Mists of Destiny (A Collection)

  Edge kissed her forehead. "We're both not very bright, are we? We should have just told each other months ago, instead of dancing around the issue like a bunch of moogles."

  Her arms tightened around him. "I didn't know how. I didn't want to make you think that you had to feel the same way."

  "Rydia . . . ." Edge pulled back, caressing the tears from her cheeks as he cupped her face. "Dee, didn't you know I'd been wild about you from the first? Why else would I say all those things? Did you see me like that with anyone else? Ever?"

  Rydia covered his hands with hers. "I didn't know what to think about anything. I'd been raised by summon monsters, Edge. What did I know about men and what they did when they liked someone?"

  He gazed down at her with a smile. "I guess I should have known that." He kissed her again, twice. "We better eat breakfast," he whispered as he pressed his lips against her cheek.

  She caressed his face. "I want to stay here. Like this. Please."

  Edge released a slow breath, enfolding her in his arms again. "We need to talk about some things, Dee. I'd rather do it on a full stomach on our way to Baron. That way we can both focus better."

  Rydia nodded against him. "All right," she whispered.

  They separated, albeit reluctantly, and sat opposite each other across from the fire. Between each bite that they couldn't taste, their gazes would meet and they would smile. Then either Rydia or Edge would release a sigh and shift their gaze back to their breakfast. Finally, they finished their breakfast and cleaned up. Edge rolled up her bedroll as well as his, and then helped her into the strap that allowed her to carry it comfortably. Rydia watched him with a constant smile, and then her eyes crinkled at the corners when he met her gaze.

  Edge took hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as they headed toward Baron again. "Rydia."

  She glanced toward him, still smiling with a silly expression of happiness, and gave his hand a squeeze. "Yes?" If it was possible, her voice held a caress.

  His lips twitched. "When I was done talking to Cecil in Baron, I was going to ask you to marry me."

  Rydia gasped and halted to throw her arms around him with an ecstatic "Oh, Edge!"

  He chuckled. Then, when she made a motion to kiss him, he kept her at arm's length. "No, Dee," he told her gently. "Not yet."

  "But--"

  "I know, but let me finish." He hesitantly released his hands from her shoulders. Then he again took her hand and headed for Baron. "I . . . I don't know if I should wait or not."

  "Wait? Why? For what?"

  "For Eblan to be built. Right now it's just a bunch of ruined rooms that's barely recognizable as a castle. It wouldn't be right to have a new bride there." Edge peeked toward her again. His eyes seemed to beg her to understand. "I guess I know you wouldn't care one way or the other because you'd let me know right between the eyes if you did. But I'd care. Eblan isn't fit to be the home I want it to be for you. When I take you home, I want it to actually be home for you and for me."

  Rydia lowered her gaze, absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Anywhere you are would be enough, Edge. You know that."

  "Yes, I do."

  "I want to help you fix it. You know that too."

  He nodded as he looked at the trees in the far distance. "Yep."

  "What you probably don't know is that I haven't had a home since I was a child. Understandably, that makes me want yours no matter what it looks like." Rydia met Edge's gaze. "The last home I had was Mist. I haven't been back since it was destroyed. It might have been fixed up, but I don't want to find out. The memory of my mother being killed there is too much."

  His face twisted with a shadow of her agony as she continued. "I want to help you build your home again, because I want it to be mine too. But . . . can't I do that as your wife? Please? Building a home is going to be hard because you're going to have to face death. You're going to have to face good memories and bad memories. I don't want you to do that alone. I want to be there each night for you to hold. I want to be there to give you strength for another day of facing memories."

  Edge halted, smiling down at her for a long silent moment before reaching out to hold her face. "When you say it like that . . . ."

  Rydia covered his hands with hers. "I want to get married in Eblan, Edge. In the little chapel. Just you and me and Cecil and Rosa. Please? I've always dreamed that's where it'd happen."

  "For you?" Edge pulled her into a tight embrace. "For you, anything."

  Rydia snuggled deeper into his arms. "Can we have lots of kids?"

  Edge chuckled, pressing his lips against her hair. "How many do you want?"

  "As many as you want." She closed her eyes with a deep sigh. "Four? Six? I don't care."

  He caressed her arm. "For you? Anything."

  "I love you, Edge. I don't know when it started, but I know it'll never stop."

  He pushed slightly back. When Rydia met his gaze, tears glistened in their crisp depths. "We're forever, Dee. All right? No matter what happens, we'll be forever."

  Rydia mutely nodded, a tear escaping her own eyes. "I promise."

  Edge's lips lifted in a wavering smile as he touched her lips with his. "I love you, Dee."

  Epilogue

  Edge and Rydia had written their own vows.

  It wasn't done very often, sometimes frowned upon by the church, but they had been adamant. They had specific things which needed to be said, and who better to say it then them? So, the small group of four gathered in the church amidst the scaffolds and tarps, waiting in front of the cleric who'd been chosen to perform the ceremony as he reiterated the blessings of marriage.

  Rydia wore a simple gown of the palest green--her favorite color, after all. Ivory and green ribbons and intricately woven garlands of pale flowers decorated her hair and matched the decorations woven into the hem and cuffs of her dress. Edge was dressed in full Eblan regalia. Pale gray with red and dark-blue highlights with tassels hanging from the end of his sheathed weapons.

  The couple, as they stood so silent and awe-struck, was beautiful. Cecil and Rosa held tightly onto the other's hand as they watched their friends' blossomed feelings come full-circle.

  Edge recited his vows first.

  "When I first saw you, you were standing just behind Rosa's shoulder. You looked a little scared. Concerned, more than anything else. That grabbed my attention more than the fact that you were so pretty. Later, after I got to know you a little better, I noticed something else about you. You were real. You listened. You heard. You were compassionate. Yet you were open about what you thought, especially when I was out of line."

  He paused, taking in a deep breath as he looked down at her hands in his. "It made me feel special. It made me care about something besides revenge. I wanted to protect you. I'd never felt that about anyone before." Edge raised his gaze from her hands and looked into her eyes. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life: I love you. I want to take care of you."

  The cleric smiled in approval and then changed his focus to Rydia. Silence was her only response to Edge's vows. She simply gazed up at him in amazement and wonder as an occasional tear escaped the corner of her eyes. After another silent moment, the cleric cleared his throat and pulled a kerchief from the sleeve of his tunic. He handed it to her with an understanding smile. Rydia looked over at the cleric with a sudden glance of realization and took the kerchief with a hesitant reach.

  She dabbed at the corner of her eyes and then looked back toward Edge. She reached up to caress his cheek. "I love you so much." Her voice drifted.

  There they stood. Silence carrying their vows one to the other. Promises spoken soul to soul. The cleric watched their expressions for a moment and then placed his hand on each of their shoulders. They blinked as one and shifted their eyes to him.

  "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

  Edge pulled her tenderly into his arms. His lips touched first one cheek, and then the other. Then their eyes me
t and they shared a caress of a smile.

  The End

  Eblan Mist

  The Mist has come to Eblan

  settling over to protect

  to comfort

  to hold Eblan within its veil

  We walk within its secrets

  talking of futures and pasts

  to laugh

  to grow closer within the other

  Now my Mist has come to Eblan

  her arms surround to protect

  to comfort

  to hold this Eblan within her veil.

  1

  A Hero's Destiny

  (f.k.a. The Story)

  ONE

  Entry of the Seeking

  Silence.

  Silver-blue eyes intensified their study of the man in dark, heavy scale armor. Tall and muscular, his movements belied his stature as he disembarked a rickety wagon, brought to the foot of the mountain by a local farmer and the promise of the coin now exchanging hands. The farmer offered the man enthusiastic thanks for the bulging purse now in his hands, yet the stranger made no response, his silence setting the farmer somewhat on his heels. Once the traveler retrieved his pack and formidable lance from the wagon he bid the farmer a simple farewell and turned to regard the face of her mountain.

  Mount Ordeals.

  His helmet blocked his countenance from view, but nothing could shield the stoic chill of his soul from her senses. This silence is what now gave her pause. Sera tilted her head as she adjusted her hold on the intricately carved staff of white oak. A gifted White Mage whom studied alongside the greats such as Rosa, new queen of Baron, since a young age, she amazed all with her talents and intuitions.

  Now she proudly bore the pure white robe and hood of her station, dedicating herself to leading those searching Mount Ordeals for the path to their destiny and future. Even now she stood concealed within the shadows of the forest at the base of the mountain. Watching. Studying the intensity of this man of armor and . . . Silence.

  To Sera, silence had long since become a treasured occurrence. As an Oracle of the White Order, she could feel emotions and hear thoughts as if woven by her own soul. She could view all histories of those seeking their new path. But this man. This man of war . . . . This stranger kept both history and future shrouded behind a cold surface--a wall of granite which felt jagged to the delicate touch of her senses.

  A slight frown knit together winged eyebrows of pale caramel. A frown of intrigue and concern heightened the pure ethereal beauty of what seemed a sculptured face. A man of war should have burned with the experience of his age. The ice of hardness and distance of those witnessed miseries should have coated his soul and heart. This man was silence, and it hinted to the heat and chill hidden beyond the wall she could not pass.

  That he served as a knight of some distant realm was clear by his armor and the lance held in an easy grasp. The weapon towered over him, though he himself must have stood taller than a great many men. The helmet upon his head contributed to his fearsome appearance. Two dragonlike wings of metal spread back from each side, and a black mane of horsehair cascaded down from the highest portion of the helmet. It was this which now tickled a distant memory of a band of honorable men in the distant realm of Baron.

  The knight stepped forward, each heavy step along the path of her mountain reverberating through her soul as icy blades and a crash of boulders. The peace upon her features did not ripple as she regarded each rumble against her calm. These histories were entrenched within him. So deep, in fact, a wave of concern cascaded from her, buffeting against that wall to be swallowed by the silence.

  Another soul farther up the mountain path beckoned for her attention. Sera gathered the fullness of her white robe, her eyes unable to venture from the knight’s shadowed countenance hidden beneath the dark helmet. Many months would pass before she saw him again, for the wandering of the mountain paths stood as the first challenge to his quest for answers.

  ‘Welcome to Mons Animae, anima questio. Your destiny awaits you. Persevere and it shall have you.’

  ~*~*~

  The knight prepared his meal of stew over a carefully contained fire. The flames crackled and popped, unconcerned of his stoic distance.

  Such silence, Sera. Have you experienced such from a man of war before this time?

  Yet again she stood concealed within the shadows of the forest upon Mount Ordeals, studying the aura of this man of armor and silent intensity. After so many months, his soul should have opened to her viewing, his miseries sounding as a distant gong--but there came nothing but utter silence, his soul still hidden behind the granite hardness of his own making.

  Sera smoothed her hand over the pearl-like orb at the apex of her staff. The fist-sized jewel glimmered and hummed as it enhanced her innate abilities, strengthening her perception and discernment as she again studied the wall within the man’s mind. It felt stronger than when she first discovered it upon his arrival at Mount Ordeals so many months before. Now it stood less chiseled and more smooth. Less forced and more natural. It didn't bulge with the weight of his experience pressing behind it. It stood more as a sentinel to . . . protect?

  Sera's expression grew thoughtful. 'You have done well these months alone,' she gently intoned. 'The calm and control are more natural for you.' His countenance did not alter, though her soul sought to speak directly to his. If he continued his daily journeys, he may one day become aware of her presence enough to hear her.

  She reached out with her essence to touch the wall, noticing the man's pause and lift of head. 'Does the peace evade you yet?' She studied the wall, hand still resting upon it as she also watched his external self. 'What keeps you returning here? What ordeal have you yet to face and--'

  The man stood, his searching gaze narrowed as he examined his surroundings with deliberate and slow movements. The wall began to pulse, as a heartbeat.

  Sera lowered her hand. 'Forgive me, vir bellator. I did not intend to invade. Your silence intrigues, and I search only for a way to listen to what it voices.'

  The man's seeking gaze slowed and then halted at her position, though Sera knew he could not see her. As part of the journey of seeking a new future, she always kept her presence shielded until their soul deemed itself ready to view her. It was an importance aspect of their spiritual journey, to listen and see with a different portion of themselves. Today was not his time, so she would remain hidden.

  But that he had found her location . . . .

  A smile caressed Sera's lips. 'Sleep well, vir bellator, for I know the silence will speak at the end of your journey. You must prepare yourself for the story it waits to confess.' She studied him a moment longer and then turned to vanish, not noticing the man's step her direction.

  ~*~*~

  The presence vanished.

  Kain, Dragoon of Baron, halted his step, still feeling the lingering of something just beyond his sense. A voice heard, yet not. That dulcet tone grew clearer after each journey to the summit of Mount Ordeals, after each exercise in control and separation from the chaos. So he would never again be controlled. So the voices would no longer decide his actions.

  The forest drew his continued focus a moment longer before he turned to the warmth of the fire and his meager supper. The voice and presence here resonated differently than the remembered oppressive and wicked chill of Golbez and Zeromus. The voice of Mount Ordeals held warmth, perhaps even a gentleness--a peace which beckoned him again to the paths of Mount Ordeals in search.

  Kain crouched before the fire, submerging himself beneath the soothing calm, distant from the harping questions and the ache for peace. Peace had been so long absent from his heart that the call could not be ignored. The answer waited somewhere along the mountain paths and, one day, he would find its entrance.

  He exhaled deeply, pushing himself to his feet though exhaustion dug at the strength in his very marrow. Retrieving his lance from its resting place ever near his grasp, he once more began his evening regime of defense a
nd attack.

  The constancy and familiarity of the weapon in his hand, the sweat beading upon his brow, and the burning of the muscles of shoulders and arms served as his one comfort. Yet even that brought with it impressions of memories tucked within. Visions he would not welcome to the light of his memory.

  How did Cecil, the new king, put the wickedness of his history aside? Why did peace and contentment ring in his voice when Kain could hear only the taut pang of rage in his own speech? He leaned hard against his lance, his hold white-knuckled. What test did Cecil face when he himself journeyed to this same mountain so many years before? The summit drew Kain's gaze, his jaw aching as poignant as the longing burning in his breast.

  TWO

  A Definition of Silence

  Sera's slipper-covered feet whispered as she followed the man of war's stoic and deliberate progression. Each morning, well before dawn, he packed his camp and began the journey along the more dangerous paths of Mount Ordeals. A week had passed since her last viewing of his soul, a listening to his heart's hum of determination. This man's search would not be denied. He waited. He watched. He listened, as she, with resolve to an end purpose. Searching within and without. Yet within his soul there remained a vast portion still removed from her.

  Sealed.

  Stagnant.

  Sera lifted a hand to the orb upon her staff, again focusing her inner-self to the wall awaiting study. Many had fallen to her ministrations as Oracle of Mount Ordeals. None stood so complete and resilient against her, muting her to the need she knew lingered just beyond. This caused Sera's mounting desire to discover another way to speak direct to his soul. Her heart ached with yearning, urging her to find a way beyond the silence to the questions. 'Are you ready, vir bellator?' She willed the question toward him, this soul who lingered so stoic and resolved.

  His steps slowed.

  'Is your soul ready to hear the truth it has sought?' Sera reached out a hand to touch the wall of his soul, tender as she probed this face of protection and distance.

  The knight halted.

  'What is this wall? What is this creator of silence? Is this for self or others?' Sera caressed her hand along its face, willing him to feel her presence and hear her voice. 'This is your first question. The first Truth to be faced and revealed.'