Kayeen continued pushing himself forward in shock. He had killed a man. Even if the stranger who had confronted him was still alive when he left, there was no chance he would ever be able to survive the elements. Leaving him there was worse than the rock itself, which had been hurled in the heat of the moment. Guilt gnawed away at his thoughts as Kayeen felt himself compelled forward.
He had passed through Trappers Point stopping only long enough for a meal before passing on. Many came north to work these inhospitable lands to get away from civilization so none of the others having lunch in the small towns one tavern bothered to intrude his privacy. Between his growing guilt and the fact that, for the first time in his life he was among strangers, Kayeen was not inclined to talk. Every look of curiosity he received, the young man interpreted as a glare of accusation. Kayeen was sure, somehow, everyone knew what he had done.
Once beyond the Point Kayeen turned east towards the ocean. He had seen his fathers map enough to know that the best way to get south of the Great North Range was to get directly to the coast and then board a ship into Kazani territory. Both Kazan and Kyev claimed this part of the Great North Range and the patch of barren ice and scraggly forest north of it but, apart from the small amount of fur trading that takes place, there was nothing to make either nation waste resources to make good their claim.
Once at the port Kayeen spent the last of his coin to board passage south. He overpaid but the captain was too suspicious of this reclusive young man who was obviously out of place to point this fact out or to make change. Thus Kayeen, tormented and alone, left the far north behind him forever.
- - - - -
When Gavril gained consciousness, he was shaking. Never in his life did he feel as sore as he did now. His entire body felt exhausted but his left upper body felt especially sore and both hands and feet were being attacked by needles. Internal alarm bells traveled past his racing heartbeat to his brain and Gavril struggled to his feet.
As soon as he first began to move then pounding in his head began and Garvil remembered the confrontation that had brought him to this place. For a brief moment he thought of going after the young man, but instinct and his Rangers training told him that his own unlikely survival was far more important and his only hope was in the shrouded forest he remembered from his distant past.
Gavril pushed past the headache and his pain as he struggled to his feet. Blackness threatened to engulf him as he rose but he did not wait for the dizziness to stop or his vision to return before starting his slow trek northward. He pushed himself as hard as the pain and his quickly depleting energy reserves allowed but it was not enough and Gavril knew it. He was in a race against the dropping temperature, the setting sun, and a broken body that was systematically shutting itself down and there was not a chance he would win.
With increasing frequency his mind began to drift and Gavril had to use every mental discipline he knew to keep himself moving northward and to resist the temptation to begin stripping off his clothes. As his mind began shutting itself down his ability to focus and remember his purpose began fading while, at the same time the part of his brain regulating body temperature was also misfiring. As odd as it may seem, even as Gavril froze to death, he thought he was too hot.
The moment he started to open up his cloak the icy cold snapped him back to reality. Gavril was jolted back to full consciousness only to realize the cruel truth that he had passed the point of no return. The battle was lost. He took a few more steps forward then sat himself down. The headache was only a dull memory, his soreness barely registered even as his legs continued to shake from the atrophy. All Gavril knew was that he was tired. The world faded to black as he drifted off to sleep.
Out of the blackness Gavril heard the echo of footsteps on a stone floor. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him, Gavril saw a young boy of about ten walking towards him. He looked young but when they locked eyes The Ranger saw in the boy a wisdom of lifetimes. Gavril was lost in that gaze. For a while the child looked back at him with both sadness and love. He finally said, Its not yet time for you to join me.
Gavril asked, What?
It is not yet time for you to come home. I have more for you to do.
Gavril looked around at the empty darkness, This is home.
The boy laughed with the richness of simple joy. He reached out and for the first time Gavril saw what looked like a glowing ball about 4 inches in diameter in his hand.
Take this.
Gavril reached out and as soon as he touched the ball a warmth seemed to suffuse his entire body.
Your name is Gavril. The boy said.
What?
Your name is Gavril he said again. You are Gavril my messenger. Remember that and the rest, in time, will return.
I dont understand. Gavril said.
Sleep now. Next time you see me, we will not be parted.
Gavril stared in confusion as he watched the boy walk away back into the darkness. Left alone in this mysterious, empty place he whispered, Gavril. My name is Gavril.
Avril had almost left the cave when he stopped and turned to his father who was entering the front room behind him.
We will need to make a stretcher.
His father was too confused as to what was happening to question or to argue. Behind him Yevenna began to enter the room and Avril said to her, If we get him back here alive he will be close to death. Frozen. He turned to his father, Come on. We dont have much time.
After they had gone Yevenna and Sevi went back to the room in their cave from which they drew their hot water. Most of the room was too low for even Yvenna to stand up straight. It stretched back at this low height for about eight feet with an artificially flat floor and a width enough that Yevenna would not quite be able to touch both sides simultaneously. The footing was secure thanks to the gravel that had been imported but both sides and ceiling were slick from the steam coming up from the pool near the back that mostly escaped from a vent in the same area. In that back end near the pool The ceiling rose to almost ten feet and Sevi scampered around to the back end beyond the pool to pull down the stopper preventing most steam from escaping. At the same time Yevenna draped an old hide over the entrance. Just like that the room was turned into a sauna.
It was into this room, in the dead of night, that Avril and her husband brought the man who looked more like a long gone frozen corpse than someone who still had any hope of returning to the world of the living. At one time Yvenna was a healer with promising talent. Now any remedies offered were limited to the mundane and, although she knew the cold as well as anyone, it frustrated her that she no longer had access to the magic that had been so much a part of her life.
She did what she could to bring her patients core temperature up and talked her son through the process of simple delving and warming the man from the inside but she dared not have him do more, or even that much, since she could not see beyond her eyes and touch exactly what he was doing. Over time, to her surprise, it became clear that if the man survived he would lose nothing to the ice. But still her patient remained unconscious.
It was almost three days later when Avril was sitting with their patient that he heard him mutter, Gavril. My name is Gavril. The man whom Avril had only met through his parents memories and a brief reference in a letter had returned to the land of the living.
- - - - -
"Keep that sword up! Ignore the burn."
Paeder knew that his sword had not fallen an inch. His eyes narrowed at the arms master's shouts, but he dared not even glance in that direction. His focus was only for his older brother, Galad, who was closing on him with the ****y grin of a combatant who knows he will win. The younger brother simply matched that grin with his own look of fierce determination and muttered, "Bring it." Ignoring the fire racing from his wrists to his shoulders, Paeder brought his two handed practice sword around to parry his larger opponents first blow.
Around and around Galad and his attack went while Paeder remained fixed in one spot shifting only to keep facing his brother. Every thrust of Galad's practice long sword was parried by the lead filled wooden sword of his brother. Occasionally Paeder's sword would arrive a fraction of a second too late leaving a mark that would add to the collection of bruises, but no matter how hard the blow, no matter how fierce the attack, Galad could not force Paeder from the spot he had chosen to root himself in.
Balric, the sword master, would sporadically shout out instructions to one of the two boys, but for the most part he simply let them spar. The real instruction would come later when he sparred with them individually. At that time he would exploit the faults he was making a mental note of now. With a rueful shake of the head, Balric thought again about how difficult that was becoming. In two years at the most Galad would be his match. And Paeder although Paeder was barely fifteen he could already hold his own against most full grown men. The boy had grown nearly six inches this past year. His only true fault was that he had not yet adapted to his growing body. Balric had convinced the boys parents to send him to Skorgen where he could be trained by the best. On his sixteenth birthday, that is where he would be going.
As the two boys continued their sparring Tesric, one of the household servants, appeared at the entrance to the yard and bowed his head respectfully. After ignoring him for about a minute, Balric motioned for him to come over. As the boys continued their swordplay, Balric and the servant had a brief conversation on the side. Finally Balric shouted out in his deep baritone, "Enough!"
As Galad began walking away he felt a sharp thwack on his bottom. Surprised and angry, he turned around. Grinning, his brother said, "You dance too much."
Balric roared in laughter. "Aye, he does. And you stand there planted like a tree taking your lumps like a dumb ox."
All four of them were laughing as the boys returned their practice swords and began shedding their pads.
"You boys go ahead with skinny here. I'll clean up the yard and meet you at the Watch."
Balric called everybody skinny who was untrained with the long sword. As the three of them began making their way up the path, the bulky arms master stood at the entrance watching them go. His vision blurred as he grinned watching the two sweat soaked boys pumping the tight lipped servant for information. It wasn't until they were well out of sight that he allowed himself to rub the tears from his eyes and cheek.
"We have a visitor."
"Yes, you've said that already. Will you tell us nothing more?"
Tesric pretended not to hear Galad's question while he watched a hawk circling high over the shore to their west. The three of them were heading a bit more to the northwest than where the bird was hunting. The Watch was a small keep built around a lighthouse at the top of a cliff rising from the violent sea. The Watch was the clan's least profitable holding but it was one of the most important. The ocean's tides tended to push ships close to the treacherous shore in this area and without The Watch, many an unwary captain would shatter his ship along the rocks rising from the water like teeth near the base of the cliff.
"Is it her?" Paeder asked.
He laughed along with Tesric while Galad's face turned a deep red to match his hair.
"You can ask but I cannot say. I am honor bound to stay silent. I'm sure the two of you will find out soon enough."
With that statement the conversation turned to other more innocuous topics. It was dishonorable to try and get a man to break his oath and the McLoren's motto was "Honor Above Everything". So Paeder kept trying to steer the conversation towards Galad's betrothed and Galad tried desperately to turn it in any and every other direction. Tesric gladly played the antagonist stirring up the sibling rivalry with every opening he found. This banter continued all the way up the steep path to The Watch.
Almost as soon as they passed through the thick oak front doors a tall solid blonde man shouted in surprise, crossed the hall in a couple strides, and wrapped Galad in a vice of a hug. After commenting on the boy becoming a man, bruising both his shoulders, and popping his back, this familiar stranger released the poor young man from his friendly torture and turned his attentions toward Paeder. Gripping both the boys shoulders with his meaty hands he said, "And you. You were still holding your mother's skirts and trailing with unsure steps when I last saw you. I've missed all your growing and, aye, there's been plenty of it."
"Wilhelm?" Galad asked hesitantly.
"Aye, its me. The legend in the flesh."
"But you're supposed to be Why?" Galad broke off his question as the answer began to dawn on him. His eyes grew wide in shock as he inadvertently looked toward Paeder. Galad's reaction caused the implications of his cousin's visit to sink in for the younger brother as well.
"But how can that be?" Paeder asked, "I've never shown any signs."
