Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) (54 page)

13

Byron sat watching the old man before him whittling a long, thick piece of wood from the light of a solitary candle. The amber glow cast light on the process, the shaving of slivers from wood’s face until it became smooth, the carving of features until it took the form of a mocking bird, the loving touch that identified each improvement. Byron wondered at the man’s shaking hands, how they could craft something so beautiful and simple and yet seem so frail. Nothing was said for a long while and all that could be heard was the sound of blade on wood and the soft breathing between them. The man handed Byron another piece of wood and a knife, interrupting his observations and gestured for him to begin.

    
The old man, as Byron tenderly referred to him, was Kestyn’s father and for two weeks now he had taken Byron under his wing. Byron had settled into life with Kestyn’s father with ease, and although he was not close enough to the old man to confide in him, he saw him as a true father figure, one he had never had and always wanted. Kestyn’s father was a carpenter but in his spare time whittled things that he remembered, for his eyes were failing and he knew soon that he would never see again. Byron had gratefully helped him in this task, so that when the old man lost his sight he could touch the figures and his memory be prompted.

    
Byron had learnt the skill with his quiet temperament, if he failed he made the mistake as though it was meant to be and Kestyn’s father had accepted him more than willingly, offering him a wage that Byron was sure he could not afford, just to have his company. Bryon had told him from the first day he would accept no money and learnt the craft happily. As Byron sat he could not believe he had lived here for only two weeks, he felt as though he had lived this way always. He almost wished to stay, but his need to escape the island and find Wynn was an ache that refused to be soothed.

    
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs broke Bryon’s concentration and he looked up to see Kestyn descending into the basement. Her face was grave and Byron set down his wood and knife and turned to her expectantly. Her gaze went past him to her father.

    
“Father, may I borrow Byron for a moment?” She asked quietly and sighed with relief as the old man waved them away and continued to whittle the little mocking bird intently. Byron set his own equipment down and followed her up the stairs. Kestyn turned to Bryon once they had left the basement, her face tense, “The army has heard that father has accepted a new apprentice and is coming here tomorrow to question you.”

    
Byron’s stomach lurched and he suppressed the urge to vomit. He knew he had been deluding himself that the army would give up on him. They had ransacked each and every house on the island looking for a boy that matched Bryon’s description. When Kestyn’s father’s shop had been inspected Kestyn had hid Byron in a specially made box under her chest of drawers that her father had made to hide their takings. It was a tight fit and he had remained inside for almost three hours as the army questioned Kestyn and her frail father. Although Kestyn’s father did not understand why he could not talk of his new apprentice he had not mentioned him to the army and so they had left angrily. They had remained on the island and Byron knew now they would not leave until he was caught; now they had heard of him and would be coming.

    
“What shall I do?” He asked, his voice quavering, and he was shocked at how scared he sounded. He wished he could be stronger but he had had too many beatings from the army, and been away from home for too long to be arrogant. He knew what would happen if they caught him, pain and sadness and then the eventual delivery to The Rune, never knowing if Wynn lived.
 

    
Kestyn looked at him, her strong face searching him, if she was aware of his fear she did not show it.

    
“I do not know what befell you before you came here, or why they search for you but the ship destined for Terra leaves tomorrow, I will smuggle you away, past the guards’ noses.”

    
“No,” Bryon said strongly, surprisingly, for Kestyn jumped at the harshness of his voice, “thank you, but I will not put you in danger.”

    
Kestyn rolled her eyes and Bryon felt his heart jump, as it had done every day since he met her. She pursed her lips in irritation, “I am in danger at this very moment for hiding you, do not treat me like a child!”

    
Bryon’s resolve wavered then, it was true. He had put her in danger the moment she spoke to him back in the alley. She had continued to sacrifice her and her father’s safety by hiding him. He had no right to tell her what to do, he owed her too much. Kestyn saw his face change as he realised she was right and she smiled triumphantly.

    
“Go and pack and I will take you to the docks at the break of dawn.”

    
Bryon nodded and gave his excuses before walking up the stairs to the room he had been staying in. It was very much like Kestyn’s, whitewashed, clean and fresh, but nothing like home. He closed the door behind him and sat on the bed, eyeing the sunlight as it flooded the room and warmed his back through the window. It was comforting, the heat, but inside Bryon felt a coldness that could not be warmed. Would he survive tomorrow? Would Kestyn continue her life here on the island? Would she forget him?

    
“What does it matter if she forgets you?” He hissed at himself, “It would be good if she did, you are nothing but a danger to her.”

    
Byron ran his hands over his face wearily, it did not matter. No matter how many times he scolded himself the truth remained the same. The thought of Kestyn’s smile made his heart grip until he thought he would die then and there. He had loved her the moment he had met her. Standing so confidently, hand on hip, her blonde fringe brushing against her eyelashes. He had nursed the love, feared to look directly at it and feel its full force, for if he declared it and it was rejected he knew he would not recover. Thinking of the sacrifices Kestyn and made for him he felt the love explode from his heart and consume him. He would battle the General and his men for an eternity for Kestyn, never resting, if it meant Kestyn was happy.

    
It sounded foolish, when he thought clearly about it. He had taken a liking to women before, but nothing like this. This feeling made him ache, and his heart burn with love. He dreamt about her and thought about her and when she was not near he yearned for her. He longed to touch her, to kiss her lips and stroke his fingers down her back and watch as her breathing became ragged with pleasure. Byron was completely in love with her and knew with a piercing truth that they could never be. Her life was here and he had to find Wynn. It was sudden, and completely unreasonable, it had happened too quickly for him to even consider how deep he had fallen. He curled into a ball and rocked himself until his heart beat slower and his breathing came easier, but nothing he did would stop the piercing love that wracked his body and very soul.

    
Dawn came far too soon for Byron; his sleep had been far from restful and he felt ill as he prepared for the dangerous journey ahead. He was awoken by Kestyn who bustled into his room, her face drawn and pained. Sleepily Byron clambered out of bed, fully clothed, grabbed his things, which were sparse, clothes given to him by Kestyn, a dagger, a cloak and packed them in a leather bag that he put on his back. Kestyn herself had a bag, and she shouldered it uneasily, as though upset that she should carry it. Byron questioned after it, why should she need a bag? But she waved his query away and led him down the stairs and out of the house.

    
The morning was chilly, so Byron pulled his cloak from his bag, put it on and tugged it close to his body. Kestyn too was hugging herself as she peered around her shop, searching and waiting for Byron. The streets were deserted; the only sound the faint whisper of the waves in the distance. The light was scarce and threw long shadows across of the cobbles. With a motion of her hand Kestyn signalled for them to move and they ran, half crouching through the streets until Kestyn rushed into an alley and pressed herself up against the wall. Bryon imitated her, feeling his arm brush against hers. Two men walked passed the entrance of the alley, deep in conversation and Bryon recognised the uniform of Woodstone’s army. His throat constricted and he prayed with all his might they would not look to their left. As soon as they had passed the mouth of the alley Kestyn moved and looked around for anyone else, she apparently saw none for she rushed out and ran through the streets.

    
As they ran Bryon found himself watching her graceful movements, she wore grey leggings under thick boots; over her leggings she wore a cotton tunic, all of which were underneath a thick black cloak that whipped behind her as she ran. He gazed at her lovingly and almost tripped over a discarded boot. He went to cry out as he fell but fought with all his might to be silent and instead focused his energy on regaining his balance. Kestyn spun round and questioned him with her angry eyes, he shrugged an apology and when she turned back around cursed his wandering mind.

    
Kestyn stopped after what seemed like a lifetime of darting from shadow to shadow and peered around the corner. There at the docks a small vessel sat on the waves. It was meagre compared to the ship Byron had come in but it was a boat and at this moment he could wish for nothing better. They watched the Captain issue orders from the deck. His men ran up and down the gangplank carrying supplies.

    
Kestyn turned to Byron, “Come then.”

    
“No, I can reach the ship from here,” Bryon argued, ignoring the pain that shot through him at the thought of leaving Kestyn behind. Kestyn grunted and then ran ahead before Byron could grab her. Cursing, Bryon ran after her, keeping to the shadows until they reached the ship. The Captain spotted them and walked down from the deck onto the dock and smiled at Byron.

    
“You must be the lad I’m to take to Terra?” He asked, his accent thick. The face of the houses that lined the dock were still dark in the morning light and the long shadows seemed as though they would swallow Bryon up. The dock was empty save the Captain’s vessel. The water lapped at the boards of the deck and the smell of the crisp salty air evoked memories of his capture.

    
Bryon nodded to the Captain’s question, anxious to board the vessel. The Captain seemed to sense Byron’s unease and motioned for him to board. Bryon breathed a sigh of relief that they had not encountered the army. He walked to the plank and turned to smile and wave at Kestyn when an arrow flew through the air, narrowly skimming his raised hand. Bryon gasped and instantly ducked as a torrent of arrows flew from the shadows. Byron ran down the gangplank and threw himself down on top of Kestyn, shielding her. The Captain yelled to his men who dropped their cargo and unsheathed their swords, shouting for their attackers to reveal themselves.

    
From the shadows the army emerged, Byron looked for the General but he was not among them. He breathed an unwitting sigh of relief, and lifted Kestyn to her feet. Her eyes were wide but her mouth was set in a determined line. He smiled and hugged her and then pushed her away from him, keeping hold of her shoulders, “Go, the army will not notice you.”

    
“No, I won’t go, not now, not ever.”

    
“Do not be ridiculous,” Bryon snapped. Kestyn scowled and pushed Bryon away. She walked up to the Captain who was issuing orders to his men and conferred with him, he reached behind him and withdrew a bow and took a quiver full of arrows from his back and handed them to Kestyn. Bryon cried out in anger and ran to her, “What are you doing?”

    
“Defending myself, defending you,” she replied and then walked up the gangplank, onto the deck and positioned herself by the rails, joining the scores of men already in that position, arrows nocked. The army before them stood in a line, swords swinging in the air, shouting abuse. The Captain glanced at Bryon who ignored him and withdrew the daggers from his pack, gripping them until his knuckles became white.

    
A soldier stood forward from the line and shouted, “Captain, we do not wish for a fight, you are standing in the midst of a traitor, a criminal, he escaped our clutches whilst on the way to The Rune, give him up and there will be no bloodshed.”

    
The Captain turned to Bryon, “Is this true lad?”

    
Byron shook his head viciously, “I do not wish for violence but I was a prisoner under false claims, if you give me up they will take me to The Rune to die. If I was guilty I would hand myself over for I am an honest man.”