Chapter Twenty-Five
Darkened Light
UPON THE SEA HAMMER, the sun had risen above the horizon of the sea, the sea turned from it’s murky black to a glistening green blue, and cast it’s rays upon the polished decks and smooth sturdy walls of the Sea Hammer, showing decent features and craftsmanship it’s usurping crew failed to admire in their escape the night before. Drewth, who had been at the helm of the ship all night, still was there, skillfully guiding the ship’s direction toward Windpass Isles, which was far from view as of yet.
Despite all appearances of his concentration, his mind was barely on this – his mind was aclutter with conflicting ponderings: what was he to do, aboard this ship, upon the new land he was traveling to? Why was he ally to these prisoners? Why was he ally to Syndirin – the murderer of his beloved wife? The decision seemed right in front of him, yet ever distant, ever ambiguous. What was to become of him? And why was he even asking this question of himself as though he did not know, when in fact he did not know? Perhaps the answer was not in the death of others, but in the death of himself.
His final pondering, the death of himself, remained solemnly in his mind. He turned the wheel slightly, guiding the Sea Hammer in a desirable tack with the winds, to gain speed, a skill applied in sailing. Seften had approached him from behind, and he had not noticed. Seften stepped up to the side of Drewth, likewise facing the sea before them, holding onto a partially smashed wooden railing with one hand, to steady himself upon the gently sea-swaying ship.
“I wanted to thank you for saving us, sir,” Seften said sincerely to Drewth.
The first thought that entered Drewth’s mind was his failure to heal Seften, unconscious, of the night before. “I could not save you, no doubt you did not remember,” he replied flatly, in reference to that failed Heal spell.
“Here we all are now, alive,” Seften said against Drewth’s negative reply. “And you consider yourself so the failure to save?”
Drewth did not respond. He wanted to hatefully comment on the death of his wife, but he could not wrest the words from his mind. And so a moment of only cold silence passed after Seften’s words.
“I was told by Paetoric of your failed Healing Spell, and you’re seemingly absent Light Element. I’ve heard the lore once, of Darkened Light. Did you hear of this yourself, sir?” Seften asked of Drewth. “My eldest brother, Torius, told me of this once. He described to me this data of Dark and Light Elements in the tale of two warrior brothers who could not be of either Element as the Elements raged within the warriors themselves. The Element was called Darkened Light, and had no power until it became either Dark or Light inside. In the tale, one brother becomes Dark, and one becomes Light –“
Drewth had cut him off. “I have no time for stories, young Seften. And you’ve no mind for my matters.”
Seften nodded in respectful silence. He gave a moment’s pause, but then persisted in his communication. “I do not mean to bother you with mere stories, sir – but I mean only to reference what you seem to be showing as to what you feel. And that you could not heal me the night before – perhaps this will be the answer to your own questions that anger you. Perhaps this Darkened Light?”
“Off with you, boy!” Drewth said angrily, raising a gauntleted fist threateningly, looking upon Seften for the first time since he spoke to him. A very unnatural response of the usual Drewth.
Seften did flinch at the blow that yet did not come, and even raised his hands in front of him in protection. “Sir – I mean only to help, as you helped me,” he said humbly, and patted Drewth upon his armored, clenched fist, as he turned and walked down from the helm, leaving Drewth alone.
Drewth lowered his hand down again to grasp the helm’s wheel. “Darkened Light,” he muttered, “is still another question, and no answer. No one can answer my anger but my anger, it seems.”
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