Don't forget:

- Text after a dash or between two dashes means somebody's talking. - text written in italic has emphasis. 'Text written like this' means the character is thinking. But when he/she quotes someone else is like the next line.

- "I don't use bold font; don't look for it, please."

Kese was washing his face when the doctor entered his room. The boy got tired after their walk and took a little nap when they returned to the house. He woke up just before sunset.

- You can't sit still on your bottom. You want to reopen your wound again, or what? – Lehel scolded him angrily, but Kese only smiled at this. He couldn't help it: he realized he constantly had the need to move, or at least not sit or lie all day, even when injured . – Do not move! Let me check it.

He lifted his shirt for the doctor, and heard his mumbling. – Of course, it's bleeding again. Can't you feel it when you are about to tear it open?

- I can't tell the difference. It always hurts the same. – Kese replied, and the doc looked up to his face.

- What?

- What?

- You spoke another language again.

- Really? – Lehel nodded getting back to his bandages. – I'm sorry.

- No problem. I think it will take a little time for you to get used to this.

Kese remained in silence until his doctor finished his work. When he left the room, his patient followed him, and found Rozi in the kitchen washing the dishes. He sniffed a good smell and greeted her.

- Good evening!

- To you as well, Kese. How was your nap?

- Great, thanks. Erm… Where is your husband? I… can't hear him working.

- My man went to sleep. Jolánta*, too.

- This early?

- Yes. They both were really tired, and we are not used to be up late. You… want to speak with Tas, right? – she faced him wiping her hands in a towel. Kese replied with a nod. – He is not in a good mood... It's because…

- Because of me, I know. – he interrupted her, but she corrected him.

- No, I don't think he is mad at you. He readily welcomes everyone. But… The truth is… - she glanced at their small room, and waved Kese to follow her. They left the house and went to Tas' workshop. – Every second or third year is a lean year, and the year when pirates attack us, our village, usually at fall or winter. They took our food and our goods we produced during that year… Can you follow me? – she received a nod. – I'm afraid I'm speaking too fast or complicated. It must be hard to you, most of us don't know other language, just this one, and you know other languages, but not ours.

- It's okay. I'm learning fast.

- I see. I've heard you lost your memories. That must be more than inconvenient.

- It is. – he laughed. – But please, go on.

- Oh, yes. But first, you have to know something. Jolánta isn't our only child. We had a son, too. His name was Botond*. He was about your age, when the pirates came a few months ago. He… He wanted to… to protect us… our village… everyone… – tears started to come down on her cheek, her breath became heavy. Finally, her voice turned darker. – But they took his life.

They were in silence for a few seconds, until Kese muttered quietly. – I'm sorry.

Rozi shook her head. – They had never killed any of us, just taken our goods. He was the first to fight back. To rebel against them. And they… - she suddenly cut her sentence, and the boy knew why. She turned her back to him, not wanting to be seen crying. Another minute passed in silence, until Rozi spoke again in shaking voice. – It is very hard and painful for parents to bury their own son… After that... my husband couldn't forgive his death. He blamed the pirates, he blamed Lehel, even our son. But he blamed himself the, for he wasn't here to help us or to hold him back… He had been in the Land of Lightning then, to find a new supplier and costumers, and he came home two days after the attack… – she sighed and shook his head. – The reason why he is in a bad mood is… you remind him of Botond. He had short, hazel hair he inherited from my mother, his eyes were sky-blue like Tas', and he had lean but strong and healthy body. The same age, and almost the same height as you. It felt so good just looking at him. He helped were he could and made excellent work as a young blacksmith... Kese, you remind us of him not only in look, but in your will to live. You struggled against death for days, so did he. But unlike you, he did not win this fight… He was still alive when his father came home. He waited until he arrived, then passed away… - she started fidgeting with his husband's items. - His death changed us all… Since then my man has lost many costumers, because he refused to make any weapons for them… – her painful gaze met with Kese's, and her hands pointed around in the workshop. – Our son was killed with the very same weapons he and his father had forged before.

Kese couldn't bear watching her painful eyes, he had to look away. He felt that warm, soft feeling, which surrounded him in this village, slowly slipping away. Rozi sat down on a little chair. – I shouldn't have told you this. I'm sorry, Kese... - she wiped her eyes. - You should go to bed.

The boy slightly opened his mouth to tell her he had just woken up, but instead he just bowed a little and left her there. – I should go to bed. Good night, Rozi.

- Good night, Kese.

Kese's heart ached for the woman, and for her family as well. He couldn't imagine such loss, because he couldn't remember if he had a family or not. Something hurt in his chest, above his large wound. And in all of a sudden, his head began pulsing with increasing pain. He did not know how he reached his bed, but he collapsed into it and dived into unconsciousness.

Next time he opened his eyes, he was sitting next to some kind of camp fire. His body felt weary, but he couldn't get himself to sleep. That aching sensation settled itself inside his chest. He was thinking of what he had lost the day before: he had to leave behind his beloved order; many of his comrades betrayed him, and he had to flee with his firstborn son, who was resting across the fire at the moment.

They killed his younger son before. Now they killed his love. – Maria… - he whispered her name, repeating her last words to him. "Strength, Altaïr!"

- Strength. But what strength, now, that I have lost so much in so little time? All of it because of mankind's thirst for power and his never ceasing hunger for that… artifact. – he reached for a small leather sack, and took a metal ball out of it. As he held that thing, it started to emit a strange glow. - Why are you on this world if not for causing suffering in the end? I searched your secrets; you've made me learn so much. But your mere existence bore such enmity that even I wish you would have never been created!

The ball's light engulfed him for a minute. He saw pictures, heard voices, which Kese couldn't understand, but he knew that the man, Altaïr, could. The light slowly retracted into the artifact, and the man sat there still, not moving. – I see… Now I understand. – he breathed calmly. He put that ball back into its sack, and let himself fall into a shallow slumber.

Kese's eyes snapped open. His heart and breathing were racing with each other as he woke up. When he realized he was on his bed at Tas and his wife's house, he slowly calmed down. It was dawn, as he could tell it from the light leaking through the window. He felt something wet on his belly and reached for it. – Oh, great… - he sighed as he saw his blood on his fingers. He could have figured it out, his wound hurt awfully. He just needed to wait for someone to get near to his room, so he could ask him or her to call Lehel. Fortunately for him, said person appeared in his door with a scowl on his face. – What the hell did you do to yourself?!

- I was sleeping. – Kese replied, his voice hoarse.

- You were doing sit ups, or what? Oh, God, you'll drive me mad… - the boy chuckled at the doctor's fuming, and like Altaïr in his dream, he let himself fall asleep.

His aching wound burnt his shoulder, despite the fact that his whole body started to get numb due to his blood loss. His horse's steps jerking him worsened his state, as they slowly crawled towards the Ancient City. And that feeling was in his chest again. He felt it many times before, every time causing the same, never ceasing pain. He has lost someone again. And he knew by this time that he was on verge of death, too. Being shot is not like being stabbed, it hurt differently, and he couldn't heal like in his younger years. He started to lean forward; then felt like his body fell from his horse and hit the ground. But he wasn't there anymore. He fell into some black yet light space, sleeping peacefully.

It was late afternoon when Kese woke up softly, his eyes still blurred from his slumber. He didn't see Lehel next to his bed. 'Why the hell am I having such creepy dreams with that feeling in my chest?' He carefully sat up in his bed, then left his room. He stepped into that entry-like little room which connected his room, the kitchen, the other bedroom and the outside; and saw Rozi with her daughter next to the tile-stove. They were peeling carrots.

- Oh, my gosh, Kese! – the woman rushed to him. – How are you feeling? Are you alright?

- Yes… A little thirsty, but fine. – he scratched his head, blushing because of her sudden caring attention. His blush deepened when she touched his cheeks then his forehead.

- I'll bring you some water. Please, sit down. – she led him to a chair. After Rozi left, her daughter run to him with a smile on her face.

- Morning, sleepyhead! Can I cream your face today? – she asked him point-blank, and Kese didn't know what was going on at first. Jolánta was a curious, five years old little brunette, one of those lively children who just couldn't be not loved. She resembled her mother and could talk a lot.

- Hmm… I don't know. - the blond scratched his chin. - Nobody has volunteered yet…

- Pleeaaaaaseeeee! Let me do it, let me do it!

- Alright. Bring here the pot. – he smiled, then took a glass of water from Rozi. – Thanks.

- Do you know you have slept through a whole day? – Kese frowned and stopped drinking. – Yesterday morning Lehel found you in your bed, half-awake. You were covered in blood, and when he asked you, you said something he couldn't understand… – Jolánta got back with a small black pot in her hands, smiling. – I'm glad you're feeling better now. Do not strain yourself.

Rozi went back to the tile-stove and resumed her work. Meanwhile her daughter took off the pot's lid and dug her fingers into a green-brown grunge, chuckling what she would paint on Kese's face with that.

When they had found him, he had had three bleeding scratches on each of his cheek, maybe caused by some animal. The monks had given him that cream to make them vanish. They hadn't wanted him to live with scars on his face, saying he was too young and had too pure skin to have something that ruins it. He did not know what that grunge contained, but it was effective as the scratches were fading away.

Jolánta took care he got plenty of it on his cheek, and she was satisfied with her work. After she finished she went back to her mother, leaving behind the pot. Kese put it away then poured some more water from a jug into his glass. It didn't take too long for the jug to get empty. His wound started to hurt again, but fortunately it didn't bleed. He didn't have to worry about his other injuries, because they were almost or completely healed.

When he finally finished drinking he saw another vision again. He saw a middle-aged man – long brown hair with bread – wearing a strange coat what seemed like a caftan, with a belt and an ornate sabretache. He also had some kind of bag, hanging from his belt on his left side, carrying a bow and arrows. Kese found it strange he didn't wear this quiver on his back. The man wearily sat down on the floor, holding a simple chalice in his hand; then he stared at a saber in front of him while drinking. Suddenly a young man in similar outfit rushed to him and told him something. Kese couldn't hear anything, but the older one visibly paled, jumped up and hurried out of the house with the other man. They disappeared when they reached the front door.

And Kese stood there, staring out of his head, thinking of what the heck was that. Another vision, that he knew, but this one had a story somehow. Up to this time he only saw walking or sitting figures, doing short, simple things, like greeting each other, talking or eating. This one was complex and more vivid.

He shook his head and decided to take a visit at his doctor. He would be pleased for not seeing him bleeding.

Lehel almost cried out when he saw his patient in front of him. Kese surprised the man – he expected him to be still resting, not roaming around in his so called office. The doctor's 'residency' was eight houses away from the blacksmith's, and the boy had found him easily, thanks to the villagers' help. Everybody knew who he was, and this embarrassed him a little.

After a quick checkup he informed Lehel about his vision's progress, but not telling too much about their contents. They came to an agreement: untill his visions didn't affect his daily life noticeably and didn't make harmful symptoms, they wouldn't worry about them more than necessary. After this, the doc advised him to use his cream on his healed injuries if he didn't want them to leave scars. This applied to his large wound too, only starting its treatment a few days later. That grunge couldn't be used on fresh or still bleeding wounds.

Another thing they discussed was Kese learning their language. As his patient told him his experiences (for example, how he had to puzzle to understand what Rozi had told him), Lehel noticed a significant progress, one that is way too much for someone who had been learning the Magor for only a few days. This was one of the most difficult languages in the world, and over the centuries only a few foreigners could speak it like a native Magor. The doc assumed Kese could be the next one, although he was miles away from speaking fluently and he still said some random words from other languages.

Then an old lady came in to see the doctor, and Lehel let take his leave. Kese waved his goodbye and headed back to his recent 'home'. He didn't realize he had completely forgotten to mention his dreams. When he stepped into the house he immediately caught sight of their visitor, Rozi's brother, Csík. He was a thin man with average height, grayish hair and stubble covering his chin. His skin was a little darker than the average Magor's, he was tanned, his eyes glowing as he noticed him.

- Ah, Kese! I was looking for you! – he greeted him loudly and cheerfully. Said person was taken aback by this.

- Erm… really? – they shook hands, then the older man led him out of the house. When he spoke, his voice was sometimes barely audible, thanks to the noises coming out of the workshop.

- You know, I can be really absent-minded when it comes to things. I forgot to give this back to you. – he handed him an odd key with a leather string. Kese was frowning as he examined that item. It was thick and quite large, about 12-15 centimeters, made of some strange metal, and had curving on its surface.

- What is it for? – he asked, but when he didn't get any response, he looked up at the other man. Csík had lifted an eyebrow, indicating he couldn't understand him. Kese shifted from some other language back to Magor and repeated. – What is it for?

- I was hoping you would answer this question. – they both looked down at the key in the boy's hands. – When I dragged you into my boat, this thing fell on board, too. So I thought it might be yours. Isn't it?

- I… do not know, if this was mine, or not… - he pointed toward his head. – I've lost them, uhm, my memories.

The other hissed. – I see… Well, I found this with you, so let's say this belongs to you. Okay?

After they agreed on this, Csík left him and went to see Tas in his workshop. Kese stared at the key for a little, thinking of why it looked so familiar to him. In the end, he shrugged it off, then tied its string around his neck. The key rested on his chest now, hidden under his shirt.

Pronounciation:

Jolánta: [ 'jola:ntɒ ]
Botond: [ 'botond ]

Chapter updated: 22. 09. 2014.