The Elder's Path (15 page)

“Marcho!” s
he said angrily, “You must stop sneaking up on me! Please! It adds stress to everyone involved. Namely me.”

But the wolf ignored her. “The man in this
castle, his name is Skyehart. But he shares this name; there is another.”

“No,” Lyn said with exasperation. “No, he said he is the last of his line.”

“He is not entirely wrong.”

Lyn was finally fed up with his cryptic responses and sneaking about, so sh
e began yelling. “Marcho, by all Gods old and new, if you don’t start speaking plainly with me, I shall...well I shall be very cross, indeed.”

Marcho seemed unimpressed, but after a moment said
, “Very well. I shall explain.”

“First, you will explain to me
why and
how
you were in the manor!”

“How is a matter you would not understand, and therefor
e broaches no discussion. Why, however, ties directly in to what I was about to say regardless.” He paused, gnashing his long teeth for a moment, standing perfectly still despite the wind and snow about him. After a moment he spoke again. “You remember I told you I was hunting for the demon Umbra. That I cannot return until this contract is complete.” Lyn sensed this wasn’t a question, but rather a statement, and so said nothing. “I will now explain to you why.” Alir screeched in an annoyed fashion, and Lyn quickly began handing over pieces of the meat as she listened.  “Umbra is tied to humanity; it has existed for as long as your race has. It was born in the darkness, and darkness it became. It is the very shadow of doubt, anger, and greed that shadows the hearts of your people. Umbra is different than most other of my kind, because it has no form of its own; it requires a host to survive. While the host must be willing, Umbra has a way of twisting the feelings of those around it, making them susceptible to its influence. It latches on to the small part of the subconscious that contains the innermost doubt and insecurity, it makes it grow and fester until the host is consumed by it. Then, Umbra owns them. I have seen it happen my own self, to great and powerful men. Men who had no reason to fall to darkness.”

Lyn flashed back to the stories of the monster in the guise of a man. “It sounds terrifying, I grant you,” sh
e said ponderously, “but what exactly does Umbra
do
? Why is it so bad?”

“That is a fair question, considering. Your age has been relatively free of Umbra’s influence; it would appear that Umbra had a similar plan to my own. It waited, slumbered until the
age of its treachery had been forgotten, and now wakens to lay torment upon the world anew. Umbra brings out the worst in humanity. In its wake, chaos and turmoil thrive. Umbra has caused countless deaths in its time, through war or murder or suicide...countless. It is a plague on your kind and my own. The whole of existence would be bettered by its eradication.” He looked at her, and she thought she could detect a sort of sadness in his eyes. “Unfortunately, you yourself will not be free of Umbra’s legacy. It has a new host, and we are on its trail.”

“Wait, we? You have found it, right? What do you need from me?”

Marcho shook his massive head slowly. "It is not what I'll need from you. It is what HE will need." He nodded towards the house.

"Who, Siege? W
hat could he possibly need from me?"

Marcho looked at her, saying nothing. Seeing she was not backing down, he continued, "I suspect Umbra figured out a long-term solution for keeping itself in this world. As I mentioned, Umbra requires a host. I hypothes
ize that it bonded itself with an inanimate object to contain it until such time as it could return to the world full force. It has now begun to enforce its will upon the world, meaning it has a human host once more. However, I believe that in its current situation it is in between a state of bonding with both the object and the new host, rendering its powers limited as it transitions. This is a perfect time to strike, and I suspect you will find that your Siege Skyehart will find the same to be true. The reality is, Lyn, fate has put you here and now to help finish what I could not those centuries ago. This is part of your destiny, and you must embrace it. This Siege is another of fate's tools in this fight, and you must remain with him to see it through."

"I don't understand
,” Lyn said quickly, fear coloring the edge of her voice. "What do I, or Siege, have to do with Umbra?"

With a jerk of his head, Marcho looked over her to her rear. She spun around to see Siege leaving the house and making his way over
to her, his great head bowed against the storm. She turned back, knowing already the ebon wolf would be gone, and true to form she stood alone in front of the coop. Siege approached quietly and watched while Lyn fed the rest of the scraps to Alir, who accepted them hastily.

"I thought you would be out here. I apologize, on
occasion I get...reflective."

Lyn, now finished, brushed off her gloves and gave the large man a smile from the corner of her mouth. "There is no need to apologize. I am accustomed to
going about my own business."

Siege nodded, and motioned back to the house. "Come, I have the fireplace alight. Let's go relax and have something warm to eat."

Back at the manor, Lyn curled up on one of the couches in front of the great fireplace in the main hall. A blanket covered her and she sipped at hot tea while Siege prepared a meal. Normally she would have been quite uncomfortable simply sitting while a man waited on her, especially a nobleman, but she was tired from training and perturbed by her conversation with Marcho. As such she was contented to relax and sip at her tea while Siege saw to the kitchen duties. After all, it was evident that he was accustomed to serving himself and she did not wish to impose herself on him. Sometime later, Siege brought out a tray with warm bread and a stew. Lyn ate up heartily, not bothering to move herself from the couch. Siege watched her with interest, and as he looked on the firelight reflected in his steely gaze. Noticing him watching her, Lyn slowed with a mouthful of supper.

Swallowing forcefully, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand absently and asked, "What?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Siege's mouth, and the threat of it narrowed Lyn's eyes.

"What?" s
he asked again, this time indignantly.

"I had forgotten what taking pleasure from something as simple as a good meal looked like. I was enjoying watching you enjoy it."

Lyn, face flushed, sat down her food. "I don't know what you mean. I was just eating the dinner that you brought out. Wouldn't it have been rude to just pick at it? Besides, it is good, and I'm hungry."

"Now now," Siege said, one hand in the air as if to ward her off. "No need to get defensive. It was a compliment. You are just so full of life, and I find it fascinating.
That's not so bad, is it?"

Lyn's mouth skewed into a doubtful expression; she was still not sure whether or not he was making fun of her. She gave him a sidelong glance and picked her food back up, eating much more slowly and eyeing him all the while. He
shook his head, still smirking, and ate his own share.

After they were finished eating, Lyn helped Siege with the dishes. "You still haven't told me what exactly is going on here
,” she said. Subtlety may not have been Lyn's strong point, but she was well-intended in her interest, and this was not lost on Siege.

"Hand me that tray," he said. After they finished washing and drying, Siege opened the pantry and pulled out some dried apples. Handing a few to Lyn, he motioned for her to follow and they returned
to the main hall with the fire blazing.

"This is the first time I've had an excuse to keep the hearth lit," Siege mentioned, staring in to the flames. "My family would gather round here when I was young. My father would tell us stories, I would be here w
ith the dogs, and my mother would be holding Ren." Lyn guessed that Ren was the name of Siege's little brother, whose fate she had still not been made aware of. The way Siege talked, it seemed as though Ren had passed away, but some of the things he had said combined with Marcho's presence made her wonder.

"Ren must have been pretty young," Lyn said, overcome with curiosity but trying to sound casual.

"Yes," Siege said with sadness in his voice. "He was but a toddler. I remember his laugh..." He left his sentence hanging, and Lyn was worried he wasn't going to finish the story. To her relief, he continued promptly. "My family used to be very happy. We've always had our trouble, sure. Everyone has. But this home has been in my family for generations, and we never wanted for food or shelter. Our tutors were kind and patient. For all of that, our family was always fairly reclusive. I never minded, though. I never quite felt at place with others my age. Or, others at all, really. I think if it weren't for our cook, who was a matronly woman indeed, I would have been a very introverted child. Well...more that I already was," he chuckled.

"Oh yeah, I can't imagine you ever being introverted or anything, being the socialite you are now." Lyn said this with dripping
sarcasm, forgetting for a moment who she was talking to. Immediately, she bit her tongue and ventured a look over to the young lord, hoping he had not heard her. Alas, he had, but to her surprise he was still smiling that little smile of his. Her stomach turned, and suddenly she felt nervous. "What I mean to say is, erm, it's just hard to imagine you any different." Siege did not respond, but she did not get the feeling he was upset.

She berated herself for interrupting. It was hard enough getting the stoi
c Skyehart to talk as it was; her curious nature did not allow for unfinished stories and Siege already showed a proclivity for trailing off. But to Lyn's relief, Siege soon continued.

"Like I said before, things changed after my parents were gone." He sh
ifted in his chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His armor made a metallic sound as he moved, and Lyn gritted her teeth against the grating sound. "My brother grew more consumed by his emotions. I detached myself from mine. Both of us were just trying to cope, I think. My brother took to staying in my parents’ room. He would lock the door and wouldn't leave for anything. After a while he'd get hungry and wander out, and sometimes he'd stay out for a while. Then someone would make him mad, or upset, or sometimes for no reason at all he'd just run back up and lock himself in. Eventually, once the steward left, I would let myself in with his keys and find Ren sitting in the waiting room looking up at my father's sword mounted on the wall. Something about it soothed him. I guess it just reminded him of the family. As he got older, he insisted upon moving the sword to his room. I let him have it, in the hope that somehow it would keep him grounded. He took our father's sword, I took his armor. I suppose this is something of a security blanket to me, too." He turned his armored hands in the firelight, examining the dark steel as it flickered against the flames.

Taking a deep breath, Siege continued slowly. "By the time
we were in our teen years, he fourteen and I sixteen, he had begun to learn the sword. It was...a very large sword. He didn't quite have the endurance to use it, but Gods forbid that he acknowledge that. He was going to learn to use it, Gods willing or no."

Lyn could just picture it, th
e two small blonde boys trying to fit into their father's armaments. It was a sad picture; she was sure it would have been something their father would have wanted to see. Lyn knew what it was like to grow up without a father, and it was an experience she didn't wish on anyone. But to be completely devoid of family or friends or community at all, that was something else.

"What happened to Ren?" Lyn prompted, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

"Ren. Eventually he decided that he had outgrown the place, and that his destiny was elsewhere. By that time, he had changed so completely I would never have guessed it was him at all. He kept his head shaved clean, and it made his eyes stand out. They were cruel, almost mad. He didn't take our father's sword; I forbade it. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to make it better somehow. He stormed off, though I didn't think he would. I didn't see him or hear from him for a year. I was 20 by that time, and had not accomplished anything. I stayed barred up in this house like it was a prison. I hunted and scavenged for food, but other than that, I didn't leave the grounds. Once, a man came by and asked about the livestock and horses. I sold them all to him, except Stygian. It became so empty, so quiet. By then it was only me, and the place seemed haunting. So I shut up the house, locking the entire south wing where you were the other night. My old bedroom was there, my parents', Ren's. Our classrooms, our playroom, the library. None of it seemed real anymore. Just vacant, hollow."

He seemed for a moment that he was going to stop again, so Lyn leaned forward to prompt him. He did not look at her but he continued none the less. "Before I sealed it all up, I covered the furniture and replaced my father's blade. I guess in
some hope that eventually things would somehow be different, that I would have cause to open the place back up again."

He stood suddenly, and began pacing. "Ren had different ideas. He came back, demanding the sword. He seemed even worse than he had before he had
left; he was pale, gaunt, and sunken. There was a hunger in his eyes that bespoke nothing of food. It was a hunger for blood, for unleashing his hate on the world. When I denied it to him yet again, he became brutally violent.  He went for the sword, I went for the armor. I caught him just outside the main gate, and for the first time in our lives we fought not as brothers, but as enemies. Just when it looked as though neither of us could come out victorious, something changed. Ren got a second wind of sorts. Nothing I've been truly able to explain since. He escaped with my father's sword, to where I do not know, but I did not see him again. Sometime later I did get news of a bandit with a large sword causing havoc in the village. At first it seemed small, but then it became much more serious. Murderous even. That is why you hear our name said in such hushed tones with backward glances. I cannot blame them, for what a sight I must be to them. Let alone the damage Ren has done. And above all, to have my name attached to such atrocities is inexcusable."