Oriana's Eyes (14 page)

She says nothing until I am finished and then nods her head. “It is all true.”

“Then you can tell me? What is expected of me?” My demeanor brightens, and I move to the edge of my seat.

Falda’s mouth opens, but no words escape, the breath she has taken slides out between her teeth in a low hiss. Looking down, she shakes her head. “I believe it is best that you figure that out for yourself.” She pauses as if deciding whether or not to agree with herself; then with a nod she continues, “If I were to tell you, it might affect your reaction in the moment of need. You will know when the time is right.”

I lean back in my chair, somehow realizing that I knew all along I was not ready for the information. Still, I am not satisfied with the answer.

“Oriana, I know you must be upset, but your visit is not for nothing.” Falda presses her lips together. “It should gladden you to learn I knew your mother.”

 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You knew my mother!?” I nearly leap from my seat but hold back, only just catching myself and maintaining a level of composure.

Falda nods solemnly, and I fear the story will not leave me so elated.

“What was her name? What was she like?” I fall silent, my attention solely fixed on absorbing everything Falda has to say about her.

“Her name was Sonya, a brave young woman indeed. You resemble her strongly, which is probably why the memory of her comes back to me so clearly. She had just received her wings and shortly later given birth when I met her. Both are turning points in a female Winglet’s life, yet she seemed to carry the responsibilities well. We were from separate clans of Winglets, yet the danger of Odon had been causing what Winglarions were still alive and free to gather together. We were all sharing information of neighboring areas and searching for news of family members.

“She came to me as many others did at that time. I was a well-known member of the rebels. Word had spread of a sanctuary in the forest that was being slowly built within the arms of a magnificently ancient tree. Sonya was one of many seeking my help. She was desperate but not without direction. I could see the determination burning in her eyes. She was one of the few purebloods who had come to me that day, asking for a way of escape. In her arms she held two baby girls. Both from the same birth and crowned with similar gold sweeps of hair on their small plump heads. Yet I noticed clearly they were not exact copies, and I could see the differences of their souls from within their large blue eyes.”

“Two babies …” I whisper. I have a sister? But instead I ask, “Did she mention my father?”

Falda shakes her head, “I assumed he had already been captured, as many young Winglarion men had been at that point. Odon’s first goal was to form an army, as well as create his elite soldiers, which you know as Odonians, who are most closely bonded to Odon’s will.

“Now Tor was just a young boy then, but he and I led the people of the Great Oak to rebellion. Part of which began as secret guidance and escape, for anyone willing, to the protection of the Great Oak. We would leave in groups, spreading word of our encampment and offering passage there. You said you met Finley?”

I give a short nod.

“Then you’ve met his band of ruffians as well. They are never far behind him.” The corner of her mouth lifts, displaying a single dimple. “They helped as well, Tor and he being of the same age, and of course Kadin was right beside them. They were all such close friends back then.” Her eyebrows rise, her abstracted gaze shifting to other memories. “Amazing how quickly we are swallowed by time, pulled from people we once knew so well. Perhaps this ancient Oak truly suits us. It will live to see many generations, growing new branches with each year, adding to its girth. I only hope the young ones rise with it to greater heights. It is our intention that, if not in our lifetime, then a future generation will bring freedom to all our people, no matter their lineage.”

Falda brushes at a silver thread of hair by her eye, but I see she is actually wiping at a tear.

“Excuse my ranting; my old mind wanders into digression.”

I wave a hand, dismissing any need for apology, and she bows her head in return before her pale irises rise toward her furrowing brow.

“Now where did I falter? Still at the beginning of the tale, I believe. When your mother Sonya sought me in hopes of reaching the Great Oak, I was only too willing to supply her with the meeting time and place, which was to be that night at the edge of the forest. I had one final word of warning to offer her: ‘Dear girl, please heed my words with severity. No matter what threatening situation you find yourself in, do not take flight. Remain on the ground.’

“My words were swept away by the wind, and we were forced to part quickly as others moved around us. Odon’s spies were growing in numbers, and it was never certain when one could be watching. It was probably for the best that our conversation was brief, as it was never safe to talk openly anymore, and we did not want to be seen together for long. However, I believed she’d heard my crucial words, as she gave a short nod before disappearing among the others.

“That night, many part-bloods arrived at the cover of the forest’s edge. They were all young, none older than Tor and most younger. I tried not to think of how many fathers and mothers had sacrificed their lives or freedom to allow their children to escape. The future of the Great Oak relied on the survival of these children. Although they did not realize it, their parents’ lives had not ended in vain. I would not allow them to.

“No purebloods had showed. It became a common occurrence for myself and the other rebels. We might speak with a few, tell them of the meeting place, but never had they made it there. Somehow Odon’s men were always able to intervene in their escape. There was no telling what happened to the Winglarions who never showed, whether they lived on or were terminated. It was Odon who made decisions on who best suited his purposes.

“That night I didn’t turn away, that night I was certain at least one Winglarion would arrive. It was late, but I refused to lose faith. I thought for certain Sonya would be seen any minute making her way through the clearing to the protection of the forest. Her silhouette in the glow of the moon revealing two young girls held firmly in her lean arms.

“I tried to keep the younger ones quiet, as they were getting impatient and the waiting only brought thoughts of their lost loved ones. Yet although the hour was now well past the appointed time, I was certain that young Sonya would make it. I had seen the force behind her blue eyes. It was a refusal to fail, if not for her own sake, then for her offspring.

“Finally, just when I thought my hope would fail me, I saw her running desperately toward us. Her daughters were caught snugly, one in each arm. One wailed at the top of her delicate lungs while the other remained silent, her eyes wide in anticipation. Sonya held her wings folded behind her, I could see they were weighing her down. Like birds, Winglarions are made for the air and face a disadvantage on the ground. Despite this, Sonya hurtled forward, the sweat dripping off her porcelain brow and her cloth skirts soiled with dirt.

“Not far behind her, I gasped to discover, was a group of guards running at top speed. They did not shout or show any expression but focused their blank gaze on Sonya. It was this lack of any soul that was most frightening about them. As the guards closed in on the frail form of Sonya and her two children, she did what a Winglarion knows to do best. In a state of panic, Sonya’s wings spread and, despite my warning earlier, lifted her into the sky with the elegance of a swan.”

I clasp my hands together, palms going hot as I try to prevent the impending danger that I know has already occurred and been buried in time.

“My stomach sank, and I closed my eyes as I heard the thud of an arrow into flesh. I looked up to watch Sonya’s fast but graceful descent. Her wings extended and her body curled into a protective circle around her two most precious treasures. A second arrow found its mark in her wing, embedding itself among silken feathers. Her body struck the ground in a sickening crunch of feather and bone, and only once she had ended her fall did her tense figure open to reveal two lovely infants. They were terrified and wailing but unharmed.”

I cry out, quickly muffling the noise with a burning palm. Closing my eyes, I try to tear myself away from the image of my mother, in all her beauty, felled by the bite of two wooden shafts. But the scene remains, like the light of the sun burned into my eyelids.

Falda continues, “I motioned in earnest for the children around me to remain as still as stars, but they were already frozen in shock anyway. Once the guards had hauled away the babies and the young woman’s lifeless form, I led the part-bloods away. Unable to look anywhere but forward, above the tree line and into the night sky.”

My eyes are hot and wet when she has finished the story, and Falda does not pass judgment as I heave long whimpers as if I were once again only an infant. It is only after I’ve run out of tears that the anger comes. “Why did you just stand there? Why didn’t you try to help her?” My fingers grab at my hair until some strands pull free with a snap.

“Oriana, no selfish intent kept me from saving your mother. I was afraid, yes, but more importantly, I had a duty to the young ones around me. If I was captured, what good would I have been to them? Or the ones who followed? I had a responsibility to their survival.”

I bite my lip and hang my head in shame. Falda is right, and furthermore there’s no use venting anger for past events which have no hope of being changed. “I’m sorry, I only wish … that I could’ve known her.”

“I sense she is still with you, a part of your spirit now.” Falda’s warm words seem to be truth more than shallow comfort.

I look up suddenly, compelled by a question. “Falda, how do you know that Sonya was in fact my mother?”

“Well, other than your near identical features, she had told me your name. Had even stitched it with care into the collar of your tunic,” Falda explains.

“Then you would know the name of the other child, my sister?” I ask with new anticipation.

Falda nods putting a finger to her lips. “Of course, you would want to know such a thing …” She looks up, her eyes shifting back and forth as if searching through a thick novel. “Her daughters were Oriana … and … Lenora.”

“Lenora,” I repeat in a daze. This distant idea has suddenly been revealed as fact. Despite the gravity of this new information, I feel as though I have been considering the possibility for a long time. Lenora and I share similar features, and we were placed in the same room. I have also thought of her as a sister and now know it to be true.

Still, the thought of having shared the same womb with Lenora brings about a different feeling. Any previous disdain for her actions is wiped clean. Suddenly I have an undeniable need to see her again. Maybe once she learns what I know, Lenora will join me and see that our bond goes far deeper than the one with Odon ever could.

Then another voice takes over. It will never happen. Lenora is in the University, and I am out here. I will have to wait until the Rebirth. If Odon is defeated, then Lenora and I can start anew. I cannot let our mother’s sacrifice be in vain. I cannot bear her to see that I have let my only sister remain alone in the walls of the University.

“I can see that Lenora is familiar to you.”

I jump, having forgotten that I was not alone, “Yes, we shared a room together at the University. I should’ve known all along, but I guess Odon wouldn’t have wanted us to be closer to each other than we were to him.”

“It must please you to know you have family.” Falda smiles. She seems to see into the depths of my thoughts, compelling me to respond as I’ve already begun to.

“Yes, but it pains me to think she is still in the University. I wish I could help her.”

Falda nods. “I presumed as much, but Oriana, you must listen to me. You’re most helpful here at the Great Oak. You must not attempt to sew too many threads into one piece of fabric; that will cause it to fray.” She puts a finger against her chin as if pleased with her analogy and decides to add to it, “One focused stitch can connect many materials, eventually creating something useful.”

I press my lips together in a faint smile letting her know I understand the deeper meaning of her words. Still, the yearning to reach my sister and make some connection is hard to subdue. Falda is correct: so much is going on here, it would be too difficult to attempt to meet with Lenora. Besides, the Rebirth is swiftly approaching. I must be patient and have faith that our plans will not fail.

A tall form barrels through the doorway, and I can sense an urgency swirling into knots around him. Tor stands before us, his sandy hair in disarray. He rubs his forehead sourly; he did not duck quickly enough and collided with the doorframe. Unfortunately it’s slightly too short for a man of his stature. His eyes turn from me to Falda and back again; there is no trace of a dimple on his stern features.

“Oriana.” His voice lacks warmth, and it causes me to tense further. I simply gulp in reply. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is an urgent gathering at the meeting hall. I think you might want to be present for this one.”

I’m on my feet in a moment. Turning to Falda, I ask, “Are you joining us?”

“No, dear, my ancient limbs no longer carry me up those insufferable ladders. And furthermore, I am of no use to the council now. I am but a link to the past.” She reaches for the dress on the table beside her and searches for the needle.

“Then I am sorry to be leaving like this.” I bow my head slightly.

“Child, I am not the least bit offended. My son speaks in earnest. You must leave. Hurry now; we will meet at another time.” Falda sends me off with a wave of her hand; her wings even flutter forward, propelling air currents to push me out the door.

Without further response, I follow Tor out. He bends down much further than necessary to pass through the doorway this time. I don’t find much humor in it at the moment. I’m too nervous about what discussions await at the meeting hall. The prospect has Tor taking giant strides that cause me to trot beside him. I hope he will notice my struggle without me having to complain. We are halfway around the uppermost platform when I decide to make my presence known again; perhaps it will remind him of my short legs.

“Tor, can you please tell me what is so urgent?” I cannot hide the breathlessness in my voice.