Curseborn Saga - Fade to Black (18 page)

“Now, enter and be off and be thankful that you needn’t ride the Sliding Ring back up to the tower. Unfortunately, for one who has never been to the Valyti you can only use the Teleport Chamber once you have come the long way once.” The glass door slid open and Remi, Maile and Baelie stepped cautiously inside the misty chamber, pondering her words.

“So how are we getting back?” Mailed asked, knocking on the glass.

“Based on its name, I think I have an idea,” said Remi, looking about in caution.

The instant she spoke, the mist grew thick and heavy about them. It swirled back and forth, growing thicker and thicker until Remi could no longer see her palms, even when placed directly in front of her face. The muffled whimpering of Maile seemed to die out in the growing fog.

And suddenly, everything went dark … and a feeling that they had just dropped off the face of Soria sprang upwards from deep within the sisters’ very cores.

XVI – Memories Awakened

S
itting upon his stony boulder of a throne, Ronin was completely still as the cool breeze swept past him. He sat still for a long while before opening his eyes, feeling as if he were awakening from a deep trance. Before him the shadows of the trees were unmoving, brought to life by the light of the moons. Raising his cup to his mouth, he realized he had nearly finished his wine. He savored the last taste of the sweet Azalia berries that sent ripples through his mind, awakening long lost memories that were better left forgotten.

“My dear Rinoa …” His voice was calm, more so than he had felt in a thousand rings. “Had we known the cloven fates that we walked towards, I wonder if you would have still made the choice to abandon your blood and follow your heart into the unknown. I wish only … for your forgiveness.”

Ronin took a long breath, feeling the chill of Night rest upon his shoulders, and realized that the cup between his fingers was shaking, and his eyes were filling with tears. A single tear escaped and dripped down until just like that, it dissipated, turning to tiny crystal fragments that floated past his eyes.

“The Sun comes and goes, as Night chases Day. I wonder … will the ages of Aeryx forever be this way?” He laughed. “I have become what I thought never to be, a rambling old man who speaks and weeps senselessly while drinking alone.”

He felt a sudden pang of loneliness at the absence of his two boys. He closed his eyes and pushed his focus outwards; past the towering trees of Neverend, over the bladed grass and rocky dirt that blanketed the grounds; past the creatures large and small who went about their business, until he came upon two familiar auras moving at such a pace through the forest that he instantly knew what was happening. They moved in the darkness of his thoughts like tiny blurs of blue and green, twisting along each other as two magnets that were drawn, yet repelled, by one another.

He cracked a smile. “Racing again, ka?”

Ronin walked a few feet before coming upon a patch of dark dirt and stopped. He kneeled down and placed his hand out over the ground. Focusing his energy, he felt it rising, and so water surged upwards through the dirt creating a tiny puddle. With it, he cleaned his porcelain cup before tossing it straight up into the air, so high that he temporarily lost sight of it, until more than a few moments later, he caught it within his hand, renewed and dried, and slipped the now clean cup back into the folds of his jacket.

He retreated to his seat on the boulder and reached within a different fold of his cloak, pulling out an elegantly curved pipe of silvery wood. He lit it cautiously, for the wind was heavy, and his thoughts fell back on Caim and Storm. They were young, reckless and immature. He knew full well they would attempt to enter the Soldier Games. He also understood that at this time, this separation was inevitable. Eventually, Caim and Storm would have to leave the forest and discover the truth about Soria … and discover the truth about themselves.

The old man laughed again, this time hearty and full. Just thinking about Caim and Storm as anything other than two obnoxious little brats made him smile. He inhaled deeply and let the memories flow, reminiscing of days long passed… .

- - - -

Many, many rings ago, nearly 17 cycles to be exact, he had found two babies wrapped in a pouch, dangling upon the branch of a withered tree that stood upon the edge of a cave few knew and fewer had seen. He knew not from where they had come, nor if their parents were even alive. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had known that one of their parents had died that day, if not both. That night he left the children dangling on the branch; knowing well that an old man with a past such as his had no place being the guardian of newborns.

Yet the next day he returned, full of regret for having left the babies behind. And not a moment too soon: he found a treacherous creature, with teeth like daggers and fur of midnight, lurking towards the baby boys. They cried hysterically as if they could feel something treacherous in the air. He began to move forward but suddenly stopped himself.

If he saved them now, he would have to save them in the future. For why save them now, if he was not willing to save them in the future?

The creature snarled as it crept towards the boys, its fangs flashing bright white. It took no notice of him, or perhaps it did not even care or think of him as a threat.

Ronin felt as if he teetered on the side of a towering precipice, one that would affect his life from there on out; for it was one’s choices that defined one and more often than not, arrived when one was least prepared to act. Could he live with the guilt of letting them die? Or would the guilt of poorly raising such children be even heftier on his soul? Was abandoning them on the edge of a cliff the same as watching them get slaughtered? It was then that he made his decision, and so did the lurking beast in the night.

In that moment the creature leapt, and the old man vanished. A blood-curdling roar filled the air and although one life had come to an end, another had just begun.

The next thing Ronin knew, he was staring down into the leather pouch at two baby boys. One had bright silver hair and a smile that calmed his chaotic soul. The other had black hair and green eyes that gave him the feeling that he was looking down at his own child; or rather, what he thought he would have looked like as a child. Beside them he noticed two silver chains with names engraved upon them with runic lettering.

“Caim … Storm.”

After that day the old man decided to take them in as his own. Shades became days, and soon the first change of season came upon them. He took care of them as he took care of himself; hunting in the forest for meat and scavenging for herbs, berries and vegetables that grew close to the four outer villages of Falia. The boys grew to be healthy and full of life, and he soon found that they were spontaneous in their ways, especially with sleeping and eating. Some nights they slept without a peep, while others they cried and cried as if waiting upon a mother that never came. Soon cycles had passed and the two boys had grown into toddlers. But the old man had grown as well; something had changed in him, and he noticed that time seemed to pass in a way he had no longer thought possible.

The two boys came to know their caretaker, or their grandfather as he reluctantly came to be, as Ronin.

However, the truth remained the same. He had absolutely no idea how to raise children. He had been a swordsman his entire life, training only to strengthen himself and protect others. This new challenge that fell before him made intensive training or fierce battle feel like a breath of a fresh air.

And was this really a place to raise children? Ronin’s home was on a small floating island about a rock’s throw away from the Edge where he had found them. The tiny floating island had been his only true home for so long he could not remember any home before it. As far as he knew, no Sorians dared venture so deep into the Neverend Forest and thus none ever came upon the Edge; for it was indeed, the edge of their world, and the Law of Sky forbid any from trespassing beyond. And even if they came, they would have needed to fly in order to reach his home in the sky, which was a feat few Sorians had come to master.

He had built for himself, hidden within the density of the trees on his island, a wooden cabin, small in size but comfortable, with a warm fire always kindling and leaving traces of misty smoke. Away from Neverend, the boys were safe from the predators lurking within, and he had only to worry about the occasional predators of the sky, which could very well prove to be the most deadly. Because of the isolation of their home, Caim and Storm never met other Sorians, and for many rings that steadily grew into cycles, they believed that the three of them were the only ones of their world. It wasn’t until they were older that they learned the truth.

But it wasn’t just their isolation that made Ronin question his decision to take them in. Over the cycles, they destroyed almost everything they touched, crawling, racing and jumping everywhere. They constantly knocked each other over; after one was knocked down, he would jump to his feet and take off after the other. To Ronin’s complete and utter dismay, this led to the gradual destruction of his once tranquil home. Birds chirped from the trees as they watched the madness and destruction quake from the little cabin in the sky, as if they laughed at the old man’s misfortune.

But most of the time, Ronin couldn’t imagine life any other way, and the boys became part of his life. Each day, for several shades, Ronin would leave the boys for a time to enter his Inner Depths to train his body and soul.
“Once a Swordsman, always a Swordsman
,
”
he would say to the two boys who questioned him for sitting silently for shades at a time. They would watch curiously as the old man floated over the ground and the strange colors seemed to seep forth from his body. As soon as they were old enough to start speaking, Caim learned how to say
“I’m hungry,”
while Storm learned to ask questions like,
“Why do you fwy?”
Storm’s questions soon multiplied like the falling of leaves during Fall.

Once, while Ronin focused within Inner Depths, Caim had been looking up at the old man, his eyes full of powerful curiosity. At this point, Caim’s hair had never been cut, and fell down past his shoulders; he wore an old shirt that was three times his size. Ronin had stolen them tiny pairs of grey and white shorts that had been hanging to dry on the outskirts of Mako Village, as he had grown tediously impatient with trying to sew them himself.

“Grampa … Why aw you doing dat?” Caim asked. His eyes had grown narrow and squinty, and many times, even after constantly failing, he would try and catch the aura that emanated off Ronin’s body. Of course, it was impossible – which of course, made Caim try even harder.

Ronin sighed before answering, realizing that Caim was more than tenacious and could ask the same question over and over until he seemed pleased with an answer – which was never.

“I’m keeping my aura strong, Caim.” He tried to keep his answers short and simple.

Storm’s inquisitive eyes looked up at Ronin with a slightly different look about them. Ronin learned that of the two, Storm seemed to understand things more easily, and even though he had no clue what Inner Depths meant, he understood that Ronin was doing something he couldn’t yet grasp. Unfortunately, unlike Caim, who asked the same question over and over, Storm would move on to an endless onslaught of different questions; it was as if he had a need to know everything about the world and what secrets it held from him. He wore a large black sweater and always kept the hood over his eyes; he liked to pretend he was invisible most of the time, pleased by the idea that none could see him, but he could see all.

“What’s auwa?” asked Storm. Caim nodded happily, hoping it was some type of food.

The old man took a deep sigh and opened his eyes. It was many a time that they interrupted his training. “I already explained this to you boys. But, if you need to hear it aga –“

“Again! Again!” they would say simultaneously, and Caim clapped his tiny hands together; Storm shot him a glaring look as if he, himself, were too mature for such childish antics. Needless to say, a rivalry had formed between the two and Caim didn’t take well to his brother’s orders. With defiance, he pulled down the skin under his eye exposing the pink, and stuck out his tongue – a gesture that would soon become his trademark. Storm ignored him, secretly trying not to laugh.

“Aura is the natural energy of each and every being,” Ronin said. “Imagine yourself as a container, and caged within you is a flame. That flame is your aura, your energy. It’s easy to feel, but hard to understand, and even harder to use. All of us have the ability to access this energy, but most don’t find the path. It takes many cycles of mental training to unlock the cage. But in the process, you will learn things about yourself that you would have never known. You see, our auras are very important to who we are. Depending on our personality, feelings or emotions, the aura can be a different color.”

“What cawor is yours?”

“My aura is red … and yours is like green, Storm.”

“Why can’t I see mine?” Storm asked.

“You are too young and untrained, Storm.”

“What about mine!?” yelped Caim, feeling instantly left out.

“Your aura is different, Caim, its blue.”

Caim made a pouty face as he turned away mumbling. “I want mine to be cwimson too …” The old man laughed and grabbed Caim around the stomach and picked him up. “Don’t worry, when you get older your aura can change, depending on you!”

Storm looked at his fingers counting his age. “Na, how old aw you then?”

He smiled. “I’m an old man. That’s all you need to know.”

Storm raised an eyebrow. “Ok, ood man!”

Caim laughed and pointed. “Grandpa is ood man!”

“Wait! You can’t call me that! Respect your grandfather!” But it was already too late. The beginning of Ronin’s insecurity about his age had just dawned, and the boys jumped ravenously upon it.

The only words he dreaded more were “We’re hungry.” The boys ate like nothing he had ever seen, heard, or read about. They were monsters in his eyes, little silver and black-haired monsters. It took him a long time to understand that these boys were even more destructive than the soldiers he used to fight. It seemed they only knew how to eat, sleep and destroy. Sometimes he wondered if they could be the children of Neverend, born of the great forest and gifted to him to raise and protect … to teach.

Every day he would meditate and train his aura. And every day they would attempt to disrupt him in one way or another. There were times Ronin grew impatient with them, and his voice slipped into a shout, causing them to flee and hide in the trees, which they had learned to climb with ease. They watched like scared birds from high in the branches until Ronin was forced to come out, apologize and play a game with them. Or else, they wouldn’t agree to do anything he asked. The game usually ended with them being hungry.