Memory
“Rydan, shh…” A worried voice soothed. “You’re dreaming. Just wake up…”Something cool rested across his forehead, dampening his hair and dripping down the sides of his face.
Startled at the shift to consciousness, his eyes flew open as much as their swelling would allow. Just above him was a pair of astonishingly blue eyes staring intently into his.
“Kyrr…?” He hoarsely whispered, his traumatized mind still trying to grip reality. He could still feel something cool and wet on the side of his face. He tried to move his hands to wipe it away, but they were being held down. Vainly he struggled before fruitlessly going limp, the mere effort exhausting his frail body.
His peripheral vision seemed to expand as he became more awake, and then he noticed the long hair, some fallen across her shoulders. The only thought his mind could entertain at the sight of the long dark hair was Lady Monreit.
A sudden gasp escaped his sore throat and he tried to scoot away from her. “Lady, get back! No, go away…!” His hoarse voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper. Again, he tried to get away from her strong hold, but she didn’t budge.
“Rydan…calm down,” She finally spoke. Her voice was soft and soothing, but reminded him more of Lady Monreit than anything else and he tried harder to shift backwards. “Rydan, stop! You’re going to make it worse!” her soft voice demanded a little more this time than soothed.
The nerves on the rest of his body suddenly came alive, and he shuddered at the fire that raced along his back and across his head, but didn’t stop in his attempts to get away. Her soft voice said something, but he couldn’t understand what as he tried to move against the pain. He had to get away from her!
“Rydan?” Another voice, this one more familiar, seeped into his ears. A dark, blurry form approached on his right. He couldn’t place a face with the voice, but another hand touched his arm and he paused in his thrashings. “Rydan, stop moving, it won’t hurt so much if you wouldn’t move.” His memory and conscious mind battled for connections between the familiar voice and a name. He couldn’t come up with any connections except a feeling of friendship. He stopped moving though, and to his relief, the pain subsided to a dull throbbing burn, as if his heart beat fire throughout his whole body.
Slowly, a pair of dark eyes, and a mass of unruly brown hair came into his blurry vision. “Rydan, can you understand me?” The voice came again. Then there was darkness, and something cool and moist pressed over his eyes, gently wiping the sleep and crust from them before disappearing.
Blinking, turned his head a fraction as his vision became clearer. A faint dusting of freckles came into focus, as well as the concern in the dark eyes. The name suddenly hit him. “Jheam?” He mumbled faintly, staring up at him.
He let his eyes wander without hearing the boy’s reply, staring beyond his shoulders to the stone walls of the room, a worn chair piled high with blankets, the blankets that were covering him, making him body temperature rise until he was uncomfortable. Shifting as if he was going to take them off, he gasped as his back scraped against whatever he was lying on.
Jheam suddenly touched his arm again. “Don’t move…”
Rydan quieted again. “It’s hot…” He muttered, meeting Jheam’s eyes and then switching over to the approaching figure. He stiffened, eyeing her silhouette framed by the fireplace.
He’d never seen her before. She was petite and on the shorter side with dark hair and blue eyes. He glanced at the mug she was holding, and tried to shift away as she perched on the edge of the couch next to him. He looked at Jheam again, beseeching him to make her go away, but Jheam wasn’t looking at him.
He realized he’d never seen this room before either. He glanced at Jheam again, suddenly aware he wore an over sized shirt that was nothing like the emblazoned uniforms of the Monreit’s, Jheam’s face was also scrubbed and clean. His face wasn’t as…gaunt, as it had been earlier. It almost looked like he had been fed properly. “Jheam…where are we?” He got out finally after mouthing incomprehensible stuttering.
“We’re across the border Rydan, in Saeni. We’re safe.” Jheam smiled faintly, and then glanced at the girl. “This is Reilyne. She saved us. She won’t hurt you either, so stop trying to run away. She only wants to help.” Jheam took a step back, and the girl scooted forward a little.
Rydan stiffened, but didn’t make a move to get away.
“Here, drink this…” She motioned toward the mug, but he didn’t reach to take it.
“What is it?” He asked dubiously, glancing at the mug with untrusting blackened eyes.
“It’ll help for your fever, you’re quite beat up and sick, do you know that?” She asked him, helping him hold the mug up to his lips as he reached for it. He choked most of it down before pushing it away with a heavy sigh. The hot tea made him burn even more, inside and out. Unsuccessfully, he pushed at the covers, but the girl wouldn’t let him take them off; she held his hands down with little effort.
Despite being hot, the tea soothed his throat somewhat and he managed a more normal voice. He turned his head, searching for Jheam.
“Jheam,” the girl called, seeing his imploring gaze. Jheam had sunken into the blanket-piled chair and the firelight reflected in his dark eyes as they stared unseeing at it.
Jheam turned and got up, with one of the blankets still wrapped around him. He fell onto the floor beside the couch, his face level with Rydan’s, a questioning look on it.
“What happened to me…? All I remember was…” Suddenly the memory of what had happened, the torture, the beating, the hate, came back to him in full force. He shivered, causing Reilyne to tuck the blankets closer to him. He looked at her and she flinched at the horrific look in his eyes.
“What did they do to you?” She breathed fearfully, tucking her dark hair behind an ear. He shivered again, and she touched his hand, as if comforting him.
“I don’t want to talk about it…I don’t want to remember…” He whispered, shutting his bruised eyes tight to the memory, trying to make it disappear within the blackness and dull throb of pain. He didn’t notice the tears until a cool hand touched his cheek lightly, wiping them away.
Moments later, Jheam finally began to talk quietly. “After they took you away, I finished cleaning…I couldn’t do nothing else. The next morning, I asked Polim, he had had Duty and knew what had happened. He said he had taken you out there - to the Field. He said you was dead. I didn’t believe him, so when they took us out to the mines that night after dinner, I slipped off the wagon and hid in the drifts and snuck all the way to the Field. They shot at me, but I made it. I looked for you, but all I could find was a pair of footprints leading off into the woods, so I followed ‘em. Took me nearly an hour, but I finally found you, sprawled unconscious. That’s when Rielyne came. She nearly took my head off with those arrows of hers, see, she thought I’d done all that to you.” His lips ghosted into a smile at that, but Rydan’s expression didn’t change and Jheam quickly sobered. “I finally convinced her we were both slaves, and me’n her carried you to her horse. Then I don’t remember much until a few days ago. I got a fever too, but she cured that. She’s good with medicines’n stuff,” He affirmed, and the girl’s face slipped into a quick smile.
Rydan nodded and shut his eyes again. “Thanks Jheam,” He said softly, “I guess I owe you.”
Jheam let out a mirthless chuckle. “You don’t owe me nothing. Enough times you took care of me at Monreit’s. It was my turn.”
Rydan shifted in what could have been a shrug and opened his eyes back up again, but he didn’t say anything. Raising a hand now that they would let him, he brushed his hair away from his face, wincing as he came in contact with his scratched and bruised eyes and inflamed skin.
He gave a troubled sigh, and tried to open his eyes again, but little flecks of black danced across his vision threatening unconsciousness. Rielyne tenderly brushed his messy golden hair back, and suddenly, he was dreaming-
Her blonde hair brushed the side of his face as it fell from behind her ear, and she reached out a soft hand to touch his face gently.
“Are you okay?” She asked, concerned.
“I’m fine, Mama,” he tried to tell her, but for some reason he couldn’t speak. He felt something warm dripping down his cheek, and he gripped her wrist, pulling her hand away. Looking upon it, he saw it drenched with blood.
Horrified, he looked to her face, only to see blood lightly tricking from her smiling lips, and the point of a dagger sticking through her chest. She became concerned, and reached out for him again, but he gasped-
His eyes flew back open, and immediately Rielyne was there, touching him, asking if him what was wrong and trying to comfort him.
He could feel his chest heaving as sweat poured from his face, the dream still vivid in his mind. He searched her face frantically, searching for something, he wasn’t even sure of what, and trying to speak but his throat seemed stuck together.
Rielyne shushed him, her eyes concerned. “What keeps waking you?” She implored, standing back up once she was sure he was conscious to stoke the fire a little.
Rydan watched her without answering, remembering the lady’s face and the blood that seeped from the gentle smile on her face. He blinked, coming out of his reverie, realizing she stood next to him again.
Stiffly, he touched his face, wincing as the cuts across his shoulders slit open with the motion. Rielyne took his hand and pulled it away before he could move so much as a strand of hair.
“I’ll get you a cold rag, hold on just a moment.” She disappeared beyond the light of the fire, and he heard her puttering around in an adjacent room before she returned, settling down beside him and lightly wiping the sweat and tears from his face. “Your fever finally broke,” She smiled, watching him.
He blinked, nodding stiffly. “Good…” he said hoarsely, not really caring either way. He almost would have rather let it stay, to burn him away. Even his sleep haunted him now. He traced his face lightly with his beat up hands, closing his eyes as if he were memorizing every bruise and cut.
“What are you doing?” Reilyne asked, innocently curious to his actions and curses he muttered under his breath.
He looked at her, his green eyes flat. She shifted, drawing in on herself, but didn’t move away. “Remembering…” He said softly, closing his eyes again.
“Your dreams?”
She caught him a little off guard, and he let his hand fall as he stared at her. Resolutely, he turned his head away from her, the painful memories of that night coming back crystal clear. The king’s bent shoulders and the queen’s perfectly beautiful face wasted in sickness. The remembrance crimson stain made a vile raise in his throat, and he choked, coughing on its acidy taste.
Reilyne pushed his blonde hair away from his face in a motherly fashion, and he turned to look at her sad features.
“What happens?” She whispered, her hair falling around her face as she leaned forward a little apprehensively.
“There’s a little boy, me, learning to ride. A man rides behind me, teaching me to use the reins. There’s a lady across the meadow, more beautiful than anything in the world,” He paused, his eyes finding Jheam’s sleeping form in the chair across the room. All that was visible was a patch of untidy hair. It was early, early morning, and the fire barely gave any light.
He wasn’t sure how to word the next part, and Reilyne reached out to touch his hand to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. He found her face again and continued. “They both love me. A lot.” He had to paused again as he remembered the feeling of warmth in his dream. He shivered.
“The man finally decides I can ride alone, and he gets off, and I ride the horse – a big dark war horse. At first, it goes fine, and the man is laughing, and the lady is smiling even though she is afraid for me. Then the horse begins to fight, and I loose all control of him and he takes me wherever he wants in the meadow, going faster and faster. The lady runs out to me, but the horse rears and strikes her to the ground. The man comes then, and the horse rears. I fall off into the man, and he hits his head upon a stone and dies. The horse stares at me for a moment, almost laughing. Then the lady bends over me, and touches my face. Her hands are covered in blood though, and there is a dagger through her chest. She still smiles though, and blood comes from her mouth and her chest…”
Reilyne continued to listen, horrified and entranced. He didn’t know how to tell her about Kyrr being there, or that the lady was the queen and the man the king.
“The horse is behind her, and he laughs at me and says, ‘Rydan, what have you done?’ I turn and run into the woods, and he chases after me. Suddenly I am happy and holding a man’s hand and we’re entering the meadow, and it starts all over again…” He let his voice die away, but Reilyne wanted more.
“Were the man and lady your parents?” She asked, her hands tightly held together in her lap, her face a mixture of curiosity and fear.
Rydan didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t even completely sure himself. He only went on what the queen had said, and a queen wouldn’t lie…his mother wouldn’t lie…
“You used to shout out, ‘I didn’t kill her!’ when you were unconscious…” She said softly, her blue eyes wide and afraid of the answer.
Rydan didn’t respond. He was lost in the memory of that night, and seeing the red stain on the man’s white shirt. He turned his face away from her again, glad for the long hair that hid him from her sight. I won’t break. He demanded of himself.
She reached out to brush it away again, and he turned his face angrily toward her, to demand she leave him alone. He wouldn’t break in front of her. Damn if he would! Damn if he would ever break again!
His voice died on his lips though as she touched his cheek with soft fingers, wiping the tears he didn’t know how to cry, and didn’t know he had cried, away. Her own blue eyes were miserable, and he could almost feel her want to cry.
Indeed, a single tear slipped away from her eyes, and an emotion arose within him. He’d never been pitied before nor had anyone feel anything for him. Yet, here she was, trying not to cry and wiping his tears away because she felt for him.
“It’s not fair…” He softly said, not sure what he was calling ‘fair’.
She dropped his eyes, and then quickly looked back up. “I’m sorry…,” was the only thing she softly said in reply.
Copyright:
LaurenBlewett