noveltune [1085] – Y05.085 – Despair I
[1085] – Y05.085 – Despair I
[1085] – Y05.085 – Despair I
“Did you finish your prayers?” the Elder asked, his smile blanketing the children in a gentleness.
“Yes! I pray so good, and my papa, he prays so good, good boy,” Jirot said, hugging her brother’s head, kissing the side of it, brushing his thick hair back. The boy flushed under his sister’s affection, smiling with a childish joy, the kind that melted the Elder’s heart.
“I am sure you pray well, since your mother is a Ray.”
“Mummy teach me so good! Mummy, you are so good too!” Jirot pat her mother’s leg gently. “You are good girl too.”
“I am?” Vonda asked.
Jirot blinked, before her lips fell to a pout. “How you can say that, mummy? You are always so good!”
Vonda smiled, brushing her daughter’s cheek tenderly, before pinching her nose. “So you must behave too?”
“Mummy!” Jirot inhaled sharply, freezing in place for a long moment, before she glanced aside. “I forgive you, just this once.”
“Kekeke,” little Jarot cackled, his sister joining in, before Vonda smothered them both in her arms.
Zijin stared at the boy, steeling his heart. He was thinner than his twin sister, who had gained a little chubbiness over the course of the last few months. He closed his eyes, hearing the voice of a different time, a time before he was marred by death.
“Did you pray to Baktu and Wahtu too?” Zijin asked.
“Today is prayer to Mahtu,” Jirot replied, as though it were obvious.
“I see...” Zijin smiled. “Will she hear your prayers?”
“Mother Soza hears even when she sleeps.”
“She is sleeping?” Zijin asked.
“The Mother is sleeping, but she can hear, she is The Mother.”
“I see...” Zijin stared down at the pair, who stared up at the Elder expectantly, blinking so innocently. “Do you know which Divine watches over the Iyr?”
“Baktu!”
“Do you know who else watches over the Iyr?”
“Umm... Mahtu?”
Elder Zijin shook his head. “Only Baktu.”
“I know that!” Jirot huffed, pouting up at the Elder.
“It is only Baktu. We have given ourselves to Baktu, because he has given himself to us.” Zijin noted the furrowed brows of the children as they tried to process what he was saying. “Baktu is Baktu. He favours we Iyrmen the most, because we favour him so much. It is he who grants us many privileges which have allowed us to live as we do.”
“Daddy is Baktu’s favourite?” Jirot asked.
“Baktu also favours your father too,” Zijin assured, reaching down to rub the top of her head, before doing the same to Jarot. He hadn’t expected the question, a smile crossing his lips at realising just how precious the girl was. “Do you understand why Baktu favours your father?”
“Daddy is always working?” Jirot wondered.
Zijin fell silent for a moment, glancing towards Vonda, whose eyes had softened slightly at her daughter’s answer. “Yes, but it is because of something else.”
“Daddy is strong,” little Jarot said.
“Yes?” Zijin asked, having quickly calmed himself.
“I... am I allowed to know when they will return?”
“They will return when they return,” Zijin replied.
“Will they... really return?”
Zijin fell silent for a long moment, noting the expectant looks of the four women, before his eyes fell to the four children.
The boy had gasped upon seeing the Elder, and had quickly rushed to his mother, who picked him up. Zijin couldn’t help but wonder where the boy gained his shyness, since his greatfather was such a terrifying beast.
Zijin blocked out the thought of what would have happened if Damrot would have died instead of Jarot or Larot. No doubt they would have wielded the full privileges afforded to them by Baktu, but since it didn’t happen, the Elder refused to allow the thought to enter his mind.
“You know that your husband is the grandson of the Mad Dog, but do you know the name of Tanagek?”
“That’s... his cousin’s name?”
Zijin smiled. “Once he returns, he will tell you the tale of Tanagek the Dutiful.”
Pam was fairly certain she knew of the name, recalling a vague story about an Iyrman who had requested a dragon to step down. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Duteous Dogek has done well to live up to his grandfather’s name...’ Zijin paused, considering the recent events. “Do you think they will die?”
Pam’s body jolted slightly, the woman staring up at the Elder in shock. “I...”
“They will return to us alive, because they said they would, but you should understand...” The Elder fell silent for a moment, gathering his thought. “Adam and Jurot already died earlier this year.”
Elder Zijin of all people understood that much. Each time an Iyrman left and returned, even if they crossed the river, and returned immediately, the Iyrman returned as a different Iyrman. He let out a sigh, the kind of sigh that his successor would one day learn.
The Elder had forgotten one thing.
Adam was full of surprises, and those at the gathering had just learnt it.
The grief filled the air, only to be taken over by shock, for even King Merryweather had only clashed with Jurot for a few moments, having then unleashed his aura within his blade, before the half elf’s cries had called him out of his trance.
Two rounds.
That’s how long it had taken Adam to kill not only Sir Melinda, but Sir Kris Huntsmaster, the First Vice Commander of the Order of the Thousand Hunts. Still, only Elder Peace understood the depths of the truth.
The half elf remained upon his knees, the rain falling against his armour, and though the handle of his axe remained against his palm, his hand was open, no longer gripping his weapon. Despair engulfed the half elf’s mind and heart, for though he had killed the pair, it still hadn’t changed the fact he did not deserve to live. As a husband, or a father.
The shock in the air was quickly overtaken by the sense of urgency, for they only had precious few moments. The fighting continued fiercely, but this time the other Orders around understood they needed to end this matter quickly.
The first to act was a Vice Commander from the Order of the Purple Blades, though as he drew his blade, it rang against a red blade. “Step aside, Iyrman.”
“Can you make me?” Mosen asked, before his entire body flashed red hot, and he grinned like a beast, though the smile did not reach his eyes.
The group that had lowered their gaze towards Timojin quickly darted towards the weeping half elf, blades in hand. The crackle of lightning filled the air in a moment, and their cries filled the air. Most had managed to barely dodge aside, but a pair fell to the earth.
“Has the real fight begun?” Bael asked, an Iyrman’s grin upon his face, his fists crackling with lightning.
Our children utterly oblivious to the danger their father is in.
How adorable!