Queen of Jastain (21 page)

“Abigail, are you all right? I heard you scream. What happened?” He looked at her as if afraid of what she might say.

“It was Seppitent.” She couldn't meet his gaze.

“You know his words are lies. He twists and manipulates the truth to cause pain and sow distrust. Do not believe him.” He pleaded with her. “Please look at me.”

She looked into his eyes with a coldness she'd never communicated before. “Some of what he said was a lie.”

He reached toward her. She flinched. “Please do not let this creature divide us. You are too important to me.”

“Yes, ironically, I know I am, Avant. Don’t worry. This won’t hinder our task.” She brushed past him. “But now we need to go.” The thorn in her heart throbbed like someone pounded it with a hammer.

Abby stared up at the sky. A cold, empty feeling stole through her bones like a thief. The sun shone through the high wispy clouds, but gave no warmth, and bitter wind bit into her face.

They packed up the camp in silence and ate a meager breakfast, setting out on the climb through the lowest mountains. Leaving some of the supplies at the campsite for the return trip, they took with them only the minimum requirement. Pressing against the piercing gusts and steep incline, Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that Darkness loomed.

Her mind still reeled from the incident with Seppitent…and Avant. He wouldn’t look her in the face and hadn’t said a word since that morning. The hurt in his eyes caused her pain. But the question kept swirling in her thoughts like the strong winter gales—had she not been the Chosen One, would Avant have helped her?

What difference did it make? She pulled the fur tight around her body, trying to staunch the chill. Finding her purpose was the most important thing. She journeyed to her destiny, her family, and anything else could only be on the periphery. Pushing Avant from her mind, she focused on other things.

What would Naphen be like? Would he know who she was? She replayed the dream with her dad. A longing to know him pulsed inside. Had he really fled Jastain? Her dad—the prophet. It certainly answered some questions. But why hadn't he told her?

Steep and unrelenting, the path mired their progress, but her body responded valiantly to the challenge. Avant had made good on his promise to prepare her. Physically she was ready for the grueling road. Emotionally—well, that was a different story.

They made good time to a sheltering cave in the cleft of the mountain. Avant gathered wood and started a fire. She unpacked and made up their beds for the night. The cold sliced through to the bone, the temperature dropping further as the sun sank. Avant sneezed and shivered. Abby fixed an offering of dried beef and the last of the
panas
.

After they ate, Avant finally broke the silence. “Abigail, please talk to me. This is not merely about Seppitent. You've been distant since we left the fief. What have I done to offend you?” Bloodshot eyes encased in dark circles implored her to open up to him, but her heart was too hurt to open.

“You haven’t done anything to offend me. I’m fine. Really. I’ve just realized the true nature of our friendship, and the importance of our task. We need to find my family and get you back yours.” She stared into the flickering fire as it danced in the draft of the inlet.

The weight of his gaze rested on her, but she didn’t meet it. “Abigail, you are my family, as I hope I'm part of yours.”

“Your wife might have something to say about that. I know I would, if I were her.” She looked him in the face.

His blue gaze penetrated like ice daggers. His voice rasped hoarsely and hinted at his frustration. “My wife will love anyone I love and welcome them.”

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. To be such a wise man, he had no clue about women. “Really? You don’t think she’ll mind our harvest festival dances or midnight conversations in the dark…What about picnic dinners in secret caves?” She glared at him. “She must be very understanding.”

Avant rubbed his brow. “Regardless of what you think, you're family to me, and I expect you to be in my life. I understand, in the beginning, your feelings were…a little confused, but I thought we were past that.”

He did not just say that! How could he be so dense?
The anger flew from her like a vicious wasp with intent to harm. “You’re right, Avant. I was a
little
confused,
but I’ve been thinking, I should take a lover. It shouldn’t be difficult to find one.”

His voice lowered an octave, and his eyes flashed with that familiar flame of jealousy. “That is not how things are done here, Abigail!”

Knowing she’d hit her target, she pressed on. “Why not? I have no commitments. I’m very fond of Petra, and you know how he feels about me. Just think, if things work out, you could walk me down the aisle at our wedding, and could even be like a grandfather to our children. What a perfect family we could be, now that I’m not
confused
anymore.”

She knew her sarcasm struck a low blow, and he couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d slapped him across the face. Had he never considered the situation? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, but those blue eyes reflected a revelation that appeared as unwelcome as Seppitent. He spoke no more but continued to sneeze and shiver.

The cold night formed a barrier between them, and the wind beat at her body. She huddled, stiff and miserable, under her fur but still felt like she slept in only her shirtsleeves. Avant coughed and shuffled under his covers.

An hour before sunrise she got up and started packing. Avant shivered and rose. He looked worse than he had the night before.

She stopped and studied him. “Are you going to be all right today?”

“I will be fine. Are you ready?” His voice croaked and his cough rumbled deep in his chest.

They ate a small breakfast. She pulled a leather pouch from her bag and handed it to him. “You might feel better if you drank some spiced wine.”

He looked at her. Snatching the pouch, he gulped the contents.

They climbed switchbacks across the face of the mountain for most of the day. Avant followed behind. This, more than anything else, told her how sick he was. He hated following anyone, and his pride wouldn’t let him get too far behind though he struggled for breath in the high altitude.

By late afternoon, though still cold, they’d gotten a reprieve from the piercing wind. Abby stopped to take a break, and Avant sat on a rock next to her. His chest rattled as he gasped.

“You can’t continue like this. Is there a shelter nearby where we can stop for the day?”

He put his head in his hands. Then lifting his gaze, he scanned the area. “I believe there is a cave on the next switchback right above us, but the trail leads away from here before climbing back.”

She threw her head back and studied the cliff. A flat rock about twenty-five feet directly overhead created the next level of switchbacks. They might be able to scale the side of the mountain to reach it directly instead of following the trail all the way around. “Do you think you could climb this cliff to the next landing?”

Looking up, he calculated for a minute. “I think so, as long as the wind doesn’t start blowing again.”

They found a place where the mountain jutted out, giving them more protection and a grip of the rocks as they climbed. Avant climbed up first, and she followed. Straining her newly conditioned muscles, the cliff proved a challenge. If either of them slipped, they risked falling several stories down the mountain. Taking a deliberate path, they carefully placed feet and hands as they scaled the rock wall.

They climbed for thirty minutes, making it more than halfway to the top. It would have taken another three hours to walk the trail around. Avant set a slower pace than he would normally, but he made sure his feet were securely planted before pulling up each step. Abby followed about eight feet below him. Her arms burned and sweat rolled into her eyes even in the cold.

After a little more than an hour, he finally reached the top and pulled himself up. She continued but as she reached for the ledge her fingers lost their grip. Her foot slipped. She closed her eyes. A fall was imminent.

A strong hand clasped her forearm and pulled her up.

She fell against the sturdy wall of his chest. He wrapped her in his arms. His body burned with fever, and he shook. The thorn in her heart throbbed and though he'd saved her, she couldn't bring herself to reach out to him. She pulled away without a word and left him there.

Avant made a fire while Abby unpacked the supplies. Hopelessness overwhelmed her. The thorn in her heart bit her in two like the piercing mountain blasts.

He continued to cough and wheeze, but rose to continue their journey. They filled their water bottles in the mountain streams. She gave him Tylenol from the first aid kit to help keep his fever down, but feared he might be getting pneumonia. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes at all anymore. Their silence widened the gulf and made their harsh journey more miserable.

On the seventh day of climbing, they came to a small footpath off the trail. They walked the little path for an hour. A heavy wooden door emerged right from the side of the mountain. Avant banged on the door, but no one answered. He tried the knob. The door swung open. Darkness engulfed everything inside.

He turned to face her. “You wait here. I will go in and make sure it's safe.”

She shook her head, her mouth making a tight, straight line. “I’m going with you.”

He closed his eyes and took a leveling breath. His chest rattled. He gave her a frustrated nod.

Avant stepped in first, keeping her directly behind him. As their sight adjusted to the dark room, bright orange coals burned in the stone fireplace revealing a small sofa and side table.

Avant called out, “Naphen, it is Avant. Is anyone here?” A rustling noise from another room broke through the silence.

He turned to look directly into her eyes. With a voice the brooked no opposition, he spoke into her mind, “
You stay here. I will call to you if it is safe.”

Abby shrank at his fierce gaze and nodded. With his hands clasped on the hilt of his sword, he stole into the shadows.

She stood in the faint embers' glow and strained her senses. Her heart pounded in her chest. Whispers and quite murmurs floated through the air. 

After a while Avant returned, his face pale and his eyes filled with a stew of emotions too tangled to name. His hands shook. He closed his eyes as he spoke. “Abigail, Naphen is ill. His time of passing is near. He has been waiting to see you. Do you want me to go in with you?”

“I’ll go alone.”

He clearly wanted to come with her, but he nodded and stepped aside.

The room was hewn into the rock. Naphen lay on a straw bed, covered in a patchwork quilt. The frail man looked at least a hundred years old, his wispy white hair in disarray. His blue-green eyes sparkled, lucid and bright, but the skin on his weak body grayed with fatigue. He raised a wrinkled knobby hand, motioning her to his bedside.

Warmth covered her as he took her hand, although his fingers felt cool. Tenderness for this little man filled her heart.

He spoke in a gravely whisper, “Child, you come to seek the wisdom of an old man, and I have only my love to give. I've wished to see you many times, and now my desire is fulfilled.” His eyes twinkled with love that filled her from crown to feet. Her grandfather.

“I didn’t know you existed. I’m sorry for missing time with you, but I’m here now.” Her voice cracked and tears pooled. All she'd ever wanted was a family and to feel she belonged. She leaned over and hugged his frail body and kissed the top of his head. Her tears fell on his cheek.

Using the last of his life to speak, he labored for each breath. “Child, I am your past. Release the hardness in your heart, and you will find your way. I'm sorry for what you've lost, but it is the journey that allows the Light within you…to shine…it was always there.” His eyes closed. There was nothing she could do but hold his hand.

He breathed one final breath, smiled, and was gone. She sat there clasping the boney fingers, holding on to the only piece of her history she knew. Mourning the loss of a man she hadn’t known, she imagined her dad as a boy in this land. She imagined them together. They'd been great prophets of the Light…they'd been her family, and like everything else, they were gone.

Abby let go and went to find Avant. He knelt at the fireplace, preparing a hot meal over the flame. He rose, faced her.

“He’s gone.” She looked past him into the fire.

Avant walked over and reached out to embrace her. At his touch, a cold wind blew away the warmth of the old man, and she flinched. He dropped his arm.

Though she felt the plea in his gaze, she couldn’t meet it. “We should bury him.”

“Aye, he has it all prepared. He told me where.” He continued to study her as if he thought she might crumble.

Her face void of emotion, she looked at him, feeling nothing but emptiness. She didn’t have anything inside to reach out to him, and even if she did, she didn’t want to.

They ate porridge before taking the frail body for burial. He’d dug his own grave down the trail in a small wooded area. Dug his own grave. Abby couldn’t fathom the years he’d spent alone on this mountain.

With Naphen wrapped in the quilt, Avant carried him to the grave and gently laid him down. He sang a lament as he shoveled the dirt over Naphen, prophet of the Light, her grandfather. His strong baritone penetrated like a sword, and she bled her grief into the ground.

They lingered a few more days.

Naphen had lived simply in his mountain dwelling, having few possessions. She took a small stack of writings from a wooden box and pewter candle stand from his bedside.

On the evening of the third day after his death, Avant spoke, “We must leave tomorrow to return to the fief.”

She wanted to stay longer, to hold onto the small glimpse of her past, but there was no reason. She'd lost the only connection as soon as she'd found him. This place held nothing more for her.