For Love of Light and Shadow Part II

Ê

Quatre looked up from his work to the sky, wiping the sweat from his brow. The day was clear and the sun shown warmly on the small steading hidden within the hills. The fields were wide and green; rain never missed them, and the sun never brought drought upon the farm. The crops always grew straight and free of blemish. Field hands walked the rows, hoeing and weeding, each man, woman, and child an inhabitant of the steading. All of them, excepting Howard and Sally, were wanderers, lostlings who came upon the steading by chance, or luck, crossing the hills and following the small river to refuge.

It was thus that Quatre came upon the farm house, running through the hills as if Death's own hunting hounds were harrying him. He was following the Sidhe's path, and by that path found safety. He was taken into the house and welcomed and cared for like all the others had been, given food and shelter. In exchange for this, he became part of the household, working to harvest the crops, plant them, care for the animals, also lostlings. The golden boy quickly gained many friends among those at the steading. There was the fair-haired Dorothy, who's sharp wit and nimble fingers gave her the jobs of keeping the house records and weaving. She could create beautiful tapestries when she had mind to, and many times had a group of children sitting around her loom watching her work with awed eyes. She also had a highly competitive nature, and often vied with Quatre during their harping at nights. The oft-smiling Catherine became a fast friend, with her joyful conversation and endearing skills with the children. She could always find a way to keep them out of trouble around the house and barn.

Howard was the undisputed lord of the household, although no one could conceive of calling him "lord". He was like a gust of wind with his wild shock of hair and humorous eyes, quick to laugh and joke. Sally was his daughter, and the stone that kept him in his place with her solid common sense and determination. It was she who organized the house meals and kept all from chaos. Quatre loved them all deeply, and was happy and content at the house.

From time to time, however, darkness touched him and he remembered his family and his responsibility to them. As he lay in the warm hay in the barn, he thought and knew that he ought to leave the soft drowse of the steading... There had been a great war several years before Quatre had been born, between the king and his lesser lords. Quatre's father had been close to the king, but the man was soon thrown out of favor by the people and the evil lords ruled the land. The king was killed and Quatre's family fled their valley hold in the night, fearing destruction for their association with the dead man. Their hold, Caer Elfoar, was taken over by one of them, the Lord Durmail and his army.Ê

Years passed, and Quatre was born in a small hold in the mountains. He was told how the family had been exiled to escape massacre, forced to leave behind countless loved belongings in Caer Elfoar. His earliest memories were of being regaled with stories of family heirlooms, and when he was of age he vowed to retrieve the one thing his weak mother missed the most: the harp, that had been with the family for years immemorial. Quatre was determined to do so, and left the small hold in the dead of the night to avoid his family's protest.

The boy sighed and returned to his work mending the grain bin next to the barn. If he never was able to return to his father, mother and sisters, he would forever regret leaving them in the first place, even if he had been successful in getting the harp. He would regret... Quatre closed his eyes, keeping a tenuous hold on the vision that flashed in his mind's eye. A grove of silver branches, jeweled leaves. A timeless voice and half-remembered conversation. "You said you would lead me to safety." "That I have." A cloak woven of shadow and spider's web surrounding him. Then it was gone. In a second he despaired, casting about for more. His memories of the trek through Eald were few and inconstant at best. No, he would not regret that meeting...

"It is better to act than regret," said a soft voice next to him. Startled out of his thoughts, Quatre cast an annoyed glance at the newcomer but soon repented for this as well, seeing who it was who disturbed him. The dark young boy standing beside him was called strange by half of the steading and Sidhe by the other. He was rarely seen at mealtimes; no one knew where he slept or what he did. They did know, however, that every morning of harvest the sickles and scythes were always sharpened, and the fields were found with torn weeds in piles by the rows.Ê

"You are Wufei," said Quatre, softly. The boy nodded, his black eyes glinting with wisdom and hidden knowledge. Quatre waited for the boy to speak again, but he said nothing. Disconcerted by the silent vision Wufei presented, with his shining black hair, obsidian eyes and golden skin, Quatre was loath to venture another question. "What would you have with me...?"

The dark boy spoke with the lilt of a prophesy. "Do not regret. You will see them again."

The golden boy stood confused and unnerved as a cloud passed over the sun. "What mean you? When?"

Wufei's black eyes lost their focus as he intoned his next words:

Sun rises in the West, Dark falls in the East
Seek help in that which you know the least

He shook himself, then hugged his arms helplessly. The sun broke free from the cloud and shone down warmly on the two boys, both chilled to the heart by the strange words. Wufei looked up into Quatre's shocked eyes and his face fell even more. "I will go now."

Before Quatre could prevent him, the younger boy had disappeared around the corner of the barn. As he roused himself to follow, there was a commotion in the yard. Catherine's strong voice carried over the wind. "O, come! Come, a man has fallen in the yard!"

He turned and ran back into the yard where Catherine knelt beside a large, dark-haired man. "Get him a dipper of water!" she ordered Quatre as others arrived from the fields and house. He ran to the trough and filled the dipper hanging on the wall there with the fresh, clear water and returned with it to the yard to find most of the household surrounding the newcomer. He fought his way through the press and knelt beside Catherine, handing her the water so that she could pour it into the weakened man's mouth. As his parched lips were moistened, the man's eyelids fluttered and finally opened, searching the faces about him.

Quatre's heart lurched. He knew this man, who lay on the ground before him, had known him all his life. It was his father's steward and his own mentor, who taught him many things of fighting and keeping of the hold. The man's eyes caught hold of his, and they widened in surprise.

"Master..." the man began, his throat dry and cracked from lack of water. Quatre shook his head, urging him to quiet. "Drink the water, Rashid."

"You know this man?" Catherine looked at him incredulously, and Dorothy said sadly, "You'll be leaving us, then, Quatre."

The golden boy shook his head again, but he knew that he would leave. He felt it in his heart. Rashid struggled to speak again, lifting his hand toward Quatre. "Young master Quatre... your father.."

"Come," said Sally, her presence commanding authority as it always did. "Let us get him out of the sun, and in the house."

At dinner, Rashid had gotten strong enough to sit by the fire and feed himself and lift his own mug of ale, albeit weakly, and his hand sometimes quaked. Quatre sat next to him, attending his needs until finally the big man persuaded the young man to sit down, and talk to him.

"Master Quatre, everyone thinks you to be dead!" Rashid began, waving a leg of fowl about for emphasis. "So many things have happened since you've been gone... your poor mother has gotten weaker by the month and the hold despairs for her health. You must return at once."

Quatre nodded agreement. He had thought as much, for he had not left word of where he was going when he left; of course they would think him to be killed by bandits, or worse. Rashid took a bit of his fowl, his eyes ceaselessly sweeping the busy room. They came to rest on the harp, leaning against the hearth. His breath was suddenly caught in his chest as he pointed a shaky hand at the instrument.

The young man followed his friend's hand and saw the harp. Rashid's hand lowered as Quatre nodded again. "That is what I left home for, Rashid. I went back to Caer Elfoar and stole it." His voice dried in his throat as he watched tears form in his mentor's eyes. The man's voice shook with emotion.

"You... you wily little fool..." Rashid whispered, aghast at the enormity of the task that Quatre had undertaken. "You managed to get into Caer Elfoar... and you took your mother's harp back?"

The boy numbly nodded, wondering if it wasn't a good thing that he had done. He realized he had cause grief by doing such a thing, but at the time had felt it must be done. His fears were banished as Rashid took him into a rough embrace.

"Quatre, you did not have to risk yourself for such a thing.." the man, half-heartedly reprimanding him. "Durmail has died. Your father is leading the house to take back Caer Elfoar... the harp would have been ours again." Rashid let go of of the golden-haired boy and smiled, holding him at an arm's length. "But everyone will be overjoyed to find you well and alive. You will return with me back to your father, won't you?"

Quatre smiled back, seeming as the bright summer day once again; the darkness had left his face. "Yes, Rashid. Let us go home."

Ê