Chapter 25. Child of Lyssa

abane ran ahead with a gleeful laugh, almost hiccoughing in delight as Morisedd chased him down and grabbed the boy around his waist, slinging him lightly over his shoulder. 

“No sign of any game, but I’ve bagged a young fire imp,” Morisedd taunted as his nephew struggled giggling out of his arms and landed gracefully beside him.  Morisedd watched as the boy leaped over a narrow brook, then paused to look at the water, his toe stirring it where it was calmest.  At only ten summers old, Mabane was so much like his late father it was uncanny.  Morisedd grinned to himself.  Rhys had always been mischievous and ready to stir things up.  

He hoped the boy would at least inherit Rhys Tegerin’s amazing singing voice and musical talents.  He was not so keen on his nephew becoming a mesmer, however.  On the whole, Morisedd found them proud and arrogant to a fault.  He did not know what it took to master the mind and the forces of chaos and he preferred to stay ignorant in that regard.

Their patrol was finished for the morning and the thin tendrils of smoke that announced the proximity of their home sent Mabane dashing down the duff strewn slope toward the circle of humble huts.  Since Morisedd had taken up the mantle of a ranger, he had seldom stayed in one place for more than a month.  It did not help matters that he was forever chasing Uriel around on her various quests and missions.  Now that she was no longer indebted to the Temple of Orr, they could have settled and had children of their own.  He felt a pang of grief at this thought.  So many years had been wasted.

He entered the camp to the greetings of his new guild mates and received an embrace from Teleri as he neared the hut he shared with her now.  Armagil and Brioc, brothers who had grown up with the clan, nodded at him respectfully, glancing up from their places beside the fire as they honed their hunting knives.  He returned the greeting wordlessly.  For some reason Morisedd was treated with the utmost deference and he smiled crookedly at this thought.  Only Sywno was regarded with more respect and the elder ranger was currently surrounded with a handful of the tribe beside the fire, holding court.  His silvery mane gleamed in the early morning sunlight as he talked softly.

“Hello there,” came Brigit’s voice, cutting through his distracted musings.  He stopped short of the hut’s low blanket-draped door to meet the young warrior’s misty blue eyes.  Teleri had made a point of introducing them and Morisedd grinned to himself at his sister’s meddling.  Brigit Gaenor was graced with long red hair that sometimes flicked like flames under her helmet in combat.  She fought well and with a certain reckless grace that was at once humorous and admirable.  Her freckled skin was the color of cream and rose petals beneath her polished chainmail armor.

“Greetings, Brigit,” he replied, nodding politely to her.  She was pretty and feisty, two things in her favor.  And yet he was not attracted to her, not in the mad, hopeless way he had loved Uriel.  He had known the moment he had laid eyes upon Uriel that he wanted her.  No one else had struck him that way before or since.

“Would you like to go avacara hunting with me?” Brigit asked, “After breaking fast, of course.  Sywno wants the nasty birds cleared away.”

“Of course Murdi does,” Teleri grinned, winking conspiratorially at Morisedd, “I’ll pack up something to eat for the trail and look for you in the evening.”

He felt strangely infuriated by Teleri’s transparent attempts at matchmaking.  He left Brigit grinning outside while he entered the dimness of their little hut.  Mabane was sitting on the bearskin rug amid a circle of creatures that Morisedd had carved for him.  Geetha leaned against the boy, purring in satisfaction, her green eyes hooded as she gazed up at Morisedd.

“Eat, brother, you’re much too thin,” Teleri said, pushing a bowl of mealy porridge into his hands before she dropped down beside her son.  He set aside his bow and quiver before joining her on the floor.

“Would you mind not trying to palm me off on every available woman in the area?” he said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.  Teleri glared at him.

“I thought you were done with Uriel.  Even when she isn’t here she messes with your mind.”

“I loved her, Teleri, for a very long time.”

“Too long, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Teleri shot him a withering look, one that he remembered from childhood.  He chuckled at her and tipped the bowl back to eat his bland meal.

“Honestly, brother, you need to let go of her.  I never understood what you saw in her to begin with, but now that she’s played you for a fool, can’t you at least try to move on?”

He felt Mabane’s expectant gaze upon him.  The boy had all but pleaded for his uncle to stay with the clan.  How could they understand when even he himself could not?  Even though the love between he and Uriel was cold, he would always remember their first meeting with fondness, the two of them brought together by their masters, happenstance, and the first blush of adolescence.   How sweet they were in their innocence hiding in Nolani’s vast complex to steal kisses behind the backs of their teachers.  If only he could have gone to Orr with her.

“You’re thinking about her,” Teleri grumbled, “and you haven’t heard a thing I’ve said.”

“I’ll try,” he said, making his usual reply, “I’ll go help Brigit clear the avacara away from the camp.  We might end up at Ascalon Settlement.”

“If you do, give Captain Greywind my regards.”

“Can I come, Murdi?” Mabane pleaded, “I can scare them away.”

Teleri and Morisedd both stared at the boy in shock.

“Can you? How do you do that?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

Sensing something was wrong, Mabane grew quiet and poked at his carved toys distractedly.

“Show me?” Morisedd suggested.  Teleri gasped and shook her head.

“You’re not taking my son…”

“Honestly, Teleri, of course not,” he replied, cutting her off, “We’ll find an animal and he can show me that way.  Come, Mabane, let’s see you scare something.”

“I don’t want to,” he murmured, “You’re afraid.”

Morisedd frowned.  How did the boy detect that?  He strode toward the doorway and held out his hand for the boy to grasp nervously.  Teleri trailed them, pale and angry.  They did not have to go far.  Morisedd’s sharp senses discovered a young wild boar rooting in the undergrowth once they were outside the camp.  Twenty paces off, the creature continued about its business, upwind and unaware.

“Can you frighten that sow without moving from here?” he whispered and Mabane nodded grimly.  Without further prompting, the boy focused his pale eyes upon the creature and raised his hand gracefully, directing his energies, focusing as a faint aura of magenta wrapped around his small form.  The pig squealed in terror, staggering off into the deep brush.

“Am I bad?” Mabane asked on the verge of tears as he felt the stares of Morisedd and his mother upon him.

“Of course not,” Teleri replied immediately, going to her son and wrapping her arms around him.

“Have you ever done that to one of your friends?” Morisedd asked calmly.

“No,” the boy replied without guile.

“He’s ten years old.  Couldn’t you wait three more years?” he silently grumbled at the goddess Lyssa.  To be so talented at such a young age was a recipe for disaster.  The boy was too young to be sent away to study with a master, but he needed someone to gently impose discipline and guidance until he could begin studying.  It was too easy for a mesmer to turn bad.  He needed his father.

“That was very interesting, Mabane,” Morisedd said, trying to soothe the boy for it was clear he was very much aware of the alarm his actions had caused, “but promise me you will never do that to a person.”

“I promise, Murdi.”

He stroked the boy’s raven hair affectionately.

“Your father would be very proud,” he said as Mabane clung to Teleri, his tears darkening her leathers, “Tonight we’ll talk to Sywno about finding a teacher for you.  Let’s go back home now.”

They walked in silence during the short journey.  How would they encourage a mesmer to stay with them and teach the boy?  It seemed an impossible proposition.  Certainly Rhys would never have dwelt in a sod hut; his tastes required a more refined setting.  Yet they were obligated to find guidance for the boy.  Talent like that would not long remain restrained, regardless of how good and noble Mabane was at heart.

Teleri flashed a tense smile at Morisedd, annoyed her delusions had been shattered by her brother.  Her son was growing up faster than she would have liked in an environment entirely unsuited to his nature.  Yet she guided Mabane back into the hut and stuffed a satchel with meat, bread and a flask of mead for Morisedd’s journey, attempting to impose routine and order upon a day that had started ominously for her.  The strain of Rhys’ death caused her to look gaunt and lost.  Morisedd received her offering, placing the bag over his shoulder before taking her into his arms as she lost what little remained of her composure and wept miserably into his chest.