• Mature • Mistakes

[Elyna]

32nd Ymiden 716

Elyna wasn’t entirely sure when each trial ended anymore and the next one began. The Skyrider felt as though she was floating, endlessly in a cloudless sky. Lifted with happiness she and Malcolm continued their lives as they had before the wedding itself, and were content. At least, it was how she felt. Deep down bliss and sweetness. Perhaps it was driven by the desperate desire to spend their time together wisely, but it was a desire she refused to acknowledge. Simply, she was in love and the world was brighter for it.

There was something soft and safe in the sensation of being wrapped up in the Mortalborns arms. His fingers spread over the taught skin of her belly. As though nothing would stop him from seeing it swell in the coming trials and seasons, as though nothing in the whole of Idalos could prevent him from knowing their child. A new family, the dream was almost tangible. Elyna could taste it, as she lay, curled up against his chest. The steady beat of his heart at her back and breath easing over her neck. Let him sleep, a small voice whispered, but time was precious.

Morning moved on and Elyna slipped from the bed they shared, bathed and dressed. She hummed quietly to herself as she filled the vase with fresh flowers, stoked the fire for tea and pulled water for the horses. The grass was soft and lush beneath her bare feet and she’d pulled on the light cotton dress, because the season was advancing, no matter how much she wanted to slow it down, and it was warm.
Hopeful that Malcolm would wake in his own time, the woman smiled at the postmaster as he approached.

“Good day, My Lady,” he nodded politely and handed her a small collection of letters.

“Good morning,” her smile was still shy towards strangers and she accepted the bundle, curious “thank you.”

He left, with a backwards look at the barefoot beauty stood at the edge of the land Mal had found for their home.

The woman cast an eye over the long grass, in a day or two she’d tether one or two of the horses to the outside railing and let them munch the best part of the meadow down. It was that or get a goat, or a sheep to keep the grasses trimmed. Half-lost in plans she flicked through the first letter, a list of instructions from her commander. She was needed for a flight on the 35th, rest leave or no. Elyna hesitated in her steps and looked up at the clear sky. Malcolm had suggested she didn’t ride for much longer, what about flying?

Nose wrinkled she tucked the missive at the back of the pile and opened the second note that was addressed to her. Her frown increased as she noticed that it was dated on the back, for the 42nd. Tracing her thumb over the wax seal, her heart flickered. It looked official, whatever it was. Twice more she checked that it is definitely her name on the front of the letter before she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

Eyes skipped to the bottom of the page and narrowed on Malcolm’s signature. Dread building in her belly she forced herself to return to the top. Struggling with the words it took a concentrated effort to discern what she was reading, Malcolms’ will. Despite her limited grasp of written legal language, even she could make out what he’d done and her face drained of colour. Motionless she forced herself to count to ten, and then ten again. Pink spots of pink rose in her cheeks and she tried counting to ten again, failed and stamped back into the house, door swinging shut to slam behind her.

Before she could return to the bedroom she turned as though to go back out again, hesitated and turned around once more, spinning in circles. She hadn’t felt like this in so many trials now, it was strange to feel the sensation of utter disbelief threatening to rise up and overwhelm all sense. The young woman scanned the letter again, and it didn’t improve. She folded it up and set it down on the table. What on Idalos was she going to say? How could she convince him that this was insanity?

The pot bubbled on the stove and she cursed, crossing to it. With the cloth in hand she picked up the cauldron and spun, in time for the metal to swing out and tip, boiling water flooding over the wooden floor.

"Immortals damn it!" Elyna did what any sane, sensible person would do and jumped up, onto the chair, cauldron in one hand, balacing with the other as the scalding water hissed over the floor where she'd been standing. A small spot landed on the bridge of her foot and she grimaced, biting down hard on her lip to stop from crying out.

"D-damn, damn damn it!" She pressed her other foot over the burn and tried not to move, afraid that any wrong action could send her tumbling back off the chair and to stand in the hot water once more.

"Don't come out!" she called, the water was unlikely to reach the bedroom door, but she didn't exactly want Malcolm to rush out and into scalding water either. With a sigh she set the put down on the table, only to snatch it up again when the wood started to hiss. Had that circle always been there? She stared at the mark and groaned. Surely the day had to get better?

[Malcolm]

The pain in his side was bearable now, but still it lingered, ever present, a nagging tightness to remind him of his misfortune in the arena, and for all his years, faults in his fighting style that still existed. It was not the wear of age but the bliss of marriage that saw his limbs ache this day, however, as Malcolm stirred, all too aware that Elyna had abandoned the warmth of the covers for that of another beautiful day. He followed her movements with one eye open until she left the room, letting the shock of sunlight that blinded him through a gap in the curtains, created by a rush of air stirred to life by the closing door, encourage him to retreat under the blankets for a few more delicious minutes of sleep, or dozing, for it was difficult to sway his mind from thoughts of her.
It was the sound of something striking the floor that woke him suddenly, followed by his lover's warning to stay in the bedroom. Malcolm threw the covers back and got out of bed in a hurry, pulling on a pair of pants he had cast aside the night before in a frenzy that worked in reverse of this one. The knight went to the door and pulled it open to find Elyna standing in the lounge on top of a chair with steaming water stretching out across the expanse of the living room floor. He went to the kitchen and took up a dishcloth to take the pot from he hand, stepping across to the raised brickwork surrounding the fireplace in order to avoid the hot water. He threw the dishcloth down after returning the pot to its place, and used it as a new spot to get his footing, carrying Elyna away from the chair to set her down on dry ground.
"No trouble," he smiled, making light of the situation as usual, "the floors were probably due a clean after all, can't blame you for wanting to do them all at once," he teased, misjudging the look on her face, the one he read as worry in place of anger.
Malcolm caught a whiff of the woman's hair and stood transfixed momentarily by the sight of her, insides twisted as he slowly came to the realisation that his wife was not happy, and that if the direction of her glare were to reveal anything, it was that he had somehow been the cause of her latest concern. "Ely...," he spoke lowly as if he were trying to defuse her obvious disdain for whatever it was he had done and looked around for clues, finding only the letters she had discarded on the tabletop, willingly or not. The waxy bank emblem came into view and his heart stopped, why in the world had they sent the documents and deeds early?
"Is this about the will?" He looked back at her and reached out to take her hands or shoulders if she moved to suddenly in an attempt to put distance between them. This was not something he wanted to fight about, not so soon after the wedding.

[Elyna]

As ever the Knight Captain returned to the Skyriders rescue. She watched the man pick a careful path across the water and handed him the pot, turning it so that he could accept the handle without burning himself. Was it her fault that she was distracted by the skin of his bare torso? Her husband was a beautiful man and she wanted to leave him with no doubt, that he was utterly claimed. The stomach tightened and she couldn’t block out the memory of the night before. Married life, apparently, agreed with them both very well. They’d escaped the sheets only to tumble back into them a few short breaks later. If she hadn’t already been pregnant, Elyna would have been afraid that by now she certainly would have been, no matter how careful her use of Moseke mist!

Inevitably his fingers closed around her hips and she was gently collected from her perch and set down on the bare, dry floorboards. But then, if she hadn’t been pregnant, chances are they wouldn’t be married…chances were she’d be travelling with him in less than ten trials time.

He was making a joke. That was nice. Her gaze narrowed and her irritation returned, not that it had ventured far. Elyna watched the features move rapidly through expressions. Humour, doubt, concern, confusion, then the frantic search of the nearest surfaces for a sign of what had caused the furrowing of her own brow and the thin line of fury that pulled her lips flat. Realisation dawned, was quickly followed by what she suspected was a look of panic and the hands landed on her shoulders.

As predicted Elyna pulled away, for the first time since their reconciliation. It was a hard habit to break, but his touch caused her skin to rise in goose bumps and made her brain drift off to places she didn’t want to go, not just yet. No, no drowning in fantasy’s, no simply letting him kiss and make-up and no pulling him back into their bedroom…tempting…but no. No, she would focus and she would try and explain to him, just why she was cross. Surely it was the more mature response. Rather than jumping straight to shouting?

Honey coloured eyes had darkened to chocolate brown and she struggled for words. Fury threatening to render her speechless.

“It’s about the will,” she managed to confirm, the words caught on her tongue. She feathered fingers down the bridge of her nose, over the freckles. Count to ten, count to twenty…she struggled for calm and still it evaded her, "I don't understand it."

“C-can you explain it to me?” So far, so good. His sons deserved better, then to be cast off in favour of herself. She didn’t deserve what he’d given. Or would give should the worst happen. She didn’t want it. The Skyrider didn’t even want to think about it! Her mind spiraled quickly as she stood, fists clenched as though ready to battle. Despite her efforts to keep her face calm, expressionless and dutifully masked.

[Malcolm]

"Ely," the man cooed and reached for her side, efforts dashed by the guided anger of her hands. "Ely," he whispered again as he coaxed her closer to his form with gentle persistence and tactile manoeuvring, cornering the woman had helped; it was come to him or escape through the closed door into the garden, curiosity, no doubt, her chain.
His recent injury had left him thin, the movement of every muscle in his arms and torso hard to miss as they rolled beneath the flesh, his midsection chiseled, the sight ruined only by the scar that cut his abs in two. His hands found her hips, followed by her stomach as lips moved hesitantly across her shoulder, seeking the sensitive paths drawn upon her neck, across her jaw, behind her ear, while the woman's wordless protest urged the truth to surface.
"You are my family now," he told her, hands stitched with fingers laced over the surface of her belly and the growing child that was only just starting to make his presence known. "My sons are provided for if anything were to happen, they get the farmstead in Burhan where they were raised. This is ours," he pointed with his eyes to the heart of their small home, "please don't be upset, you've sacrificed everything for me, let me give something back."

[Elyna]

Head bowed forward, the soft brush of his lips caused tantalising sensation to shiver down her spine. She pressed an open palm against the wall, trapped near the corner of the room and the door. The young woman pressed small teeth into her bottom lip, eyes closed and struggled to resist her husband. Laced fingers rested on the surface of the thin material of her dress and Elyna ran her own hand over the weather worn skin.

But she was upset, no matter the persuasive plea; and Elyna wasn’t good at being upset, it translated too easily into angry. It was better to be angry then hurt. Anger was a defense, pain was vulnerable. What she needed, was Malcolm to remain exactly where he was, in their home. She needed him for the coming trials and seasons and she couldn’t have him. It was enough fuel for her frustration and the arrival of his will was a match for the fire.

For a moment it must have seemed as though his less then subtle tactics were working, but Elyna pushed sideways and out of the embrace. She danced with careful steps around the still spreading water, it wouldn’t burn anymore, but it would still be uncomfortably hot. Trying to put distance between them once more she retreated back towards the bedroom.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Fingers pushed through dark hair and lifting it away from her face. It was hard, but she forced herself to look up and meet the green gaze that so often rendered her speechless. “Why go behind my back…what else can I expect to arrive when your gone, Malcolm?” She looked at the letter as though it were a coiled snake on the table top.

“If you thought that this was the right thing to do, you should have said…but instead you tried to make sure I couldn’t figh-discuss this with you,” she straightened her shoulders and aimed for disappointment instead of anger, “I might not be a hundred and forty three years old,” she thought that was all the number’s he’d given her, “but I’m not a child for you to take care of.”

[Malcolm]

Elyna had managed to fend off the man's advances and remain angry at him even though he knew she could see sense in his gesture. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to arrange everything behind her back, but he had wanted to leave her on a positive note, not considering the worst. He held her gaze for a short time before retreating to the bathroom to get a couple of towels and dragged the chairs away from the table to put the towels down and mop up some of the spill, or at the very least contain it.
"Four hundred," he murmured and turned to look at her in the following silence. "Four hundred and twenty arcs by the end of Vhalar."
Malcolm got to his feet and went the doorway Elyna stood in. He reached up to hook his fingers over the frame, looking down into her eyes, dark and enticing, there was something about her lips and eyes that drew him in, and he wondered if she knew how seductive she was, even without trying. The man had to remind himself then that Elyna was mad with him, but he often wondered if she didn't enjoy strapping him to the hot seat and watching him sweat.
Mistakenly he smiled, maybe even smirked, catching himself part way in the act, one he quickly righted, a small knot forming in the centre of his brow as if to admit without saying a word that he was taking this all very seriously. It only took a prolonged glance from Elyna to see him smile again, if somewhat guilty, and shake his head slowly.
"I suppose there are a lot of things I should be more open with you about, this," he gestured to the will, "being one of them. I didn't hide this from you to hurt you or make you angry," the man admitted, "I just wanted to enjoy these last few trials and go knowing that if anything happened, you would be taken care of."

[Elyna]

Holding his gaze, Elyna took care to step aside as Malcolm retrieved the towels. Getting within touching distance just wasn’t going to work. Arms folded over her chest and mute, she watched him tidy the mess she’d made. It seemed prophetic almost. But the thought was morbid. It was the eventual revelation of his age that saw her mouth fall open, speechless once more. Four hundred. He was over four hundred years old. How many…generations of her ancestors had he seen out and lived beyond? It was one thing to know he would live forever, another to hear just how old he was. Nearly four centuries her senior. Her legs felt weak and threatened to drop her to the floor. Instead, she jutted her shoulder against the door frame and looked down, struggling to process the information and make sense of it. Why….why had he chosen to tie himself to her? He really would go on, long after her time was through on the world. Air caught in her throat and she lifted a reluctant gaze back to the man before her.

Damn him. Stood with his fingers hooked over the door, his chest and abdomen were exposed, arms bunched with muscles and it was distracting. It was difficult to be cross at the man when he seemed so intent on being close, and kind. It helped that he smirked at her, then struggled to hide the expression. But instead of anger, Elyna felt the steady thud of pain and loss. She didn’t need Malcolm to take care of her, but she did need him. The last few trials. He spoke as if he was dying.

Frustration lifted her gaze once more and her hands dropped back to her sides, flexing as she resisted the urge to reach out to him, “I neither need, nor want that will,” she glared past him at the sheet of paper on the table. The embodiment of sacrifices they were bound to make. Words spoken with haste in an attempt to return to the safer waters of anger, instead of pain. Why was it that the worst moments always happened on such beautiful sunny days, out of the blue and unexpected? The world was mocking her, lulling her into a false sense of safety. Would it be a day like this, that news of his death would come back? Probably, a sunny day without a cloud in the sky and the scent of summer on the wind. Something glorious so that tears dried sticky on her face. She couldn’t do it. Elyna knew the agony of losing the person she loved, and she couldn’t do it a second time.

Itchy feet made her move, restless, but he’d blocked her escape. With little choice she backed into the small bedroom, glancing at the window. Well, it was an escape route, even if it was ridiculous.

“You’re coming back Mal,” she insisted as the words threatened to close her throat, “nothing is going to happen and you’re coming back!” The Skyrider couldn’t look at him and busied herself with the curtains instead, pulling them back and fixing them neatly in place with hands that shook.

“You’re coming back, or you’re not going…” she muttered quietly. She had little power to make him stay and he had no choice. The truth was, she could still go with him. Yet, they both knew her decision had been made and there was little she could do but blame herself. How was he going to find the other Mortalborns anyway? Did he have any kind of plan? Or was he simply going to follow his instincts? How long would that take?! Fingers bunched the material before she swore and tried flattening it out again.

"I don't need you to take care of me," she needed him there. Right there, where he stood, always. It was too painful to consider any other possibility.

[Malcolm]

"I'm coming home," he promised her and looked at Elyna and the bed he had been bound to for days while recovering this season from his injury, one that could have killed him, the same that had prompted him to act and have his will redone. Even before he had known about the baby, he had wanted her and would have taken care of her. "I'll get rid of it," he told her, finally recognising her need for space.
Malcolm padded into the room to collect his shirt and pulled it on over his head before venturing out into the living room where the letter was still sitting on the table. He took it up and went outside to get his tools and left the letter folded up amongst his work things, the bank had a copy if Elyna's was to go missing, so either way she was protected.
After walking around the house, Malcolm squared up the outside wall that made up part of the bathroom and put together a frame for the window he had been meaning to work on since he had purchased the house. Until now they had been lighting the room with candles, which made shaving somewhat difficult, though he had to admit bathing had been quite an experience, and strangely relaxing.
It was difficult to remain so calm sometimes, especially when Elyna grew angry over things he thought might please her, and he put it down to the baby, a first time pregnancy for his new wife, or the stress of his ever-nearing departure. The timing was terrible and part of him was still considering calling the whole trip off to stay with her, and give Elyna what she really needed, his time and attention. If he hadn't been going at Pre's request, well things would be a lot different.
With the frame soon complete, Malcolm took to the wall with a drill, lining up the four corners to drill some holes big enough in the timber to get the saw in and cut away the planks, using his hand to turn the handle while the other hand kept the drill steady. Guilt put an early end to the work and he left his tools alongside the frame and went in search of Elyna, not knowing what kind of reception he would get after giving her a little while to cool off.

[Elyna]

It was completely childish, but there was something so satisfying about throwing things at Malcolm. In this instance, the sock landed soundlessly on the door he’d closed behind him and she was left to retrieve it and put it back in the pile of clothes. Ashamed of her own desire she’d waited by the window whilst the shirt was collected and he left the room again. His promise hanging in the still air. Alone, Elyna sank down on the empty bed before lying back, defeated. She stared at the ceiling and tried to make sense of her own thoughts.

Finally, when the sound of the drill boring through wood was too loud, she retrieved her sewing kit and followed the light outside, away from the sound of metal spinning into the house to the small rise and hill that over-looked the paddock. The bag was empty, except for a scrap of pale fabric. Most of the last season had been spent hiding tiny designs in Malcolms clothes and she had no idea what he thought of them, or even if he’d found them. For now though, she set needle to cloth and tried to coax the shape of a tree from the material.

The sound of drilling stopped and sure enough, boot steps followed her. Elyna looked up, once before returning to her work, silent. Maybe a bit more time would have seen her frustration cool, but it still bubbled and seethed beneath the surface. The needle pressing harder into the knot of embroidery thread. She flinched as it bit her forefinger and pulled her hand back from underneath, licking the tip free of the blood-drop.

“What is your plan?” She demanded suddenly and looked him over, slowly from head to toe, “you’re a professor, a Captain of Knights, you’re a man who’s survived the arena and you’ve got an immortal given task,” she swallowed hard “you’re brave, strong, clever and you’re a brilliant strategist…so what is your plan Malcolm? How, how are you going to find them and gather them together? How are you going to do all this and come back to me?!” The thread tangled on itself and with a groan of frustration she dropped the collection of needle, thread and cotton into the bag before snatching it up again.

Another glance at Malcolm before she stood, brushing stray strands of grass from her skirts. “I can’t pretend you’re not going anymore, so tell me. Tell me how you’re coming home before Cylus? Because the way I see it, we’re back to where we were. You don’t know if it’s going to be cycles or seasons or arcs before you’ve satisfied your Aunt and you get to come back!”

[Malcolm]

Standing down from Elyna felt dangerous, and being the strategist he was, Malcolm knew how important it was to stand on the same footing as the person he had angered or things could quickly get out of hand. He didn't want to appear weak, and for him, it was important that Elyna never saw him in such a light either. He climbed the hill slowly as he spoke, moving to stand beside the woman, looking her in the eye.
I know of a woman with similar powers to me, living in the west," he told her, "she is about my age, a little younger, but has made it her business to protect us, the others."
He looked to the sea, already dreading the journey, but thinking of her, Ava, the golden haired huntress who lived beside the salt lake in Ne'haer.
"Her name is Avari, I've told you about her once before, sometime ago now during our trip to Krome I believe it was, the river that comes down from the Burning Mountains is named after her, and a long time ago I sailed with the men who attacked her village in search of a boy called Zor. The boy was very powerful, some say the son of Ziell, able to protect all those close enough to fall within range of his abilities, which is how we almost won the war in Andaris, before the King's army brought the battle to us in Krome. The survivors of the battle that ensued were captured and thrown into slavery, rescued arcs later by the woman, no longer a girl, who set us free and led us across the sea west, where I will go to find her and the others."
Malcolm was sure there were others, others he would find with Ava's help. He didn't know how many it would take to satisfy Pre's demands, but he had a starting point, and his own responsibilities. If two, three, or four would not do, he would send each of them in search of more while he returned home to Elyna, to keep his promise, even if it meant leaving again. He doubted Ava would follow him back to Rynmere, a place she had sworn never to visit again, but he would try to convince her, if not to follow him then to lend a hand with his search as well.
"Until then I suppose I will just have to find you in dreams," he teased, unsure if he had ever told Elyna about his ability to navigate Emea, a realm his sister had been chosen to protect, not by the immortals as most had come to believe, but by the realm itself.