A Cliff-top Duel
II
Lessons of Duty
(Shard I)
(Shard I)
The sweet and rich smell of burning tolsen weed flowed on the soft breezes wafting their way through the winding streets of the canyon city. The smell made its way through the gaps in the wooden walls of the small hovel to slowly fill it up with a comforting feeling. Today was the day of Tegall’s Rapture and most families in Alsira Thaenat were at home burning incense, praying to the gods, and partaking of feasts.
It was a day of celebration, as many families had managed to survive the bitter winter season and everyone wished to celebrate the hopes for the new year that was upon them. Those children who survived the harsh and bitter winters, where food was the scarcest, were given gifts to celebrate their continued lives. Couples celebrated each other’s lives with gifts as well and renewed their vows for the coming year. Those who lost loved ones during the winter were given alms and respite in the homes of their families or in public houses owned by the community so that they might continue on despite their loss.
Ghelta sat upon her straw-filled bed covered in threadbare and blood-stained linens she had managed to steal from the infirmary building nearby. She drummed her small and wiry legs against the creaking wooden frame of the bed as she chewed on a braid in her long, crimson hair. Papa Ylethus had just come home from early morning training with his warriors and was in the living area talking with some old man covered from head-to-toe in draping robes.
Ghelta grasped the wooden frame of the bed with her hands and leaned forward to stare beyond the bedroom door into the living area. She could see Papa Ylethus standing beside their dining table. She couldn't see the robed man, but she could hear his calm and light voice coming from another corner of the room.
“I know you couldn't be there. Please know that she holds no ill feelings for you.” The sound of the wooden floors creaked as the unseen man shifted his weight. “She knows you love her and her child in your own ways, Ylethus.”
“It still pains me.” Papa Ylethus leaned hard on the table, causing the furthest legs to lift slightly under his giant frame. He sighed hard and swiveled his leg up to sit upon a stool near the head of the table. “You know that I don’t mean any disrespect to you in my decision. Her path and my own weren't to be.” He let both of his elbows drop to the table as he leaned forward. His hands were held with their palms up towards the unseen man. “Besides, as you mentioned, my hands are full with Ghelta.”
“Yes, they are.” The unseen man stepped forward and sat at the table across from Papa Ylethus. The tip of the robed man’s hood could be seen past the door-frame. “She is my daughter, and thanks to you I have a grand-daughter.” The robed man gave a half-hearted chuckle as he reached a skeletal hand towards Ylethus’ own and grabbed it up. “The heart wants what it wants. I know in your heart you still love her and her child. They are safe in Haaken Vaulthaen and you can visit them anytime you wish.”
“Were you able to give Eranii the gift I bought?” Papa Ylethus slowly pulled away from the robed man’s grasp and straightened his back at the table.
“Yes, I did. You know how Eranii is with tradition.” The robed man gave another chuckle, this one more warm than the last. “She gave the gift to Scythana as soon as I got it out of my pack.” He drummed his skeletal fingers on the wood of the table in a dance and lifted his index finger up sharply. “She loved it, Ylethus.”
“Good.” Ylethus lightly pounded a fist on the table and lifted himself up from the stool. “You’re right that Eranii could never really get the hang of tradition.” Papa Ylethus smiled and reached over the table to give a slap to the shoulder of the robed man.
“About tradition-” The robed man started and then paused in his words for a moment. The tip of his hood shot up to look Ylethus in the face. “You remembered her gift as well, correct?” The robed man bent his arm slightly to point at the door-frame. “She deserves just as much of your love as the child born of your blood.”
“Yes.” Ylethus gave a nervous laugh as he ran his meaty fingers through his long, brown hair. “What do you take me for?” He let his laugh continue into a roar.
“Scythana is being taken care of. Ghelta needs your full attention now.” The robed man lifted himself up and stepped out of view. “You are as much her savior as her father. Love her as you would Scythana.” The robed man made several floorboard creaks as he moved further out of view. The sound of the battered front door groaned open as the robed man said his last words. “I’m always here for you, Ylethus, as a father and as a friend. Remember that.” The door groaned and popped again as he shut it behind him.
Ghelta felt a growling in her stomach and clutched it for a moment, hoping to silence it before Papa Ylethus could hear. The richness of the tolsen weed smoke and the smells of cooking meats coming in from outside made her hungry. She knew she would have to wait until Papa Ylethus had finished the afternoon training drill before he could come home and start cooking their meal. She was too young to handle the knives and fires herself.
She looked up from her hands upon her stomach to the light filtering in from the window above Papa Ylethus’ bed. The light from the two suns climbing into the sky were given a soft orange glow as the smoke from all the houses rose up like a ceiling above the canyon city of Alsira Thaenat. Her home was upon one of the upper layers of the city, next to the Vhulkovyr barracks, the infirmary, and the quarters for visiting dignitaries. She could see streams of smoke rising up from the lower layers of the city like tendrils to the heavens above. Within each of those streams of smoke rising heavenward were the hopes, prayers, joys, and sorrows of every member of the Alsira tribe.
As she took in the sight through the small window, she could hear Papa Ylethus rummaging around in a pack he had dropped upon the dining table. She turned her head to see him lift an item wrapped in twigs and twine and set upon the table. He threw the empty pack over his shoulder and snatched up the item in one of his immense hands.
Ghelta pushed herself up further on the bed and crossed her legs in anticipation of Ylethus entering the room. She could hear his thunderous footsteps coming closer to the door. She grabbed one of her old blankets to drape over her knee and ruffled up the threadbare linens of her bed to make it seem like she had just woken up. She looked up to see one of Ylethus’ hands pressing the door a few inches further open.
“Ghelta.” His voice was soft as he entered the bedroom. He leaned in and saw her deceptively rubbing her eyes with two small fists. “Are you awake?”
Ghelta nodded and lowered her hands from her eyes, she looked up at him with a smile which melted Ylethus’ hardened heart within a moment. He stepped further into the room and crossed in front of Ghelta’s bed to sit on his own. The mass of old straw and broken wood groaned and snapped under his immense frame. He placed the bundle of twigs and twine on his lap while leaning toward Ghelta with a few more complaints from the bed.
“It’s the day of Tegall’s Rapture. Do you remember what that means?” Papa Ylethus leaned forward some more as Ghelta leaned the rest of the distance. She gave a nod and held her smile as he continued on. “You’ve survived another year and this is to be celebrated.” Papa Ylethus pulled the bundle from his lap and held it in one of his palms toward Ghelta. “You know that we don’t receive much to live off of. Most of the spoils of war go to my warriors or to the tributes we give to the Chieftain.”
Papa Ylethus swallowed hard and lowered his gaze from Ghelta’s eyes. He examined the dirty floor beneath his heavily booted feet. He looked over Ghelta’s ruined bed and saw her sitting in her favorite threadbare tunic that was far too large for her frame. He felt a twinge pulling at the edges of his eyes and quickly wiped a tear before it could be seen.
“I know most children want toys on this day or some kind of bauble to gather dust on a shelf.” Papa Ylethus gave a sniff and returned his eyes to Ghelta’s. “This gift is a commitment to you. It is a commitment to ensure your future so that you might survive many years to come.” He lifted himself up to his feet and stepped forward to place the bundle on the bed beside Ghelta. He turned and sat down on his bed. “I had it commissioned as soon as I took you in. I was just now finally able to pay it off.”
Ghelta looked at the bundle and then up to Ylethus, she held the same innocent smile on her lips as she spoke to him in a hushed tone. “You don’t need to give me gifts.” She watched him wipe another tear from the side of his dusty eye. She reached beside her and lifted the hefty bundle to her lap. “Thank you, Papa.”
She looked from the bundle back up to Ylethus to see him nod permission to open the gift. Her tiny fingers flowed over the twine and grasped the knots on either end. With a flurry of activity, she undid the knots and began unrolling the twig packaging of her item. She stood on her bed and began rolling the twigs towards her feet as she took tiny steps backward to unfurl it more.
Within a few moments, she had revealed a fine leather scabbard adorned with polished iron designs. The black leather of the scabbard and attached belt reflected the light along its edges. She ran her hands across the supple leather and the cool metal until she grasped the leather-covered hilt of a blade sheathed within.
“Thank you, Papa. My very own sword.” Ghelta looked it over once more and then raised her face up to smile again at Ylethus. She looked back down at it and reverently placed it on her straw-filled pillow. She began to roll up the twigs and retie the knots on the bundle.
“Be careful with it. Remember what I taught you about blades.” Ylethus got up to his feet and wiped some of the sand from the fur-trimmed armor covering his shoulders. “I have two more drills to do and then I’ll be home. I’ll make you some sarkrass stew for dinner and then I’ll show you how to use it.”
Ylethus reached forward, leaning with one hand on the frame of Ghelta’s bed and grabbing her head with his other. He messed up her crimson hair beneath his immense hand and then pulled back to stand up straight in the center of the room. He stepped forward and grasped the door as he walked out.
He leaned back into the room with just his head being visible. “Remember, Ghelta. You are loved and you are wanted.” He waited for her to return his gaze and nod at him. He smiled down at her and closed the door slightly.
It was a day of celebration, as many families had managed to survive the bitter winter season and everyone wished to celebrate the hopes for the new year that was upon them. Those children who survived the harsh and bitter winters, where food was the scarcest, were given gifts to celebrate their continued lives. Couples celebrated each other’s lives with gifts as well and renewed their vows for the coming year. Those who lost loved ones during the winter were given alms and respite in the homes of their families or in public houses owned by the community so that they might continue on despite their loss.
Ghelta sat upon her straw-filled bed covered in threadbare and blood-stained linens she had managed to steal from the infirmary building nearby. She drummed her small and wiry legs against the creaking wooden frame of the bed as she chewed on a braid in her long, crimson hair. Papa Ylethus had just come home from early morning training with his warriors and was in the living area talking with some old man covered from head-to-toe in draping robes.
Ghelta grasped the wooden frame of the bed with her hands and leaned forward to stare beyond the bedroom door into the living area. She could see Papa Ylethus standing beside their dining table. She couldn't see the robed man, but she could hear his calm and light voice coming from another corner of the room.
“I know you couldn't be there. Please know that she holds no ill feelings for you.” The sound of the wooden floors creaked as the unseen man shifted his weight. “She knows you love her and her child in your own ways, Ylethus.”
“It still pains me.” Papa Ylethus leaned hard on the table, causing the furthest legs to lift slightly under his giant frame. He sighed hard and swiveled his leg up to sit upon a stool near the head of the table. “You know that I don’t mean any disrespect to you in my decision. Her path and my own weren't to be.” He let both of his elbows drop to the table as he leaned forward. His hands were held with their palms up towards the unseen man. “Besides, as you mentioned, my hands are full with Ghelta.”
“Yes, they are.” The unseen man stepped forward and sat at the table across from Papa Ylethus. The tip of the robed man’s hood could be seen past the door-frame. “She is my daughter, and thanks to you I have a grand-daughter.” The robed man gave a half-hearted chuckle as he reached a skeletal hand towards Ylethus’ own and grabbed it up. “The heart wants what it wants. I know in your heart you still love her and her child. They are safe in Haaken Vaulthaen and you can visit them anytime you wish.”
“Were you able to give Eranii the gift I bought?” Papa Ylethus slowly pulled away from the robed man’s grasp and straightened his back at the table.
“Yes, I did. You know how Eranii is with tradition.” The robed man gave another chuckle, this one more warm than the last. “She gave the gift to Scythana as soon as I got it out of my pack.” He drummed his skeletal fingers on the wood of the table in a dance and lifted his index finger up sharply. “She loved it, Ylethus.”
“Good.” Ylethus lightly pounded a fist on the table and lifted himself up from the stool. “You’re right that Eranii could never really get the hang of tradition.” Papa Ylethus smiled and reached over the table to give a slap to the shoulder of the robed man.
“About tradition-” The robed man started and then paused in his words for a moment. The tip of his hood shot up to look Ylethus in the face. “You remembered her gift as well, correct?” The robed man bent his arm slightly to point at the door-frame. “She deserves just as much of your love as the child born of your blood.”
“Yes.” Ylethus gave a nervous laugh as he ran his meaty fingers through his long, brown hair. “What do you take me for?” He let his laugh continue into a roar.
“Scythana is being taken care of. Ghelta needs your full attention now.” The robed man lifted himself up and stepped out of view. “You are as much her savior as her father. Love her as you would Scythana.” The robed man made several floorboard creaks as he moved further out of view. The sound of the battered front door groaned open as the robed man said his last words. “I’m always here for you, Ylethus, as a father and as a friend. Remember that.” The door groaned and popped again as he shut it behind him.
Ghelta felt a growling in her stomach and clutched it for a moment, hoping to silence it before Papa Ylethus could hear. The richness of the tolsen weed smoke and the smells of cooking meats coming in from outside made her hungry. She knew she would have to wait until Papa Ylethus had finished the afternoon training drill before he could come home and start cooking their meal. She was too young to handle the knives and fires herself.
She looked up from her hands upon her stomach to the light filtering in from the window above Papa Ylethus’ bed. The light from the two suns climbing into the sky were given a soft orange glow as the smoke from all the houses rose up like a ceiling above the canyon city of Alsira Thaenat. Her home was upon one of the upper layers of the city, next to the Vhulkovyr barracks, the infirmary, and the quarters for visiting dignitaries. She could see streams of smoke rising up from the lower layers of the city like tendrils to the heavens above. Within each of those streams of smoke rising heavenward were the hopes, prayers, joys, and sorrows of every member of the Alsira tribe.
As she took in the sight through the small window, she could hear Papa Ylethus rummaging around in a pack he had dropped upon the dining table. She turned her head to see him lift an item wrapped in twigs and twine and set upon the table. He threw the empty pack over his shoulder and snatched up the item in one of his immense hands.
Ghelta pushed herself up further on the bed and crossed her legs in anticipation of Ylethus entering the room. She could hear his thunderous footsteps coming closer to the door. She grabbed one of her old blankets to drape over her knee and ruffled up the threadbare linens of her bed to make it seem like she had just woken up. She looked up to see one of Ylethus’ hands pressing the door a few inches further open.
“Ghelta.” His voice was soft as he entered the bedroom. He leaned in and saw her deceptively rubbing her eyes with two small fists. “Are you awake?”
Ghelta nodded and lowered her hands from her eyes, she looked up at him with a smile which melted Ylethus’ hardened heart within a moment. He stepped further into the room and crossed in front of Ghelta’s bed to sit on his own. The mass of old straw and broken wood groaned and snapped under his immense frame. He placed the bundle of twigs and twine on his lap while leaning toward Ghelta with a few more complaints from the bed.
“It’s the day of Tegall’s Rapture. Do you remember what that means?” Papa Ylethus leaned forward some more as Ghelta leaned the rest of the distance. She gave a nod and held her smile as he continued on. “You’ve survived another year and this is to be celebrated.” Papa Ylethus pulled the bundle from his lap and held it in one of his palms toward Ghelta. “You know that we don’t receive much to live off of. Most of the spoils of war go to my warriors or to the tributes we give to the Chieftain.”
Papa Ylethus swallowed hard and lowered his gaze from Ghelta’s eyes. He examined the dirty floor beneath his heavily booted feet. He looked over Ghelta’s ruined bed and saw her sitting in her favorite threadbare tunic that was far too large for her frame. He felt a twinge pulling at the edges of his eyes and quickly wiped a tear before it could be seen.
“I know most children want toys on this day or some kind of bauble to gather dust on a shelf.” Papa Ylethus gave a sniff and returned his eyes to Ghelta’s. “This gift is a commitment to you. It is a commitment to ensure your future so that you might survive many years to come.” He lifted himself up to his feet and stepped forward to place the bundle on the bed beside Ghelta. He turned and sat down on his bed. “I had it commissioned as soon as I took you in. I was just now finally able to pay it off.”
Ghelta looked at the bundle and then up to Ylethus, she held the same innocent smile on her lips as she spoke to him in a hushed tone. “You don’t need to give me gifts.” She watched him wipe another tear from the side of his dusty eye. She reached beside her and lifted the hefty bundle to her lap. “Thank you, Papa.”
She looked from the bundle back up to Ylethus to see him nod permission to open the gift. Her tiny fingers flowed over the twine and grasped the knots on either end. With a flurry of activity, she undid the knots and began unrolling the twig packaging of her item. She stood on her bed and began rolling the twigs towards her feet as she took tiny steps backward to unfurl it more.
Within a few moments, she had revealed a fine leather scabbard adorned with polished iron designs. The black leather of the scabbard and attached belt reflected the light along its edges. She ran her hands across the supple leather and the cool metal until she grasped the leather-covered hilt of a blade sheathed within.
“Thank you, Papa. My very own sword.” Ghelta looked it over once more and then raised her face up to smile again at Ylethus. She looked back down at it and reverently placed it on her straw-filled pillow. She began to roll up the twigs and retie the knots on the bundle.
“Be careful with it. Remember what I taught you about blades.” Ylethus got up to his feet and wiped some of the sand from the fur-trimmed armor covering his shoulders. “I have two more drills to do and then I’ll be home. I’ll make you some sarkrass stew for dinner and then I’ll show you how to use it.”
Ylethus reached forward, leaning with one hand on the frame of Ghelta’s bed and grabbing her head with his other. He messed up her crimson hair beneath his immense hand and then pulled back to stand up straight in the center of the room. He stepped forward and grasped the door as he walked out.
He leaned back into the room with just his head being visible. “Remember, Ghelta. You are loved and you are wanted.” He waited for her to return his gaze and nod at him. He smiled down at her and closed the door slightly.
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