154
"Amber!"
The Xinta looked up to see a flurry of color before she was wrapped in an attack-like hug. She staggered back in surprise, but after a moment she recognized the assailant and hugged Dani back. Her roommate finally released her, smiling broadly to reveal red-colored braces.
"You're back! Openheimer said you had said you were coming back…but I never know whether or not to listen to that boy."
She winked conspiratorially, though Amber wasn't really sure why.
"He was right," Amber said with a shrug. "Once my parents agreed and we got everything savvy with the whole ambassador thing…"
"That's right! Oni ambassador…that's so cool!"
"It's mainly just a title. Like, a pretty meaningless title."
"Please. There's no such thing as a meaningless title."
Dani's hair was up in a high ponytail, a polka-dotted scrunchy decorating its base. She was wearing one of her many Cray-Z tees with purple pants with black pinstripes. It was both blinding and awesome, and Amber realized suddenly how much she had missed her eccentric roommate.
"I'm so sorry that I didn't call or visit after the debate," Dani said after Amber had admitted as much. "Especially with that fire! I wanted to so bad! But after the whole protest thing, I was grounded for a solid week. It got pretty ugly; Mom and Dad almost pulled me out of school."
The though filled Amber with dread.
"They did?!"
Dani waved off her roommate's concerns.
"Don't worry…it just took lots of tears and they finally relented. My parents are great…but they've never been the greatest at sticking to their guns. Not that I usually exploit it, but I had to this time. No way was I letting them send me back to my old Academy."
She shuddered violently at the thought, and then perked up again.
"We're still roommates and everything, Amber. I specifically begged…I mean, asked Headmaster Openheimer if we could be. After all, all your stuff was still in there and I kept saying I would pack it up and take it to your grandfather's house but I just never could bring myself to do it, you know? Cuz that would mean that you weren't coming back and I really wanted you to."
Amber realized with a start that she had forgotten everything sitting in her dorm room. It was mainly just uniforms and dance shoes, but there were a handful of personal belongings she would have missed. It made her feel better knowing Dani would have gotten them to Papa Lou's house…eventually.
"So I've been following everything on the news, and can I just say that everything went from crazy to crazier! Matilda sure got what she deserved, I swear that was a record breaking loss in the primaries, and she was so confident. But then I heard all about how your brother was apparently still in the building during the fire?! They didn't even let him out…and when I realized that I decided that losing wasn't enough for that horrible woman…she deserves to be locked up!"
Amber appreciated her friend's obvious concern, but she also realized suddenly that she didn't feel like talking about all of this again. It brought back all of the feelings she had been drowning in over those horrible weeks, and she didn't have the willpower to wade through all of that again.
"Hey…Dani?"
Her friend turned quickly.
"Yeah?"
"Could we…maybe not talk about it? Not that I don't appreciate it, it's just…"
Dani studied the Xinta for a moment before smiling and nodding.
"I totally get it," she offered, brushing a scraggly bang out of her face. "I was the same way after getting the news that June was finally healthy again. Once everything is finally fine, it's hard to talk about when it wasn't. Which is…probably why I generally don't."
Amber only knew bits and pieces about Dani's sister and the disease that she had fought. She had always wanted to ask more, but seeing Dani's expression now she just smiled.
"That's ok," she replied honestly. "Some things feel better talking about…"
"…and some things are better just to let go," Dani finished with a knowing shrug.
Amber nodded gratefully. It continued to amaze her how well Dani could tell what people were feeling without actually possessing the same sixth-sense that the Oni was accustomed to. Dani turned and grabbed Amber's arm, grinning at her friend.
"Come on! We gotta meet the others; it's been too long since we had a proper jam session!"
Baffa barked happily; they must be close to home, Hershel mused. The path beneath his feet was becoming more familiar each day he ventured out with the long-furred sniffer. He no longer stumbled quite so much on this ground…though the further he traveled the less confident he felt. It would be good to be back in his own tent.
He released Baffa as his outstretched hand brushed the tent flap. He gave the sniffer a short whistle, which Baffa knew meant that he was off the hook for the time being. The happy animal butted its large head against Hershel's side one last time before Hershel could hear him running off.
He sighed softly as he entered the tent, stretching out his back.
"I didn't tell her."
He jumped, not having heard Pippa in the room until that moment. He frowned, trying to locate his niece as he started to decipher what she meant.
"What…."
"Hershel!"
He looked towards the doorway to the front room at Syn's angry tone. He had a sinking feeling, but he drew himself up.
"Syn…"
She was suddenly next to him, her hands grabbing his arms and shaking them.
"What were you thinking!?"
"About what?" he demanded tersely. Hershel could feel his sister trembling, though he wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger. He felt a dull thud at the thought; if he still had access to his powers, he would be able to tell if it was fear for sure. For the time being, he would have to just rely on tone…which would definitely point to anger.
"You can't keep doing this!"
"Syn, calm down."
"It was bad enough when you had Pippa with you. How long have you been making these trips on your own?!"
"First time," he admitted, extracting himself from her protective grip. "But it won't be the last. I have to start doing things for myself."
"And if you fall off a cliff? Get lost?! If that creature leaves you behind somewhere, how would you ever find your way home!?"
"Baffa would never do that!" Pippa tried, but then fell silent. No doubt her mother shot her a look that shut the child up.
"I've told you a million times, Hersh. If you need something, we will get it for you. You can't…."
"I can't what?" he snapped, backing towards where he knew the back door was. "Can't ever leave the tent again? How will I ever go on healing visits when it feels like I can't even go outside to get a bucket of water without you…"
"You won't."
Syn's voice was loud, but then silence fell immediately. Hershel stared into the blackness in the direction of Syn's voice, and her tone softened.
"Hersh…you can't make healing visits anymore. I'm sorry…but until your sight comes back…"
She trailed off. Hershel knew his sister was just worried about him, but his inner fury that had been boiling for weeks caused him to shake.
"I should just stay locked up here," he finished for her, his voice bitter and sarcastic.
"That's not…"
"It's all I've ever been good at, right? Doing what someone else tells me to do. Just going from one form of captivity to the next."
"Stop it!" she yelled, and he could tell that she was probably crying now. He wondered if he should be worried about Pippa; if she was still in the room, this fight was no doubt worrying her or worse. But he was too angry…with this horrible situation, with his sister, and mainly with himself. Syn had grabbed his arm again, as if by touching him she could make him understand.
"You aren't being fair," she snapped. "We are here to help you…and you can't be too proud to accept it. Maybe someday you'll be back to the way you were and can do all the things you used to do, but for now…."
"Maybe? I don't even know how to qualify for that, Syn," he pointed out acidly. "They blinded me for kissing someone; Ancient's know they aren't going to revoke it for a few months or even years of good behavior. They want me to suffer, and they don't intend to make my life any easier. This is the way I am now."
"You don't know that!"
"You don't know any different!" he yelled at her. "You can't help me Syn. No one can help me. I have to do this on my own; the sooner I get used to that…"
"You aren't on your own!" she yelled back. "Stop saying that you are! We are here to help you, but you can't keep taking risks. You'll end up hurting yourself or worse…"
"Worse?! What could possibly be worse than this?!"
He gestured to himself, his bitterness and anger coming off of him so strongly that he would have made Amber sick with it had she been there.
"STOP!"
Syn grabbed his face now, her grip surprisingly strong. They glared at each other, at least, he assumed his sister was glaring. He was panting in the sudden silence following their fight, and after a moment Syn spoke again.
"Stop, Hershel. That's enough."
He felt her forehead touch his as they both cried.
"I won't let you hurt yourself by going out there like this. But I also won't allow you to become bitter and angry and cut yourself off from everyone," she murmured, her voice thick with both grief and determination. "I can't let you end up like…."
She stopped her train of thought abruptly, but he knew what she was going to say. The internal pain twisted deeper and he pulled away from his sister. The fight left him, draining out as he walked towards the front of the tent. By the time he had made it to his chair, it felt like there was nothing left but a husk of himself, filled with the ever-present blackness.
"You're never going there again without me. That's all there is to it."
Theo shook his head as he watched Tolan sharpen his katanas.
"I don't need to bring you to Ninjago, Tol…"
"You obviously do," his bodyguard murmured. "If I had been there, they never would have laid a hand on you."
Theo allowed himself to imagine how everything would have changed had Tolan been there when Matilda tried to make the arrest. He shuddered; it wouldn't have been pretty, that's for sure. And he had no doubt that Tolan would have kept his word; no one would have come within three feet of anyone in his family.
"I already told you…" Theo tried, but Tolan's eyes flashed as he cut him off.
"How could your parents have let them keep you locked up for a week?!"
"They didn't…let them…"
"Then it was some magical, Oni-proof jail? There was nothing they could have done with their combined powers to break you out? To stop them?"
"Tolan, you don't understand."
"No. I don't understand. You and your parents were needed here. But instead, you let some brainless, yellow idiots lock you up for a week without fighting back. Ancient's, Freak…you'll never survive as the Ruler with that sort of mentality."
There was no point in trying to talk to Tolan when he got like this. Theo had long since learned that if his guard was sharpening his weapons, he was in the surliest of Tolan moods. So, the Heir didn't say anything else as he leaned back in the stadium seat he was sitting in. It seemed that Tolan wasn't quite as resigned to silence.
"You left Dandy there. Was that wise, considering that those yellow dictators who locked you up are still at large?"
"They aren't at large anymore. Besides, they wouldn't dare touch Amber," Theo murmured, and Tolan scoffed.
"But they dared to touch you. They must have known that you'd just roll over and take it, while she's never been that sort, huh?"
"That's enough, Tol."
Theo's tone took on an edge of his own, his gaze down at the fresh scars around his wrists. They weren't the kind of scars that would last forever, he figured…but they served as a reminder for the time being. They fell into silence, the only sound echoing in the empty arena was the scraping of rock on blade.
"I don't think you should hang around that Western Leader."
Theo looked up in surprise, but Tolan was still staring at his blade, his expression distant.
"Myrah?"
Tolan didn't reply, and Theo rolled his eyes.
"Honestly, Tol. I get that you don't like her much, but you're getting to be more overprotective than my Dad…"
"You don't know what she's really like, Freak."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Tolan chuckled cruelly.
"You don't see it…just like you don't see it in anybody. Must be nice in your little dreamworld, huh? Everything's just perfect all the time and everyone's above reproach. Never seeing the motives that actually drive people; the selfish, hurtful truths…."
"What the heck has gotten into you?" Theo demanded, but Tolan didn't seem to hear him as he continued.
"That must be how they got you, huh? I can picture it now; you chumming it up with the people locking you in chains and planning your execution. In fact, being the nice guy you are, you probably helped your new best friends with the planning, hmm?"
Theo pushed himself to his feet, glaring.
"I don't have to listen to this," he murmured angrily before turning to leave. He heard Tolan sheathing his katana and the teen shook his head.
"Don't bother Tol. You don't need to follow me."
"Actually…"
"Actually you don't. Take the rest of the afternoon off, why don't you? Get this mood worked out."
He wasn't sure if his bodyguard was following him or not as he left the arena. He suddenly didn't care either way.
155
"You have to eat it all. And you haven't even started."
Pippa stared expectantly at her Uncle, but he didn't reply. The loaf in question was sitting on the side table next to the chair that he had hardly moved from in days.
"Uncle Hershel!" she snapped, but he didn't respond. It scared her when he got like this; when it seemed like he couldn't even hear anybody, his eyes staring off into the distance with the same sad expression. She grabbed his arm, pouting.
"I'll tell on you…if you don't eat I'll tell," she finally threatened. "You're getting so skinny, just like in that picture. You're turning into a toothpick again."
He scoffed softly.
"Tell who, Pip?" he mumbled softly, his chin resting in one hand as he continued to stare in the direction of the fireplace. Her heart thumped at his dull tone.
"Mom…and Dad. Or Prince Theo…"
He didn't reply; obviously her threats weren't hitting home.
"I'll tell your Dad!" she blurted suddenly, desperate for a reaction. She got what she wanted when her Uncle blinked and turned towards her. Pippa took courage and continued. "I can drink the tea and I'll tell him that you aren't eating, and he'll say…"
She trailed off, not really sure what the grouchy old man she had met would say.
"Well, you know what he'll say," she finally challenged, and Hershel's brow furrowed.
"No doubt he'd have lots of things to say," he muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself than talking to her. Pippa pouted, afraid that he was about to clam up again. She tugged on his arm.
"Uncle Hershel…"
"I don't want you to come here anymore, Pip."
Her eyes widened at his stern order, and immediately her whole face scrunched in an angry expression.
"Why?!"
"You're missing out on your life. I don't want you stuck in this stuffy tent all day, alright? Get outside with Baffa…go explore and do what you want. You don't need to stay here and help me anymore."
"I like helping you!" she argued. "I like it here. Besides, remember what your Dad said? It's not forever…the bad stuff will go away…"
"I'm not going to get better, Pippa."
His tone was grim and she crossed her arms firmly as she glared at him. She hoped that he could feel her expression, even if he couldn't see it.
"You could," she argued, but the memory of her Uncle's fight with her Mom came into her mind. Hershel slowly shook his head.
"I know we held out hope for my sight to come back…but the thing is, it's not. There's no point in pretending otherwise…and I don't want you and your mom to spend the rest of your lives in this stupid tent taking care of me."
"But Uncle Hershel…"
"So go, Pip! Go take Baffa for a run, or find some more rocks for your collection. But don't just sit in here with me day after day."
"I don't have to go anywhere," she said haughtily, moving over to sit dramatically in the other wicker chair by the fireplace. "I like it here."
He scoffed, but he didn't tell her to leave again. Pippa stared at him, her determined expression fading to a sad one. In the silence the child scanned his murky eyes…the aura shackles on his wrists.
"Why did they do this to you, Uncle Hershel?"
He didn't reply, so she continued talking. Her voice was soft; she often said things without thinking, but at this moment even she knew to tread carefully.
"Dad says it's a punishment…that you did something. But no one will tell me what. Mom told me not to ask, but…"
"Pippa…"
"Was it something really bad? Is that why you don't think they'll ever give you your sight back, and your powers?"
The Master Healer's sigh was heavy.
"I did something I shouldn't have," he finally murmured softly.
"What?"
His brow furrowed, like he was trying to decide whether he was going to tell her. Pip leaned forward expectantly.
"What did you do? Please tell me, Uncle Hershel. Why did they do this to you?"
"I fell in love, Pip. And I wasn't supposed to."
Silence fell at that, with the young girl staring at her Uncle as he rubbed his face with one hand.
"With…Myrah?"
He didn't answer, but his sad expression twisted further and it broke her little six-year-old heart.
"Mom said it was her fault that the mean Healers did this to you. That she told on you."
Hershel sighed heavily, and she bit her lip when she saw how upset he was.
"Why did she tell on you?"
"I don't know."
His voice was hoarse, and he was suddenly gripping the arms of his chair tightly as he stared downward. Pippa thought about the woman who she had only seen a few times. The first time she had shown up and made Uncle Hershel go with her to help Heavy Metal. The second time she had acted so mean after Pippa had told her that…
A sudden realization ripped through the small child, and her eyes filled with tears as she gasped. Hershel glanced up at the sound.
"It's my fault!"
Her uncle merely frowned in confusion, but sudden horror and guilt made the six-year-old tremble with shame.
"Uncle Hershel…it's all my fault. She came one time, when you weren't here…and I told her that you loved her. And then she went and told the mean Healers! I didn't know it was a secret! I'm the reason that she could tell on you…that's why they came and hurt you…"
She immediately began to cry, and for the first time in a day or two, Hershel pushed himself up from his seat.
"Oh…Pip. It's not your fault."
"She wouldn't have known! She only knew cuz I told her…" she argued. He took a few halting steps, reaching out until he found her. His hand came to rest on her fluffy head.
"No. She came to me after that, Pippa. We…I…"
He trailed off, clearing his throat.
"The reason I was punished is because of what I did, Pip. Not what you did."
"Why did she tell?"
Pip's mood shifted from shame and guilt to burning anger as she crossed her arms angrily.
"Why'd she do that?"
"I don't know, Pip. People do things sometimes that we don't understand."
His voice sounded distant, but Pippa just scowled.
"I hate her. I hate her!" she said emphatically with childish fury. "Mom hates her too…and Dad hates her a lot."
"Pippa…"
"Don't you hate her too, Uncle Hershel?"
She looked up at him, waiting for him to say that he did. She was expecting him to agree with her Mom and Dad…or at least look angry. But he looked so sad instead.
"Don't you?" she prompted again, but this time quieter. Hershel pressed a hand to his face, sighing again as he stood next to her chair. It looked like he was thinking hard about something, and she felt a lurch when she realized that his eyes were filling with tears. It didn't seem like a Hateful reaction, and Pippa shook her head as she remembered something that she had heard her parents talk about once.
"Why don't you hate people, Uncle Hershel? Mom says that even the worst people you don't hate….and Dad says that's the only reason you could get along with your Dad so good. Why don't you hate Myrah?"
He let out a shaky exhale.
"It's complicated, Pip," he finally murmured, and she realized with a start that he was retreating back to his chair. She stood, grabbing his hand so that he couldn't just sink back into the shell he had seemed to be hiding in lately.
"You don't still love her, right?!" she demanded. He pulled away, and his expression was distant and slack once more. It made the child more confused than ever. How could her Uncle not hate Myrah? She had snitched on him…and she didn't love him. Wrath filled the young child once again.
"She doesn't deserve it! We should go and…and…."
Pippa thought of the worst thing she could possibly imagine.
"Burn her house down!" she decided. "And steal all her animals…and…put itching powder in her clothes…"
"Pippa."
Hershel's tone was suddenly severe, and she looked up to see that he was staring at her sternly. For the first time in weeks, it actually looked like his eyes were meeting hers. She shrank a little under the intense gaze.
"I can't teach you much, the way I am now," he said softly. "But if I teach you nothing else…you need to know that cruelty does not solve cruelty. Doing harm to those who do harm accomplishes nothing."
Pippa stared at her Uncle, but he wasn't looking away. It finally occurred to the child that Hershel was waiting for a response.
"Ok Uncle Hershel," she finally murmured. Some emotion glimmered across his expression and he finally glanced away. Pippa left her chair, padding over to his to pick up the cold loaf and put it into his hand.
"You need to eat this," she said. "If you eat it…then I won't put itching powder in Myrah's clothes."
He actually smiled at that…just a small smile. But she felt a flush of victory just the same.
"It's about time."
Bula was eyeing her across the table with a stern expression, her mouth set in her usual unimpressed line. Myrah met her gaze evenly. During their last few talks, she had gotten so emotional…so defensive. But for some reason she felt a sense of peace and calm going into this conversation. It was strange, especially since she knew full well how it was going to go.
"Avoiding me for weeks…it's unbecoming to hold grudges, Myrah. I thought you would know better than that."
"You broke my trust, Bula. It's been hard for me to want to seek you out."
Her advisor reddened at that.
"I did what was best for you! For the realm!"
"You do not get to decide what is best for me. I alone am able to make that decision…and after all this time trying to figure it out I think I finally have."
The shorter woman's eyes narrowed.
"You've come to the same decision we already decided on long ago," the Advisor argued. "I heard all about your plans with the Heir. A smart move, I must admit; having him work with you now to build a foundation for him to realize how much better you make him…how helpless he is to bring about his own goals without you there to help him."
"You've completely misunderstood the situation."
Bula scoffed, but Myrah's own expression remained calm and even regal as she maintained eye contact.
"I am not helping Theodynn to achieve his goals for the realm. Rather, he has been willing to help me to achieve my goals for this province."
"Oh, however you word it, the meaning is the same. Someday, when you propose the binding…"
"I will not be proposing a binding with Theodynn."
Bula just stared. Myrah waited patiently; she hadn't been able to decide whether her advisor would fly off the handle, laugh, or threaten her. But the longer the silence dragged on, it seemed that her advisor wasn't going to do anything. Instead, Bula just scanned her protégé's face as if trying to decide if Myrah was serious.
"He's still young now, you mean," Bula finally said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement—in essence, she was letting Myrah know that even if she didn't propose now, she would be proposing. Myrah's calm expression broke a little at the patronizing tone; she was tired of being told what she was going to do. Especially when she was in the middle of explaining the actual plans she had decided on for her life.
"I will not be getting bound to the Heir," Myrah corrected. "Ever."
"That's preposterous!"
Anger was the advisor's go to after all. Bula pushed herself to her feet as she glared at Myrah.
"You must be bound to the Oni Heir. Without him, you can never be Ruler…without you, he will lead this realm into ruin. It's…"
"So says you," Myrah cut in, her tone suddenly icy. "But Theodynn will be a fine Ruler, whether or not I am involved. As for me…"
She trailed off, trying to decide how best to describe her decision. To explain that yes, it did hurt to give up on such a long-held goal, but how freeing it was as well. Because it was an impossible goal, and there's nothing harder than striving to complete an impossible goal.
"Do you remember when Heavy Metal first arrived at the Western Fortress?" she finally asked, and her advisor glared at her.
"Of course I do…and we realized that finally, there was someone here who deserved to lead. Someone worth emulating. But now you've given all of that up; you're failing his memory, Myrah!"
"No."
Myrah shook her head.
"I remember thinking he was a strong leader, one of the best. But he was a leader, Bula...not the Ruler. Don't you remember how we spent all that time wondering why he would have ever left the fate of the realm in the hands of a slave? We puzzled for months why he would have ever handed the realm over when he would have made such a great Ruler…"
"And that's your reasoning for turning your back on the realm? Heavy Metal was a far greater leader than most, but that was his main flaw. And now you've decided to follow that ambitionless path?!"
"I don't believe that was a mistake," Myrah corrected coolly. "I don't think he lacked ambition; he was plenty ambitious when it came to restructuring this province in the aftermath of Warrack's execution."
"Then what would have possessed him to turn down the Rulership? To give it to such a crass, tradition-wrecking child…"
"He didn't turn down the Rulership because he was foolish. Nor, was it because he was afraid. I think at the end of the day, Heavy Metal knew what his strengths were, and they weren't in making changes. I think he understood that his strength lies in supporting someone who would be able to make the changes that were needed."
"Changes? What exactly are you trying to say?" Bula asked, obviously getting more anxious as Myrah spoke. The current Western Leader pushed herself to her feet, fixing her Senior Advisor with a determined look.
"Theodynn will make a great Ruler, but he's never going to get bound to me. His heart is set on love and I have no right to try to change that. To change him."
Bula laughed bitterly as she sneered.
"You're going to throw everything away because some child has fancies for love? Or is this because you still have hopes for love?"
"I'm not throwing anything away. I will still be the Western Leader. I'm still going to remain in charge of this province and make it better than I found it. But I'm not going to spend any more time trying to become Ruler. It's a fruitless and unnecessary endeavor; my dream is to make a difference, and I've finally realized that I am able to do that here in this province better than I could even do it as Ruler. Through my support here, Theodynn will have the help he needs without being forced into something he will never want."
Bula didn't say anything for a few minutes, and Myrah allowed her to process their conversation. She wasn't sure if she would accept Myrah's decision or not, but whether she liked it or not, the advisor was going to have to get over it. It had been a rough couple of months and now that she was finally at peace with her future plans, Myrah wasn't going to allow herself to be cowed by a woman who dreamed of higher ambitions.
"So that's it."
Bula sank back into her chair, suddenly looking every bit as old as she was. Myrah was expecting more of a fight from the short woman, but Bula seemed suddenly exhausted…exhausted and defeated.
"After everything I've done to try to protect you, to guide you…you're still choosing the wrong path."
"It's not the wrong path, it's my path. And it's completely and totally my decision to make, Bula, no matter which direction you think I should go in."
Bula just shook her head, looking crushed and angry and tired all at the same time.
"It's that Healer. Until he was involved, you were on track to become Ruler. He's changed you. This is why I warned you and warned you, Myrah! Falling in love is so dangerous…so futile…"
"This is not Hershel's fault," Myrah countered angrily. "I was unsure of my plans from the moment I met Theodynn. It felt wrong…and the more I got to know him, the more I realized that it was my own plans that were futile. Hershel had nothing to do with this decision."
Bula scoffed.
"Like I'll believe that," she growled as she leaned forward. "I don't know why you won't admit that you messed up Myrah. You fell in love…you allowed some Healer to change you and your policies."
Myrah merely narrowed her eyes, and Bula shook her head sadly in return.
"He deserved more than blinding after everything he's cost you."
"He didn't deserve anything to happen to him!" Myrah cut in, her voice rising.
"You're still holding out hope! It's obvious that's where all of this is stemming from!" Bula argued back. "But this decision of yours accomplishes nothing. It doesn't matter if you aren't the Ruler…a leader still cannot be with a Healer. Are you willing to give up everything to be with that cripple? Even if you were, he would be at fault for convincing you to give up your leadership role completely. I wonder what the Healers would do to him for having that kind of influence on politics? Not that it matters; he would never take you back. In his mind you betrayed him…hate him. This sacrifice of yours will mean nothing in the end."
"I've already told you, this has nothing to do with Hershel!" Myrah cut in angrily. She had so wanted to keep her cool with Bula…but every time the advisor attacked the Master Healer, it made Myrah see red. "I'm going to be the Western Leader. This is what Heavy Metal entrusted me with and I need to take it seriously. It's not just a stepping stone to some greater position…it's the role I'm meant to have permanently. Loving Hershel…"
She trailed off, catching herself as she finally broke eye contact.
"Whether I love Hershel or not has nothing to do with it. And I'm well aware that any relationship is impossible now…and was most likely impossible to begin with."
Bula was still fixing her with a disapproving look and Myrah finally straightened.
"I wanted to let you know," she explained coolly. "This is my decision…my path…from here on out. You can either get on board with it and support me as you are hired to do, or you can leave."
Bula gave a start at that.
"Leave? Leave where, you ungrateful girl!?"
"You don't have to if you are going to stay and continue to be my advisor, but I expect you to be able to keep your goals separate from mine. Now that you know what my plans are, you can help me achieve what it is that I have decided to achieve."
Bula pushed herself to her feet angrily. Perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, but Myrah could have sworn there was a glint of tears in her Senior Advisor's eyes.
"Heavy Metal would be so disappointed in you," Bula finally spat before storming from the room. Myrah watched her go, finally feeling the first pang of regret. Not at her decision itself, but that she had never thought to talk more with Heavy Metal in life. She was pretty sure he knew about her intentions with Theodynn, but he had never said anything. Perhaps he knew that it would be an impossible thing to accomplish and trusted that she would realize that in time.
Myrah's eyes wandered over to the swords hanging on the wall of the library. The candlelight reflected off of them and looked so similar to a weapon half-buried in a ceremonial mound outside in the fortress grounds. The Western Leader bit her lip as she stared at the dancing light in the rusty metal…she had finally made her decision and had made it known. Perhaps now she would be strong enough to follow through with what she had needed to do for weeks. It wasn't the wisest choice, perhaps, but by this point she was thoroughly convinced it was the only way that she would get peace. That either of them would.
156
Hershel woke to the sounds of barking and growling. He came to groggily, not sure of the time.
"Baffa?"
The sniffer replied with a threatening growl deep in his throat; it was perhaps the most threatening Hershel had ever heard the fluffy beast get. The Healer sat up as he realized what it meant.
"Who's there?"
He heard Baffa snap again, and a light gasp from the intruder. He started to lift his hand to light it with aura only to remember that he wasn't able to do so. So instead, Hershel pushed himself to his feet so that he would at least be in a better defensive stance as he glared in the direction of the gasp.
"Who is it?" he demanded again.
"Me…it's me."
Goosebumps ran up his spine as he recognized the voice. He stood a moment in silence, caught off guard.
"Myrah?"
"Yes…get back!"
The second comment was no doubt meant for Baffa, who snarled and hissed in reply. Hershel was surprised at the hostility in the normally lazy and docile animal. Perhaps Pippa had managed to instill her own bitter feelings towards the Western Leader into her pet, he mused wryly. For a moment Hershel was tempted to see how far the sniffer would go, but he could hear Myrah's fearful breathing and finally sighed. He gave a single piercing whistle and then pointed down.
"Baffa."
The sniffer whined and Hershel sighed and repeated the gesture firmly.
"Baffa sit."
He heard a rustling noise and took it to mean that the large beast had finally obeyed. Hershel looked at where he hoped that Myrah was still standing. He didn't call the sniffer off completely, and he could hear Baffa still growling softly. He was still wary of the Western Leader and her motives. It didn't make sense that she would show up again, after so many weeks. What did she want?
"Is there a reason you were sneaking into my tent in the middle of the night?" he finally asked dryly, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He heard Myrah sigh.
"Hershel…Master Hershel…"
He wasn't sure how he felt about her correction, though it was one he had insisted on the last time they had spoken. She continued, her voice soft and sure.
"I know I'm the last person you would want to see right now…" she murmured, and he scoffed at the understatement.
"Don't worry…I can't see you at any rate," he pointed out scornfully, and he could picture her expression as she spoke again.
"This is the last time I'll come. I swear."
He frowned, waiting for her to explain herself. He could hear her coming now, footsteps on the packed dirt. He backed up instinctively, and she spoke again as if to calm him.
"You don't have to worry; I'm not going to do anything…I won't touch you. I just…I had to tell you."
"Tell me what?" he asked quietly. He wanted so badly to be angry…to hate her. And part of him still was angry. But he felt betrayed by a larger part of himself—a part that made him feel jittery inside because she had come to see him, and an unneeded stirring of hope. He grimaced as he took another step back just to be safe. He had thought that if he had just stopped thinking about her then such feelings would fade away and never be a problem again.
Apparently, he was wrong.
"I did not turn you in."
Her voice was firm. He froze at the confession, and Myrah rushed to explain.
"I tried to stay away…to let you heal. To let it go. But…it haunts me, Hershel. I know that you think I turned you in to the Healers and that's why they did this to you. But even though we can't be together, I had to tell you that I didn't. Because the thought of you thinking that I would do this to you…that I wanted this to happen…"
He was surprised to hear that her voice was catching with emotion. His own feelings felt like they were spinning all over again. Over the past few months his emotions had all settled like mud in a dirty pond…heavy and cold and low. But her coming here, saying these things…it was like the pond was once again being stirred until it was a frenzy of churning brown water and he struggled to know what to believe. Why would she come to tell him this now? If her words were the truth-and he hated how much he hoped that they were-then why wait until now to correct him?
"Imgloss told me it was you who turned me in," he finally managed hoarsely. "He had the scroll to prove it…the one I gave you…"
"The scroll?"
Myrah sounded confused for a moment, but then he heard her curse out loud.
"She took the scroll…that's why it was missing. She lied to my face."
She seemed to be talking to herself, and Hershel's hands felt clammy in the cold night air.
"Who?" he demanded.
"Bula. My advisor. I swear, I didn't turn you in…but I…"
She cleared her throat, her voice becoming softer.
"I should have been more careful. She figured it out, figured us out. But even once she knew, I never would have thought in a million years she would do what she did. I honestly didn't even know what had happened to you until I visited you that day, when…"
She trailed off, once again sounding like her throat was constricting. Hershel exhaled slowly. He knew which day she was talking about, of course. He thought about the night that had followed that discussion…a night where he had slept restlessly, waiting for the Healers to come kill him or drag him away. But the never had, because she hadn't turned him in then.
"I know you probably don't believe me," she continued, no doubt unnerved by his lack of reply. "And I don't blame you for being angry. It…was my fault, even if I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I wasn't careful enough, and you paid the price."
Baffa whined again, this time sounding more concerned that angry. Hershel wondered suddenly if Myrah was crying; Baffa hated it when people cried.
"Why now?" the Healer finally managed, his tone still guarded.
"I would have come sooner. But I wasn't…I wasn't strong enough."
He scoffed.
"Strong enough? What does that mean?"
Footsteps again, and Hershel resisted the urge to back up again. His heart was pounding, and part of his mind yelled at him to get away. He shouldn't be talking with her; one wrong move and she would have all the evidence she needed to get rid of him completely. He should be sic'ing Baffa on her…yelling at her…getting her out of his tent. But instead he just stared sightlessly in front of him, his feelings refusing to match the logic of his mind.
"Hershel…"
She was close now. He swallowed, but she kept her promise and didn't touch him. Hershel's blank expression didn't change as he stared forward. He hoped with a pang of humiliation that she was actually in front of him…that he wasn't stupidly staring off to the side or her, or in the completely wrong direction altogether…
"I think I love you."
Hershel's breath caught immediately at Myrah's words, and then everything went cold. There was a small sound and he realized that she really was crying.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "But I had to finally say it. I had to finally be honest with myself."
"Myrah…"
He was shaking his head, backing away. This couldn't happen…didn't she realize? Everything he had already lost? There wasn't much else now that he could lose.
"I'm sorry, I'm really, truly sorry," she said, and he could tell she meant it. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt, I swear. I thought I could have everything, make it all work. I lied to myself for these last weeks, telling myself it wasn't my fault, telling myself it wasn't love. But I was wrong, and it's been eating at me every day and haunting me every night."
He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out; he had no idea what to say. He was dizzy and hopeful and hopeless all at once.
"It's my fault you're this way now," she murmured, and he heard her voice crack at the confession. "And I won't risk your safety again. I know that we cannot be together. But if we're never going to see each other again, then you had to know the truth. I did not turn you in…I would never have done this to you willingly. And…and I love you. It's inspired me to find my path…to be a better leader. I called you a coward once, saying that you didn't choose your own path and that you only did what others told you to do. It was unfair…especially when I was finally forced to realize that I was the one letting others decide my goals. You helped me see that, or…I suppose remembering our time together helped me see that."
Hershel was trembling now. He wondered how dark it was in his tent and whether she could see him shaking. Baffa was whining again as she continued.
"I know this all could just sound like empty words to you. You don't even have to believe me; I probably wouldn't if I were in your place. But I couldn't let that last day when we spoke…I couldn't let that be our last interaction. I wouldn't blame you if you spent the rest of your life hating me, but I had to at least tell you the truth because you deserve that much. I didn't want you wondering why or how I could have done this to you, because in reality I couldn't have done it to you. And I didn't want to go the rest of my life knowing you believed I betrayed you."
Myrah took a shaky breath.
"Hershel…say something at least. Do you hate me?"
He wished desperately that he could see her. He wanted so badly to look her in the eye, or to sense her emotions to know if she was serious. If she truly hadn't been the one to turn him in…if she really did love him.
It doesn't matter!
A voice cut into his thoughts, one that sounded remarkably like Phos.
Whether or not she actually loves you changes nothing of the hopelessness of your circumstance. You know how you must behave…what you must force yourself to feel.
And yet…
Hershel reached out a hand carefully, his heart pounding. He was almost expecting to find nothing but the empty night air; to discover that his mind was playing tricks on him and he'd imagined the whole conversation. But then his hand brushed something warm; her cheek, he realized. He ran his fingers along the side of her face, forcing his touch to fill in for his vision. He paused as he felt the wet tear tracks on her cheeks and then he felt her hand reach up to take his.
"Hershel…" she murmured again, and he sighed heavily.
"I don't hate you."
He felt her sag in relief at his own quiet words. But it was true; he had spent the weeks torn and hurt and found himself sinking into an ever-darkening pit of bleakness. But even in that state, he hadn't ever hated her. He wasn't sure he even could.
Myrah was shaking a little as she held his hand on her face, and then she was moving closer. His breath caught again as he realized she was going to kiss him. His mind screamed a moment about consequences but then fell silent. Even Baffa's panting in the room seemed to disappear as he stood in the soundless blackness and waited.
It never came. As fast as she had moved in closer—he had felt her touch his hair for a moment—she was moving away. He could hear her crying once again.
"I can't," she cried, and he let out his breath as he tried to grasp what she meant. She continued miserably. "I can't do this…I can't put you at risk again. It was my fault…and it would be my fault if they had any more reason to hurt you."
"Myrah…"
"I knew this would happen," she admitted through her tears. "I knew that if I could explain it all and get you to understand then I would want to go back to what we were. I knew I would want so badly to throw caution to the wind and put you in harm's way to get what I wanted once again. That's why it took me so long to come…I had to be strong enough."
"Strong enough for what?"
He wasn't releasing her hand, but even she seemed to be struggling to convince herself to pull away completely.
"I have to say goodbye, Hershel. I have to be strong enough to say goodbye and mean it. Bula turned you in once already, and she'll be looking for a way to get back at me now. Those Healers will be watching as well; if they were cruel enough to do all of this to you for a kiss, I shudder to think how far they would be willing to go. I knew that if I came here again, it would have to be the last time. It would have to be goodbye…"
Everything in him was churning; it was the first time in weeks that his overall feeling wasn't drenched in melancholy and depression. But the turmoil inside could hardly be considered any better.
"Don't say goodbye."
It was the only thing he could think of to say. Because even though it didn't make sense, even though he should be wary of her…he didn't want her to leave. The thought of being alone in the darkness again suddenly filled him with terror and he tightened his grip on her hand.
"Myrah, please…"
"I'm sorry."
Her hand was on his face now, and he wondered how she could be so warm on such a cold night.
"I just wanted to give us some closure…give us a better memory to look back on before parting ways. To put us in a position to finally find some peace…"
"But Myrah…"
"This is love…isn't it?" she asked with miserable realization. "That feeling that no one seems to know how to explain. The paradox of being willing to do anything to be with someone unless being together is what would put them in danger. When giving up on getting what I want is feasible if it means that you'll be safe."
Hershel moved closer, wishing desperately that he could see her. She whispered one last despondent request.
"Please know that this conversation was real…I…I don't want you to think that this was all a dream."
"I know it's not a dream," he countered, trying to keep her close as his voice broke. "If it were a dream…I'd be able to see you."
Myrah didn't respond to that, and he felt her hand move from its spot on his face to brush hair out of his eyes. He realized distantly that he had allowed his hair to get so long due to the fact that he couldn't see anyways. He must look like such a mess…
"Goodbye, Hershel."
It was her determined voice…one he had come to recognize. It meant that she wasn't going to change her mind. And suddenly she was gone…her hand gone from his hand, the lingering warmth on his face quickly fading in the chilled night air. He stood frozen for too many seconds, and when he finally found his voice it was too late.
"Myrah?"
There was no reply from the darkness around him, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. He immediately moved to the exit that she had no doubt left through.
"Myrah!"
His call was marred as his legs ran into a warm, furry body. The Master Healer gasped as he went careening into the dirt, with Baffa whimpering and moving out of the way as he fell. The impact left him breathless, and in that moment, he knew that she was gone. That that really was goodbye.
Now you can be at peace, the Phos-voice tried to argue. You know she loved you…you don't have to feel so betrayed. You can move on, do as your told, and get your sight back…
Hershel grit his teeth, one fist slamming into the hard-packed earth. He was tired of being told what to do…tired of other people determining what he could and couldn't be. What he could and couldn't have. The loneliness and bitterness of the past weeks filled him and blistered into a rage that left him shaking.
In all his life, there was only one thing he had truly yearned to have for himself. In everything he had been through, in everything he had obediently done, he had only ever wanted one thing. And suddenly he wasn't satisfied with sulking in a chair, or biding his time. And he certainly wasn't satisfied in merely doing what he was told.
It would be nice to see you doing something for yourself, for once in your life!
He made it to his feet and panted a little, dusting himself off as he glared in the direction of where he knew the exit would be.
"Baffa…come."
The sniffer whined as he padded over to stand next to Hershel. No doubt it was still dark outside, but Hershel grabbed the scruff of the sniffer's neck regardless as he pushed through the door. Might as well start now; it was a long journey ahead of them…and he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night anyway.
23
