Around midday, they stopped to rest at a small pool fed by a trickling waterfall. The water was clear and clean and Phae cupped it in her hands, drinking deeply. The Kishion produced some roots and sour berries for her to eat. The flavor of the berries made her scrunch up her face. He smiled faintly at the look.
After gulping down another long drink, Phae wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’ve decided something. You need another name.”
His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. When she looked at him, she could not help but see both facets of his nature. He was a ruthless killer. He could also be gentle and compassionate. Both aspects seemed to always be at war with each other. It filled her with a sense of dread, as if watching storm clouds pent up with lightning.
Phae sat by the edge of the pool, gazing across the sunlight twinkling on the water’s surface. If his dual nature were still conflicted, she wanted to do something to shift the balance. “I can’t keep calling you Kishion,” she said softly, barely meeting his eyes. “I know that is what you are. But it is not who you are. It would be a temporary name though. Until we find your real one.”
He stepped closer, his boots just at the edge of the water. “And did you have one in mind for me?”
“I have your permission then?”
“Names are not important to me. The truth is.”
She rubbed her arms, nodding slowly, grateful he had not responded angrily. “What my father said about you—being in the Arch-Rike’s dungeons. That he is secretly afraid of you. I would be very angry, if I were you. I would want to know the truth as well.”
“Tyrus is either very foolish or very wise. Perhaps a little mad. Who else would have let his enemy protect his only child? By trusting me so implicitly, he compels me to be honorable.” Slowly, he sat down next to her, facing the cool waters. Taking a pebble from the edge, he flung it carelessly into the pool, rippling the waters.
“Trust is powerful,” Phae said. She looked at him seriously, feeling emboldened. “I trust you. The Arch-Rike ordered you to kill me, but you did not. Why not?”
His expression darkened. “Did you want to die?”
“Tell me.”
He did not meet her gaze. “I couldn’t.”
She waited, letting the silence do the goading.
He glanced at her, then back at the waters. His expression was deeper than a lake, his eyes lost in some inner void. “I could not do it,” he whispered. “I know I have been trained to take life and think nothing of it. I look at you and see a thousand ways I could kill you. You are truly defenseless. But there is something about you…something familiar. As if I knew your voice from sometime before. Your smell. The look in your eyes…” He frowned, but not with anger. It was more frustration…an elusive memory nagging him. “When the Arch-Rike sensed my unwillingness, I knew that he was going to use the ring to destroy you. That he would kill you in front of your father in such a brutal, merciless way, reveals his desperation and utter ruthlessness. I cannot serve a man like that. If Tyrus spoke the truth about things, then I will face the Arch-Rike. Since that Romani thief has the blade Iddawc now, there is nothing to protect the Arch-Rike from me.”
The menace in his voice sent chills racing down Phae’s arms. “I pity him.”
“You, of all people, have no need to pity him. What name have you decided for me?” He looked her in the eyes and it caused a warm flush to run through her.
“It will not be for long,” she answered, looking down at her lap. “I just feel that you are no longer a Kishion. It is silly, probably, but I want to be able to call you something else.” She sighed. “I think—Shion.”
“Shion,” he murmured, letting the word roll over his tongue. “Very well.”
Phae sat cross-legged then and leaned forward, peering across the pool. There was an enormous blue butterfly perched on the moss on the other side. It was dazzling in color, as vivid as the sky. A feeling of dread and nervousness struck the pit of her stomach. The butterfly lifted up and started to dance in the air. “Father mentioned that there is a Dryad tree here in Silvandom, but only the Druidecht know where her tree is.” Phae rose.
He nodded in agreement and stood. The feelings of dread intensified.
“When you were chasing me through Stonehollow, I was warned of the danger. There were these moths and butterflies that kept flitting around me. I see one right there, across the pond. I just noticed it and felt the same warning I did then.” She glanced back the way they had come. “I think the Arch-Rike’s minions are getting close.”
After gulping down another long drink, Phae wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’ve decided something. You need another name.”
His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. When she looked at him, she could not help but see both facets of his nature. He was a ruthless killer. He could also be gentle and compassionate. Both aspects seemed to always be at war with each other. It filled her with a sense of dread, as if watching storm clouds pent up with lightning.
Phae sat by the edge of the pool, gazing across the sunlight twinkling on the water’s surface. If his dual nature were still conflicted, she wanted to do something to shift the balance. “I can’t keep calling you Kishion,” she said softly, barely meeting his eyes. “I know that is what you are. But it is not who you are. It would be a temporary name though. Until we find your real one.”
He stepped closer, his boots just at the edge of the water. “And did you have one in mind for me?”
“I have your permission then?”
“Names are not important to me. The truth is.”
She rubbed her arms, nodding slowly, grateful he had not responded angrily. “What my father said about you—being in the Arch-Rike’s dungeons. That he is secretly afraid of you. I would be very angry, if I were you. I would want to know the truth as well.”
“Tyrus is either very foolish or very wise. Perhaps a little mad. Who else would have let his enemy protect his only child? By trusting me so implicitly, he compels me to be honorable.” Slowly, he sat down next to her, facing the cool waters. Taking a pebble from the edge, he flung it carelessly into the pool, rippling the waters.
“Trust is powerful,” Phae said. She looked at him seriously, feeling emboldened. “I trust you. The Arch-Rike ordered you to kill me, but you did not. Why not?”
His expression darkened. “Did you want to die?”
“Tell me.”
He did not meet her gaze. “I couldn’t.”
She waited, letting the silence do the goading.
He glanced at her, then back at the waters. His expression was deeper than a lake, his eyes lost in some inner void. “I could not do it,” he whispered. “I know I have been trained to take life and think nothing of it. I look at you and see a thousand ways I could kill you. You are truly defenseless. But there is something about you…something familiar. As if I knew your voice from sometime before. Your smell. The look in your eyes…” He frowned, but not with anger. It was more frustration…an elusive memory nagging him. “When the Arch-Rike sensed my unwillingness, I knew that he was going to use the ring to destroy you. That he would kill you in front of your father in such a brutal, merciless way, reveals his desperation and utter ruthlessness. I cannot serve a man like that. If Tyrus spoke the truth about things, then I will face the Arch-Rike. Since that Romani thief has the blade Iddawc now, there is nothing to protect the Arch-Rike from me.”
The menace in his voice sent chills racing down Phae’s arms. “I pity him.”
“You, of all people, have no need to pity him. What name have you decided for me?” He looked her in the eyes and it caused a warm flush to run through her.
“It will not be for long,” she answered, looking down at her lap. “I just feel that you are no longer a Kishion. It is silly, probably, but I want to be able to call you something else.” She sighed. “I think—Shion.”
“Shion,” he murmured, letting the word roll over his tongue. “Very well.”
Phae sat cross-legged then and leaned forward, peering across the pool. There was an enormous blue butterfly perched on the moss on the other side. It was dazzling in color, as vivid as the sky. A feeling of dread and nervousness struck the pit of her stomach. The butterfly lifted up and started to dance in the air. “Father mentioned that there is a Dryad tree here in Silvandom, but only the Druidecht know where her tree is.” Phae rose.
He nodded in agreement and stood. The feelings of dread intensified.
“When you were chasing me through Stonehollow, I was warned of the danger. There were these moths and butterflies that kept flitting around me. I see one right there, across the pond. I just noticed it and felt the same warning I did then.” She glanced back the way they had come. “I think the Arch-Rike’s minions are getting close.”
