A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 (14 page)

Chapter 16

Rekah

I confessed to my brother, Ronan, of my
attempt to kill the boy. 

“It was an accident,” my brother whispered
kindly, as we watched the boy prostrate himself upon the altar in prayer.  “In
the dim light, you thought him a bear and furthermore, he appears completely
unscathed.  You see, King-brother, I was correct, wasn’t I?”

Begrudgingly, I admitted he probably had
been, for while there was convincing evidence that the boy was the MaKennah
returned, in the back of my mind, I still held some niggling doubts.  True, he
had found a knife, hidden in a secret cupboard, and covered in dust that
someone had placed there centuries before.  And, true his face was a replica of
the Great Emperor with eyes that were similar in their oddness, if not color. 

Despite this, the boy annoyed me in all he
did and said. 

How could the MaKennah, the savior of our
people be someone that I truly didn’t like?  Wouldn’t his presence glow with
goodness?  Shouldn’t I feel blessed simply because he was around?  Yet, I felt
like strangling his neck whenever I heard his voice.  Sometimes, it was almost
as if I had to restrain myself from shooting him again.

“But, why would he come to us in such a
weakened state?” I protested to my brother.  “And, what of his parents, the
shopkeeper and the seamstress?”

My brother shrugged and smiled, as if all
the universe’s secrets were known to him, but he refused to share them with me,
his elder sibling, as well as his lord and king.

“Some mysteries, we are not meant to
understand,” he replied, as the boy rose from his prayers and came to my
brother’s side. 

I watched him as he walked, slowly and
carefully across the chapel floor, grasping each pew with his hands as if to
guide him. 

“Does he see?” I wondered aloud.

“Does anyone?” the boy replied.

“In theory, no.  We are all blind as mice,
searching through the dark,” my brother agreed.

“You keep him,” I snapped, issuing a royal
command.  “You are well suited to each other.  Let you discuss the secrets of
the universe and the true meaning of our lives, while I shall go about the
business of running this kingdom.  Ronan, I proclaim Amyr as your ward and you,
his guardian.  Good luck to you and fare thee well.” 

I left the chapel to return to my little
house, walking through the streets crowded with my people, who were anxious to
see the boy, but who had no interest in viewing me, their true born king.

My brother was exactly the person to take
the boy under his wing, for the two of them were much alike.  Ronan knew every
word in the Holy Books and every other book he had ever read, while the boy
seemed to know every word ever uttered by mankind. 

“Tut tut, King,” my serving woman said, as
she put on her cloak and headed to my brother’s house.  “You sound a bit like
you are jealous of that poor sickly, but lovely little lad!”  Then, she slammed
the door and did not return to make my dinner.  Or, any dinner after that.  Or,
my breakfast.  Or, my lunch.

I wasn’t jealous, was I?  My crown and
throne were safe and secure in my two hands.  This boy had not come to take
them from me, not this weak child. 

If he truly was the MaKennah, he would
earn it in his own time and in a way that I was powerless to change.  Probably,
when that time came to pass, I would thank him and bless him for his efforts. 
I would gladly step aside.  At least, I thought I would.  I wasn’t petty and I
wasn’t jealous.  No, I wasn’t.  I couldn’t be.  Jealousy was a childish
emotion, and I was not just a king, but a grown man.

I told myself this, although in the back
of my mind, wickedness still lurked.  Each time the boy stumbled, in my soul, a
seed of satisfaction sprouted a leaf.  Each time a Village Chief gazed upon
him, shaking his head and saying,
‘It cannot be,’
the leaf grew a tiny
bud that quickly blossomed.

The boy seemed to thrive under the care of
my brother and my former serving woman.  He grew tall, his muscles thickened,
and his complexion glowed with health.  After winter passed and the spring
arrived, bringing with it warm nights and long, sunlit days, Ronan declared that
Amyr was fit to train with the other boys.

“With your permission, King-brother.” 
Ronan bowed, a bit of mockery upon his lips, for I knew he would do exactly as
he pleased.

“How can he?” I grumbled.  “He is weak and
he does not see.”

“Our good mountain air and fresh food has
cured him of his ailments.  He has grown strong and he sees well enough.  I
will let him.  It will be good.”

What harm would there be to me if Amyr
learned to ride a horse or carry a sword?  Again, in the back of my mind,
another tiny evil thought lurked.  Perhaps, one of our boys would strike him
down.  Perhaps, one of our own would break his neck, eliminating the question
of Amyr and his potential threat to my throne.

Of course, Amyr was not killed during
warrior training, or at any other time after that.  He continued to grow until
he was very nearly a man. 

When he was well into his teen years, he
stood as tall as my brother and me.  His appearance so resembled the both of
us, that had I not known any better, I would have thought he was my brother’s
son. 

“I could have said the same to you,” Ronan
remarked one day, as we stood together at the fence in the village pasture. 
Amyr was practicing swordplay with a boy of his own age. 

Bear was nearly twice the size of him both
in height and in girth.  Like his father, the blacksmith, Bear was aptly named,
for he resembled the large hairy creature which roamed the woods.  Bear’s head
was covered in thick black fur that seemed to bristle at the touch.  His chest
and back, arms and legs were similarly endowed.  Even his voice was low and
thick, sounding more like a growl than a man’s tongue.

“I think you need to adopt him,” my
brother continued as Amyr and his horse rushed at Bear.

“Kari-fa!” Bear roared, swiping at Amyr
from his left.

“Bear?  I don’t think the blacksmith would
appreciate that.” 

“You know I speak of Amyr, King-brother. 
You need to declare him your own son and heir.”

“Kari-fa!” Bear roared again, knocking
Amyr from his horse.

“Why?” I asked, as Amyr landed awkwardly
in the mud.  The MaKennah, the first MaKennah was an expert horseman.  We all
knew that.  Surely, this was yet more proof that clumsy Amyr was not our savior
after all.

“The people want you to have an heir. 
They need to know who will be our next king.”

“Not Amyr,” I began to say, watching as
Bear reached out a hand and hefted Amyr back to his feet.

“Brother,” Ronan continued.  “We do not
want a vacant throne for Marko Korelesk to steal.  You need a prince, a strong
prince to stand behind your back, else Korelesk will believe Karupatani belongs
to him.”

“Then, I would be better off adopting
Bear, for he is clearly the stronger of those two.”

“Kari-fa!” Bear screamed for the third
time, just as Amyr pulled him from his horse. 

Clearly, I had spoken too soon.  A moment
later, it was Bear upon his back, his thick black hair covered in the mud,
while Amyr had a knee pinned against the larger boy’s throat.

“Amyr, let him go,” Ronan called, slipping
across the fence. 

“Let him go,” I commanded, lest anyone
forget that I was actually the king. 

I climbed across the fence as well,
following my brother through the muddy field, while Bear made bearish noises
begging for mercy.

“Amyr, do you not hear me?” Ronan snapped,
as he came upon the boys.  “Do you not hear the words of King Rekah, your liege
lord?”

“I heard,” the boy replied, his tongue
sharp as if laced with venom.  Still, he did not move from Bear, who had ceased
to struggle, lest Amyr cut off his breath.  “You do not believe I am strong
enough to take what is mine?”  Then, he turned his odd colored eyes upon me,
challenging me to deny the very words I had thought.

“Let him up,” I ordered again, for I had
conceived of a way for the boy to prove he was worthy of my crown.

With the idea now sprouting like those
evil seeds in my mind, I turned on heel and went home, knowing Ronan, like a
lost dog, would dutifully follow.

“If he is who you say he is, if you want
me to take him as my heir, then he must prove himself worthy to the people of
Karupatani.”

“How?”  My brother hurried to keep pace
with me, for I was practically running, so excited was I to have thought of
this new plan.

“He will go to the Mishak continent.  He
will strike fear into the hearts of the people there and he will free our
brothers who have been enslaved and bring them home.”

Now, my brother stopped and pulled up
short, his breath coming hard as he was unused to running.

“Do you mean to send him alone?”

At first, I had thought to, but on second
thought, I decided not.  Better the boy should learn how to command.  Better he
should earn the respect of his warriors.

“He may take as many as will follow his
lead.  When he returns, if he returns, and if he brings at least twenty of our
kinsman home, I will declare him the same as my true born son.”

I left my brother upon my porch and went
into my house, relying upon him to convey this plan to the boy.  It was a good
plan, I thought, for it would accomplish one of two things.  It would either
rescue our people and strike a blow for Karupatani, or it would rid me of Amyr
altogether.

Chapter 17

Jan

“Where is Dov?” Amyr asked, interrupting
my counting. 

He had startled me, so much so, I couldn't
recall whether I was on one hundred and twenty-eight or one hundred and
thirty-nine. 

“Amyr!” I scolded with a voice laced with
frustration, once again pushing all the coins into a single stack.  “How long
have you been standing there?  I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You were busy with your accounting,” he
replied as if that would explain the silence of both door and bell.

“You are a little sneak.” 

To this he didn’t respond, but rather
stood blinking, trying his best to focus on my face.  Today, in the dim light
of Uncle’s shop, my cousin's eyes were dark like the clouds in the sky
outside.  Although I called him little, in his fifteenth year, Amyr towered
over me, as he did most men in the village.

“Is it Amyr?” Uncle called from the back
room.

“Yes, Uncle.  Your prodigal son has
returned.  Fortunately, he seeks not us, but that monster, Dov.”

“Ach, so bitter, Jan,” Pellen clucked,
emerging with his arms outstretched.  “Ignore her, my son.  Her unhappiness
stems from the inattention of that young fisherman, Torym.”

Again, Amyr did not respond save the rapid
blinking of his eyes.  Even as Uncle rounded the counter and reached up to
grasp him about the shoulders, Amyr stood as still as if he had been cast from
stone. 

“How are you?  Are you well?  You look as
strong as an ox and as sturdy as a ram.  Each time I see you, you have grown
yet another inch or two.  Every day, I thank the Holy One for turning a once
sickly child into this healthy young man.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Amyr responded, leaning
his head down so Uncle could kiss him on both cheeks.  “I have come for Dov. 
Will you tell him we must begin our travels before nightfall?”

“Of course.  Of course, but tell me to
where you will go?”

Amyr named the village up river, the one
that was home to the motherland’s king.

“I must return,” he replied, his eyes
shifting to the door.

Uncle looked confused and I could see from
his furrowed brow that he wished to ask exactly that which Amyr wouldn't tell. 
It pained my uncle to know so little of the son, whose life he cherished above
all.  However, he understood that Amyr’s place and purpose was not with us, but
with those more important in our land.

“Amyr,” Uncle called, just before my
cousin disappeared once again.  “Be watchful.  Whatever it is you are doing,
take care.  Your head is most valuable when it is still attached to your body.”

Amyr smiled and for a brief moment, he
looked like the child we all loved.  Then, his smiled faded and his face turned
hard.

“Do not fear for me, Papa.  I shall only
do what is necessary to be done.  You keep yourself well and look after Jan,
for she shall need your comfort.”

I didn’t know what my cousin meant by
that, for I was strong as an ox and healthy from good food and the clean, fresh
Karupatani air.  I was also extraordinarily happy as my thoughts were consumed
by another boy. 

Torym was nineteen.  He was pale with
plain straight hair and a long plain face.  From the first time I saw him, I
thought Torym the most handsome man in all the motherland and a perfect match
for tall, plain, nineteen year old me. 

Like my late-father and his, Torym was a
fisherman, who each week set out upon the sea.  The following, he would return
with his holds full of fish.  He caught large oily red ones and round fat white
ones with enough meat to feed a family for several days.  I marveled at these
fish, so different from the tiny trout I had chased in the river, and I was
awed by the fisherman with the strength to pull them into his boat.

In the morning, before sunrise, on the
pretense of walking for my health, I would rise from my cot and hurry to the
docks to watch Torym.  My heart sailed away with him, although Torym surely
didn't know.  Not once did he lift his hand in a wave, or cast a smile in my
direction.

At night, upon my cot, as I stared at the
star-filled sky through our single dirty window, I imagined a life of fishing
aboard Torym's boat, the two of us forever side by side.  Exhausted, I would
lay beside him and listen to his heart beating against my ear, a concert
compared to Uncle's heavy snores from across the room. 

How Amyr came to know of this was only
another of the mysteries locked deeply inside my cousin’s head.  Even after all
these years of living up river in the King’s Village, he knew what stirred my
heart.  What he did with this information, I never would forgive, despite how
many years have passed since then.

“Will you return?” Uncle asked, as Amyr
stood, his hand paused upon the handle of the door. 

Amyr refused to answer, turning away, and
dipping his head slightly as if in a bow. 

“Goodbye, cousin,” I called.  “Godspeed. 
Be safe.” 

This time, the beribboned bell chimed as
Amyr shut the door.

“Godspeed, my son,” Uncle whispered,
before turning back to me.  “Well, Jan, how many coins have we collected
today?  Business has been brisk.  The motherland is good to us.  Are you not
pleased that we are here?”

That evening, before dusk, Uncle handed me
a purse of coins and sent me to the market to purchase our meal.

“Buy yourself a gift, Jan,” he insisted. 
“A pretty necklace or something decorative to wear in your hair.  Bring me back
a cake or another sweet treat.  Tonight, I feel like celebrating our good
fortune.”

I was never one to turn down a sweet, or a
celebration of any sort, so I was pleased to go shopping for our dessert. 
However, I demurred when it came to my gift.  I didn't need such fine things. 
No amount of feathers, precious rocks, or shiny shells would improve my plain
looks.  Rather, I should like a new fishing pole, or a net that was woven from
green flax.

I wished Uncle goodbye and taking the
purse, I walked the short distance to the village market, whereupon I spent the
rest of the afternoon lazily browsing among the stalls. 

I found nothing of interest upon which to
spend my coins, but, shortly before nightfall, as I made to return to Uncle’s
home, I heard a commotion from behind the market, near the docks.  Men were
shouting at each other, their voices thick as if laced with drink.

“Foolish drunks,” a woman clucked,
waggling a finger and showing me a scarf.  “Those fishermen are worse than the
Mishaks.  Lowlife's they are.  A disgrace to our people.  This would look very
pretty around your neck.  It is yours for only two coins.”

“Thank you, no,” I replied, offended for
Torym, who was a fisherman of upstanding character and good sense.

I was curious though, a trait that had
gotten me into trouble too many times before.  Despite my better judgment, I
headed toward the commotion instead of home.  Torym might be there watching, as
his boat had returned today.  I imagined myself nonchalantly wandering to his
side.

“Ay yah,” I’d say with a heavy sigh.  “Why
do these men act like such fools?”

Torym would respond with something smart
and clever.  He’d tell me how important it was for men to work instead of
drink.

“Lassitude,” he’d say, “will be the death
of our people.”

At this point, I would agree and remind
him of my name.  I’d tell him how we met once before in the bakery shop.  I’d
ask how large was his catch this day before telling him of my boat and my own
adventures upon the river and how I crossed the great sea with a single sail. 

Torym would gaze at me then, recognizing
my face and hair, seeing me now with a new found respect.

“Ach, you are the woman,” he would say,
“who crossed the ocean in that tiny boat.  You are quite the sailor.  I am
humbled by your skill and very impressed.”  As he smiled at me, his pale eyes
would light with surprise, for he was realizing then what I had known all
along.  “Would you care to see my boat?”

I would take his hand and walk with him to
the docks.  I wouldn't need his assistance to climb aboard, showing him instead
how easily I scaled the nets.  Strolling with him about the boat, I would
imagine myself with all our sons and daughters about my skirts, casting their
own poles, for fishing was in our blood.

Unfortunately, neither my dream nor this
conversation ever came to pass.  As I rounded the corner of the market, I
discovered it was Torym who was making all the noise. 

“Take me with you!” Torym was shouting. 
“I am as good a warrior as any you have before you now.  Please!  I beg of
you.  Let me come.”

To this, the crowd broke into peals of
laughter. 

Near the village gates and mounted upon
horseback was the Village Chief accompanied by my cousin, Amyr and little Dov. 
Four others made up their party, boys who must have come from the King’s
village.

“A fisherman,” a boy taunted.  “He cannot
hold a sword or swing it with our might.”

“Your enemies shall be bigger than the
salmon who runs from your net,” cried another.

“Stay here, young Torym,” the Chief
ordered.  “Your skills are needed to feed this village.  You may protect them
here if the Mishaks invade our shores.”

“No!” Torym begged, causing another wave
of laughter to ripple about the crowd. 

My heart ached for my love, and I longed
to stand by his side.  I would tell the village of his strength for great
muscles were needed to haul the fish.  I opened mouth to do so, the words about
to leave my lips, while the Chief and Amyr appeared to confer.

“If you can prove yourself, Torym,” the
Chief began to say.  “We shall let you take a place in our party.  Choose any
one of these boys and best him however you might.”

Now, the crowd gasped and tittered for
among the boys it was clear that Dov was the smallest by good measure.  Torym
stood head and shoulders above my little friend and he was already a fully grown
man with arms as thick as Dov's little neck. 

“Him!” Torym declared, pointing at the
boy.  “That little one is not fit to carry my sword.”

Dov, who had always been foolhardy,
slipped down from the back of his horse.  With a broad smile upon his face, he
approached Torym in the circle that had formed.  Holding up his fists, he began
to dance, winding about the fisherman as if he was a snake.

“No, no, no!” the crowd cried.  “That is
unfair.  The boy is too small for you, Torym.”

“He has a brave heart,” the Chief
chuckled.  “Go back to your horse, Dov.  Torym, pick another closer to your
size.”

“Kari-fa!” Dov swore.  “I want to fight. 
I can win.”

“Him, then.”  Torym pointed now at Amyr.

“No!”  This time it was my voice that
shouted in protest.  “Not my cousin.  His eyesight is very poor.”

Torym looked at me, his eyebrows raised
briefly in surprise.  Then, a smile of recognition spread across his lips. 

“All the more reason for me to replace
him.  What sort of army do we command with a blind man in its midst?”

Amyr nodded at the Chief, before jumping
down from his horse, landing unsteadily upon his feet, a hand outstretched.  My
cousin tripped as he started to rise, prompting both Torym and the crowd to
laugh, for little did any know of my cousin’s strength. 

“No!” I begged again.  “Amyr, please
don't.  You'll be hurt.” 

My cousin ignored my appeals, slowly
approaching Torym, while the crowd grew anxious and excited to watch this
show. 

Amyr was nearly as tall as his opponent
and from his appearance, looked formidable enough, but I was certain that no
one understood his lack of vision. 

“Please Torym.  He doesn’t see,” I cried,
but now my voice was drowned by the cheering of the village people.

Torym's fists were balled up as Dov's had
been before.  For a moment, Amyr stood uncertainly, as if he wasn’t sure what
to do.  He cocked his head to the side, listening to sounds of Torym’s breath
and his steps as they approached.

“Come on, fight!” Torym challenged,
jabbing him once and then twice in the chest with his fist.  Amyr blinked, but
did not react in any other way.

“Strike him, you fool,” a man yelled.

“Torym, knock him down.  We do not need
warriors who refuse to defend themselves.”

I watched as Torym hit Amyr in the jaw and
my cousin fell back upon his heels, his cheek red, his eyes blazing. 

After that, I covered my eyes and refused
to watch anymore.  Instead, I prayed that Amyr wouldn't be hurt.  Amyr was no
more a warrior than Dov could tend a sheep.  Both boys would have been better
off working in Uncle’s shop.

It was then that I heard a scream and the
heavy sound of a body falling.  The crowd gasped loudly and someone called
Torym's name.  Through my fingers I dared to peek, expecting to find my beloved
cousin laid low.  Already, my feet were moving through the crowd.