Despair

    Despair

    "He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus

    ~~~

    The sun was beginning to set; the clouds shades of pink and purple. It was a brisk autumn evening when Lyze took his horse from the shed and led it around to the front of his small home. As he passed, he saw his son through the window, sitting in front of the fireplace. He sighed and approached the wooden fence at the edge of his property. He tied the reins around the post and stroked his horses mane. His gaze wandered back to his son and tears filled his eyes. His horse snorted.

    “Shh... Ghandar,” Lyze cooed, taking his eyes off his son. He turned to check the saddle and the packs, making sure he had enough provisions for the long journey ahead. A few blankets, clothes, cured fish and meats, bread, and skins full of water. He tightened the straps on the saddle and pat Ghandar. “I’ll be back.”

    Lyze stepped into his home, the sudden swell of heat bringing color back to his face and hands. His son looked up and smiled at his father. Lyze moved to wall and took hanging there, a sheath. He pulled a longsword from it and brought it up to his face, examining it. He swung it at his sides then brought it back up again. He then brought it down and sheathed it, tying it to his side. His son stared at him, the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes.

    “Samuel,” Lyze said.

    Lyze moved towards a door near him, barred with a piece of wood. Samuel nodded to his father, got to his feet and lifted a large sword hanging over the fireplace and stood opposite his father.

    “Just like I told you.”

    Lyze lifted the plank of wood and opened the door. The adjacent room was dark and cold. He shut the door behind him. Samuel swallowed and gripped tightly to the handle of his grandfather’s sword.

    Lyze let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and out of the black he could make out a bed. His bed. He knelt down over it, letting his elbows rest on the covers and folded his hands.

    “Oh, Blinding Light, Laelia, give me the strength to carry on with this foolish of a task,” he prayed.

    “My dear, Lyze…” a whisper called out from the darkness. A raspy tone, like a voice lost in the wind.

    He brought his head from his hands and looked at the figure that lay in the bed before him. They had rolled over to see him. The grey figure that was his wife.
    
    “Malinda,” he whispered. She smiled. He reached out to hold her pale, wrinkled hand. It was ice.


    ~


    Lyze exited the bedroom, wincing at the light the fire brought. Samuel flinched at the opening of the door. He noticed the clean streaks and spots of dirt that led down his fathers face, where he had sobbed.

    “At ease, my son.”

    Samuel sighed and laid the sword up against the wall. Lyze pulled a chair from the table and sat in front of the fireplace. His son sat on the floor beside them and together they watched the flames dance. Lyze put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Do you recall those tales I told you when you were small?”

    “Of course.” Samuel stared up at his father.

    “Well, your father’s about to live one.”

    “What do you mean?”

    Lyze hesitated then said, “I’m leaving for Faluns.”

    Samuel stood from the floor. He was no bigger than his father when Lyze was sitting.

    “What?”

    “In just a short time. Tonight, actually.”

    “Faluns?” Samuel’s mind raced, searching for a question. “Ca...Can I come, father?”

    Lyze sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish, I wish upon Laelia herself that I could take you with me. I know how much you like those stories,” Lyze took in a breath. “The road is dangerous and your mother is ill. She needs your care while I’m away.”

    Samuel sat back down.

    “I’m going to see Galm.”

    Samuel looked back up at his father.

    Lyze smiled. “That’s right. The King himself.” Lyze got off his chair and sat on the floor next to his son. “Did I tell you I’ve been there before? With my father?”

    “Everytime, father,” Samuel rolled his eyes.

    Lyze smiled. “I remember we pulled in on horseback, my father riding out front while my sister and I rode in the cart full of my father’s ironwork. I peered out from behind the wool and saw the City of Light for the first time. Busy as Yoltuns is at First Harvest. We were going to the First Market, my father to set down the cart and to take requests for any pieces of his brilliant craft. We had to ride through the city for the Market was on the opposite side. Waterways beneath, red clay roofs above, and the castle… It can seen from anywhere within its walls. How marvelous. And then, the First Market, the biggest in all the land. Travelers from across the seven kingdoms would come and trade their belongings for something and anything greater. Oh, all those spices and gems and silks alike. The best any amount of coin could buy…”

    Samuel stared intently at his father.

    “For when I return, I plan to take the three of us to Faluns, to see the city in all its glory.

    “Really, father?”

    “Indeed.” Lyze rose to his feet. “However, not now. I have business with Galm and I pray that he will listen to my plea.”

    Lyze walked over and opened the door to the outside. It was dark, but the moon lit up the night.

    “In the dark father?”

    “For no one to follow and suspect me.”

    “What are you to discuss with the King?”

    Lyze turned and knelt down, taking his son’s hands into his own. “It is business for none but him and I. I’m sorry I cannot reveal it to you. When I return, perhaps I will tell you.”

    “Okay, father,” Samuel nodded. Lyze took in a deep breath.

    “Now, take care of your mother.”

    Samuel nodded.

    “At a safe distance.”

    “Yes.”

    “And, Samuel?”

    “Father?”

    “If something were to happen, to you or your mother…” Lyze nodded.

    Samuel looked at the sword still stood up against the wall next to the fireplace. He turned to Lyze. “I understand, father.”

    “I’ll return,” He whispered.

    Lyze let go of his son’s hands and turned and walked out into the grass and for his horse. “It’s time, Ghandar,” Lyze said.

    He untied the reins from the post and saddled up top. He clicked his tongue and Ghandar moved and turned up a narrow path, thick trees on his left. Lyze stopped and looked back at his small peaceful home, secluded from the entire world, and wished he didn’t have to leave. He stared back to see his son was standing in the doorway, waving goodbye. He grabbed for his heart. He thought for a moment then reached and unsheathed his sword, and held it high into the air. Ghandar kicked up and neighed, standing tall on his back two legs. It was a momentous sight. Samuel cheered from the doorway.

    Ghandar returned his front legs to the ground, and Lyze had him charge up the path, as fast as he was able to go. The path led downward and Lyze’s home was quickly out of sight. The trees remained on his left while a cliff came to his right, and, out and below, the sea.

    Lyze’s first stop was Stanecrest, a port city, the largest in the kingdom of Aleum. A couple hours ride. There he’d rest and pick up the journey in the morning.

    ~

 

    City of Light, Faluns.

    “A little late to be meeting with me, now isn’t it?”

    King Galm sat upon his throne in the Great Hall, the full moon shining behind him through a massive window. All but a few torches on the last two pillars lit the front of the room. The maidens had just finished cleaning and clearing off the grand table from the feast a few hours before.

    Galm rested his chin on his fist, and waited for a response from the Priest who stood before him. The Priest swallowed his fear.

    “It is late. I would be home with my family right now. We wouldn’t be meeting here, now, if you would’ve just answered my letters.”

    Galm blinked.

    “You did receive my letters, did you not?”

    “Of course I did, Vernon.”

    The Priest, Vernon, sighed and shook his head.

    “Why do you ignore me? Why do you treat me like this?” Vernon raised his tone.

    Galm raised his head from his fist and peered down at Vernon.

    “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect ever since you were a boy! I’ve guided you through your rule! Your father wo-”

    “SPEAK NOT OF MY FATHER!”

    Galm was now on his feet, his voice echoed throughout the hall. Vernon took a step back, his head lowered. He hid his shaking hands behind his back.

    “Be careful with your words, Priest. I am in no mood.”

    “My Liege, I want nothing but prosperity for you and your Kingdom,” Vernon’s voice was soft, trembling, while Galm sat back down, “I am here as your guide and your servant,” Vernon looked up at Galm, “I cannot help you if you do not let me.”

    “I have no need of your help.”

    “But you do, my Liege.”

    “No,” Galm glared at Vernon, “I do not.”

    Vernon built back up his courage and laughed, “Your Kingdom, your people are in danger. The disease is spreading like wildfire! It’s infected the trade routes from here to Doleck!”

    “I’ve declared several orders to my people. I have already set a curfew, my soldiers to catch and hold up anyone outside beyond it. Those who are or have infected family members are to stay indoors. Those on the streets to wear cloth over their faces. The dead ones will be corralled and burned before the sun sets. I am taking care of it. Do not blame me for such a horrible plague as this!”

    “I do not, my Liege.”

    “Why then, do you worry? Stay inside with your family if you are afraid.”

    “You could do a lot more, my Liege.”

    Galm only stared at Vernon.

    “I’ve stated this in my letters already.”

    Galm got up from his throne and stepped forward. Vernon took a step back. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. Galm merely passed him, however.

    “Walk with me,” he said.

    The night was cold, despite both Galm and Vernon were wearing their according robes. Galm lead Vernon outside to a balcony above the Great Hall which overlooks the City of Light from the South.

    “I read your letters, Vernon,” Galm leaned on the balcony while Vernon stood behind him, “I know you’re trying help, but I can’t bring myself to it.”

    “My Liege, I know it’s hard to accept,” Vernon paused for a brief moment, “but this Kingdom needs Laelia. You need her.”

    Galm sighed but said nothing.

    “After your father passed, the Light’s been devoid from here. I think it’s time for you to accept her.”

    Galm turned to look at Vernon.

    “I don’t need her,” he said, forming his hand into a fist. “I will never need her, don’t you see. She let me down! She betrayed me! Why do I need her!”

    “My Liege, I-”
    
    “Who cares what you think, Priest! I have the problem under control! I don’t need your precious, ‘Blinding Light’!”

    Vernon stared at the ground.

    “Now get out of my sight!” Galm yelled, turning back to look at his city.

    Vernon turned from his King, “May Lealia have pity on you.” He left Galm there on the walkway.

    Some minutes passed before Galm stormed off the walkway and back down into the Great Hall. He took a chair from the long table and smashed it up against a pillar. He threw down a hanging plant, and kicked its dirt across the stone floor. He pounded his fists on the table, splitting the wood before stopping, his face red and sweaty. He turned around, huffing from his rampage and slumped up to his throne.

    He sat down and pulled off a glove from his left hand and examined in the torchlight. The tops of his fingers were black and green. He pulled back on the glove and sighed.