Absence of Light: Part IX

A new chorus of sounds heralded the dawn in Camelot...
Crack. Crack. Whoosh. Grunt. Thud.
'Ow Blackthorn, my ribs damnit.'
Crack. Thud.
'Oof, you trying to take my head off, Morri?'
'Nay, I'm trying to teach you to duck.'
... and the lessons continued.

Every dawn found Skye in the arena, the sweat pouring off of her as she focused, battled, and usually got soundly thrashed. She was getting better, the bruises on Morrigan's ribs attested to that. At least now Skye didn't leave the arena bleeding as badly. What Skye couldn't know is that after each session, and each improvement, her teacher smiled to herself. Skye was back, living, and cursing, and the light was beginning to shine again.

A smile curved The Morrigan's ruby lips. "Oh Blackthorn, my son...won't YOU be surprised when you return home?"

Skye was tired, in body and in mind. The daily poundings were taking its toll, but her spirit felt rejuvenated. The archery leaders had looked at her in shock as she made her way to the stables and gave her directions to the stablemaster. Fyre was to be segregated, he would only accept commands from her, and no other rider would grace his back. She alone would care for him, and yes, she was riding patrol again.

As the animal moved beneath her, Skye concentrated... first a long flat grassy meadow, now the edge of the woodlands... finally up and down the hills and along the seashore. Every terrain felt different to the horse and rider. Every scene changed in temperature, and smell, and sound. Fyre knew his way, even without her hands to guide him. He was reacting well to the pressure of her knees and her whispered commands to him in Gaelic. She had learned the tricks from Ian, and only now did she see how valuable the training was. Smiling softly, she chuckled, "There's another one he was right about, Skye."

Returning from patrol, she thought about all she had learned so far, and the lessons still to come. It had taken her a few days to really begin to still herself, to get past the thoughts flying around in her head. And the feeling had come, just as Xan said it would...the warmth spreading through her like the glow of the hearth on a cold winter night. Starting in the core of her and spreading through her limbs, the feeling all at once relaxed and energized her. Every day, she vowed...every day she would take the time to partake of the life giving energy that Xan had showed her how to tap into. But first...something for the bruises and aches.

So it was that Skye arrived in Camelot, tired, dirty, and sore and made her way to the workroom. No longer tapping the staff out in front of her, but carrying it at her side, a valued weapon and support only if needed. She smiled at the changed stock, thanking Peligrance again in her heart.

Fumbling about in the jars for the salve she sought, the smells coming at her fast and swirling around her senses, she never even sensed the tall figure enter. Moving silently behind her, he caught her wrists and gently pulled her hands behind her back. Skye tensed, ready to level him with a kick but the arms enfolded her gently, holding her close in an embrace not threatening but soothing. "You..." the whisper was cut off by his fingertips gently beckoning for her silence. He had not said a word, and kept her hands behind her with one of his own.

Strangely enough she was not afraid, his presence feeling familiar to her, although deprived of her true sense of smell, and being given no voice to hear, it was instinct and instinct alone that carried her through. His lips replaced the hand at her mouth in a kiss that was both gentle and firm, warm and reassuring. Skye moved toward him, feeling his taller frame bending down to take from her.

Inside she smiled. He was home...and as soon as the kiss was over, he released her completely, leaving her breathless.

Skye grabbed the table for support and as soon as she could, she spoke. "You're home early, husband. What a delightful surprise."

And the empty workroom echoed with the sound of her voice. She was once again alone.