Eyes Closed to the Sun--An Epilogue

Part 5

 

 

Late that evening, the group shared their first and last proper meal as a whole.  Merlose ate silently, her head lowered, contemplating the separation that was about to take place.  Beside her, Joshua was eating as quickly as his young manners would allow.  Sydney kept the hood of his coat raised to avoid any curious stares from the men at the small tavern, and Ashley spoke to them all amiably, drawing their short companionship to a close.  “Joshua will be returned to his father the Duke at the Secondary Manor.  Merlose will return to the VKP with her report.”  He stared at her across the table.  “Have you prepared?”

 

“Aye, well enough,” she replied a bit sullenly, moving her spoon about the soup bowl.

 

“Do not look so disheartened,” said Sydney.  “You did not miss us before we met, did you?”

 

Merlose raised her eyes to him with a look of annoyance.  She sighed.  “You know I will worry about you pair.  Staying hidden from the Grand Steward will not be an easy task.”

 

“You forget our talents already, dear lady.  Have more faith.”

 

“There’s no need for concern,” added Ashley.  “We will do well enough.  I’m more concerned with Sydney’s teachings.”

 

The cultist snorted in amusement.  “Yes, as you should be; we have much to do.  You must learn to focus your Heart-Seeking, Foresight, Hindsight, Scrying, Willing, Teleporting, Summoning--“  He paused, chuckling at the displeased expression his company wore.  “Do not fret--you already have all the ability you’ll ever need.  It merely needs taming.”

 

“Yes, I understand.”

 

The four finished dinner and then moved outside.  “There is a small caravan of travelers headed for Graylands by cart tonight, and I’ve arranged for you to accompany them,” Ashley told Merlose as they ventured out into the darkened streets.  “They are meeting on the town’s eastern-most border.  You’ll be back within an hour, and the VKP station there will return you to headquarters.”

 

“I wish we did not have to part under such circumstances,” she replied.  “Agent Riot…there are still so many questions I have.”

 

“Aye.  Hopefully, if we meet again, I shall be able to answer them.”  He paused, as Joshua had taken hold of his coat and was tugging it shyly.  With a hint of a smile he knelt down to the boy’s level and gazed at him questioningly.  “Yes?”

 

“Mr. Riot, Sir,” Joshua said with faltering speech.  “Are you leaving?”

 

Merlose frowned at the boy thoughtfully; the expression told Ashley that Joshua was not behaving as she would have thought he should.  Ashley ignored her concern for the time being.  “Aye, Joshua.  You will be returned to your father.”

 

The child stared at him expectantly, as if waiting for something more.  His blue-eyed gaze wandered from the Riskbreaker to Sydney, and back.  “Is Mr. Sydney going with you?”

 

“Aye.  You need not worry--mind your father and yourself from now on.”  On an impulse Ashley scooped the boy up in one arm, as he had once done with his son.  The familiarity of the gesture caused him both nostalgia and grief.  But when Joshua smiled, the later emotion was quickly banished.  This boy will one day make a fine man, he thought to himself, looking the Duke’s son over one last time.  He has such a trusting, innocent soul.

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

Ashley sensed Sydney standing nearby, and turned toward him.  “Have you any last words to your former prisoner?” he asked lightly.  I wonder what he will do.

 

Sydney lifted his head, which was shadowed by the hood he still wore.  He came forward with smooth strides.  “Do not think ill of me, young one,” he said.  “Was I not a caring host for you?”

 

Joshua regarded the cloaked man with the same ever-trusting frankness.  “Yes.”

 

He smiled, but the expression was not without remorse.  “Commend me to your father, little Bardorba.  Good luck be with you.”

 

To the surprise of the three adults, Joshua returned his smile, and in clear, forthright tone stated, “And may good fortune follow you as well, Sir.”

 

A moment of bewildered silence followed, as the oddity of Joshua’s maturity left its mark upon them.  Ashley was especially puzzled, and nearly forgot the age of the boy he carried.  The words struck him in a way he hadn’t encountered before; he grinned, and then found himself chucking in good humor.

 

Sydney and Merlose stared at him as if fearing for his health--neither had any memory of the Riskbreaker’s voice lifted in such merriment.  Ashley himself couldn’t have explained the feeling that came over him.  His throat was even a bit irritated at having to produce the sound that had for so long been unknown to it.  His face must have been an amusing sight, as a moment later Sydney was laughing, and Joshua giggled.  Merlose stared at them, clearly imagining that they had all taken leave of their senses.

 

Ashley released the rest of his gentle laughter through a deep exhalation.  “You are quite a boy, Joshua,” he declared, handing him over to Merlose.  “Keep that spirit, and you will be well.”

 

Merlose hefted the boy’s weight in her arms.  “And you are quite the surprise, Agent Riot.  To be so affected by him.”  Despite her words she seemed please by his mirth. 

 

Ashley reminded himself of her tale from earlier that morning, and smiled slightly.  He wanted her to part knowing that she had, in some small way, helped him.  And she had--she, the boy, and even Sydney have given him a new light.  Whatever his past may be, the future that lay ahead was infinitely more important.  As long as he continued on, the souls lost in his memory would not be in vain.

 

“Merlose, take care of yourself,” Ashley told her.  “If Sydney is right and fate did draw us all together presently, it may do so again.  Be well.”

 

She nodded, and replied, “And the same to you both.”  After one last lingering look over the two men she turned and headed down the street with Joshua in tow, towards the eastern border.

 

Ashley watched them disappear from sight.  “You did not tell him,” he commented.  “Will he ever know who you are to him?”

 

“It is not necessary that he know,” Sydney replied without hesitation.  “Sometimes, truth is better left in its place.”

 

Ashley nodded, and lifted his head slightly.  “Aye.  Sometimes, it is better that way.”

 

The week passed at an even pace, slipping effortlessly from one day into the next.  Ashley and Sydney traveled by chocobo each morning to a new town, and there rested the rest of the day and through the night.  They spent every waking hour conversing or practicing with Ashley’s expanding skills.  The former Riskbreaker was an eager student; he followed Sydney’s instructions perfectly, and did not protest even when it was necessary to test his abilities on hapless town members.  He did not attempt any spells of a cruel nature, however: he tricked storeowners into believing he was some important town official in order to gain them a free meal, and “willed” a group of young mischief-makers into believing that they were covered in Snowflies.  On several occasions he was even convinced to attempt using his powers on Sydney, with varying degrees of success.

 

Late one night, the men were seated in a deserted corner of the local tavern in the town of Verlo.  Earlier in the evening Ashley had come upon a pair of VKP Inquisitors--both would return to their duties with no memory of ever encountering the missing agent.  The information their memories contained, however, would prove its worth to Ashley.  He now had much to think about.

 

“So, it is assumed that we are both dead,” Sydney surmised.  He drank from his glass of the establishment’s finest wine--compliments of the perfectly “willing” owner.  “Do the VKP never assume their mission failed?”

 

“Never,” Ashley replied instantly.  He had settled for a milder drink.  “Though the likelihood of an agent dying is very substantial, the mission is always carried out to it’s fullest.  If an agent does not return from a mission, they are either completing the investigation or dead.  Either way, the assignment is considered finished.”

 

Sydney’s eyebrows rose appreciatively.  “Quite some confidence they have in you all.”

 

“Within a group as selective as the Riskbreakers, it’s necessary.”  He lifted his head from his glass.  “We could easily disappear, Sydney.”

 

“Aye, that we could,” Sydney murmured with a strange, twisted smile on his lips.  The face that held them was even paler than Ashley remembered, looking cold and faded amidst the tavern’s candlelight.  “But I fear there are vastly more important matters afoot than our tiny lives, Ashley.  I have done much pondering this past week.”

 

“I could tell,” Ashley replied.  “You are worried about the Cardinal.”

 

The cultist smirked.  “I suppose I should have grown accustomed to you plucking the thoughts from my brain by now.  Yes, the Cardinal is what worries me.”  He met his comrade’s gaze directly.  “Though only a few of his men were very talented with the Dark, they drew from a wellspring other than Leá Monde.  Through this power Guildenstern’s skill was nearly a match for my own--within my own city, even.”  He sipped from his glass.  “If such a wellspring exists elsewhere in this world, it must be discovered and tamed.  The Dark must not be manipulated by anyone.”

 

Ashley pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “Perhaps that shall be my first task, as a Rood Bearer.”

 

“Aye, Friend.  There is only you….”

 

Again Ashley paused, looking the blond man over.  “You are weary,” he noted, mostly to himself.  “Did I not know better, I would assume your death lay nigh.”

 

Sydney blinked slowly.  “You are more correct in your assumption than you know.  But let us not speak of such things.”  He straightened in his chair with some effort.  “Seeking out the Cardinal and his ‘talented’ men is not a viable option, I fear,” he continued in a stronger tone.  “They will be well hidden among their ranks.  Though I have no doubts that Guildenstern was the most powerful of their arsenal, he may have had pupils on which to teach his art.  You’d best draw them to you.”

 

“Reveal myself.”  Ashley did not look pleased with his suggestion.  “If it is known that I now bear the Blood Sin, they will seek me.  To be used or disposed of.”

 

“Precisely.  You may gain some valued information by falsifying a trust.”

 

He frowned, still reluctant but also convinced of the man’s reasoning.  “That may be.”  His lips quirked in wry amusement.  “I am now the hart, I suppose.”

 

“That you are,” Sydney chuckled, and he finished his drink.  “And I have already devised the symbol of your resurrection, sir Riot.  All I need is to arrange it with my father, the Duke.”

 

His voice is hollow today, beneath the laughter, Ashley thought grimly as Sydney ordered another drink.  His breathing is shallow.  His skin is cold and white.  Do I already speak with a corpse?  He is giving his life up even as he drinks his wine. 

 

“Sydney,” he spoke quietly, almost as a warning.  “Have I finished my training by you?”

 

Sydney glanced at him curiously, but was forced to delay his response as the barmaid brought him his drink.  “You have learned all my tricks and spells.  You have read every nuance of my mind and spirit, heard the whispers of my past and even glimpsed my future.  My path is set--I’ll not be deterred now.”

 

He speaks with such conviction for a walking dead.  Ashley looked away, admitting to himself that he had already predicted his mentor’s fate.  He knew that there was nothing more for him to learn from Sydney.  Still, the thought of not having the cultist’s aid disturbed him.  He had not yet explained all the workings of his own history--including the bizarre scene he’d witnessed in Bevllou.  With both of them it would have been easier to unravel the mystery.

 

“Worry not, Ashley,” Sydney said, drawing his attention back.  “You will yet know your answers.  They lie within you, not me.”

 

“Aye.”  Ashley continued to watch him drink the red liquid, unable to repress a sudden, disquieting image.  “You appear as if attempting to drink the blood back into your veins,” he muttered distantly.

 

He paused, glancing at Ashley out of the corner of his eye.  “My blood was bled from me long ago, friend.  You know that.”

 

Later that evening, long after the sun had set and its sister nestled in the heavens, Ashley and Sydney approached the capitol of Valendia.  They had traveled the short distance in silence.  Ashley had spent most of that time in meditation; his mind drifted through Sydney’s, picking out the whispers from his past.  It was in this way that he had learned best from Sydney during the week of his tutelage, thanks to the strange bond they shared.  But now he wasn’t searching for archaic spells or symbols--simply listening to the voices that spread through Sydney’s elaborate past.  He was searching for clues.

 

“But we shall still talk this way, shan’t we?”

 

Ashley sighed, focusing himself once more on reality.  They had reached the edge of the city, and it would be necessary to abandon their chocobos to prevent gathering attention.  He dismounted, and then aided Sydney in doing so as well.  The chocobos were tethered to a nearby tree, and the two men entered Graylands’ borders.  Ashley helped his comrade along, as the man had lost much of his strength in opening his mind so completely.  They encountered several guardsmen along the way, to which Ashley effortlessly made them invisible.  Their short journey to the manor was thus uninterrupted.

 

Now they stood, side by side, staring up at the tall stone walls surrounding Duke Bardorba’s estate.  Sydney’s face was arranged in an expression of peace and acceptance; his protégé, however, was far less at ease.  Ashley was wondering at his own mysterious ability to change perspective in such a relatively short time--from viewing Sydney as another nuisance in a mission, to despising him for his false visions and cursed truth, and now trusting and depending on him.  The week they shared, though nothing more than a string of lessons and confounding mysterious, had forced him to honestly believe in someone other than himself.  He had not done such a thing in many years.  And though previously he believed it inconceivable that he would care for this man as a friend, brother and teacher, now he did.  No part of him would celebrate or even be relieved in the approaching death.

 

Sydney removed his hood and shook his hair free of it.  “The time of parting is upon us,” he murmured, smiling slightly.  “Hardin, I neglected you in life.  Now I join you.”  He collected himself.  “Your apprenticeship has ended, Ashey.  You have surpassed me, and will fare well, I so believe.”

 

“Your last concerns in this life should not be for me,” Ashley replied.

 

He chuckled with bittersweet humor.  “Aye, as I shall take them with me to the next.”  He extended his hand, which Ashley accepted and shook.  “I’ll not bore you with sentiment.  But be well, and Gods be willing, I’ll not see you for a long time.”

 

“Aye.  Good fortune be with you.”

 

“And may good fortune follow you as well, sir.”  Sydney laughed as he began to move away.  “Farewell, Ashley Riot.”

 

“Sydney,” Ashley halted him.  His jaw worked uncertainly as a final question burned in his mind.  Though he’d heard the explanations before, and understood well enough, he had to ask one more time.  “Why did you choose me?”

 

The cultist straightened, his body standing tall and still amidst the moonlight that was as pale as his skin.  He glanced over his shoulder, and answered simply, “Because I knew you would remember me.”  And without another word he turned, making his way toward the manor gates.

 

Ashley released his breath in a deep sigh as Sydney, using the Riskbreaker’s face, disguised his visage to the guards.  He watched until the man was out of sight, and even then stayed, following Sydney’s progress with his scrying talent.  There was no need--he knew that the task would be accomplished, and witnessing it would give him no greater peace of mind.  When Sydney reached his father’s quarters Ashley discreetly ceased his vigil: this last moment of father and son was not for him.  He waited, not fidgeting even as the minutes lapsed.

 

A sharp tingling sensation filled through Ashley’s chest, though it was quickly extinguished.  In its place rose a feeling of release, and blessed peace.  He knew then that Sydney had passed on--not into death, but the land he had so fought to save from ruin.  The man’s spirit would not fade; Ashley gained some comfort, knowing that he would carry that legacy upon his back. 

 

“Who walks there at this hour?” the gruff voice of a guard sounded behind him.  “What is your business? Show your papers!”

 

Ashley didn’t turn at first, gauging the man’s capacity and skill.  Carefully he twisted the guard’s perception; when he faced the guard, the form of a woman took his place in the feeble-minded sentry.  “Callo Merlose, VKP inquisitor,” Ashley stated deliberately, showing off his nonexistent papers with a hand gesture.

 

The Watchman stuttered over a response.  “M-my lady! I beg your forgiveness!”

 

How simple it is to twist man’s mind.  “It is no matter. You are merely doing your duty.”  Perhaps Sydney was right to depend on my morality.

 

“T-thank you, m'lady!”  The sentry nodded respectively, and hurried away before he did something else to offend the superior officer.

 

Ashley paid him no mind, releasing the mind-binding spell that had created the illusion of Merlose.  His boots made only the slightly sound as he departed from the manor outskirts.  I am leaving, Sydney.  Fare thee well, friend.  One last time he glanced back at the high walls, where already the servants were beginning to stir with the news of the their master’s demise: Sydney’s plot would function smoothly.  Soon Valendia would be buzzing with the news of the rogue VKP agent who had slain a member of Parliament.  And from there, Ashley’s new duty would begin.

 

He continued on, passing through the moon-cast shadows of the night--into the east from whence the dawn would soon rise.

 

*End

 

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