One winged angel
Deakon was dreaming. In the dream he was in a cloistered garden with beautiful cultured red roses and long grassy lawns. The walls were golden. The air was sweet and the light was neither day nor night. A woman in white with long unbound black hair sat on a rose covered swing rocking back and forth and giggling to herself. She wore an old fashioned dress that clung to her bosom and fell between long thighs; the tips of her shoes were silver. Her black eyes seemed to relax when she looked over her shoulder and saw him and she smiled, standing up and moving to kiss him on the cheek. Her kiss burned like fire. She smelled of lilacs and freshly cut grass. “Thank the heavens that you’re all right.” She said, her smile was infectious and lit up her adult face. In the dreamscape Draima was always grown up. She never thought of herself as a child. He had never seen anything as beautiful as the adult Draima in the rose garden in this walled palace.
He looked at his own hands; they were larger suggesting that Draima saw his adult self as well. He was dressed like an Aatorian though, and not a clansman. The clothes were confining in new ways, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “I’m so sorry, Drai,” he said, “I had to run, I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry.” He could do nothing before her but apologise. In the wake of her adult beauty, she now looked every inch an imperial princess and he could do nothing but gape. The words were gone, she was so pale and lovely, her skin shimmering in the strange not light of the dream, and the air smelt of roses and she smelt of lilacs. It was so perfect he could stay here forever. It was so perfect that he could weep.
“Where are you, love?” She asked, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder so it fell down her back and he was caught again by her beauty. All draimae were beautiful but Draima was haunting. Her skin was as white as marble with strange blue lines showing here and there of her veins and her hair just made her look paler, her black eyes were large and her lips as pink as rose buds. The curve of her neck was almost enough to make him scream.
“Meirin,” he answered not knowing what else to tell her, should he tell her of the visions of Samrath that the Cadacus called Death visions, should he tell her of the mountain and the tower, of Tobin and Josian, of the Cadacus and the room with the portraits. For the first time in his life Deakon was speechless before her. “So much happened, love. How is my mama?” he asked. It avoided the topic well enough, to give him time to think, he was almost worried sick about Aeris, she didn’t do well without him, who was going to protect her if he didn’t? She hardly ever let him out of her sight and he had been gone over a whole day.
“Aelis is distraught without you,” Draima said taking Deakon’s hands within her own, hers were white and cold, he wanted to take her hands and blow on them, to warm them through, but he didn’t dare, he didn’t like this new distance he had found with her. “I do what I can to take the edge off her worry. It is shadowed by Hazuki’s blind rage. If I did not miss you so, love, I would be glad that you’re gone. You’re so faint, love, you’ve never been this distant with me before.” She pulled her cold white hands away from him and moved to the roses, pulling one blossom down to her face to smell the sweet scent. Her back curved into the flower and if he was older he might have found the sight arousing, but he was too young for that. It was an image he held dear, of her bent into the flower, the long white lines of her dress and the black curve of her hair.
“Where are we, Drai?” He asked looking around at the rose garden, behind the sandstone walls a great palace rose, there were gravel paths through the roses and grass lawns and amongst the bases of the bushes were lavender, and the faint tang of salt. The air was sweet as if it had just rained, but the land was dry. He recognised nothing of this place. There were iron benches here and there; not very many, and most of them covered with one type of flower or another, but the gravel paths through the lawns were immaculately kept.
“A memory of a place,” she replied with a faint smile, the smile that made his heart beat harder in his chest, she plucked the rose and tucked it behind Deakon’s ear with a whispery touch, “a memory of a real place far to the south of where we are, I thought that you’d know of this place as this is your mother’s memory of the rose garden of Halcyon.” She reached out to touch his hair. Her fingers were warm and gentle now, where before they had been so cold. The touch was almost a caress and almost reminding herself that he was there. In Halcyon, in Dathyl, with an imperial princess, in the rose garden after a light summer rain.
“The roses are white and yellow in Halcyon, not red and pink.” A baritone voice said and Deakon whirled, shielding Draima behind him as he faced down the intruder in his dream, into Draima’s dream garden. It was the Cadacus, even in the dream he was grey and his chest was still, he wore ash grey robes apart from the design of red camellia over that terrible stain on his stomach. Deakon couldn’t remember the reason for the stain. He could see the look of female appreciation on Draima’s face, Deakon had never considered the Cadacus as handsome, but he could see now that women might find him so, his hair was short and well kept, as black as Draima’s own, and though his eyes were shadowed they were a pleasing colour, but he had a face that would have been handsome if not for his scowl. He was tall and broad about the shoulders but narrow at the waist. He wore fine robes, well embroidered, and he carried himself well. He may have been the ancient dead but in truth he looked no older than forty, with very little grey at his temples, and the only wrinkles he had were from scowling and not from age. He had died in his prime, and now was as pale as Draima, but without the lines of her veins, and was as cold as stone.
“Cadacus,” Deakon started, “what? How?” If Draima recognised the word she gave no sign of it, in fact she seemed to cling slightly closer to Deakon than she had, and it was the Cadacus’ power that she admired to so easily enter a draima’s illusion.
“Enough, little witch.” The Cadacus said, his voice was fond and mocking, as if he could see through her powerful illusion, as if he knew where she was and what she was and how young she was. “I have no malice for you, or even this illusion. But beware me, witch, the boy is under my protection. My oath is sworn to him.”
“I won’t hurt him,” Draima protested, looking very young though in the dream she was adult. When she faced the Cadacus she looked like her true age. “I would never hurt him, he is my soul.” Suddenly the vast palace and the beautiful rose gardens seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic, as if there was not room for the three of them in this place.
“I know, little witch, intentionally you would never hurt him, but this is dangerous.” The Cadacus meant no harm to Draima, that was clear, nor to Deakon, but he understood things that they did not, that was clear. “You were born with the control that he was never taught. Until he has control the backlash of these meetings echo over the world and could strike back at you both.” He bowed to her, as if to someone of infinitely more rank, “I make a second oath to you, little witch, no sword nor magic will strike him in my care, till I return him with control that the bond you snared him with will not harm either of you.” He outstretched his hand. “I can not sever the bond, I lack the strength. You will always feel each other, and as you age the bond will deepen. Awaken, Deakon, to Meirin, I must talk to the princess alone.”
“Yes, Cadacus,” Deakon said with a tone of defeat, “I love you, Drai,” he said with a faint smile, “Remember that.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
Deakon awoke to a warm body in his bed to his back. He rolled over languorously to see if his mother was still asleep and if he could sleep a little longer, the room was only just light suggesting it was only just past dawn. The face he found was not his mother’s. It was a pale oval face with pink lips, black eyebrows and lashes, and a slash of a scar from the hairline of his widow’s peak across his nose and under his right eye. Deakon shifted from sleepily numb to wide-awake and terrified. He backtracked to the edge of the bed, forgetting that it was raised from the floor until he fell, trying to catch himself he grabbed at the blanket, which whipped around at the same time, catching a vase on the night stand which hit the floor at the same time as he did screaming.
Josian and the Cadacus exploded into the room as Tobin got up off where he lay on the bed to look at where Deakon shuffled backwards into the wall with the blanket held tight around his naked chest, “you shotakon!” Deakon yelled.
Josian looked around the room as the Cadacus loosened his grip on the hilt of his broadsword, both of them convinced now that Deakon was in no danger. Tobin looked at Deakon as the ancient curse registered in his head and burst out laughing. Josian was sniggering, the Cadacus was impassive but the tension lifted from him. “Acuya wept,” Tobin said with a smile, “I thought you were being murdered the way you screamed.”
“What in all seven hells were you doing in my bed?” Deakon yelled, in his sleep his long red hair was loose about his shoulders and down his back, he had been stripped down to his loincloth but Tobin wore cloth pants.
“You fainted in the tower, child.” The Cadacus said pulling off his jacket to wrap it around Deakon’s shoulders. His skin was pale and grey in the early morning light and his skin when he touched Deakon was icy cold. “Tobin carried you here, and watched over you when the swoon became sleep. You may wish to apologise for calling him that. It was hateful.”
Deakon muttered an apology, pulling the Cadacus’ cold shirt tighter about himself, it came more than halfway down his thighs.
“I would never let you come to harm, child,” the Cadacus murmured helping Deakon to his feet. “And feel assured that Tobin will bring no harm unto you, you may feel as safe in his presence as in mine.”
“Thank you, Mamoru,” Tobin said climbing off the bed as Josian gathered Deakon’s clothes for him to dress. “What did I do to deserve that?”
“Call me, Cadacus,” The Cadacus corrected sharply, “Takehito Mamoru Senshisha has been dead these past six centuries and only the Cadacus remains.”
Deakon thought of him as the Cadacus and it was clear that the enigmatic figure kept secrets but that Tobin, who kept equally as many secrets, knew some of them, and Deakon desperately wanted to know why he instinctively trusted the Cadacus when he said that Deakon could trust Tobin. Deakon trusted the Cadacus because the man told him the truth and when prompted about the terrible wound he had shown him it. The Cadacus kept secrets only because Deakon hadn’t asked him for them. “How do you know each other?” Deakon asked, trusting the Cadacus to answer.
“I was his student.” Tobin answered with no attempt at dissembling, “he took me in after,” there was a hitch in his voice, “I left Dramathen. He was a my mentor and a father figure to me when I needed one desperately.” Tobin looked kind of sad as he said it, he bore a similarity to the Cadacus, they looked kind of alike, pale with dark hair, but Tobin’s bones were finer, he was taller, thinner, and his shoulders were narrow. The Cadacus was built to bear weaponry, a soldier trained from birth, but Tobin was not.
“Sometimes.” The Cadacus said wryly, “Sometimes I was the worst enemy you have.”
“Enough,” Josian said, “that time is long past and little good it would avail Deakon for the two of you to engage in a pissing contest every time you open your mouths in her memory, not to mention that she would slap the pair of you silly for the presumption. This is only temporary until we find a safe home for Deakon and then the two of you can go back to planning to kill each other. I trust you can rest your enmity and stop licking old wounds until then.” Where the Cadacus and Tobin were dark, Josian was golden, his skin and hair were golden and his eyes a pale cockroach brown, his lips were full and he stood much taller than both of them.
“Yes, Josian,” Tobin murmured lowering his eyes.
“Selestin,” the Cadacus said clearly in acknowledgement but Deakon didn’t know what the word meant but it stopped the bickering, “why can’t the boy return to Shiro?”
“I killed Kennichi,” Deakon blurted out, “I didn’t mean to, but.” The three men all turned to look at him, and in front of them Deakon felt very small and very young, three tall handsome men turned to him with a look of shock, each and every one of them was capable of killing him outright, and who was he, a freak child from Shiro with red brown hair and yellow eyes.
The Cadacus put an icy cold finger to Deakon’s lips, “we have your whole life for you to tell me what happened that day.” His tone was calming, he had taken a place in Deakon’s life effortlessly and Deakon did not blame him in any way. “My oath belongs to you.” That information made him feel especially safe. “I will trust your counsel, Deakon, if you think that Shiro would be unsafe for you then we will not return there.”
“I was thinking Muchine in south Aatoria.” Tobin said, “It’s a small port, out of the way, and it’s managed by Saaraphine of Melc.” Tobin perched himself on the edge of the bed, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing his arms across his bare chest.
“Who is?” Deakon pressed.
“A naginata Senshi general.” Josian replied, “She served faithfully and accepted the terms of her surrender with as much grace as a Senshi ever does.” The Cadacus raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing at the inference that Saaraphine had resisted to the best of her ability. “Accepting her enforced wedding to Sir Bedivere the Seraphim Lord and following the birth of her son, Danev, she was exiled to Muchine.” Josian sat down next to Tobin on the bed, and the lowering of the mattress pushed the two together so their sides were pressed against the other.
“She owes me a big favour,” Tobin added. The Cadacus raised an eyebrow that said he suspected what the favour was. “I brought her something when she was pregnant,” Tobin said rather lamely, “in Coresc, in the middle of the Seraphim camp I brought her a copy of the Kagehime.”
“Do you enjoy living vicariously?” The Cadacus laughed. It was the first sound of amusement that Deakon had heard from him.
“It was to annoy Sir Bedivere.” Josian answered for Tobin, “He can never miss an opportunity to needle the Seraphim Lord.” That amused the Cadacus somewhat because he smiled.
“If we are to bring him to Muchine then certain steps will need to be taken,” Tobin said, “for one thing, Deakon, the men of Aatoria wear their hair short.”
Both of Deakon’s hands went to his head, “I’m not of age.” He protested, “I’m three years short of a crowning ceremony, it’s blasphemy to cut my hair.” Draima had said that she liked his hair long, often when it was down, like it was now, she would play with it, and other times she would brush it out and braid it, as if he was a girl. He had liked that familiarity that they had shared.
“They don’t have that in Aatoria,” Josian said, “and you’ll stand out like a sore thumb, pup.” He offered Deakon his hand, “but let’s get you some food and we’ll talk about what we’re going to do with your hair.”
“Are you a cannibal?” Deakon asked, taking his hands away from his head but not taking Josian’s proffered one. “Because you seem determined to fatten me up.”
“At your age I ate my own weight daily.” Tobin said.
“At his age, as I recall, you had no appetite.” The Cadacus replied smartly, and both Josian and Tobin glared at him. “But he speaks truth, it is best for you to take every advantage of food when it is offered you. I will not let Josian eat you, but he and I have already eaten. Tobin will join you.”
“I’m not hungry,” Tobin said a little quickly, “I’m going to take a bath before Josian cuts my hair as well.”
“You take advantage of my kindness, D’Cevni.” Josian growled putting his hand on Deakon’s shoulder, “but I’ll cut your hair, can’t have you looking like a girl,” Tobin stuck his tongue out at Josian but said nothing; that was obviously a private joke. “I’ll cut yours if you like as well, Cadacus.”
The Cadacus shook his head and answered quietly, “Thank you for the offer but my hair has not grown since Minako cut it last. It no longer grows. I have wish to discuss some things with Tobin, I will torment him in his bath to find the answer to my questions.”
“Why can’t I stay here?” Deakon asked suddenly.
“Meirin’s a hard place.” Tobin began.
“There’s no one here your age.” Josian added.
“It is no place for the living,” the Cadacus said, “it made the ladies of Meirin brittle and hard, lonely with none but their Senshi husbands for company even when they were children. You will return to Meirin when it is time, I swear that on my oath, but when you are ready. Enjoy your adolescence, Deakon, none of us had the chance.”
“How old were you when you made your oath?” Tobin made a gagging sound as if it was a dangerous question.
“Thirteen,” The Cadacus replied quietly, “and I became Senshisha at fifteen when the Lady Minako was twelve, but I was five when I started training for the position.” It was said crisply, there was no emotion in it, and it was a simple statement of fact, with no reason to argue with it.
Deakon measured the word on his tongue, “Senshisha?” he asked.
The Cadacus shook his head fondly, “Go share Tobin’s bath,” Josian said, “You have a long time to catch up. I’ll answer your questions, pup. I imagine you have many.” Then he dragged Deakon out of the room dressed only in the Cadacus’ shirt.
In the anteroom there was fire roaring merrily and a loaf of bread sat with a tray of butter and some marmalade. “I know you have questions,” Josian said sitting down at the table. His hair was golden in the morning light, he wore a dusky blue that seemed to make him more golden, and his eyes were shadowed though.
“How do the Cadacus and Tobin know each other?” Deakon interrupted. He had so many answers; he couldn’t think of all the questions that he wanted to ask. They were popping in his head like bubbles.
“That’s a very long story, they were like brothers once, when Tobin was your age. They were driven apart by circumstance but Tobin was his student once.” That answer appeased Deakon somewhat but he knew full well it wasn’t the full story. Deakon appraised Josian, he was fading from the golden creature into a silvery thing as the sun shifted behind a cloud and the light went grey.
“And where do you fit in?” That was another question entirely, he had no idea where Josian joined the picture because the Cadacus and Josian seemed cool to each other as if they shared a history that was less than cordial and did not feature Tobin at all.
“Tobin became my friend on his progress around Aatoria and at the end of it I joined him in Dathyl as his companion, and then on his quest.”
“Quest?” Deakon jumped on the word.
“Poor choice of words,” Josian conceded, “Tobin searches for the A’setra, the one to bridge the living and the dead.”
“Why?”
“Death stole his most important person.” Josian looked down at the grain of the table, as if trying to avoid Deakon’s gaze, as if the gaze of a child could make him uncomfortable.
“Who was?” Deakon was not letting up, Josian had agreed to answer his questions and Deakon had questions. Every time he got a question answered a hundred more popped up in its place.
“Her name was Avili D’Verif.” Josian said her name sadly, “but don’t tell him I told you her name, I promised I would never speak it, it brings him pain to hear of her. He was madly, deeply, obsessively in love with her, but a Seraphim lord killed her.”
“Why?”
“It was an accident I think.” Josian poured himself a cup of kir hoping that Deakon wasn’t aware of how much he wasn’t saying. “I never knew the truth of it.”
“Is she the reason that Tobin and the Cadacus bicker like cats?”
Josian had agreed to answer the questions and he would in a fashion. “No, that was someone else.”
Deakon didn’t press him on that but buttered a slice of the bread. “What does Senshisha mean?”
“It’s the Senshi that guards the Lady of Meirin.” That question Josian didn’t mind answering. There was a literal translation as well, but Deakon didn’t need to know that yet.
“So the Cadacus was married to the lady of Meirin.” Josian nodded, “and her name was Minako, and she was the woman that I saw in the Samrath death vision?” Josian nodded again, “do you think I should tell him that I saw her die?”
Josian knocked over his cup in his desperation to tell Deakon no, “he should have been at her side, pup, but he was in Dramathen, he thinks that he betrayed her, that’s why his oath never released him.”
“Why does he want to protect me?”
“I don’t know.” Josian said honestly.
“And you and Tobin?”
“We feel responsible in part for Shiro, so we’re going to take you to Muchine to give you a chance for a normal youth away from what happened. We’ll take care of you whilst you’re in our custody.” That was true. It wasn’t the whole answer but it was true.
“You thought that I was the A’setra, didn’t you?”
Josian nodded, “considering your father I wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to check.”
“I’m not, am I?” Josian shook his head. “Then what am I?”
“A Lady of Meirin.” The Cadacus said from the door, “the first ever Lord of Meirin, you are the Tennosha.” Josian raised an eyebrow as he wiped up the spilt kir but said nothing. “So Deakon, have you decided what to do with your hair?”
Deakon touched the short strands of hair that fell down around his ears with something of wonder and horror. In all his life he had never had his hair cut, and Josian coming at him with a knife was not something he had expected and struggled against until the Cadacus had held him still. It had taken seconds for years of hair growth to fall on the floor and then lifting a pair of shears Josian had tidied the hair until the boy that Deakon looked at in the mirror no longer resembled him at all. His cheekbones seemed sharper and his nose more defined, his eyes shadowed by red brown bangs. Suddenly his hair was darker and shot through with blonde streaks the colour of his eyes, and his mouth seemed more cruel. He looked older.
He no longer looked like himself, Tobin had found him some clothes that fit him better than the ones he had been wearing the day before, in a rich russet colour, although the shirt hung open to show the ouroborous around his neck. He looked thinner and taller, something he hadn't expected a change of clothes and a haircut to achieve. He no longer looked like Taira Deakon though, he didn't know who this new stranger was. The Cadacus had fussed and fretted all the way through the transformation, making suggestions that seemed to irritate Josian because he growled back at some of them, but the fringe to hide Deakon's eyes had been his idea and although Deakon wanted more than anything to sweep them back out of the way he was glad that they hid the details. He pulled at the ear tails that framed his face, to take some of the hate out of his golden eyes.
Behind him Tobin sat reading. He looked up at Deakon when he sighed, his face framed in the polished mirror, his eyes as strange as Deakon’s own. “It looks really nice.” He said with a faint smile, “I remember the first time I had my hair cut, I didn’t recognise myself for a whole week.” His smile was soft and fond, highlighting the faint scar on his face. “You look more like a prince now, and less like a ragamuffin, Alister used to tell me.” Tobin touched the scar on his face as if for reassurance. “You look great.”
“It’s not the hair.” Deakon began. He didn’t know how to tell Tobin, Tobin was a really good looking man, he carried himself with an air that Deakon couldn’t emulate, Tobin had seen the world and done things that Deakon would never do. Tobin was a prince, Deakon didn’t know what he was.
“The fringe helps cover them,” Tobin said quietly, “I used to get it growing up as well, in Dramathen my eyes are coveted but in Dathyl I was told I had demon eyes, that my mother had slept with the devil to get them, but they happen in my family. They get paler the angrier I get too, so I do understand.” He stood up and stood next to Deakon, so their faces were side by side in the glass and raised his fringe to show his poison green eyes. “I wouldn’t worry so much, yours aren’t that rare you know. I knew someone else who had eyes that colour and they said he was blessed.”
“Who’s Alister?” Deakon asked changing the subject, he had an idea that Tobin would tell him another time about the man with the golden eyes.
“My brother,” Tobin said quietly. “He’s dead now.” There was a twinge of regret in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” Deakon blurted out.
“It’s fine,” Tobin said, “I was the last of twelve children, and now I am the last.” There was more resolve in his voice than sorrow. “I barely knew them, I was sent away, and then when I returned to Dathyl the Cadacus was brother to me.” He ruffled Deakon’s hair, “but I was telling you about Valen,” he deftly changed the subject back, “he was my brother Terenz’s lover, his eyes were really metallic, they were like gold beads and he was the Lord of Dathyl. They said he was blessed by the ancient goddess Acuya and” Tobin paused, “the man fought like a devil. Terenz believed the sun rose and set in his eyes though I never liked him. He was a good man, personal enmity aside.” He arranged Deakon’s collar so it was straight, “in Dramathen he was persecuted for his eyes, just as I was in Dathyl.” He put his chin on Deakon’s shoulders, “I’ll tell you something else, something I learned and you may not believe,” he raised Deakon’s fringe so Deakon’s golden wolf eyes met Tobin’s acid green ones in the glass, “they don’t matter, they’re just flesh, what matters is what’s behind them. And you’re a much nicer person than Taira Kennichi, we travelled from Dramathen to see you, not him, and not because of your eyes.”
“He didn’t kill me,” Deakon said, “but I killed him.”
“I wanted to kill the person who hurt me,” Tobin said, “and someone else did it for me, which of us is better off I don’t know. Cadacus wants to train you in the martial arts, sword craft, archery and hand to hand combat to teach you control.”
“What do you suggest?” Deakon suddenly felt very close to Tobin, that Tobin knew what he had gone through, Tobin may have been grown up but he had been a child much like Deakon. “Should I let him train me?”
“They will teach you control.” Tobin said, “with the Cadacus as your guardian, and me and Jose, you will never need to lift a sword in defence, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good to know.” He ruffled Deakon’s hair again, “it’s a long ride to Muchine, answer me something Taira Deakon,”
“Yes?” Deakon asked, wary.
“Can you read?” Deakon shook his head slowly, wary, “well then, I’ll just have to teach you, it’s no use not being able to read with the future you have in store for you. Can you speak Aatorian?” Deakon nodded at that, “and Aran?” he shook his head, “well then, Cadacus will work your body and I’ll work that fertile little brain. But tell me, what do you know about the Women of Dathyl?”
The Women of Dathyl was a song that Tobin took great pleasure in teaching Deakon for the remainder of that afternoon, and the song although bawdy actually took the edge of Deakon’s longing for home, it even in places made him laugh. Although he wondered how, if he ever went to Dathyl he could look a woman there in the eye and he had never heard of half of these places.
“There's a woman in Danev who has eyes that are deep
And a girl in Caelum who without me won't sleep
and the women of Muchine well they play for keeps,
But you can't beat a woman of Dathyl.”
The whole song carried on in that tradition, either extolling the virtues of the women of those places or decrying them all the while proclaiming that you can’t beat a woman of Dathyl, Deakon asked why the women of Dathyl were so much better Tobin declared he had never known that verse, but the Cadacus raised a single eyebrow, the same one that had reacted at the knowledge of what Tobin was teaching Deakon and read out the missing words in monotone.
“The Dathyl maids have skin that is white;
They bathe by day, and they bathe by night;
Their laughter says they possibly might
So you can’t beat a woman of Dathyl
And the women of Ashton do prettily glow
And the maidens of Well Street dance in the snow
And there’s a girl in Cinderton whom everyone knows
So you can't beat a woman from Dathyl.”
Tobin just stared at him for a whole minute. “How do you know the words to the Women of Dathyl?” He asked incredulous, he expected Josian to know them.
“I put you to bed after more than one drunk, Tobin,” The Cadacus answered, “and it always amused Mina to hear it sung. Maybe at a later time the boy could hear you sing properly.” That was obviously a chide. “And you weren’t the only boy in my care who knew the words.”
“I never sing properly without a willing audience who pay.” Tobin said flicking his chin, “I’ll have you know I’ve been entertained in many fine manors,” his voice had gotten softer and whispery, “and that men have killed themselves at the thought of a mere supper with me.”
“Was that before or after they discovered you were a man?” Deakon asked quietly.
“I heard that,” Tobin said, batting Deakon on that arm in play, “you cheeky monkey. I’ll have you know I was the best mezzo-soprano the Dathyl opera ever had.”
“Does that mean…?” Deakon began and when Tobin turned to look at him, he stifled a giggle and started to run, pushing past Josian at the door to run into the street with Tobin fast on his heels behind him.
It had snowed the previous night and there was thick carpet of it that crunched underfoot. Tobin was dodging out of his way, deliberately not catching him, and Deakon knew that both Josian and the Cadacus were stood at the window watching him. Wanting desperately to laugh but knowing if he opened his mouth that would give Tobin the advantage needed to catch him, Deakon felt the golden ball welling up in his stomach again, and pushing into it gave him a burst of speed. He practically jumped out of the reach of Tobin’s fingers and the ball of snow that he had picked up with sole intention of dropping down Deakon’s jerkin. The golden ball was warm in his belly, racing through his veins as he ran faster and faster, feeling the ground skim under his feet and when he slowed to look around he realised he was out of the small town and at the base of the mountain. Tobin was looking at him with a minor glare, “that’s cheating.” He said.
“I can,” Deakon said turning and letting the snow fall around him, “I can run.” He was exhilarated and wanted to laugh as the snow fell down on him. “I can run really fast, it was like flying.” The elation didn’t want to leave him; he had never felt anything in his life as wonderful as running as fast as he possibly could.
“Didn’t you know?” Tobin said taking off his jacket to give to the boy. “You ran from Shiro to Samrath, which is nearly thirty leagues in less than an hour.” Deakon’s jaw dropped at that, “we’re more than four days hard ride from Shiro here.” Tobin added.
“I can’t have run that far,” Deakon protested.
“You did,” Tobin said tucking the coat tight about him and holding it tight about his waist, “there will be other things you can do once you know how. I run really fast, so we’ll have to see how you sprint without the help of enhanced speed.” His grin really was wicked this time. “There is a really famous race in Dathyl where they run around the walls of the Halcyon palace, now if I was a betting man…” Deakon used the point of his elbow in Tobin’s side. “You little ingrate.” Tobin said rubbing his sore ribs. “I’ll get you for that, and if you start pelting off like that again, I’ll take you down.” Deakon took that as the hint to run before he got a jacket full of snow.
He ran off again, the golden ball in his stomach like a comfortable warmth aching to plunge into his veins again, “do it,” the voice was female, whispered in his ear, “he’s nothing, just a natural.” The girl murmured in his ear, “just run, run until you can’t run any more; give into the light. Give in to me.”
Deakon stopped dead in his tracks with his hands over his ears and seeing it Tobin stopped. “I won’t.” He said clearly. “I’m not going to listen to you.”
“Deakon?” Tobin asked putting his hand on his shoulder.
The rage welled within Deakon again at the contact, he could see her behind him, the beautiful girl with the red brown hair and the shining golden eyes so very like his own and he pushed her away with all the power in the golden ball, he unleashed it all through his hand. “Get away from me!”
Tobin flew over twenty feet and landed heavily on his back on the rock and snow. “K’so.” He muttered under his breath as he got to his feet wishing for a moment he had some other weapon on him than the chain around his waist. He didn’t want to hurt Deakon, but he had to calm him down. If he could get the boy to calm down he could find out what had happened what had scared him so badly. “Deakon,” he called out, not wanting to get too close, it wasn’t the touch of Deakon’s hand that had sent Tobin flying, he was sure of that, because the boy had barely touched him. The boy was glowing, literally, his hair swirled about him and the ground about him rising in reaction to the power. This, Tobin realised, was how he had killed Kennichi. He was too far away to call for help, he had to calm him down. “Deakon!”
The boy turned his head to him, and his gaze was inhuman. “Get away from me!” the boy roared and his voice was like many voices shouting out in unison, and it was crackling with the power roaring through him. Tobin wracked his brain trying to wonder if Minako had ever done this, if this was one of her powers. The Cadacus had said that Deakon was a Lord of Meirin, but he didn’t know anything about their powers. He wasn’t useless but he felt it. This boy was powerful.
Suddenly Josian was there. “I can manage this, Tobin.” He said putting his hand on Tobin’s shoulder just as he’d laid his hand on Deakon’s. The Cadacus was there as well, Tobin felt that he was watching this from under water and there was a weird shimmer to his sight. He didn’t know if he was concussed or it was the air in the wake of Deakon’s explosion.
“He’s,” Tobin began. “He’s afraid.” He put his hand back to keep Josian in place. “He’s just a boy. He doesn’t know who I am, I’ll be all right.” The world was spinning and he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t going to retch, but he would be all right, nothing could really hurt Tobin, he knew that, though more than anything he wanted it to.
“Deakon,” Tobin began once more, “it’s me, it’s Tobin, it’s all right, it’s going to be all right.” His voice was as calm as he could make it.
“Get away from me!” the boy screamed and the mountain rocked with the force of it. “Stay away from me! You made me kill him!”
“Deakon, its all right.” He inched closer; worried for a second that Deakon might pick him up and throw him again the way he had before. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m sorry.” Tobin didn’t even know why he was crying, but he was. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” He undid the chain around his waist and dropped it to the snow. “You don’t have to fear me.”
Deakon raised his hand and Tobin dug his heels in the snow to hold his position against the wind that buffeted him, both Josian and the Cadacus moved forward but Tobin ordered them back. Josian might kill him, and the Cadacus might kill Tobin. He had another idea, although the wind whipped him he had to show Deakon that he meant no harm.
He began to sing. Not the song he had taught Deakon, a song that needed to be sung from the belly, preferably a belly full of wine, but an old Darin song, a song sung in the upper registers, a song Deakon’s mother had probably sung to him as a small child.
“Live in virtue, no desire
In the grave an angel's choir
You look to heaven and wonder why
No one can see them in the sky”
The wind stopped as Deakon tilted his head slightly to the left, the wind circled around him now, to keep Tobin from getting any closer, he recognised the song but it was no reason for him to release the attack. The girl wasn’t listening when he told her to back off, and now she was singing at him. Didn’t she understand that he wanted her gone.
“Just as the clouds have gone to sleep
Angels can be seen in heaven's keep
Alone in fear they question why
please not an angel when I die.”
Her voice was beautiful, sweet and haunting, like nothing he had heard before. Deakon didn’t know why she had stopped attacking, her golden eyes met his angrily as she sang, she raised a hand and Deakon lifted his to match hers, he wanted to meet her attack head on, but she only swept the hair back from her face. “You made me kill Kennichi,” he screamed at her, “you made me a murderer,” but she only continued to sing.
“Angels live, they never die
Apart from us, behind the sky
They are fading souls who've turned to ice
So ashen white in paradise.”
“Shut up!” Deakon screamed putting his hands over his ears, “shut up, shut up shut up shut up.” The wind lashed out like blades, cutting the girl’s shoulder almost wide enough to cut her in two and there was a splash of dark red blood. The singing stopped and she dropped to her knees. “Oh gods,” Deakon screamed falling to his knees before her, “what have I done?”
“It’s all right, Deakon,” she said touching his face, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Her smile was wan and bloodless. “Josian, I think I need to lie down.” She fell back and when Deakon blinked it wasn’t the girl with the red brown hair and golden eyes lying unconscious in the snow, it was Tobin.
He screamed and went to run off when the Cadacus stepped in front of him, catching him tight to his cold chest as he began to sob. “I,” Deakon began. “I killed him.”
“I’m not dead.” Tobin wheezed, “though I’m not sure I don’t want to be, you’ll have to show me how to do that,” he managed a weak smile as Josian held him up, “because it hurts like a bitch.”
“I didn’t kill you?” Deakon asked through the tears.
“No,” Tobin shook his head, rolling his sore shoulder that was just bloody under the ruins of his shirt. “You didn’t kill me.” For a second Deakon couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he had seen the girl split in two, he had seen the two parts peel apart but Tobin had nothing worse than a bad graze that had bled excessively. “Back into the bath with me.” He said with a faint laugh. Josian slipped his arm about Tobin’s waist as if he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. “And a new shirt as well.”
“Are you all right?” The Cadacus asked, Deakon didn’t mind his arms about his shoulders though it was eerie not to hear a heartbeat.
“I saw her,” Deakon sobbed out, “I saw her, and she wanted me.”
“It’s all right,” the Cadacus said stroking his hair gently, “we won’t let her take you.” Deakon wanted to rail at him that they couldn’t even see her, but Tobin had fought through for him and it heartened him.
“Who?” Josian began but both Tobin and the Cadacus cut him off with a look.
“I don’t know,” Deakon said, “she.”
The Cadacus pressed a finger to Deakon’s lips, it was cold and hard. “You don’t need to tell us,” he said quietly, “just call for us and we’ll do what we can to protect you.”
“She made me kill Kennichi,” Deakon protested, “She tried to make me kill Tobin. I didn’t see him, I only saw her,” they couldn’t understand just how afraid of her that he was, of how frightening it was to see her, shimmering like she was alight, and that single golden wing that arched behind her like half a halo.
“It will take more than that to kill me,” Tobin argued, “and believe me they’ve tried.” His laugh sounded a little forced, “No, really, they have.” He managed to get to his feet. “I’m going to regret this in the morning.” He rolled his shoulders back with an unhealthy click. “Are you all right, Deakon?” He was standing on his own now.
“I,” Deakon began looking at him.
“It’s nothing.” Tobin said, “as long as you’re all right. A woman once told me only she could kill me, and do you know what,” his grin was warm, “it looks like she was right. Now I am going back to the house where I am going to have a long hot bath and then if you feel up to it, you and me are going to have a long talk about what happened, about who you thought you saw.” Deakon nodded, “and then I’m going to sleep for the best part of a week.”
“We leave for Muchine the day after tomorrow.” The Cadacus said firmly.
“We have to stop off at Danev.” Josian said, “so we’ll catch up with you if you don’t want to. We have business at Danev.”
“It will be fine.” The Cadacus said, “Danev is merely haunted.” His smile was eerie and he still had Deakon pressed to his chest, “surely it is no match for three such as we.”
“Tobin,” Deakon called out as Tobin went to walk back. “Was it you singing, about the angels?” Tobin nodded with a faint smile. “You sing beautifully.”
“I told you that,” Tobin said with a faint mocking tone to his voice, “I sang in the Dathyl opera for a while, I could hardly do that if I squawked like a storm crow, now could I?”
“I thought it was her.” He lowered his eyes, “I thought she’d found a new way to torment me.”
“Who is she?” Tobin asked.
“I don’t know.” Deakon lowered his eyes and holding the Cadacus’ hand walked back to the small town under the tower of Meirin.
Deakon rested the stock of the arrow along his finger, tugging back the string as the Cadacus had taught him, “focus on the pumpkin,” Tobin murmured from the side into his ear, “see the target, focus on it, hold your breath as you do, and when you find it with the arrow head, exhale and release.”
The arrow flicked back on release hitting Deakon squarely in the face as the pumpkin exploded showering Josian in orange goo. Tobin took one look at the pair of them and burst out laughing. He didn’t stop either.
“That was a good attempt, Deakon,” The Cadacus said handing Josian a towel as he arranged the next pumpkin. “The best so far, ignore Master Tobin’s strange humour, it wasn’t that funny.”
“But,” Tobin pointed at Josian and carried on laughing. It was clear that he wasn’t laughing at Deakon but at Josian’s misfortune.
Josian did not look amused as he picked the stringy orange vegetable from his blonde hair and looked at it with distaste. Then wiped a rather large blob from his cheek with his hand. “It’s fine, Deakon, it’s just pumpkin. And Master Tobin,” Josian’s voice dripped acid, “next time you stand next to the pumpkin.”
“I’m sorry.” Deakon said rubbing the angry red welt on his face where the arrow struck him.
“It’s nothing.” The Cadacus said, “this is to teach you to control your power, it’s only expected that there are some slips. In fact Josian was warned not to stand so close to the pumpkin, and you may not have hit it with the arrow but you did strike it clear on with your power, all on your own. That’s a massive improvement, that’s the best one you’ve done so far.” So far Deakon had snapped a bow, struck himself on the back of the head as he unleashed an arrow string at full tension, and sent himself flying into the dirt. Hitting himself in the face with the arrow was an improvement.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for the bow, Cadacus.” Deakon protested.
“You’re doing fabulously, don’t think of an archer sending arrow after arrow in the air, think of just releasing that one arrow.” The Cadacus nodded, moving away from the target.
Tobin helped him raise the bow the arrow was level with his eye, laid the arrow on his finger and helped him pull back the string. “Like this,” Tobin said, pulling the string taut and then as he breathed along Deakon’s cheek he let the arrow fly. It landed in the pumpkin with an audible thunk and then several seconds later the pumpkin exploded. Again it covered Josian, but to a lesser extent.
“Tobin, swap places.” Josian called out wiping yet more pumpkin from his face.
“Do I look mad?” Tobin asked with a laugh, “besides you can’t shoot.”
“Cadacus, swap places.” Josian said as the Cadacus put on yet another pumpkin.
“No,” the Cadacus replied, “you volunteered to make sure the arrows hit, and you can do it. Stand further back.”
“I’m sorry.” Deakon said looking at the floor.
“It’s not you that should be apologising, pup,” Josian said pulling pumpkin from his hair, “it’s Tobin.”
Tobin ignored him. “Are you ready to try it on your own, Deak?” Deakon ignored the abbreviation of his name and raised the bow so it was level with his eye, he felt the golden ball of power within him and sent it coursing along his veins, up and into the arrow, until he could see it veritably glow. “Don’t hold the arrow, Deak, hold the bow and rest the arrow. That’s why it doesn’t go anywhere.” Deakon nodded and released his grip on the arrow, letting it rest on his finger. “Now hold your breath as you target,” Deakon took a deep breath causing the golden ball within him to start thrumming, “and when you’re ready breathe out and release.”
With a gusting sigh Deakon let the arrow fly. It landed in the pumpkin with a heavy thud and although Josian jumped back waiting for the vegetable to explode it didn’t. “I did it!” Deakon shouted. “I hit it and I didn’t blow up the pumpkin.”
“Yes,” Tobin said patting him on the back, “you did it, all on your own, now do it again.”
He lifted another arrow from the ground and then put it down again, sticking it back into the snow so it stood upright. Then he raised the bow, bringing up the golden ball in his stomach to line the arrow as he had before, he pulled the string back knowing he could feel the power on his finger and on the thread. “You forgot the arrow,” Tobin murmured in his ear.
“Shush,” Deakon said, drawing in his breath as the arrow string began to thrum, he could feel it, all the power. And there she was in front of him, with her red brown hair and single golden wing. Her eyes looked sad and she held her hand out to him. He raised the bow at her and then breathing out he fired.
She caught the arrow of his power. “Do you think you can get rid of me so easily?” She asked and Deakon stepped back afraid of her as he clutched at the arrows on the ground, Tobin stepped in front of him. “I am you, Deakon, and you are me. We are the same.”
“Who are you?” Deakon called out.
“I am Maerian.”
“Get away from me!” He shouted.
“As you wish, though you called me this time.” And she was gone.
He slumped to his knees in the snow. “Deakon, what the hell?” Tobin said putting his arms about Deakon. The boy was shivering with cold.
“She was here.” Deakon stuttered out. “She was here.”
Tobin looked around warily. “Cadacus, I’m taking him inside,” the Cadacus nodded as Tobin picked Deakon up as easily as if he was a doll or a cat. “Bark and bole, lad, you’re ice to the touch.” Bundled up against the warmth of Tobin’s chest Deakon began to cry and hated himself for it. Men didn’t cry, only weak people cried. In the back of his head he could hear Draima singing along the bond, trying to calm him.
After Tobin had settled him in front of the fire with a blanket tucked tight about him the Cadacus came in. “What happened?” He asked checking that Deakon was all right. Deakon was shivering, forcing himself back into the pile of blankets and cushions Tobin had arranged for him on the wooden bench.
“A death vision.” Tobin lied. The Cadacus accepted that. “He’ll be cold, Mina always was, and I’ll get him some hot milk.” Tobin said trying to get up.
“Don’t leave me.” Deakon said grabbing his arm. “Please.”
“I’ll get the milk.” The Cadacus said looking at the two of them. When he left the room Deakon seemed to visibly tense. He really didn’t want to be on his own.
“She said her name was Maerian,” Deakon sobbed, staring into the fire at how the flames arched up just like Maerian’s wing. Tobin was sat at his feet with his head against Deakon’s knee. “She said,” he dissolved into sobs. “She said she was me.”
“She’s probably nothing more than a cunning draima playing on your thoughts. She can sense the power in you and is trying to warp you into what she wants.” Tobin said, the information though cold should have settled Deakon somewhat, a draima was mortal, and she could be killed.
“No,” Deakon protested. “She’s my twin.” Tobin’s mouth gaped a little at that. “I,” Deakon began to search for answers, “I,” the words were gone, “I just know.”
Tobin nodded and began to stroke the back of his head to calm him until he slept.
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