Lost in the Light Ch. 05

"I will take some blood and test some recipes on it." Siles nodded and opened a pocket in the front of his robe. From inside he pulled a long thin glass vial, with a very thin knife inside it. The herbalist placed the blade tip in a candle flame on The Father's desk, and left it to heat up. Stubby fingers picked up one of the elf's hands and rolled her wrist over until it was facing up. One of his fingers sprouted a metal sheath over a fingernail that was polished sharp, he pricked one of her veins in the wrist with it and the blood flowed immediately. It collected into the vial he held to her skin and once full, he retrieved the thin knife in the same hand and pressed the hot metal to the wound, searing the vein shut. The burnt smell made The Father snort. The fat man left without another word, and left The Father to his thinking.

Long moments later, there was another knock at the door. The Father rose and opened it to allow Wolfe to enter. He looked humbled in his dark blue robe, and also looked like just another acolyte. The Father gave him no regard but walked over to the bed with the sleeping Zecarin girl.

"I misunderstood why she was sent here," The Father admitted gruffly. "She may become a student if she wishes; I admit she has some talents, but there is a sickness in her that we must deal with first, and that was why she was sent here." Wolfe nodded in understanding.

"There are two very important tasks I am going to give you so listen closely," The Father snorted before his stern, raspy voice continued on. "You will assist Siles in his work with this woman. Whatever he needs, go and get it for him. You'll be allowed out of the Monastery for this reason only." Wolfe bowed his head in appreciation, but the Father just raised one dismissive hand. "Don't thank me yet. The reason I want you to do this, is so you can report to me on Siles. He is doing dangerous work, and he may not tell me all that he should. I need you to report what he neglects to." The Father looked over his shoulder for a moment to regard the man with sharp blue eyes. "You haven't finished your trials of temptation either. That is why I need you for this second task." Wolfe looked to the Zecarin girl and for the first time saw her as a woman, especially with her bared chest, and a confused and disgusted look came to his face.

"When you are not assisting Siles, you will be looking after her," The Father instructed in a stern voice. He paused to stroke the wrinkled skin of his chin. "Do not let her near any more acolytes. Do whatever it takes to keep her calm." He looked as if he was going to say more, but didn't.

"Father, will I be allowed to continue my training?" Wolfe asked solemnly. He took the task before him to heart, but wondered where it would lead him.

"You have moved on to another lesson," The Father replied with a gruff snort. "Combat training is only one important skill. I will teach you about subtlety now; you are to be her confidant. Earn her trust, and report from her as you will from Siles. Get her to show you what she won't show the rest of us."

"I feel that she shouldn't know of this," Wolfe said quietly as he started to understand, "and neither should Siles."

"He can know what she tells you; he'll need to, but not that I also know. Keep nothing from me, but don't let him know that. Go now, set her up in one of the chapel rooms, and take care of your charge."

Wolfe bowed to the old man, picked up Zecarin girl and left.

*****

By the time she finally started to stir, Wolfe had dozed off sitting at the desk with his head down in his arms. At first it was the sharp short breaths that broke the silence, then it was the tossing, until finally he lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his face. The afternoon sun was still coming in from the window, but its color had turned from bright yellow to soft orange -- evening was approaching. He stared blankly at his charge and saw her head move side to side as she grew restless. Wolfe on the other hand had only just revived from a nap but it felt like hours of sleep had just refreshed him, and thus his brain was a little foggy. Such peace and quiet was a thing of the past for him since rising up the ranks, but this revisit to the life of the acolytes had been a mixed blessing -- he finally got a good solid nap in.

These quarters were cramped, with barely space between the walls for the worn oak bed with mattress, dark brown desk, and foot trunk that made up what was a guest's quarters. He replaced a basket with a stuffed towel and clay pitcher of water back away from the edge of the desk to the center to keep them from falling off accidentally. Wolfe hadn't seen this kind of modest comfort since elevating to the Huanguard under The Father. Comfort was cast off for the power that came from The Father's hard lessons. He was stronger, more alert, and more tolerant of the elements than he had been as an acolyte. Razj called it "becoming wild again." But the one thing he missed, was the deep, deep sleep that an elite never felt again -- for they were always vigilant. Razj even claimed to never sleep anymore; he just meditated to rest his mind, as he put it. The adjustment and the sacrifices were hard, but he went to it without complaint.

His charge had opened her eyes. She was looking around with a blinking, confused expression. It was to be expected from the knocking about her head had received the day before. Wolfe simply sat and watched quietly, his bright blue eyes staring at her like the oddity she was -- a dark grey skinned elf in a monastery full of men, and a female to boot. Female... he thought about the problems that would cause, if they hadn't already happened. The acolytes and stewards were just simple men, here to cater to the elites that were trained; they still had the hungers of men. Rumor was she was just an intruder caught sneaking about; the stewards had been keeping her prisoner. But The Father's reaction to her yesterday... and this mention of training her meant there was more here than he was told. The scowl eased away -- if she was to be trained, then the stewards would have to cater to her too. That was a recipe for mischief.

She caught him staring and startled.

"Iz mou wayn?" She asked and propped herself up.

"I don't speak Zek." He stated plainly, and leaned one arm against the desk to prop up his head. Truthfully, he understood her inquiry, 'Who are you?' Languages weren't his strong point, but he knew enough for simple conversations, and they were required for training. Wolfe tried his best to come across non-threatening, considering the thrashing she had given Mero. But it must have been the look in his eyes that just unnerved her, because she was cowering from him.

"Where am I?" she asked, as she clutched the blue robe she wore and looked at it with uncertainty.

"You're in one of the rooms near our Chapel; it's where first year initiates stay when they are in study..." He saw the utter look of confusion in her face and stopped. It was as if she recognized the words he was saying, but they made no sense to her. "Do you know why you are here?"

Slowly she shook her head no.

"Do you remember your name?" She looked away and started to think, but the longer she took the greater the look of anguish on her face as if the concept was scaring her to tears. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Her blue streaked hair fell forward as she rested her chin against her knees.

"No..." she whimpered as her face contorted like a child about to cry.

"It will come to you," Wolfe said gently. "Give it time, and it will come to you. You hit your head hard, and cut it open. It will take some time, but it will come." He said softly. There was a certain cold, sternness amid the gentle reassurance in his voice -- like he had seen this before. Or perhaps he just wanted her to believe him. She nodded her head in understanding but couldn't help hold back the tears. One hand reached up and felt the bump and gash in her scalp. It gave her some measure of comfort to confirm what he had said.

"I'm scared, I don't know this place." She said, and pulled the blanket over her up to her chin. "Who are you?"

"Call me Wolfe." He said softly, and looked away so as not to stare too much. He knew his stare was intimidating; he used it to unnerve people, he had planned to use it on her until this development. "You're safe. You're resting in this room because you hurt your head in a training session. You can stay here as long as you like until your memory starts to come back." She nodded her understanding. "Would you like me to go and give you some privacy? Or would you like me to stay and keep you company?" She thought about it for a bit.

"Stay." She said. "Talk to me?"

"Sure, are you hungry?" Wolfe asked. He turned around and pulled a basket from the desk and opened up the towel that covered up some bread and fruit. He had intended to eat it himself if she didn't wake up. He handed her an apple and replaced the basket on the desk. She looked at it and rolled it around in her hands.

"What is this?" She asked. Wolfe clenched his jaw to keep it from falling off. If this was an act, she was being clever about it.

"Umm, that's an apple. It's a fruit. You bite into it just like it is." He made a motion of bringing it to his mouth and biting into an invisible apple. She mimicked him, and took a small bite, chewed it for a bit, and swallowed. "I suppose you don't have apples in your home."

"It tastes weird." She complained, but continued eating. Wolfe placed the basket of food on the bed beside her, and motioned simply for her to have her pick. She was content with the apple for now, but when he handed her the water pitcher, she cast it aside and drank deeply from the clay rim. Water dribbled down the sides of her mouth and onto her robe.

"Not so fast, take your time." Wolfe reached over to take control of the pitcher, but she immediately cowered away from him.

"No! I won't tell you!" She shouted. He froze in his track and gently eased back into his chair. Her reaction startled even herself and she looked at the pitcher suspiciously. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"Torture..." Wolfe stated with a sigh. "Plain as day, you've been scarred. Interrogation can never be forgotten. No matter how hard you hit your head." That uncertain fear returned to her face, and she sat hugging the pitcher.

"I want to go home." She mumbled. "Please, let me go home."

"I will take you home. I promise." A cold chill ran down his spine, this conversation was taking a wrong turn, he suddenly felt like her captor. "Once your head is better and you can remember..."

"NOOO!" She screeched and flung the pitcher at his head. He caught it easily before it even left her hand. Some water sloshed out and all over the bed, but he was able to get the rest away from her and place it on the desk. She kicked at him and swung with her fists. But it was the frantic thrashing of a desperate person. Wolfe avoided grabbing her wrists as he deflected each blow with his arms; he wanted to, but didn't want to make the situation worse. Until he saw it, that malicious gleam in her eye... and the beginning of a snarl creep up her lip. It was the same as when she went berserk.

"Easy! I'm not going to hurt you." Wolfe yelled over her screeching. He caught one of her arms but purposely let the other wail on him as she saw fit -- he needed to do this lightly and not overwhelm her. A quick jerk of her arm and he caught her body and held her tightly. His powerful arm wrapped around her body and held her head firmly to his chest. She couldn't get away, he was too strong. Her free hand could beat on him as much as she wanted, but until she showed signs of remembering how to fight all she could do scratch and bruise. It was her teeth he was worried about, as the image of Lawson's chewed shoulder came to mind. "Easy... I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help." He said calmly. She still fought him, but it was a losing battle as her tantrum eventually ran out of energy. Once she stopped struggling, he let go of his lock on her neck and wrist and started stroking her head soothingly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Wolfe said. She stayed leaning against him, her head against his chest. "Would you like me to go now?" A trembling hand released its death grip on his bicep and wound behind his neck to grab her other hand behind him.

"Stay..." she whispered, as her arms made a bar to hold him. He was almost as much a prisoner of hers as she of him now. "I'm sorry. Bits of images come and go. They're not really images, but... feelings. I remember feeling... like I was a prisoner."

"You were a soldier, of some sort. I don't know. You didn't really tell us much. But you knew how to fight." Wolfe started. It was uncomfortable for him, having her hold onto him like this. He didn't much care for Zeks, but he was also fighting some of his own urges at the same time. Perhaps that was why The Father picked him - he needed someone that wasn't going to abuse her... like the stewards probably did. Now it all made some sense. This situation was becoming more complicated by the moment. He couldn't tell her what he knew - it might make her see him as the enemy. He couldn't lie to her either, because that would ruin the trust he was supposed to build the moment her memory came back. His brooding was interrupted by the feeling of her fingers playing with the back of his neck. It caused a mixed signal to his brain, but eventually the cold shivers won over.

"You grew quiet." She said, but didn't look up. "I'm sorry. I feel comfortable like this. Do you mind?"

"Um... No. Not if it makes you feel better." Wolfe replied after clearing his throat. "Can you tell me about these images and feelings, perhaps talking about them helps."

"I... it hurts too much to think right now." She sighed. "I just want to rest here for a bit, I like this." Her fingers had moved up to curl through his hair. Short as it was, she still managed to get small lengths of his brown hair to twirl around her finger.

"I, I should go," Wolfe started and slowly untangled himself. "You should eat and take some time to yourself. I will be back soon and we can talk more." Before she could protest he had her arms back in her own lap and had retrieved the food basket. "Please, enjoy. You need to get your energy back."

"I'm sorry." She admitted and looked down, chastised. "I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to make you leave." Wolfe had stood up and winced as the pain of guilt stabbed his brain.

"I have other duties to attend, and as soon as I get them completed, I can come back and spend the rest of the evening with you. If you would like me to." He tried to sound genuine, but something about this just felt all wrong. "Would you like me to get anything else while I'm out?" The elf looked to her basket and rummaged out two hot rolls and smelled them.

"Some more of these? The smell makes my mouth water." She smiled. Wolfe nodded with a grin and left, closing the door behind him. He was halfway down the hallway before he let loose a profound sigh, and ran his fingers through his hair violently as if to set it on fire through friction.

"Something the matter my son?" Mero said with a coy look on his face as he approached. He was wearing the same acolyte robe as Wolfe, and had even pulled the hood over his head to mask most of his identity. Wolfe's eyes grew two sizes too big and grabbed him by the arm to drag him along. Mero made as if to protest but Wolfe's silent glare was a well known expression among the elites. Despite his boisterous nature, the few moments the young man kept silent warranted utter seriousness -- and everyone understood this about him. When Wolfe was quiet, something terrible was about to happen.

When he had put enough distance between them and the hallway, Wolfe stopped and checked for eavesdroppers. He looked like he was ready to slug Mero in the face, but instead smacked his own cheeks a few times.

"She's trying to make my head explode!" He hissed in a hushed voice. "She may just be faking, but I think she's lost her memory. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Woo a blank slate?"

"No enemy has an impenetrable shield." Mero quoted and pressed his palms together in religious significance. "The clever show you a fake chink, the fearful keep the right one hidden, the wise show it clearly but never let you get close to it."

"I know," Wolfe took a deep breath. "She's just too damn good at manipulation. If she wasn't a Zek, I'd be breaking my vows right now."

"Yoooou never took that... particular... vow." Mero slowly corrected him. Wolfe's jaw dropped, as he realized his error, and the trouble he was in. "You took the vow of diligence, the vow of sanctity...sure. But the vow of temptation doesn't come until much later. So long as you don't actively pursue pleasure of the flesh, you aren't breaking any vows if it pursues you. You lucky rotten bastard."

"Ohhhh! That's why he asked!" Wolfe's tone had completely changed as some grand revelation occurred that escaped Mero. He turned towards the grand chapel and dragged Mero by the arm. "I missed my lessons, and I need to let off some steam".

"Sorry, my son." Mero argued in his mock pious voice. "Siles sent me to fetch you." Wolfe growled, loudly. "Wow. That was pretty impressive. Can you grow fur too?" The young man stopped and threw his hands up in frustration. "Clear your mind my friend. It is too soon in this play for the Hero to be so vexed." Mero patted him on the shoulder. "Just let us know when it gets to the steamy parts, yes? Well, only those of us that are allowed to watch or listen in on the steamy parts. Hmm, that would make a good stealth training exercise... peeping in on you." Mero waggled his eyebrows.

"I can't believe you!" Wolfe muttered. "Is everyone in on this?"

"Only your dearest friends - those that enjoy watching you writhe around in embarrassment." Mero grinned. "The rest... ehh, they'd rather the Zek was dead and the body dumped in the woods. I think Lawson is part of that camp."

"Wonderful, they'll be staring daggers at my back."

"Pish! You think too lowly of us. Now the wretches, they might be a bit envious. I mean you did steal away their Deadly Rat. Hmm..." Mero suddenly turned rather serious. "I wonder if they'll try something now that they know she's been caught." Wolfe looked down both hallways to make sure it was still empty.

"Are we allowed to kill stewards?" He asked in complete honesty.

"Of course!" Mero said taken aback. "Why do you think The Father saves them from the gallows and brings them here?"

"I thought he was being merciful, actually." Wolfe said. There was a mixture of glee and horror in his eyes. "That man truly scares me sometimes."

"You don't know the half of it." Mero winked. "But off with you now my son, don't keep the Master of Lard waiting." Wolfe shook his head and left. As he crossed the doorway he turned and gave Mero a salute. His mentor did know just how to cheer him up.

Mero straightened his hood and followed at his leisure. The Chapel was empty this late in the evening. As soon as he watched Wolfe leave out of the main doors he took a seat on one of the pews and knelt with his hands together in prayer. Not long after the meditative silence was interrupted by the soft shuffling of old feet. The Father never seemed to use any doors, he just seemed to appear, Mero remarked in his head. The Father made his way down the same pew and came to sit next to his student.

"Speaking of wretches," The Father said. "Someone is stealing potatoes."

"Potatoes?" Mero faked being shocked. "Of all the nerve."

"They're making booze, and selling it when they go to market." The Father ignored his pupil's mocking attitude.