“Do you have to hover over him like that? I'm sure you've done all you could.”
“Aye, I must. Until he's well enough t’ carry on his own, he is my charge. I saved 'im; I must make sure he isn't led to an even worse fate because of my actions.”
“A worse fate? If he’s been through all you say he has, plus the loss of our home, his fate is about as poor as one can make it.”
“No, Aryu, it can get much worse. All the times I've battled the Adragons, more often than not they 'ad a story similar to 'is. The past ne'er justifies the future, but far too few realize tha'. I must try my best t' help 'im see 'is strength in comin' this far, not 'is weakness in wha' was lost along the way. A lesson you'd do well to remember, because like it or not I intend t' do the same for you.”
“My course is already set, thank you. I'd just as soon finish your quest of self-discovery and be on my way.”
Esgona sputtered as he began to sit up, spitting to his side once he'd rolled over. He sat there for a moment in the bright grove facing neither of them as he appeared to be sifting through the haze in his head. He sat up, instantly coming face to face with Nixon, who knelt watching carefully like he was ready to pounce if Esgona went out again. The act of it all from Nixon sickened Aryu to no end, but he owed his own life to this man and was bound to his wishes by a promise.
“Hello sir,” he said softly, careful not to startle him as someone the size and power of Nixon would be very apt to do. “Don't get up. You've been out cold fer almost a full day and I'll wager you'll need a momen’ t’ regain yer strength.”
Esgona blinked quickly, not believing his eyes. At least Esgona’s first vision of him would be in broad daylight, unlike Aryu’s dark meeting. Esgona shifted away sharply, wincing as he did so.
“Easy, easy. You've got more than a few nasty bumps and I fear a rather fierce knock on the head.” Esgona moved gingerly, appraising the man-beast in front of him. Nixon continued. “My name is Nixon of the Great Fire and Ash. I brought ya 'ere t’ escape.”
You're welcome, thought Aryu.
“Where am I?” A croak more than a voice. “What happened?”
Nixon was clearly hesitant to speak, as reluctant to discuss the subject as Aryu was. “A lot, sir. A lot. Perhaps ya should lie down.”
Esgona shook him off, his natural defiance returning. “Tell me.” A whisper this time, as the memories continued to flood in. “What of the village? My mother?”
No hesitation from Nixon, who was eager to get it over with quickly. “Lost, Esgona. Lost t’ the machines and their devices.” It was all that needed to be said.
The wind kicked up, taking Nixon’s eyes away for a moment to scan the south horizon for who knew what. The wind subsided and he looked back. Esgona had his head up again and was looking at Nixon with eyes of steel: dark and cold, even with one as cloudy and blind as it was. The visage of whom or what Nixon was didn’t register any unease on Esgona’s face.
“I knew that they were liars. I warned my mother not to believe them and leave the village. I saw what they could do. I'm proof of It, but still, she did. Gods damn her and her foolish hopes.”
Aryu was instantly taken aback by the comment. It was certainly not what he'd expected from him, and the venom with which he said it was unmistakable. What had this boy been through? Was it the machines that crippled him?
Silence as Nixon thought this over, and then with a sudden sharp clap of his hands to bring himself back around, he continued. “Well, tha matter at hand, then.” Nixon rose to his full height, taking in the situation anew while pushing his frustrations to the back as he set his mental course to continue with the plan. “Do either of ya know where we are? Per'aps how far from the nearest town?”
Esgona looked around for the first time, not realizing that there was anyone else around. When his eyes met Aryu’s across the grove, he neither shouted nor charged in a fit of rage. He simply stared, as if seeing him for the first time. Aryu, unsure how to react, held his ground. He was still exhausted from flying but ready for a fight.
After what seemed to Aryu to be an eternity, Esgona rose to his feet effortlessly, seemingly unaffected by whatever fatigue and pain he was feeling. His eyes locked on Aryu’s. With his new hobble, he made his way slowly across the grove, the wind intensifying as he did so, tossing around his curly hair.
“Say it and be done, Esgona. I have no time for this. It was my home too.”
Esgona looked at him. No blinking. No movement. Two weary people in a standoff of wills. The wind began getting faster, blowing small leaves and dirt everywhere, rustling the leathery material of Aryu’s wings.
“You…” began Esgona, eyes intensifying at the sound of his own voice. “You.” The last word a whisper in the new silence. “You do not get the right to call Tan Torna Qu-ay home anymore.” The chilling certainty with which he spoke was unquestionable. Even Aryu didn't know what to make of it. The level of emotion behind these quiet words was enough for Aryu to momentarily believe it was true, but he had no idea why.
The silence deafening, Aryu responded the first and only way he could think of. He simply turned away and let the world spin as it would.
