The Chaos Circles #5

No. No, he could not tell her, neither her past nor the one memory of two month's passing. The memory when he overheard a conversation between his uncle and Lya's father. A conversation that was not meant for his, or anyone else's ears.

Evenings of the Third Month were always cold, dark, wet and terrible, as if the Lord of Winter was inflicting the greatest of his fury in his last days. On that stormy day, the river that feed the village was larger and faster than ever. Jaque brought the flock home much earlier than usual as the waters grew. His youngest sheepdog, Gnat, had been saved from drowning only to be facing death by freezing.

As his stepmother tried her best to keep the little hound alive, Jaque was outside his father's private room to ask for the limited fire logs. But not the howling winds, the icy wetness of his own shirt nor the urgency of a beloved friend could counter to the temper of Terrence Jaymeson, when interrupted during a personal meeting.

Jaque knew it was personal because, out of habit, he peeked through the bright keyhole and saw the good brandy on the polished table. But it was what he accidentally heard that shocked him more than any sudden dip in the cold Esaqa River.

"Lya will never be my niece."
That was not his father but Finnigan Jaymeson, his father's elder brother and the head of the Jaymes' clan.
"Nor was she ever my daughter," said the voice of Handred Samuelson calmly. "But she was the only child I've ever raised. And the name she carries is my clan's, though her blood never was."

Jaque saw Samuel's pale and crooked old hand reach out for the glass of brandy.
"I am old, Jaymes. Even if I had finally managed to produce a son, the earth would take me before he understands that I created him. I'm putting my clan's future on your brother's son."
Jaymes slammed his empty glass to the table and it gave Jaque a jump.

"Jaque, ahh him. He is a good boy, a very good boy. But he is too much of his mother," said Jaymes. "Gullible, insecure, too quiet, too lazy I say. He had never captured the full interest of Terrence but only I saw him as soon-to-be-troubled."
Samuel sniggered but then it followed by a choking and coughing sound.
"Which is exactly why I choose him for Lya. It will be his faults I needed."

Jaque heard everything even as the house moaned loudly from the storm knocking outside. He heard how Samuel had promised to put his family fortunes under Jaque's name and none under Lya's. He heard how everything owned by the Jaymes should be divided only among Jaque's half-brothers. That upon Handred's death, the other Samuels' would contest for their treasure. And win by twisting the truth of Lya's birth.

Jaque had heard enough that he understood the deal. The Samuels will keep their heirlooms from the one who was never a Samuel and the Jaymes would keep theirs from the one who had failed to be a Jaymes. The marriage between him and Lya was not a union between two clans. It was to isolate two outcasts, one with a difference of blood and the other, a difference of heart.

But all he told Lya was that he wanted to see the world. Jaque continued to use that excuse as a basis for his reason to leave. Lya's reaction was as predictable as any close friend who valued their friendship. She begged him to stay. Although Lya was an outsider's daughter, she had built her heart in Enatuh. She loved her family, though the love was seldom returned. A plan had to be made.

"We'll only have to be much more careful then," said Jaque.
She loved her family. He did not. It would her love, much more than his sudden disappearance that would save and secure her.
"Do you have the last item?" asked Jaque.

Lya pulled out a long sheathed knife from her basket. It was not a usual, working knife, but rather, a lighter, hunting knife, the kind that the forest gatherers used for long trips during the winter. It was old but well used and had once belonged to a Varn. Jaque took the knife and walked over to a large boulder perched precariously between the roots of the huge, old oak that sat on Table Cliff.

"Some help here, Lya?"
The first time she manipulated the Chaos, Jaque had not noticed it. He had thought the woodblocks he was chopping were more rotten than he had seen, but upon closer inspection, it was the perfect wood for burning. He thought he was only getting stronger, but then realized that this easiness in doing the task happened only while Lya was watching. Too much greater easiness.

Lya nodded at him and placed her hand on the hard surface of the boulder. It was flat and squarish, about the height of a sheepdog, but undeniably quite heavy. Under Lya's touch, it rose up slowly, without any other visible means of support. Eventually, Jaque was able to look under the rock and slip the long knife inside a small hole at the base of the tree.
"Alright, thank you Lya."

Lya carefully lowered the boulder and balanced it carefully back between the old roots, as thick as the tree's branches. There was nothing left to do.
"Goodbye, Aellyanette Samueldottir," said Jaque.
He used his free arm to give her a tight hug. She had barely entered her teens, only as high as his chest, but he could feel all of her, how much she had grown, how different she was from him.

"Farewell, Garjaquerin Jaymeson," said Lya, pulling him tighter. Then, she pulled his head down towards her and kissed him deeply. Suddenly, Jaque could not think of anything else. Thirteen years ago, he chose to save Lya. Now he chose to save her again. But at the moment when their lips finally parted, something struck him. Would he have chosen this?

Next chapter: Sudden Apearence