The Burden of the Protector (6 page)

I stopped, noticed that my hands were shaking, that I was about to drop my cup. Vìr took it from my tremulous fingers, deposited it on the bench to my left.

“Take your time,” he encouraged me.

I closed my eyes, tried to push the feeling away.

“I am not alone,” I admitted.

Vìr scribbled something very quickly, then looked at me.

“Not alone?” he asked.

I could but shake my head. The presence was not there at Vìr’s house. It was only present in my dreams. I told him so.

“The same presence that we felt in the forest?” he asked.

I nodded. Vìr put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“You are safe here,” he said. “If you can, continue.”

Curiosity showed in his manners, mixed with genuine worry.

“I move, closer and closer to the Borders, over deep chasms, in between high plateaus, ravines, cliffs. Always in a straight line, oscillating but slightly. I can feel the air getting colder as I approach Ul Darak. Then there are waterfalls to my right. I can hear them, distant, yet clearer and clearer. I can almost feel the moisture of the falls on my face, cheeks…but not quite.”

It was liberating to say these words. I had not expected that. And Vìr appeared to believe me.

“It is so beautiful. There is a lake under me, and then a ledge. And a large opening. Darkness inside.”

“A passage?” enquired Vìr.

“Maybe,” I said. “And that is when I wake.”

A few more notes put down.

“That is an incredible tale,” said Vìr.

I couldn’t help but feel proud that my words amazed Vìr. I then realized that I admired him, that I was looking for his support, his approval. Of all those surrounding me, fellow protectors and scholars, I admired the one who wasn’t from Ta’Énia, uncertain why.

“You are sure about going in a straight line, are you?” he asked.

“I am.”

“That is very interesting indeed,” he said. “We will have to investigate.”

Short silence.

Longer hesitation.

“I do not think so,” I said.

Vìr was surprised.

“I want to forget about all this,” I added.

It was not what Vìr had hoped for. Although I wanted so badly to please him, there were boundaries I was not ready to disregard.

“I apologize,” said Vìr quickly. “It must not be easy for you.”

He waited awhile, maybe hoping I would change my mind. I didn’t.

“Would you be opposed to me investigating on my own?” he asked.

I thought about this for a few moments. The urge to push everything away, to forget, was strong. But so was my curiosity.

“I accept,” I said, “but this, everything about it, has to stay between the two of us.”

“Agreed,” said Vìr with a smile, pleased.

*

True to his word, Vìr went exploring, was gone days at a time, lost in the Yurita Highlands. He found nothing.

As days turned into weeks, his support was constant. My nightmares grew worse. I found myself wanting and needing to talk, to free myself of the visions. The images became stronger and stronger, took me farther, through the dark entrance, deep into the passage, into a maze of underground tunnels. As I recounted what I’d seen, Vìr patiently listened, taking notes, so many of them, drawing a map even, putting down directions.

I started dreading going to sleep. Paradoxically, my belief was waning. With each day, I doubted my sanity more and more.

But Vìr, he never doubted. The bond between us grew. Our meetings became rituals, happening with the dawn or the dusk, always at Vìr’s place, drinking a hot cup of tea, sometimes outside in his garden, sometimes inside surrounded by the growing piles of papers and notes.

I continued to do patrols. Some days, I would try to find the object again, but it never returned and my days became a blind routine.

During this period, I learned the true meaning of friendship, of having one beside you who doesn’t judge, who listens. One who is always present, to help, to support. Yet one who is honest and tells you when you’re taking the wrong path. More than once, Vìr warned me not to doubt.

“This,” he said, “is the disease put upon you by this place. Try to think for yourself, try to stay awake. Do not fall back into old habits.”

I tried. I almost forgot about the Sy’Iss and the dangers. About reality.

About two months later, in the early days of the last month of the year, the nightmares suddenly disappeared. As if whisked away on a strong wind. As if nothing had ever happened. My wish had finally been granted.

My sleep became dreamless, deep and undisturbed. I felt normal again, and I liked it. So free.

This concerned Vìr.

“I can finally sleep, and the only thing you can say is that you are worried?”

Vìr never repeated his concerns, but I saw them in the way he looked at me, in the way his brows would cave in, just so. He saw me slipping away from him and couldn’t do anything about it.

I started to keep my distance and even skipped a few meetings. After all, I had nothing new to report. My absences grew more frequent. More often than not, I would leave Vìr waiting. I would keep an eye out for him, from a distance, but not let us come in contact. Just seeing him was enough for me, an illusion of friendship, but enough. I was rebellious and torn, as the whole thing was becoming an embarrassment.

That was when Vìr disappeared for several weeks. It was my turn to be worried. I couldn’t help it and thought something had happened to him. I had that image of a chasm opening in the ground and swallowing him whole. Now that I couldn’t even see him, I realized I missed him and our talks.

When he returned, I was relieved and we renewed our friendship. For the next month, we returned to our daily meetings.

“Have you ever been on the other side of the Fara mount?” he asked one morning.

“No,” I said, anxious. “Please Vìr, do not venture so far. There is nothing to be found.”

“You know there is,” he said, smiling.

He now preferred to stay out longer, saying the travelling back to Ta’Énia was inefficient and unnecessary. I smiled back, my humour good once more.

“I found something,” admitted Vìr.

My heart stopped and felt as if it had been dropped in cold water.

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “Fara is days away…”

“It is, and if you thought Yurita was vast, think again,” he said with such excitement in his voice. “There is a region on the other side, just as large, just as vast. You should see it, my friend. It is endless and majestic.”

If not for my dreams, I would have disbelieved his words.

“This is dangerous,” I said. “The Sy’Iss…”

“They do not need to know,” he said.

I nodded.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I can’t do this by myself,” he admitted. “I will die of old age before I am done.”

I didn’t understand his request at first. Then it hit me.

“No,” I said, “I can’t. I won’t…”

But Vìr shook his head.

“I know,” he said. “I would not ask it of you. But there is someone else who I think might be willing to help.”

“Who?”

He waited, let me think it over.

“Are you serious?” I asked again.

It could only be one person.

He nodded.

“Can we trust her?” I said.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “We can. No one is more reliable. Maéva helped me get here and has supported me ever since. She is asking questions, though, about my excursions. If I don’t involve her, I’m afraid she might discover it on her own. She already knows I am exploring Yurita, and the length of my recent outings is telling.”

I had noticed how close the two of them had become. Everybody had. Many talked about it. Most didn’t approve.

Had Vìr really been true to his promise to keep my secret? I tended to believe so. If he had already told Maéva, I would have no way of knowing. But then, why would he ask for my permission now? I decided to trust him and to support him. It was easy to see that he wanted this.

“Fine,” I said, “you can tell her.”

“Her alone,” he said, forestalling my next words, his smile so big. “The Sy’Iss must not know about this.”

There were now three of us, two of whom were scholars of the League. I was not worried, not yet.

*

Cloudburst 22, year 2965, Dàr is 24.

Everything changed the day I met Eriéla.

She came from Vi’Alana, had received the same training as I had, and was appointed to my company in replacement of a retiring protector. She was young, not quite as young as I had been when I returned to Ta’Énia, but close. Where I got jealousy and hate from my colleagues for my early debut, she got admiration and approval.

I didn’t stand a chance, and my heart fell for her a few days after her arrival.

Where Vìr’s relationship with Maéva never affected the time he had for me, my courtship of Eriéla totally annihilated the time I had for him. Eriéla became my world, awake and asleep. I had thoughts only for her, and the whole matter of the strange object, of the visions, of the passage, became so distant as to feel completely unreal, a bad episode of another life, a story told when I was a child.

As I lost myself in deep green eyes, Vìr, now accompanied by Maéva, continued to explore the verdant plains and plateaus beyond Mount Fara. I doubt he was unhappy, but I also know he must have thought about our friendship more than I did.

Eriéla’s passion and dedication to the knights and the Sy’Iss ran very deep. Although most of us saw the world as black-and-white, this was especially true of Eriéla. Her conservative values were such that she saw humanity divided between the people of Ta’Énia and the others. Knights and scholars against everybody else. Either you were family or you didn’t belong. So it didn’t take long before she started challenging me about my friendship with Vìr.

“Don’t you know what others say?” she would ask, concerned.

I knew my Eriéla, even in those early days, and was not blinded by her act. For them, for her, Vìr was a stranger and didn’t belong. There was no concern there. There was certainly no doubt. Eventually, Vìr would have to leave. I knew so myself. That was reality. It surprised many that Vìr had been allowed to stay so long.

And by associating myself with him, I made myself vulnerable. When the day of Vìr’s exile came, those with him might have to follow.

Eriéla would not take that chance. She didn’t want me to take it either.

*

As painful as it is to admit now, I let Vìr down. I kept our contact to a minimum, until it became non-existent. In the end, I was assimilated, became like the others.

I didn’t want to be seen with Vìr any longer.

The Secret Cache

A noise reverberated somewhere in this world or another. In instant panic, the old man jumped out of his bed, his quill flying up and up and away. He grabbed the parchment sliding off the covers and forced it into a ball, which he rapidly hid under the pillow.

Moving slowly, looking all around, he made his way to the door, listening, putting a hand around one ear to help. He pushed his back against the door, tried to slow his breathing. It wasn’t working.

Then, in a sudden burst, the man started moving around, from one corner of the room to the other, testing planks and stones, looking for a place that didn’t exist, for a secret niche that no one would be able to find.

As abruptly as he had jumped into action, the man stopped. He was standing by the bed, ears wide open. He was certain there had been a noise, just outside the front door. A trickle of sweat rolled down his left temple, along his cheek.

The only sound was his breathing mingled with the endless silence of loneliness. The man stood, rooted to the floor by a fear he alone could sense.

His sanity was a fragile thing and getting more brittle every day.

Because, even though the man certainly believed otherwise, there had been no noise at all…

Shading 9, year 3001, Dàr is 60.

Everything, all my efforts, all of Vìr’s and Maéva’s…all was almost lost. I am still shaken by the events and am becoming unreasonably paranoid. One has to wonder if it can be called paranoia when it is reality.