Echoes of the Past

Chapter Seventeen - Part One

"Looks like that's everything," Sam said, making his way to the door. He had a new satchel slung over him. This one was a grey fabric with three main compartments in successively smaller sizes. A gift from Tabetha, Evan guessed.

"Sam, your shoulder," Evan said, remembering.

"Not a problem," Sam said, tapping his injured shoulder. "I gave it a look over this morning, and cast another healing touch over it. It just needs time to heal properly now. I also gave James a quick clean up too."

"A brief touch will only do for a short while," Evan said. "It relieves the current pain but does not heal the source of the injury. What we all need is a focused, deep cleanse, if we are to go ahead with our best strength."

Sam nodded. "That would be best, for sure. But that'll fatigue the healer too much. I don't know about you, but that kind of magic would exhaust me for days. I'd rather we all run at less than maximum than have one of us out of the fight completely."

"Very well," Evan said. He was impressed that Sam had managed to give both himself and James another heal, after only a few hours sleep. The Voarn had sorcery running through their blood, and it did not take as much of a toll on the body as it did for a human, or lesser race. The Oneron must surely be an admirable race.

"My worry is that trouble always seems to find us," Evan said.

"Our path should be clear to Riondon," Sam said. "I know, we don't always have the best of luck. But I don't anticipate us getting into any fights any time soon. Unless we run into Red Guards."

"And if that huntsman from earlier decides he cannot live without me?" Evan asked, giving Sam a hard look.

"He doesn't concern me. We gave him a good scare. And we'll be gone from town in no time."

Evan wasn't so sure, but left it there.

They followed Sam out of the room, into the quiet corridor. Floorboards creaked in the quiet air as they made their way down the stairs.

There was movement coming from the kitchen when they entered the main room. Tabetha stood over the counter, wrapping a fist-sized parcel with a thin paper. Several more wrapped parcels lay on the counter. She wore shorts and a loose, flowing blouse. Reisa had also been fond of shorts, Evan noted, frowning.

"Morning, fellas," she said.

"No, it's night still," Sam said to her sternly. "Tabs, you didn't have to see us out. It's early, you should be–"

"Now, Sam," Tabetha cut in, matching his tone. "You say what you like about what I should have done, but, what I've done is done, and it's no use in arguing now." She stepped to him and rubbed a hand on his cheek, slapping it lightly. "Here, give me that." Before Sam could protest, she unslung his new satchel, and laughed when the strap jerked his head down and flapped his ear. She placed the bag on the counter and shoved in three bottles of water, and then began filling it with the parcels.

"Just some things for the road," Tabetha said, "we have mallidae, some old posshi–not mine, from the market–and hirrilon squares. Oh." She grabbed a plastic container from the counter, and had to press it down into the bulging bag to keep it from spilling out. "And some more vapino's for your sweet tooths."

Sam sighed, stifling a laugh. "That's enough, Tabs. You've done enough. If we pick up anything else on our travels we'll have to stop and have a big feast before fitting anything else in here." He laid a hand on the satchel in her hands, positioning himself close to her. She looked up into his eyes. Her tense movements stopped and she relaxed as a smile formed.

"I just want you all to have enough. Leave me alone," she added in a low, somewhat embarrassed voice, and elbowed him away. She almost seemed teary-eyed.

A cool wind blew in from the kitchen window. The early morning air had yet to warm. This made Evan realise he was not wearing his short-cape, and his heart quickened.

He said to them, "I have forgotten something in the room. I will not be a moment."

Not waiting for a response, he left them and went back up the stairs. The corridor was quiet and carried a heady aroma that seemed to linger all over the house. Likely a result of the flowers from Tabetha's work stall.

Back in the room, Evan immediately saw his green cape draped over a chair in the corner. The silence of the room was a welcome release. Away from people, and their thoughts and auras and questioning looks. He took his time clasping his cape on, studying himself in a tall mirror.

His hair was a mess of wavy curls that fluffed out around his long ears, a far cry from the combed, neat appearance he had managed to regain after his shower yesterday. His green tunic was faded with smudges of dirt and mud. The short-sleeved shirt he wore underneath appeared more grey than cream, now, and his boots were scratched and dulled, no longer a gleaming silver. His mother would never have let him leave the castle looking like this.

He asked himself who he was. He was a warrior. A soldier. A prince. Loved and guided by the parents who were no longer with him. And yet, he was no one. A lost soul on a far-off planet, hoping he was on the right path. He told himself that one day he would recognise the person in the mirror again. Noting his sunken cheeks and the dark patches under his eyes, he scowled at his reflection and turned away, leaving the room.

Tabetha waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. 

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Continued in Part Two