This is the story of Kiernen....or as I call myself now, Caerlyn. Actually, it is the story of one particular day in Kiernen's life. Her last. It was a day that happened approximately 1,000 years ago.
I am now, as I was then, an Advocate. I felt the need to share this story...for all the Advocates who may happen upon this page, in the hopes of providing some insight into your own memories...or, at the least, to answer some of those questions that have played at the edges of your mind concerning who you are and why you are here.
It was a beautiful day. Indeed, an Indian Summer day. The sun shone brightly in its dark blue sky and a gentle breeze was blowing, caressing the trees and fields with its final gift of warmth. Winter was coming. You could smell it. That wonderful autumn smell that carries with it a warning of the cold weather that will soon follow.
The fields were turning a brilliant wheat color and the trees had already begun to lose their leaves. The colors were not the reds and oranges of a New England autumn, but were instead, all soft golds and browns and pale, dark greens. A lovely warmth enveloped the air. The early harvests had long since been brought in and stored, but the final harvest remained in the fields.
It was late morning. I remember that. The sun was high in the sky. I was stooped over a kettle that hung over a small fire ring some 15-20 feet from my hut, stirring the contents of the kettle. Sophi, a young girl of about 14 summers, and one of my wards, sat on a tree stump stool about 2-3 feet from the hut mending some article of clothing. We chatted and smiled and laughed the way people who have known each other since childhood often do. ~~I could still picture clearly the day Sophi was born. I was a young girl myself then, no more than 8 summers, but I still remember the amazement I felt at how tiny and fragile she seemed. All pink and round and wrinkly. My mother was a sort of "nurse" to the local midwife, and so I had been allowed to be present during the birth to assist in any way I could. It's funny how these many years later, that tiny baby had come to be one of my students.~~ I couldn't have been more than 22 myself that day, but had been mated for some 3 summers now. Althought the goddess hadn't blessed our union with children of our own, we were kept quite busy with the "teaching" of the local villages' youths.
Dreadn, my mate and the black of my "triad", was off as he usually was this time of day, talking politics with the village elders. He was concerned that the peace that had existed in our region for many years was now being threatened by an influx of outsiders bringing with them a reputation for intolerance and hatred for our kind. Dreadn and I had had our share of disagreements lately because I did not trust the Old Ones to make any rational decisions in this matter. I felt they were being mislead by these outsiders with promises of wealth and power. Dreadn had assured me time and again that the elders had our best interests in mind.
As Sophi and I continued to chat, I thought I heard shouting, like two people arguing, coming from somewhere in the village. I stood up straight and held my hand up to Sophi to indicate I wanted her to shush for a moment. I walked a few feet to my right, trying to see and/or hear around the hut. But as quickly as it had started...it stopped. I shrugged, thinking it was probably either a young one getting yelled at for some childish offense, or a quarrel between mates or neighbors. Sophi and I returned to our chores, forgetting about the shouting.
A few moments later, we heard the shouting again....only louder, closer this time, and it seemed as if many more people were involved. Before we could react, a scream pierced the air, and Sophi and I both jumped to our feet...Sophi spilling her mending on the ground. I started to walk towards the far side of the hut again, when a wave of men, some dressed in battle-type garb, (mercenaries I thought), and some in clothes that indicated they were from a neighboring clan...one we knew well and had been at peace with for years...poured from around both sides of the hut. Many of them seemed fairly young, probably no older than me, and in fact, there were faces among them that looked somewhat familiar. There were others though, the ones with the battle garb, that had obviously seen much fighting in their day. The scars upon their faces, and the coldness in their eyes told me that. All were armed with some type of weapon. Swords, clubs, axes...and most had daggers in their belts.
Two of the men grabbed Sophi by the arms and she screamed my name in terror. Anger and confusion gripped me as I turned and headed towards her. As I started to move, I felt someone grab my arm as well. Without even looking back, I yanked my arm free and dove towards the fire. I grabbed one of the stones from the fire ring and turned back to face my aggressor. He was a young man, dressed in the clothes of the neighboring clan, and was rushing towards me with his sword raised high. I swung the stone with all my might and hit him hard against his left temple. He groaned and fell to his knees, dropping the sword, and grabbing at his temple with both hands. Blood spilled from between his fingers. I snatched the sword and turned back towards Sophi. A third man had joined the two who were holding her, and he was tearing at Sophi's shirt, squeezing and fondling her breasts roughly. Sophi was sobbing uncontrollably now, still calling my name, and pleading with the men to stop. One of the men hit Sophi across the face with the back of his hand, growling at her to shut up. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. The other man holding her arms laughed....a horrible, taunting laugh, and poked and tore at her skirt with his sword. I was filled with a hatred I had never known before. A hatred for these men, some of them fellow Advocates, for what they were doing to that young girl. More determined than ever I rushed towards them, shouting to Sophi, thinking only of stopping them.
After only a few steps, I found myself confronted with two more of the attackers. The one closest to me was armed with a sword, and I could tell by his garb that he was one of the more experienced fighters. The other was a youth, barely out of his teens, and dressed in the clothing of a villager. This young man was armed with what seemed to be a staff or spear of some kind. They stood there, blocking my path. I swung my sword with the force of the rage that was building inside me, engaging the man closest to me. He fought hard, and I almost tred, and the thought of Sophi, tred, and the thought of Sophi, ought of Sophi, drove me onward. I imagine that those very emotions are what enabled me to hold them both at bay. The younger man with the staff kept back most of the time, almost behind the swordsman. I remember thinking he seemed afraid. I could no longer see Sophi, but I could still hear her cries...though her voice was growing weaker.
As I fought there with these two men, I caught a glimpse to my right of another of the invaders emerging from the hut. I do not think I would have noticed him, except he was dragging a small child, kicking and screaming, from the hut. "Catherine" my mind registered. Catherine was a young village girl of about 8 summers. She must have taken refuge in the hut when the attack first began, and now this barbarian was dragging her out by her wrists as if she were no more than a wild animal. I hesitated briefly, wondering if I should go to her, but the sounds of Sophi's fading cries pushed me forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Catherine bite the man on his arm. I quietly cheered her for her spirit. The man swore something at her, drew his sword, and ran her through. Then he tossed her to the ground....like a rag doll.
Panic and fury hit me, and I redoubled my efforts against the two in front of me despite the tears streaming down my face....blurring my vision. Just as I felt I was gaining ground towards Sophi, I felt a sharp, burning pain in my lower back. I spun around, and there before me stood a man, not much younger than me, a blood soaked dagger in his hand. I instantly recognized him. ~~My mind shot back to a scene many years before...a scene with a man...and a boy...talking with my father. The man was a leather-crafter, (he made clothing and such from leather), and the boy was his son. They came to our village periodically to take orders from people, repair things, and it seemed to me at the time, to drink and socialize with the other men. The man always took the time during these trips to visit with my father. They were friends of sorts. Not close friends, like the kind you grow up with, but the kind who respect each other's beliefs and sit and talk for hours on end about nothing much at all besides the weather. And sit there and talk for hours they would...laughing and drinking ale, the boy always by their side. I had imagined that the boy was learning his father's trade. It only made sense.~~ My mind snapped back to the present, and there stood this same boy before me now. Older of course, than I had remembered him, but not much. I looked at him as if to say, "Why? Why are you doing this? Don't you recognize me?", but the snarl on his lips and the hatred in his eyes told me that he did not. As I stood there staring at him in confusion, the swordsman with whom I had been fighting stepped in front of him and drove his sword into my abdomen. I dropped the sword from my hands, and clutched my abdomen, falling to my knees. I thought it was strange that I couldn't really feel the pain of that wound...not like the dagger wound in my back....but rather, I KNEW that it hurt. And so there I was, on my knees, bleeding into my hands. The young man who had been fighting with the staff now reached down and took my sword from the ground and raised it over his head. As was the custom with some of the clans, he intended to take my head. I closed my eyes, and a strange calm washed over me. I waited for the blow. It did not come.
Although I could not lift my head or even move my body much, I suddenly realized that there was some sort of scuffle going on around me. I remember thinking I had not heard Sophi's screams in a while. "Maybe they are fighting over who will "have her" first", I thought. I could not tell. What I could tell was that the scuffling was getting more intense, and there was one shout above all the others. A deep, loud battle cry.
A lifeless body fell to the ground not more than 3 feet to my right. I managed to move my head enough to look at it. It was the young man whom I had recognized and who had stabbed me with the dagger. His eyes were wide open...a look of surprise on his face. But he was dead. Of that I was sure.
In the next few moments, or what seemed like moments, for I had no real feeling of time at this point, the scuffling stopped and there was nothing around me but silence. Then another body dropped to the ground next to me. For a second, I thought it was a dead or wounded attacker....but then I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, gently turning me over, a soft voice whispering my name. It was Dreadn! His face was dirty and covered with blood, but I hardly noticed...I was just so happy to see him. He turned me over so that he was holding me in his arms. I looked lovingly into his eyes, knowing that we were safe now. There was such a look of despair in his eyes and I remember feeling a great sadness that I could not take this emotion away from him. I did not want him to feel this way. My poor Dreadn. I tried to lift my hand...wanting to wipe away his tears. My arm was so heavy and I found it difficult to move...but I managed to raise it enough. I touched his face, smearing the blood from my hand on his cheek. "My love" I whispered. He was trying to talk to me through his tears, but I could not understand his words. I could only look upon the sweet face of the man I loved so much. I whispered again, "Kiss me my love", my own voice sounding strange and somehow distant. Dreadn leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, feeling the softness of his mouth....and the darkness spread her wings around me like a blanket...and there was nothing.
