Fachon sat quietly, reflecting on things long past. He had never been able
to forget that night so many years ago. He had also never been able to
forgive himself from depositing the small child into the hands of the likes
of Nezzka Tolax. He was sure she had not survived long.
The boy, however, had done well. The clerics had raised him and taught him how to heal with a word, a thought, a whisper. Many times he had seen him in the city, though not once had he approached him. He felt his secret better left unsaid.
A sharp knock brought Fachon's head up and out of his revelry. As he moved towards the door, the knock came again, impatient this time. He didn't quicken his pace, though he did call out to his visitor that he'd be there shortly. The door opened to reveal a woman, suited in armor with a sword at her hip, dagger strapped to her thigh, and such a contrast between the white of her hair and the black of her eyes that he gasped softly. And in that instant he knew what had become of the girl child.
"You." Whatever else he had been planning on saying got stuck in his throat. Not only had she survived, she had thrived. He could not believe that such a striking figure had come from such a foul place. He paused a moment to absorb what he was seeing.
Hair the color of untarnished snow flowed around a perfectly formed face. The light from the candles and street torches playing off it, making it look as though it breathed a life all it's own. It cascaded down her back and over her shoulders to just past the curve of her breastplate to cover it's namesake. He found himself fighting off the urge to reach out and slip his fingers through the hair, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.
The face it framed did nothing to detract from the hair. If anything, the hair was the perfect frame and only drew the eyes in. Cheekbones, delicate yet well defined sat high, but not too high. A slight nose ended with just a slight upturn, giving it a delightful air of just the right amount of arrogance sat above the most well formed and well defined lips he had ever seen. Unconsciously, his tongue slipped from between his lips and licked them, imagining what it would be like to taste such perfection.
But what captured his attention were her eyes. Two dark pools that spoke of pleasures beyond his wildest imagination. Pleasure, and pain. Eyes so dark, he could barely tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began. Framed by long thick lashes that he knew would feel as a gentle caress were he ever allowed to feel them. And as he stared into those eyes, she spoke.
"You are Fachon, are you not?"
"Huh? Oh, um, yea." his brain taking a moment to realize what had been asked. "Yes, I am. And you are the only daughter of Lord D`."
"Don't. say that name!" she interrupted him, fairly spitting the words out, as though the taste of them were vile on her tongue. "If you value your hide, you will never say that name in my presence. You have been warned."
He nodded, unable to believe the venom with which she spoke.
"How may I help you. I seem at a disadvantage, my dear. You know my name, yet I don't know of yours." he spoke quietly, motioning for her to enter. She stepped inside just enough for him to clsoe the door, but moved no further.
"Shadowfyre. I am called Shadowfyre. And you can answer me this. I have been told that there was rumor of a male child as well as myself. I was told that you would know the truth of it. Is this so? Was there a male child?"
Fachon took only an instant to decide that he had best tell the truth to this woman. He could tell by the way she stood, ready to draw in a hair's breath that she would think nothing of sliding her blade into him if he lied. And something in him knew that she would know if he did.
"Yes, Shadowfyre, there was a male child. However, that was not known at the time of your passing into this world. You were the first, and it enraged him. I was on watch that night, walking the streets and heard the first cries."
As he told her of her dark beginnings, he watched the play of emotion across her face. The intensity of the hate did not surprise him so much as the lack of emotion when he told her of how her mother had met her end and his trip to the witch's hut following.
"So there was another that knew?" she asked. "Yes, there was. But for the safety of all of us, we spoke not a word of it. That would have surely gotten all of our throats slit while we slept."
"Better that than serving as Tolax's whore." He had never heard such hate and loathing in a sentence as he heard at that moment. And he knew that the time Tolax spent on this earth was now marked.
"So yes, Shadow, you have a brother. Your twin and younger born. I have seen him, though never approached. He has grown into a fine."
"Cleric. I know."
"You know?" Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. "But how.?"
"While fighting he came upon me and healed me. And I knew."
She turned her head and looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since she entered. He could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, and he did not interrupt. She turned to leave than, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other on the door. As she stepped out, and pulled the door closed, she paused and looked at him again. The coldness in her eyes sent a chill along his spine, but when she spoke, her words froze his very soul.
"You need not fear of a slit throat anymore, Fachon. I saw to that personally."
The door closed quietly behind her and the apparition that had entered his life years ago was gone.
The boy, however, had done well. The clerics had raised him and taught him how to heal with a word, a thought, a whisper. Many times he had seen him in the city, though not once had he approached him. He felt his secret better left unsaid.
A sharp knock brought Fachon's head up and out of his revelry. As he moved towards the door, the knock came again, impatient this time. He didn't quicken his pace, though he did call out to his visitor that he'd be there shortly. The door opened to reveal a woman, suited in armor with a sword at her hip, dagger strapped to her thigh, and such a contrast between the white of her hair and the black of her eyes that he gasped softly. And in that instant he knew what had become of the girl child.
"You." Whatever else he had been planning on saying got stuck in his throat. Not only had she survived, she had thrived. He could not believe that such a striking figure had come from such a foul place. He paused a moment to absorb what he was seeing.
Hair the color of untarnished snow flowed around a perfectly formed face. The light from the candles and street torches playing off it, making it look as though it breathed a life all it's own. It cascaded down her back and over her shoulders to just past the curve of her breastplate to cover it's namesake. He found himself fighting off the urge to reach out and slip his fingers through the hair, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.
The face it framed did nothing to detract from the hair. If anything, the hair was the perfect frame and only drew the eyes in. Cheekbones, delicate yet well defined sat high, but not too high. A slight nose ended with just a slight upturn, giving it a delightful air of just the right amount of arrogance sat above the most well formed and well defined lips he had ever seen. Unconsciously, his tongue slipped from between his lips and licked them, imagining what it would be like to taste such perfection.
But what captured his attention were her eyes. Two dark pools that spoke of pleasures beyond his wildest imagination. Pleasure, and pain. Eyes so dark, he could barely tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began. Framed by long thick lashes that he knew would feel as a gentle caress were he ever allowed to feel them. And as he stared into those eyes, she spoke.
"You are Fachon, are you not?"
"Huh? Oh, um, yea." his brain taking a moment to realize what had been asked. "Yes, I am. And you are the only daughter of Lord D`."
"Don't. say that name!" she interrupted him, fairly spitting the words out, as though the taste of them were vile on her tongue. "If you value your hide, you will never say that name in my presence. You have been warned."
He nodded, unable to believe the venom with which she spoke.
"How may I help you. I seem at a disadvantage, my dear. You know my name, yet I don't know of yours." he spoke quietly, motioning for her to enter. She stepped inside just enough for him to clsoe the door, but moved no further.
"Shadowfyre. I am called Shadowfyre. And you can answer me this. I have been told that there was rumor of a male child as well as myself. I was told that you would know the truth of it. Is this so? Was there a male child?"
Fachon took only an instant to decide that he had best tell the truth to this woman. He could tell by the way she stood, ready to draw in a hair's breath that she would think nothing of sliding her blade into him if he lied. And something in him knew that she would know if he did.
"Yes, Shadowfyre, there was a male child. However, that was not known at the time of your passing into this world. You were the first, and it enraged him. I was on watch that night, walking the streets and heard the first cries."
As he told her of her dark beginnings, he watched the play of emotion across her face. The intensity of the hate did not surprise him so much as the lack of emotion when he told her of how her mother had met her end and his trip to the witch's hut following.
"So there was another that knew?" she asked. "Yes, there was. But for the safety of all of us, we spoke not a word of it. That would have surely gotten all of our throats slit while we slept."
"Better that than serving as Tolax's whore." He had never heard such hate and loathing in a sentence as he heard at that moment. And he knew that the time Tolax spent on this earth was now marked.
"So yes, Shadow, you have a brother. Your twin and younger born. I have seen him, though never approached. He has grown into a fine."
"Cleric. I know."
"You know?" Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. "But how.?"
"While fighting he came upon me and healed me. And I knew."
She turned her head and looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since she entered. He could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, and he did not interrupt. She turned to leave than, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other on the door. As she stepped out, and pulled the door closed, she paused and looked at him again. The coldness in her eyes sent a chill along his spine, but when she spoke, her words froze his very soul.
"You need not fear of a slit throat anymore, Fachon. I saw to that personally."
The door closed quietly behind her and the apparition that had entered his life years ago was gone.