone mad at last?/ Another deep, remorseful sigh slipped through his lips. /Always, the truth eludes me. I…I thought she had forgiven me. But those visions…the warmth in her lips…in his eyes…were they fabrications from mine own mind? Our love…our happiness…./
The Riskbreaker shook his head fiercely. “No. How can I accept that?” He lifted his head, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. / Agent Merlose interrupted me earlier. Sydney may not be able to see my true history, but I know the voices--I know my own soul. Perhaps I can succeed where he failed. I must try./
Ashley concentrated as he had earlier, raising the image of the broad-leafed oak that stood alone amid the endless grassy plains. He heard his son’s laughter before he saw his face, and cringed, the innocent voice pressing into him. He broke his own concentration before allowing himself to view the death again.
/No, this is wrong. It does me no good to see that horror again. I must…delve deeper./ He took in more fresh air, and reached back, past the fields. To a dim, crowded room where people laughed and dance, surrounded by a haze of smoke and alcohol stench. A celebration. Music spread through the cracks between the people as they pranced about the small establishment in the steps of a gleeful dance. Their laughter circulated more easily than their own breath, so stifling was the atmosphere.
/I remember this. I know this place./
Across the churning mass of spinning bodies and limbs, two pairs of eyes joined, and then were lost again. Two people sought each other out among the crowd. Two voices laughed, sang, and bid farewell come the evening’s end, never knowing what else may lie in store for them. Unaware that they would meet several days later by chance, beneath the ever-comforting leaves of the far-stretching oak.
/We met that night at a celebration. She was beautiful, blindingly. But I did not think of her until our paths crossed once more out in the meadows. The secret place we would both escape to when weary. Fate was kind to us that day./
Ashley opened his eyes, though the images stayed with him even then. A soft, sad smile came into his lips. “I remember,” he murmured joyfully. And other, trivial memories paraded across his sight: walking through the streets in the rain; catching a cold and being teased for his cold all that week; Marco, tottering across the room only to poke his father in the eye. True memories--so real that he could feel them in his eyes, his ears, his hands. Pure reality. Their wedding ceremony, the first time they made love, the birth of their beautiful son--
/Where was the ceremony held?/
He paused, caught by this sudden, seemingly unimportant concern. Where had the wedding taken place? He remembered the ornate building, decorated with paintings and tapestries donated by their family and friends. Faces came in and out of focus. But what was the name of the place? It had had such a beautiful name, that small house on the outskirts of the city.
/What was the name of the city?/
Again Ashley was forced to stop. He had no idea what the name of the town was, or even what province it had been in. Where had they lived together those six short years of marriage? Where had they met--where had his son been born? Tia’s father had been a wealthy merchant within the town they resided, a kind man who wished all the best for his daughter and her family. Christophe--that was his name. Christophe DeLen. But where had his business flourished so well?
His heart began to sink once more. He could not recall the name of the place that had been their home, or where he had come from before the marriage. Not a single name to fit the faces of their companions at the wedding reception remained in his memory. Their lonely oak--where was it now?
/The city of Terrall.
A hungry city of whispers, where all children were orphans forced to beg
in the streets. Where the tax
collectors could not perform their duties; there was nothing but poverty to
seize. I grew up in such a place. There were no wealthy merchants in Terrall,
no beautiful women with sun-silk hair, no rolling plains and sturdy trees. Only sellswords and thieves./
/And Jan Rosencrantz./
Suddenly, unwillingly, he
remembered how he had met Rosencrantz, referred to as “Shadowlicker” among
Terrall’s inhabitants. He was no older
than Ashley himself--a brash youth with too much skill, and even more ambition. His beady eyes had sought out Ashley, realizing
opportunity; he could profit well by depending on his comrade. They would join the VKP, he said, and become
the silent angels of justice in this forsaken world. They would gain revenge on those that had cast them down into so
pitiful a life, and save the victims that resembled them so much. Honor and duty and morality--upholders of
the law. Men deprived of recognition to
keep from becoming tainted.
For they had certainly
felt tainted, living in the filth.
Ashley scrubbed at his
eyes once more. /A pair of
tales, each delicately woven, one no more believable than the other. For if Rosencrantz’s words be true, from
whence did so many clear memories originate?
I am not so imaginative to have created them. Were they false, with this power I should be able to detect as
such./
He shook his head--the visions were too clear to have been
fabricated. /And this…./
Ashley pressed a hand over
his chest to where the carved metal rood lay upon its silver chain. Tia had worn it every day of her life, strengthened
by her faith. He could not imagine her
without it hanging from her neck. He
had taken it from her after her death.
Though he had lost his faith in the symbol’s true intent, it was part of
her, and it kept him alive.
“Tia,” he murmured,
bringing the pendant to his lips, “you forgave me, didn’t you?”
A gentle breeze began to
blow. Ashley sighed, allowing his heavy breath to join it. Morning would soon be upon him. Slowly he climbed to his feet. /I am weary. To remain here will do gain me nothing. Perhaps…Sydney
could help me. I must learn to
understand my power if I am to use it effectively./
Ashley began his way
slowly back towards Bevllou, placing his hand against a steady tree trunk every
once and a while to help him along. By
the time he reached the outskirts of the sleepy town, dawn’s prelude glow was
upon the eastern hills. It’s optimistic
foretelling of a new day was lost to him; he turned away from the brilliance,
shaking his head. The sunrise had lost
its beauty a long time ago as far as he was concerned. With yet another sigh he made his way back
towards the inn.
He didn’t make it that
far. Near the town’s outskirts he came
across a scene he hadn’t anticipated: Agent Merlose, sitting with her back
propped against the wall of a shallow alley wall. He halted his approach before she could spot him. Some part of him felt an odd twisting of
guilt—he hadn’t meant to speak cruelly to her earlier. Even from his far-off vantage point he could
see that her eyes were a bit swollen from the shedding of many tears, and her
limbs were limp with fatigue.
/I’ve no need to apologize. She was presumptuous and far too abrupt./ He frowned thoughtfully to
himself. /I…I could sway her. With this power…./ Inadvertently his shoulders rotated, as if
calling the mark upon his back into life. /I could make her forget her
sorrow, whatever it be. I could will
her into contentment./ His frown deepened, filling him with unnerving
indecision. /It would be so
easy, with this power Sydney has given me.
To twist hearts, as he has so often done./
But before Ashley could
decide let alone act, another figure came into view: Joshua. He had forgotten about the boy during the
confusion of the last several hours. /He
is so young, I wonder how much he understands?
Younger than Marco was…./
As he watched, the boy
walked slowly to Merlose’s bent, limp form.
His young eyes were wide and questioning, his smile comforting. As a child he could not have understood what
troubled her; but he moved to her with such certainty and compassion as only
the innocent can provide, and wrapped his short, chubby arms around her
neck. She glanced up sharply, surprised
by the sudden outpouring of concern from the young boy. Her lips moved without knowing the words
behind them. Glad for his silent,
willing support, she smiled. She
cleared her eyes and touched his head in a sigh of affection. He was welcomed into a warm, thankful
embrace.
Ashley watched, somewhat
mystified by the short scene. Slowly,
the understanding came to him. /So
that’s your small power, young one,/ he thought
to himself wonderingly. /Without
a word, without even hesitation, you mend her.
You have more courage than I./ He smiled grimly, and stepped forward, into
Merlose’s line of sight.
The Inquisitor spotted him
and straightened immediately, though she did not attempt to urge Joshua
away. She even seemed to be depending
on the boy. Ashley tried to convey a
look of peace—he didn’t want to frighten her away, now that he had come to make
amends. He seated himself in front of
her, holding up a hand to fend off the words that were forming in her
mouth. “I apologize,” he declared,
though softly, as it was a phrase he was unaccustomed to.
Merlose fairly gawked—she
had expected nearly everything but that simple statement. Her lips fumbled over a response. “There’s no need,” she stammered. “Agent Riot, I am the one who—“
“No. I reacted hastily, and I…was unjust. Forgive me.”
She stuttered stupidly
once more. “Of course. I—I apologize as well,” she managed at
last. “I do, whether…need be or none.”
Ashley nodded. “Accepted.”
/Yet I still do not understand why she acted in such a
fashion. Could it be she…she perhaps finds interest in me?/ He did his
best not to frown openly, though he did find the concept rather
disconcerting—he wasn’t sure why. “But
if I may ask,” he began carefully.
“I should explain,” she
murmured, looking to Joshua as if for help.
He returned her gaze with questioning, unobtrusive eyes. “You see….”
She gulped, and would not look Ashley in the face. Again he wondered if it would be easier to
ask directly of her mind, but he restrained himself, waiting. “You remind me of my father,” she said
blurted out.
The Riskbreaker recoiled
only slightly as proof of his surprise.
He wanted to question, but remained silent, hoping for a deeper
explanation.
“My father was a cold
man,” Merlose went on, her head bowed, still holding Joshua close to her. Her fingers moved slowly and unknowingly
through his thin blond hair; he didn’t seem to mind. “He…would have rather I been born a man, as I am his only
child. My mother became barren,
somehow, after bringing me into this world.”
She blinked her eyes rapidly, suppressing tears of shame. “I toiled hard, to prove myself to him. I earned only his silence in return. He died…two years ago. Just before I was named an Inquisitor.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashley said,
at a loss for anything else.
She shook her head, and
scrubbed at her eyes. “I only regret
never earning his approval. He was so
quiet, so cold, and I….” She licked her
lips and pushed the words through. “I
so wanted to make him proud. If only
one smile, if only….” At last she
raised her head, and met the eyes of the man before her. “Perhaps I saw a bit of him, lying beneath
your eyes, Agent Riot. I cannot stand
to see a man so isolated, so uncaring.
It frightens me. But when we
touched…I saw something come to life in you.
Something small but real…and I thought….”
Merlose chuckled at
herself and her foolishness. Ashley could
only stare. “I thought I could help
you,” she whispered. “I saw the man I
could never reach, just beside me. I
hoped to make you feel some warmth….”
Ashley stared at her, not
knowing what to say or what even to think.
The understanding came gradually over him; he felt foolish now, for
misunderstanding her intentions so horribly.
She had only wanted to help him, and he had forced her away.
“I once had a
family.” The words leapt from him
before he knew that they were waiting inside him, cycling through his lungs, on
the tip of his tongue. And a tremor ran
through him, rising emotions that he’d tried to hide: pain, regret,
sorrow. He’d kept them in check,
focusing on the rational dilemma of unwinding his twisted memories. He’d not been allowed to dwell on the loss
itself. “A wife, named Tia, and a young
son, barely older than Joshua.” He
looked the boy over appraisingly, who was now watching him with those silently
forgiving eyes. /Why does he
make me feel so calm? Or am I merely
seeking my answers wherever I can?/ “They were killed, several years ago. Or so my memories told me.”
Merlose watched him
intently; the unnatural intimacy he was exposing was a gesture not lost on
her. Ashley went on hesitantly. “But the city told me otherwise. Sydney…he reached into my very soul, showing
me a different tale. He told me that my
family…my life…was nothing more than a lie given to me by the VKP.” She gasped just barely. “That they had manipulated mine own
cherished memories, to the purpose of molding me to their will. To ally myself to their justice.”
“But Sydney’s power—“
Merlose began.
“Aye, I know.” Ashley raised his head, and found that he
could not keep his eyes off the young boy who remained at his fellow agent’s
side. Those soft brown eyes gave him
peace. “And now, the playwright has
lost sight of his script—he knows not which tale is true.”
She frowned deeply. “He may claim so.”
“I trust him.” The declaration surprised even him, but he
did not question its merit. “Sydney…it
seems that he does not wish to lie to me further. He is uncertain, as I am uncertain.” He sighed deeply, and then paused, as a tiny hand took his. Joshua was staring up into his face, smiling
frankly. Before those young, untainted
eyes, Ashley found no arguments. /You
do have a power, little one,/ he mused
silently. Ashley gently patted the
boy’s head, and his lips turned upward in a smile. It was the first pure expression to light the Riskbreaker’s
features in a long time, which did not go without notice from Merlose. But Ashley barely recognized her presence,
as his focus was entirely on the boy. /Even
Sydney was young like this, once. He
most likely even bore a similar appearance.
We were all once innocent as children./
Ashley paused, remembering
the vision he’d been treated to the night previous, high atop the Grand
Cathedral as he held the wounded and heartsick Sydney. /I saw his soul…as a child.
A child no different than this boy./ He inhaled sharply, having suddenly come
across a deep understanding. /You
bore this burden all your life. How you
must have suffered. The pain of duty—of
isolation. The pain of the innocent,
damned by their faith./ Briefly, he closed his eyes. /Sydney, I have misjudged you. Forgive me./
He reached out once more,
running his fingers through the young blonde’s thin hair. “Worry not for me, Merlose. I…am beginning to understand.” He nodded to himself, assuring. “Yes, I understand. Sydney did not give me this power so that I
would use it, nor so that it would remain unused.” Joshua cocked his head to the side quizzically, and Ashley
smiled, reminded of his own son’s curiosity.
“My answers will come someday, when I am ready. But until then, I have a heavy burden. I will take it. I…am the one he chose, and I cannot regret what cannot be
undone. I will not let it condemn me.”
Merlose watched him, her
eyes wide, trying to understand. “Agent
Riot?”
“I am well.” Only when Ashley spoke the words did he
realize their truth. With a bit of a
stiff groan he pushed to his feet, and helped the woman to stand as well. “Thank you, Callo Merlose, for your concern
and your care. We are perhaps equal now?”
She blinked, clearly
puzzled. But she smiled, nodded, and
cleaned her face. “Yes, perhaps. Thank you for…understanding.”
“Aye, the same. Now, I have but a small favor to ask. Would you take young Joshua back to the
inn? Dawn is upon us, but I fear he has
not had enough rest to make up the night.
Keep him company for a while, that he might sleep some more.”
Merlose smiled, though she
knew he spoke as much for her benefit as for the boy’s. “I will.
I shall tend to Sydney as well, if he requires it.”
“Much indebted. I will be gone only a short while.” Ashley nodded to assure them of his
well-being, and bid them well. “Tell
him that I am well, and that we shall set off once I return.”
“Aye.” She hefted Joshua into her arms, who was
already bearing the signs of sleepiness in his drooping eyelids. “Take care.” And then they split off to their different errands, having found
the peace they’d been hoping for.