Ellya's heart tore every time she found him with it. She often would sit beside the lake alone for long hours, staring at the glittering water, trying to think of nothing but her allegiance to the Goddess. It worked, but when she saw him again, her pain was all she could think about.
She finally decided to take up her sword again, from which demon blood had been washed. Her parents would not tolerate her fighting again, but she continued nevertheless.
She wanted to continue her training, even if it was without him. She wanted to prove to herself that she didn't need him.
For several days, she dueled an invisible foe, sometimes swinging her sword in her wrath and cutting into a tree trunk or branch. She incorporated the moves Vanden had taught her into her own, and eventually, her self-confidence returned.
She had never felt so much stronger.
She circled her wrist, forming a broad arch with her blade. She swung it in a wide circle on the other side of her body and above her head, spinning round.
After repeating the same movement again in careful motion, she sheathed her sword and set it aside. She sat at her usual place beside the lake, an opening with tiny blue forget-me-nots on either side. She plucked one between her fingers and blew it away. She watched quietly as it landed on the calm lake surface.
She gently rubbed her sore wrist, then opened and closed her fist. She twisted her hand in revolutions as her eyes danced aimlessly across the water.
Footsteps fell upon the dirt behind her. There was nothing surreptitious about them.
Ellya glanced over her shoulder casually.
"You've been practicing," Vanden remarked unenthusiastically.
"You've been watching," she responded in the same tone, although it was more of a question. She turned her gaze to the lake. She had forced herself to think of him as no more than a friend suffering from nostalgia. But the feelings she had forced deep inside were rebelling.
She tried to maintain her apathetic composure.
There was a long moment of silence. She wondered if he had left.
"You don't say 'good morning' to me anymore," he said.
She shrugged.
"Has my silence affected you that much?"
She didn't answer quickly. She didn't know why she was even answering. "Perhaps."
He hesitated to speak again. "Ellya . . ." It sounded as if he wanted to continue. But that was as far as he went. He turned sharply on his heels and left.
She sighed heavily. Her heart returned to its previous state of stone.
On the next day, the same incident occurred. Only this time, she saw him leaning against a tree, eyes on the ground. He was not watching her, but rather just stood there.
She set her sword on the ground. Hearing nothing but the silence, he looked up at her.
She stared back at him.
He stood from the tree and turned to leave. She watched him retreat, but her mouth had the audacity to speak.
"Why do you come here?"
"To make sure no more demons come."
"Then why don't you come and practice with me?"
She bit her lip as he stopped. He was terribly still, hands clenching into fists.
Why was he so mad?
"I can't," he replied. "I just can't."
He left without another word, and once again her heart turned to stone. She decided that if her heart changed between states one more time, she would shatter.
Why was she so weak? Why did she constantly let him take her heart and squeeze the life out?
Why did he refuse to speak with her? Even after he had said that she had done nothing wrong!
She absentmindedly sat by her regular place of repose and grabbed a twig from the ground. She smacked its thicker tip against the surface of the lake. After several effortless attacks, the twig snapped. She glared at it disapprovingly and threw both pieces into the lake.
On the third day that she had discovered Vanden observing her, she deliberately decided to take action. She found a long pointed rock and stuck it securely into the ground. It budged when she kicked it slightly, but that was all right. Vanden surely was not there yet watching her.
She nodded to herself, satisfied, and began her independent training. Sooner or later she would forget about the rock and hopefully her foot would catch it.
And it worked, surprisingly. Inwardly, she laughed mockingly at her own idiocy and folly, but her plan had worked. She lurched forward as the protruding rock halted her foot, tripping her. She gave a terse involuntary yelp. As she landed on her side, insignificant shocks of pain raced up and down her arm. Her sword made a thud as it landed.
As she had expected, Vanden rushed out from cover.
"What happened?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
She was not hurt, but he believed she was.
"Is your arm broken? Let me see it. How did you fall? Where did this rock come from? I don't remember this rock being here in the open. Are you all right?"
She sat up, already overwhelmed by questions. For the first few seconds, she basked in his concern and his attention. But soon, his panic became so excessive, she wondered if this was something more than about her.
"Vanden," she said. He was inspecting her arm. "Vanden. Vanden, stop. I'm fine. I'm not hurt."
He seemed not to have heard her. "Can you move your arm? Does it hurt? Are you-"
"Vanden!"
He paused and stared at her. She turned her face away shamefully.
"I'm not hurt," she repeated quietly. "Do not worry. I just fell."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He drew back a bit, though appeared reluctant to believe her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. My overreaction was unexpected."
She looked at him again. Hopefully her eyes were telling him not to leave.
"What happened then, Vanden?"
He turned away. She was unsure, but she thought she heard him mumble, "It's all my fault."
He rose, and she followed.
"What is your fault?" she demanded.
He made no response or movement.
"Vanden, I want to know," she said. "I want to know why you have been avoiding me. What did I do?"
"I said you did nothing."
"Then tell me why you're angry with me."
"I'm not angry with you!" He spun suddenly and tightly grasped her shoulders. His upset eyes flashed as they glared into hers. "You're not the one responsible! I am!"
She didn't understand. He couldn't have helped her because that demonic carcass had prevented him from reaching her. How was he responsible?
He released her and turned. "I wasn't strong enough to protect either of you."
She narrowed her eyes. "Who?"
He did not know whether or not he should speak. He chose to answer. "You and a young boy."
She finally realized that he was talking about where he had come from.
Hoping that he would continue, she inquired in her softest voice, "What happened, Vanden?"
He ran trembling fingers through his dark hair. He began to pace back and forth, carefully avoiding her eyes.
"Our village was attacked by a demon," he started. She heard reluctance in his voice. "There was a boy, Timoth, the biological son of the head of the village. He was my little stepbrother. He was out in the open, the most vulnerable of us all. The demon went after him, but I managed to stop him."
His face contorted with furious pain. "Iveyleth came out from cover. The demon charged at her, and I and several others fought to protect her. She was taking Timoth to safety, and I took my attention away from them for some time. Until another one of those damned creatures burst from the trees."
He was struggling to speak now, and Ellya just wanted to touch his shoulder and tell him that she was there.
"I was foolish to have left them alone. The second demon failed to get Iveyleth, but instead wounded Timoth. The two demons were killed and burned, but . . . Timoth fell ill and . . . and two days after the attack . . . he died."
He submitted to silence. His clenched fists were so tight, he seemed in need of something to punch.
Ellya's anger and frustration softened as she saw that he fought to keep his emotions still. But it was far too late for that.
She chose to touch his shoulder, and he made no movement that objected. "I'm so sorry, Vanden."
"I was banished," he went on, rather monotonously. "My stepfather wanted nothing to do with me. My mother died after Timoth was born, so she didn't have much say. The village didn't dare defy their master's word. So I left, and I ended up here."
"But that seems unfair," Ellya remarked, despite the fact that had he not been banished, she would have not met him. Though she died a little inside, she said, "Surely your stepfather regrets that decision. Perhaps he has seen the Goddess's light and now wants you to return. The Goddess would never tear you away from your home."
"I am no longer in her favor," he muttered, moving so that she was no longer touching him.
Her heart almost failed her. But he was here now. Wouldn't he feel blessed that her family had taken him in? That she was here for him?
She chided her selfishness. He had been taken away from everything he had known, forced out into the unknown by himself, away from his family, his friends . . . his love.
And he had already repaid his debt. He was a willful helper around the house and a patient teacher. He had offered her friendship, which she direfully missed.
"I'm sorry you feel so," she murmured. He caught the strange sadness in her voice. Her eyes were concentrated on her feet.
"None of this is your fault, Ellya," he said quietly. "You must understand that."
"I do understand, Vanden. It's just . . ." For lack of better words, she finished, "you didn't deserve it."
"But I did," he argued. "I left Iveyleth and Timoth open to attack. I should have stayed with them, but no, my heroic pride blinded me from the obvious."
"Vanden, you musn't blame yourself."
"Timoth is dead because of me. Everyone loved him. Most of the village was furious with me."
"I'm sure they've forgiven you . . ."
"I doubt it, and even if they have, I can't go back."
He was no longer looking at her. He glared at the shimmering lake, noting its preternatural beauty and envying its tranquil solitude.
Ellya watched him, fearing her pain could easily be seen and yet wishing it was. Her heart shook with sorrow and love for him. She cursed herself for having so vulnerable a heart, but thanked the Goddess for the experience of being so in love.
"Are you unhappy here?" she found herself asking. "Am I that difficult to live with?"
Silence followed, and because she wanted to hear him say, "No, of course not," she was devastated.
But then the tiniest of smiles found its way across his lips. The fact that he found her amusing hurt even more.
"There's not a single day that goes by when I regret living here," he finally responded.
Her heart fluttered.
She caught movement and noticed that he was wrapping an arm around her waist. He drew her into a warm embrace, an embrace between friends, but it was enough to make her soar. He had never held her before.
"And besides," he said, "if I had not been banned, I would have never met you."
She shut her eyes tightly, a wide ecstatic grin across her face. Some uncovered part of herself despised how easily he claimed her heart, but she disregarded it. All that mattered now was that she was in his arms. Though, she couldn't help but have a feeling he was aware of this . . .
She brusquely broke away, already wishing that she hadn't. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red and her stomach would not cease its somersaults.
"And what do you mean by that?" she asked weakly.
"By what?"
She stole a terse glimpse at him. He had on the most curious smile. She turned and desperately made an attempt to find the grass the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.
"Your meeting me," she said.
"Well, had I never met you I would have never had such an obdurate student," he replied softly. "And I very much appreciated your company, even though I was unresponsive and homesick. I've been meaning to tell you this - Thank you."
She made the habitual movement of slipping a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're welcome."
A few seconds passed, turgid with awkward silence. She glanced up at him sheepishly, wondering if that strange smile was still there. Instead, she found that a frown had replaced it.
"Vanden?" she whispered. "Is something wrong?"
He was deep in thought, his eyes on the quietly lapping lake. When she spoke, his trance broke. He turned. "No, nothing's wrong."
She did not believe him. She knew that the little moment of them together had vanished. She grieved alone.
"Vanden, there's something I've been wanting to ask you . . ."
"About the demons, I'm certain?"
She observed him carefully. "Yes."Continue ------------->
He nodded solemnly. He sat down in her beloved spot, fingers running through his hair. But this time, they did not shiver as they had before.
"I . . . I don't know where to begin," he said. "One instant you were up in the air in the Greigh's hands, the next you . . . you killed it so easily."
She slowly sat down beside him, afraid that any sudden movement might make him go mad. "How did I kill it?" she asked.
His eyes widened at her. "Why are you asking me that? You were the one who killed it!"
"But I don't remember anything."
Incredulity swam in circles in his eyes.
"I swear it, I can't remember."
He watched her oddly. "Well, you did faint from exhaustion . . ."
The mere idea of fainting before him shot waves of heat up her neck to her face. And as if that embarrassment wasn't enough, he had carried her home while she had been unconscious.
"Why do you look so distraught?" he wondered.
She waved his question away with her hand. "I just want to know what happened," she said hastily.
His eyes flickered and he turned his head away. She had seen it before, that look that occasionally came across his face when he looked at her. That look of terror.
Pain jabbed at her heart.
"You cut them to ribbons," he murmured. "You lost control, and you killed them in you wrath. Their screams were horrible."
He couldn't possibly know how terrified she was at his description.
"I didn't understand why you became so furious all of a sudden. Your eyes - I've never seen eyes glow so eerie a blue before. You went mad, and you slaughtered those two demons mercilessly. You swung your sword every which way. You didn't just kill them once. You killed them a hundred times over. You . . . shredded their bodies . . .
"After you finished them, you charged at me. I . . . I had never been so frightened in my life. But then you stopped. You stared at me with those iridescent blue eyes of yours, and then you collapsed to the ground. I was afraid that if I woke you, you would go into a rage again.
"I couldn't comprehend what had just happened. You killed them. You lived. We lived."
Ellya had a difficult time digesting the flow of events that fell from those lips. She could remember some of it now, but it was completely vague. She heard in her head the screams of the monsters as they were sawed to pieces. She felt indistinctly the movements of her limbs as she moved violently to kill. She also recalled the tiniest memory of feeling bloodlust.
She shuddered and tried to close her mind to all the intruding demonic thoughts. She could not understand how she had fallen to such madness. Why had she reacted in such a way?
Vanden was gazing at her intently, his brows furrowed. "Ellya?"
"I can't remember anything," she said, shaking her head. "I just can't."
"Well, it's better you can't." He glanced momentarily at the lake, then back at her. Her frown had deepened, and he finally realized it was not just confused, but apologetic.
He comfortingly circled an arm around her shoulders, steering her away from the lake.
"You killed them, Ellya," he said. "That's all that matters."
"But-"
"I'm not mad at you," he repeated with less exasperation as usual. "You are one not to anger. I realized that."
She could barely hear him. Her eyes were focused on his full lips, and he was holding her again. She cast her gaze away when he looked down at her.
But even with those distractions, she was still able to detect the slight uncertainty in him. That stood as a relentless barrier between her and her chance of winning his heart.
Not that you ever had a chance, she thought bitterly to herself.
She left the warmth of his arm and picked up her sword from the ground. "Are you mad at yourself?" she said.
He was silent, as she had expected.
"Are you mad at yourself?" she repeated in a more urgent voice. "I can't relax, Vanden. I could have killed you. And that's something not to be mad at yourself about?
"You didn't know there was another demon. You didn't know Timoth would get hurt. Your village made a mistake banishing you. They didn't know that they were going to be short one brave warrior. You can not blame yourself, Vanden!"
He was no longer looking at her. She regretted ever bringing up such a soft topic, but she had to confront him. How was she supposed to be happy when he wasn't?
"I won't forgive myself," she declared, "unless you forgive yourself."
He waited for several seconds before he finally decided to reply. "Iveyleth could have been killed," he muttered.
Painful frustration tinted her cheeks red. She nearly wanted to stomp the ground. "If you love her that much, why don't you go and return to her? I don't see why not!"
She gave up entirely and went home, leaving him and his thoughts behind. She was through dealing with her heart.
