Forgotten Shadows

[Jerusha]

Thursday early afternoon
September 12, 1168
Saint Willibrord Church
Grecotha

Sir Jamyl Arilan sighed. As an Intelligencer for the King of Gwynedd, one needed to learn patience. If he had not learned this lesson, he would have paced down the length of the nave to check the street outside the church at least twenty times. Somehow, he had managed to limit himself to six.

Sir Jamyl.

Finally! Lord Iain! Please tell me you have news, particularly of Sir Airich.

I do, but it's not the best news. Airich lies gravely wounded. He was pierced through his side and pinned to the ground by a dagger. He lost a lot of blood. He has been tended to, but cannot possibly travel yet.  Whether he will survive at all is still uncertain.

Jamyl bit back an unknightly curse. Have you seen him? Talked to him?

I am about to. I think it would be wise if you would advise King Kelson. Let him know that Airich has not been remiss in responding to the King's summons. At the moment, it is impossible. And we have no Healer here.

Jamyl gave a mental nod.  Tell Airich the king will be informed. It will ease Airich's mind. And please keep me informed on his progress. 

Sir Iain broke the contact, and Sir Jamyl hung on to the word "progress." He would not accept the alternative.

[Nezz]

"Mistress," Collos said to Elspeth, "I understand you are needed outside. Two of your men are trying to kill each other, I understand."

"What?"

"The archer and the student. There have been harsh words between them, as well as a physical altercation, I am led to believe."

"Oh, those two..." Elspeth collected her medical bag while Collos fished a key out from his belt pouch. He handed it to the physicker.

"When you go out, take this key," Collos said. "It will unlock the house two doors to the north of this one. It's larger than this one. You and the gentlemen can get dry there and remain close by while the rest of us work on Airich. There is also a stable around the corner and down one block. Your horse can be stabled there for now."

"That's a relief, at least," Elspeth said, and allowed Collos to escort her out, leaving Trevor and Amy to convince Airich to cooperate.

"It's not just the information I need to keep secret," Airich said petulantly. "I don't want people invading my mind. Is that so much to ask?" He had to breathe several times before he could continue. "I hate knowing that Darius is in there, knowing that he could put me back to sleep without a by-your-leave at a moment's notice. This is why the Willimites hate us so much; it's terrifying knowing that someone is in your head, and almost as terrifying not knowing if they're in your head or not, but they could be."

"This is terrifying for us as well," Trevor told him. "Do you think we like seeing you this way? Seeing you lose your sanity would be far worse."

"I've got time," Airich insisted. "Get Wash. Then I"ll go along with your plan."

Trevor threw up his hands in frustration at Airich's stubbornness. Amy thought the priest wasn't considering Airich's fear of being so completely helpless, as she felt Airich's emotions rise in response to the pressure.

"Father?" Darius said, raising his eyebrows at Trevor in question. Amy realized he was asking Trevor if the priest wanted Airich to sleep. Trevor glanced at Airich, then back at Darius, and gave a slight nod.

Airich saw this exchange. Before Darius could trigger the controls, the knight's Shields slammed shut¹, despite the merasha still coursing through his system.

"I said No!" His Shields caught both Darius and Amy and shoved them out. "No more strangers in my head!"
¹Shields up: Normal Standard (-1D due to merasha) 2d6: 5, 2; Success

[Laurna]

((It is my honor to post this next scene in dedication to Earl Derry. Nezz has had an important hand in setting and writing Sir Airich's troubles.))

The power that slammed across their rapport was like a boulder falling upon her. Amy yelped and fell back against Trevor's knees. Desperate to not lose her physical touch with Airich, she reached for the knight's sleeve and then grabbed for his hand. But he pulled his hand away, the same as he was doing with his mind. She attempted Rapport without touch, but it was impossible. The loss of Darius' controls meant a resurgence of the pain from fresh wounds, and Airich cried out, panting desperately and pressing at his side.

"Airich, stop! You're going to start bleeding again!" Trevor grabbed at his hands

Amy gave up her space for Trevor, but she quickly realized Trevor was having no better luck getting through to his brother. She squeezed her shoulder past the priest to touch Airich's forehead.

Airich was beyond reason now. Amy remembered seeing him the night they'd repaired Robert's hand, wild-eyed and unaware of his surroundings. This was worse. Darius grabbed Airich's other arm, pulling it away from his wound; they could all see the fresh blood staining his tunic. They needed to get him under control quickly, but his Shields were as a fortress.

Two men entered the small room, and it was Jimmy who understood first and threw his effort into controlling the knight, but Airich's struggles became more aggressive the more they tried to calm him.

Airich suddenly gave a violent shudder, then went still.

"I've got him." It was Airich's voice. But it wasn't, as well. The timbre, the authoritative tone, the surety... this was someone else.

Trevor pulled away. His troubled eyes were almost as round as his brother's. "Father?" he whispered.

All eyes turned hard on Trevor, all understanding in that moment what was happening. "No, no! Airich, come back to me!" Amy wailed.

Jimmy and Trevor nodded in silent agreement, and Jimmy leaned in very close to the face of Airiich and said. "Earl Sean O'Flynn, We are here to care for your son. Let us do what we can to save him."

"I appreciate your humoring me," the words came from Airich's mouth. "but you know I'm not the earl. Airich's safe, I've got him... somewhere, I'm not sure exactly. But safe."

Amy squeezed into the small space at the head of the pallet, never taking her hand off of her knight, not again. Darius and Trevor were frantically removing bandages and pressing on the front wound to control the bleeding. Jimmy, too, left them room to work, but he also had his hand on Airich's shoulder, skin-to-skin. It seemed to Amy that this Bishop's guard knew Airich's father and was conversing with that second-self to get the rightful mind of Airich back in control.

"Of course I'm going to let him back," the knight said, "but not until he's calmed down. The boy should know better—ow!—than to rip his stitches out. But being tortured and nearly murdered does strange things to a man's head. I hope you'll forgive him for your inconvenience and wasted effort, sir," he added for Darius.

"He's not the first patient who's gotten out of control, m'lord," Darius said calmly, even as his hands flew over his work.

Amy's mouth was dry. "They... they tortured him?" she asked in a small voice.

Airich's blue eyes flicked up to her face and he smiled grimly. "Not as much as they wanted to, but... yes, they did."

Amy closed her eyes for a moment to shut out the vision that came to her mind. Stealing a look behind the medics, Amy saw Collos gathering items that looked much like the items they had used in their ritual days before. She squeezed her eyes shut again and silently prayed that all these men knew what they were about.

"I'm trying to get his Shields down,"² Airich said. "It's trickier than I thought it would be. Blast, that hurts."

"Can't be helped, milord," Darius said.

"I know. But I think I've figured out how to do this," Airich said. "Darius, when I give you the word, you make him sleep. And then, you... all of you..." his eyes lit on each person there, "you do what you need to do to fix him. Restore his sanity if you can. Merge or cast out the memories. Whatever it takes. I know I don't belong here, so if I get lost in the process, so be it." He looked directly at Collos now. "I'm trusting Amy's word that you're telling the truth about your intentions. But if I find out that you have other plans for him, I will hunt you down. And I'm a lot more patient and ruthless than the boy is."

Collos allowed himself a smile and gave the other man a half bow. "A man does what he must to protect his children. I take no offense from your threat."

"That is well, for none is meant." Airich closed his eyes and flinched from the medics' work. "Amy, tell Airich he didn't lose to Jasper. One of the other men swept his legs. He'll want to know that."

"Oh my! Yes, I can do that."

"When you're ready, Darius."

"I'm ready, my lord."

"Now."³

Airich's relaxed body went limp as Darius reasserted his control and put Airich into a sound slumber.
²Shields down: Normal Standard (-1D due to merasha) 2d6: 2, 2; Failure
³Shields down: Normal Standard (-1D due to merasha) 2d6: 3, 5; Success

[Marc_du_Temple]

Edwin gingerly picked the knife up and stowed it. "You seemed to rank me far more highly when we saved Gwendolyn together. Or was that mockery?" Having released his wrath in those two punches, Edwin was left just a boy hurt more by the perceived betrayal of someone who he had never fully admitted was a friend in the first place. "Was it truth, in effect, when you struck me on Sir Airich's orders?"

Bede spat. "A lie is na better told with tears in yer eyes. I would know. Unless..." perhaps the blow to the head shook loose his sense. "Unless ye truly believe that the two men who have invested so much in ye would turn on ye so suddenly."

Edwin scoffed and sniffed. "What else is there for me to believe?"

Jimmy was the first to notice Elspeth and Collos joining them, and thus the first to bow. She smiled appreciatively but quickly came to frown as she swept the scene with her strange eyes. "What have you boys done to each other now?"

Jimmy raised his hands, palms open and expression neutral. "I merely stopped them from clobbering each other any worse than they have, mistress."

[Nezz]

Elspeth set her hands on her hips. "I wish you'd stopped them a little sooner."

"He started it," Bede said.

Jimmy bowed again as Elspeth shot Bede a look to keep him quiet. "My apologies, Mistress, but I'm not in the habit of breaking up a quarrel that doesn't involve weapons."

"It might not be a bad habit to acquire," she said pertly.

Collos cleared his throat and addressed the guardsman. "Pardon me, er... Jimmy, is it? They have requested your presence inside."

"They have, eh?" Jimmy said. "Did they say why?"

"They did not."

"Fine. Whatever it takes to get out of this cursed rain," Jimmy muttered. "Just don't try any of that funny Deryni stuff on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Collos said as he gestured for Jimmy to precede him, then both men entered the house, the door closing behind them with finality.

Elspeth turned to Bede and Edwin. "Let us go find shelter for this fine horse, then get ourselves dry." She held up a large key and pointed to the painted-blue door. "I think getting out of the wet will do much to help tempers."

[Marc_du_Temple]

Ignoring Elspeth, Bede rubbed the places Edwin's fists had made contact and smiled. "I'll give ye this, Edwin: before today, this blasted eventful day, I thought that I would trounce ye easily in single combat. Treacherous as your moves ha been, I must respect yer strength. It's one of the few things that I do respect, even in ye." He knew he should not provoke a tormented man, but the devil on his shoulder was heavy, and had said something about keeping the angry youth from closing himself off.

The provocation worked, and Edwin felt free to try again, compelled perhaps to prove something deeper than his rage. ((Edwin Fists 3d6 4 + 6 + 3)) Faster than Elspeth could speak and audibly cutting through the air, he threw all of his weight from the legs, to the waist, to his hand into another solid punch. ((Bede Vigilance 3d6 6 + 6 + 2)) However, another swing at his head was exactly what Bede was expecting, so it was simple enough for him to weave inside of Edwin's explosive punch and thrust out his hand for Edwin's throat, intending to throttle him only a little. ((Bede Strong 3d6 1 + 3 + 3)) Too little, perhaps, for Edwin batted his hand away and recoiled back into the rain, dancing on his feet like a furious snake leering for an opening.

Over the thunder of the blood in their ears, the boys finally heard Elspeth shout, "Stop this nonsense at once! You are supposed to be men, not petulant brutes!" ((Elspeth Charismatic 3d6 4 + 3 + 5)) Having acquired their attention, she began to speak in earnest. "Is this conduct befitting a bodyguard? A respected scholastic? Now, Bede, what is the cause of this, and why must it occur when we are protecting our friend Airich?"

"Both of you, SHUT UP!" Edwin screamed, in the truest sense of the word. Glaring at Elspeth, he snarled, "You look to a known liar for the truth? What do you think happened after I lost the nerve to face the dean?" Turning again on Bede, he demanded, "What's it to you, anyway, whether I speak to one person or another? Who are you, or Airich, for that matter, to punish me like you did? To strip me of all dignity and status and to leave me for dead in that crypt? Well, toad-faced toady? I thought you had more ... independence of mind than to knock me about for a Haldanian twit!"

"Ye dare talk that way about a man who is na here to defend himself?" Bede was more offended by the assault on his person than any jeers tamer than that he heard as a performer.

"Oh, I'd say worse if he were here! But he went and got himself knifed, with his wholly irrational sense of honor, didn't he?"

Elspeth was but a few feet from smacking him were it not for Bede tugging back on her sleeve. She did not appreciate that and made it clear with a glare that finally made him see what others saw in her eyes, if only for a moment. He let go and she addressed Edwin in a stern tone. "You ... are simply mistaken, Edwin. You did in fact see the dean, and all indications are that it went very well for us all. How would the university know to be moving books somewhere safer than here, without you?"

Bede nodded and rubbed his cheek again. "What else would have put ye in such a good mood at the tavern?" he hissed, wincing.

"The Drunken Parchment?"

"No. The King's Arms." Bede relaxed his posture, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, while Elspeth ushered Edwin back under the awning but made sure to stand between the two men. "Ye, me, and Muirea were there. It's a little blurry in my memory, but I remember that I found reason to finally let go of childhood dreams, a reason to still believe in a future beyond the vainglories of banditry, and in between, I was so lost that I did na notice how vulnerable I had left ye, Muirea and I to the tortures of a cruel trickster I had met in the Summer. To ye, he is a student at yer university. To me, he is a jester and hypnotist whose jokes cause real harm to his willing or unwilling participants, and ye left the tavern with him."

Edwin shook his head in protest. "That's not what I remember at all."

"I see that now. He is a greater master of his craft than I knew before. Perhaps even a Deryni himself. But if I did rob ye as I heard ye say, then why do I na have my knife? Why did I fail to save Airich if he and I have been working together without ye since then? I know ye are wary to trust me, but I have witnesses accountin' for my whereabouts. Na only my sweet friend back at The King's Arms, but Eustace, yes, and even the members of yer learned club. All of us men who knew ye were missing were trying to find ye, we just did na know where to look."

Edwin could only sigh with a great heave of his chest and avert his gaze, as his first reaction to this revelation. Then he began to smile, having learned of his success and how mistaken he was as to the disdain his friends had for him. He was skeptical still, since his mind told him something terrible, but he wanted to believe what Elspeth and Bede had said.

Elspeth was more practical, promptly giving Bede the key and saying, "Now, as I was saying: Edwin, please bring the horse to the stable around the corner. Bede, please make the apartment suitable for us to rest in. I think we have had enough excitement for now."

[Laurna]

The young man in the throes of slumber did not stir as Darius added five more stitches to close the wound. New salve and fresh bandages were applied. And then the three younger men lifted the pallet and centered it within the small room. Amy never let her hand stray from touching her knight's face.

It seemed impossible that this man, who had displayed such a strong presence of person, could be brought so close to the brink of losing himself. Amy realized she had seen this before. Different in many ways, but the consequences nearly the same. The other man had lost himself when Deryni Powers had subjected his memories to traumatic events, events that seemed contrary to his honor and his passion.

At the time, Amy had not understood why her son's father had fallen so low, but she had sensed that the torment he'd spoken of, on that fateful night four years ago, could not have been the true history of a man who had held her with such tender hands. Just a few days ago, Sir Airich had explained it all to her, and it suddenly had become clear: her son's father had not been a harsh tormented man all his life. He had been manipulated to think so, to become a pawn of the enemy during a vicious war. The understanding made her want to hold her son in her arms. But more than that it made her want to hold Sir Airich more.

For, at that same time, four years ago, Sir Airich had become a victim of another type of memory tragedy. Memories of another life had invaded his own. That this man had survived four years of such mental torture was a testament to his constitution. Even the Deryni master, Collos, seemed impressed by how he had managed it.  Amy looked long at Master Collos, knowing that she knew him, but from where?

That is not important, she told herself. She looked back down at the sleeping knight and knew in her heart that she had to do everything that she could to help him recover. She placed her left hand next to her right hand upon his temple. He currently slept a dreamless sleep, in a place far from his pains and his memories. Leaning down, she touched her lips to the bridge of his nose, knowing that the men watching her might not approve. She did not care what they thought. She might not have the arcane talent that the four men around her seemed very proficient with, but she did have a deep sense of compassion and empathy to know better than any of them what was important to recovering a healthy life. She would give everything of herself to see that come to pass.

The four men shifted around the makeshift bed to settle themselves, claiming their small floor space. Knowing that she was the least experienced of them all in the arcane, Amy purposely gave away the prominent position she had knelt in; skirts pulled aside she scooted down to the lower left of the pallet, then bunched her excess skirts below her knees to cushion her bottom and then folded her legs in unwomanlike cross fashion. In all this motion she always kept one finger wrapped around Airich's left fingers, no matter what the men did, she would not be forced further away.

Trevor knelt above her at Airich's left shoulder. The guard, Jimmy, sitting cross-legged as she did, sat across from her on the right of the pallet, with Darius settling into a comfortable similar position at the knight's right shoulder. However, he sat upon a thick, rounded, straw-woven cushion. There were only two such Tatami cushions in the room, the second one lay at the head of the pallet: that would be Master Collos's seat, but he had not yet taken his place there. Amy watched as Collos set four candles on the floor near each person who was to perform the ritual, whispering an incantation in some language of the East. Yet he did not light the candles. That would be for each of them to perform.

[Bynw]

"The wards over us are already strong," Master Collos explains, "but for what we do, we will need assurance that we are not disturbed."

As he gathers his robes closer around him, he continues. "Focus is of greatest importance. The four of us will link our minds together. I will be the one who directs all actions. What we do requires attendance to all detail and a consistent influx of energy. I will draw this from all of us as needed."

"We will unpack the alien memories and see what can be done with them. I anticipate that some memories may have to be erased. Some blurred and buried. And then Airich will need to integrate them entirely."

"We each have parts to play to make this successful." Collos looks at the priest at his left. "Father Trevor, as Airich's brother, both you and he will determine the importance of these memories. Which, in turn, will determine their fate."

"As the King's representative," Collos looks directly at Jimmy. "If anything needs to be blurred out or erased, for the sake of the Kingdom, you will determine it. But it must be safe to do so."

"Lastly, Amy, we desperately need your strength to perform this procedure. And more importantly, your presence and empathy will help keep him calm, especially when we get to the more difficult memories. There could be complications."

"What kind of complications might we expect?" Trevor asks.

"I anticipate complications because it has been so many years since these memories were acquired. Many could be rooted too deeply for us to remove or integrate easily. This is why we have Darius. He will not be in the mind-link with the rest of us. His sole duty is to monitor Airich's physical body and make sure it does not come to any harm."

"How long is this likely to take?" Jimmy asks.

"This procedure will take several hours. We have a lot of memories to go through and integrate. But once we succeed, Airich will be restored."

Trevor leans forward, concerned, "May we call the quarters before we begin. I feel this complicated a task should have as deep a setting as we can make it."

Collos smiles at the priest, "Where I am from, we also call the quarters, though it is in a far different manner than your own. Being that we are in Gwynedd, I am happy to acquiesce to your ritual style."

[Laurna]

Master Collos bent his knee to the candle and let the wick flare to life as he started the ritual using Gwynedd phrasing to help the others understand and focus inward. "Blessed Raphael, Healer, Protector of the Eastern Gate, Bless our work and defend us from any dangers that may draw near..."

Trevor listened to the words, but found his heart aching, unable to fall into the requisite mood.  Before him lay his brother, still breathing, but... was Airich still in there? The voice, the words, the mannerisms... If Trevor was blind, he would swear it had been his father speaking those words. Even though Collos had warned them that such a thing was possible, it still left Trevor rattled.

Lord Iain in the guise of guardsman Jimmy continued the ritual in the South Quarter, like it was second nature to him; he lit his candle with a wave of his hand. "Blessed Michael, Defender, Protector of the Southern Gate..."

Trevor chided himself. He should not have given Darius the go-ahead to make Airich sleep. The priest at times fell into old habits, and instead of treating the knight as a man, he treated him as a little brother who yet lacked the wisdom of his elders. Trevor must not allow himself to think that way while in Deep Rapport, for Airich would feel it, and become resentful and stubborn. And with Airich's life and sanity on the line, Trevor could not allow himself to feel anything but the deepest brotherly love.

Amy, outwardly calm, picked up the tone that the ritual was forming. Seated in the West Quarter, she bowed from the waist to her candle, lighting it while asking for heaven's blessing. "Blessed Gabriel, Messenger of glad tidings to our Blessed Lady,  protect all within our circle from dangers and adversity..."

Almighty God, please grant us all the ability to do this right and not make things worse. Trevor prayed. In his heart he knew the time had come to make his peace with himself and his brother and from this moment forth to Believe with all his being that the Lord would see them through.

"Blessed Uriel..." As everyone looked toward the North Quadrant, the priestly part of Trevor responded. The phrasing engender his whole being. He let himself slide into the calm and surety that this was the best step given the impossible circumstances. "I thank God for bestowing his wisdom upon thee. Blessed Uriel, with your wisdom, protect all within our circle, and especially protect my brother from all dangers and adversity. I would see him whole with your tender grace. Amen"

"Amen," repeated all within the warded room.

[Nezz]

((Massive thanks to Laurna being our wardrobe mistress.))

As the final words of the ritual summoning died away, Master Collos began a new incantation, speaking in a language not from Gwynedd. The air grew heavy with magic. Lethargy steeped into their limbs. A blue mist seemed to form within the warded room. It grew thicker until none could see anything else.

Then the mist began to clear, and they seemed to be standing in a large loft. Piles of fresh sweet hay filled the room and the pleasant smell of horses wafted up from below. Looking around, they saw two young men sitting in the hay, sunbeams glowing around their heads from a nearby window as they laughed at a shared jest. Trevor knew the place immediately as the main stable of Castle Derry. It had been a favored hiding place for all the O'Flynn children at varying times throughout the years.

Amy recognized one of the men to be Airich, but he was younger than her Airich, the planes of his face softer and not so angular. He wore gray scholar's robes, a knotted red cincture at the waist, and his long brown hair caught in a g'dula. The other man could have been his brother, and appeared to be newly knighted—white belt spotless, silver spurs shining at his heels, and his blue-on-blue surcoat looked new. Brown curls surrounded laughing blue eyes, and Amy remembered having seen an image of this man once before, the night she'd first discovered she was Deryni. 

Both men looked up as the mist cleared and saw their visitors. Both rose to greet them.

"I'm so glad you came," Airich said to Amy, grasping her hand to kiss her cheek. "And this is my da. I've told you about him."

"I would prefer you to call me Sean," the knight at Airich's side said, bowing before her and raising her fingers to his lips.

"This is for you," Airich said, holding out a green squirrel towards Amy. It leapt onto her and clambered up to sit on her shoulder. She heard chuckles from the men, but she quickly remembered the training Airich had given her that allowed her to keep certain thoughts and memories hidden from those she might be in Rapport with. She delicately slipped knowledge from her past, especially concerning Carwyn, in among other unimportant things where he would be overlooked by all but the most determined searchers.

The squirrel disappeared in a puff of thought, and Amy realized how very strange this scenario was. The last time she'd been deep into Airich's mind, she'd taken the form of a small fish. But here and now, she wore the form of a woman, and it felt proper to remain that way. She looked down at herself and saw that someone had dressed her in clothes she would never have had the temerity to wear. A shimmering lavender gown—made of dream-stuff that could never exist in the waking world—draped her figure. Hammered-gold bracelets encircled her wrists: none that she could ever afford. An array of perfectly cut amethysts decorated her neck. She really was in Airich's dreams; she wondered if he had dressed her like this, or if she had done so without thinking.

She looked to the men who'd accompanied her here: none of them appeared as they did when they'd begun this ritual. Trevor looked every inch the nobleman, dressed in a stylishly cut, tooled black leather jerkin, long to the knees and slit for riding, The sleeves were slashed exposing a deep blue shirt with white embroidered cross-and-vine motifs on the cuffs and neck edge; a gift of protection from the Madre of the O'Flynn household. A small silver cross on a blue cord lay over the jerkin against his chest. Trevor's hair was long and wild, same as the young knight Sean; the family resemblance was keen.

Jimmy—no, not Jimmy, Amy realised, but Lord Iain—Iain wore clothing more extravagant than Trevor's, a light blue tunic over a sea-green shirt, with some sort of seabird embroidered in silver on the front; kilted plaid of three colors of blue intersected by grays, ending at the knee, held in place by a belt and sporran; woolen argyle socks tied just below the knee, with ankle high soft leather Ghillie Shoes laced up their fronts. He wore exquisite—but tasteful—jewelry, including a pewter brooch and a gold signet ring on his right fifth-finger.

Master Collos looked nothing like the scholar she'd seen him as in the real world. This man was as noble a knight as any she'd seen, wearing strange foreign scaled armor, light and maneuverable. Beneath all, black silks, knee-length embroidered in gold threads at hem and neck edges. A curved sword hung at his belt, and on his shield she saw a device she'd never seen before: a blue dragon, wings displayed inverted, holding a silver-rimmed shield, upon it: a dragon of the East, richly enameled in gold on a black background.

While Amy had been inspecting their surroundings, Airich dropped to one knee before Collos, and bowed his head. "Lord Collos, I see now I had no need to question your motives," he said in the language of Vezaire. "I thank you for your generosity in attempting this healing; it is a far greater boon than I could expect. Forgive me for insisting that we wait for a different healer."

"That is quite all right," Collos replied. "Baron Washburn is a formidable healer. If your situation weren't so dire, I would have thought it wise to gain his cooperation and assistance."

Not knowing how she understood the foreign language of the lands south of the Southern sea, Amy pushed that aside, for she was more surprised by the discourse of what she heard. "You know m—you know Washburn?" Amy asked. Did every nobleman know this man? Who was he in the real world that he was known, so well known?

"I know him well. And I love him as a brother," the Vezaire lord said, and Amy could feel the truth in this statement.

Green squirrel, green squirrel... the fluffy-tailed four-legged creature circled her neck, acting as her protector, then dived under her hair. She cleared her thoughts of all but what was going on in the here and now. The visitation of the unusual creature raised eyebrows, but nothing more.

"We should get started." Lord Collos announced. "Even though our perception of time here moves much differently than we're accustomed to, we still have much to do."

"Very well. Follow me," Airich said, and vaulted out the hay loft window.

((graphic courtesy of bynw))

[Nezz]

((Deepest gratitude to Jerusha for the update on Sidana and Iain))

Sir Iain Cameron watched Airich leap through the window with some bemusement. He picked up Lady Amaryllis—for truly, who could see her as anything but a noble lady, dressed as she was—and carried her through the window, unsurprised by the way they floated gently to the ground. He set the lady on her feet and looked around.

They stood in a canyon within the mountains, at the base of an immense dam made of rocks, boulders, and logs. Water poured forth from the top of the dam, mocking the dam's efforts to do its job, and poured downstream towards a peaceful valley below the canyon. Not far from them, a man-sized badger leaned against the dam, as if trying to support it. Sir Airich was hard at work, carrying large rocks up the side of the dam, trying to reinforce it; Sean assisted, helping him with the larger boulders and logs. Their efforts were insignificant, compared to the dam and the spillage.

Collos stepped up beside Iain, covering his eyes against the glare of the sun as he looked up towards the top of the dam, which seemed to grow higher even as they watched. "I see," he said. "This will be quite the task."

"Will we need to help them build up that dam?" Iain asked the master assassin.

"No," Collos said with a rueful smile, "We need to help Airich drink the reservoir behind it."

"That's a stomach-ache waiting to happen," Iain murmured.

"Sir Airich," Collos called out, "could you bring us to the top?"

As quickly as thought, they were standing near the bank of the reservoir itself, looking into the water, which glimmered in the sun with visions and images and ideas.

"This is where I keep them," Airich said, looking out over the water. "I used to be able to contain them better, but the dam keeps crumbling. It's not as stable as it used to be."

"That's because your mind was not meant to house a reservoir of memories like this, Sir Airich," Collos said. "Before we start, I would like you to show me the spell that triggered this affliction. How you used it, what you expected to happen as a result."

"Of course. Come this way," Airich said, and the two of them were suddenly on the other side of the reservoir. Iain could see Airich pointing into the water and Collos peering at it.

Sean came up to Iain, carrying a large rucksack. "Iain Earl Isles," he said, then stopped and made a face. "I can see why you think of yourself as Sir Iain. The other is a tongue-twister."

Iain shrugged. "Not all of us have a name as lyrical as Sean Lord Derry. What can I do for you, Sir Sean?"

"I overheard that you were going to review the memories that could affect the security of the kingdom. Did I hear correctly?"

"You did." Iain noticed the Derry knight projected sheepishness about something.

Sean held the rucksack out to Iain. "Could you see to it that these memories are put with the others that need to be destroyed?"

"I suppose I could." Iain took the pack. "What's in here?" He started to untie the flap.

"Don't look." Sean set his hand on the top of the pack. "Please. For the sake of my Countess."

Iain looked at Sean and raised a single eyebrow.

Sean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and wouldn't meet Iain's questioning gaze. "These are certain memories... of a personal nature. My wife..." He paused, then shrugged. "She's not even my wife. I remember her as my wife, but to her, I am her son." He gave a sad chuckle. "I enjoy teasing Airich with these memories, but honestly, he shouldn't have them. He should never have to see them. And I—" He sighed. "I don't need to be tormented by intimacies I will never experience again with a woman I love beyond reason." He squared his shoulders and finally looked Iain in the eye. "So, yes. Have those memories destroyed. They are the history of a different man. My future, if I have one, is tied with Airich's. And if things go well with..." Sean glanced towards Amy, who was chatting with Trevor, "Well, we won't need these old memories cluttering up the place, will we?"

Iain, on the other hand, would much appreciate some pleasant marital memories cluttering up the place for himself. "Absolutely not," he said. "I'll make sure these are disposed of for you."

Iain's mind went backward. Four years ago, Sidana de Paor, the Princess of Meara and King Kelson's prisoner, had been given three choices at the end of the Mearan War: execution, exile to a remote convent, or marriage to a man she loathed. She had chosen to marry Iain, and the King's raising of Isles to an Earldom had not softened the punishment in her eyes. Iain had done his duty and brought his bride to the isolated islands at the far northern border of Gwynedd, and there she remained to this day.

The woman who had treated him with such disdain and hatred as his prisoner had turned to cold marble the day they had wed, and so she remained. She fulfilled her duties as wife and countess—he could not fault her there—but she had never warmed to him, even as he had tried to bring her some measure of happiness. The earl and countess of Isles now kept well apart from each other, except when protocol demanded otherwise. In truth, he preferred to be away on the king's business for as often, and as long, as possible.

Iain's musings were interrupted by the approach of Sir Airich—or Scholar Airich, as he currently appeared to be—hiking up the incline Iain stood on. "Guardsman Jimmy," he greeted the spy, then stopped a few paces away and cocked his head. Then he bowed. "Lord Iain," he corrected himself, having picked up on Iain's identity in this deep rapport. "I ask a boon of you."

Like father like son, Iain thought—a little too loudly, apparently, for Airich grinned.

"Speak your request, I'll see what I can do for you," Iain said.

"You plan to report to the King, yes?"

"I do."

"Everything?"

"Everything relevant."

"And that will mean... everything you see and hear within my mind?"

"Likely."

Airich pursed his lips, thinking. "I have been summoned by His Majesty to appear before him as soon as feasible. I had anticipated that I would likely tell him about... all this." He gestured toward the shimmering reservoir. "I'm trying to set everything straight, you see. Confessing my... error to those affected by it. And obviously, considering your part in all this, it does affect our King."

"You're not asking me to keep confidence from him, are you?" Iain asked, bemused that the knight would ask such a thing. 

"No, I'm not. And yet..." Airich looked out into the canyon blocked by the dam, and the valley beyond. "I'm asking you to not tell him yet. In fact, ask him if you can wait to give him your report until after I've had the chance to speak with him. The sin is mine. The confession should be mine as well."

"I can't speak to sin. I don't know how you acquired your father's memories," Iain told him, "and I don't judge you for it, for I know that Earl Derry was alive and well the last I heard. I will ask His Majesty for permission to keep your secret for a short time. If he says No, then I will report everything I deem necessary." And then, because he could feel the concern coming from the  younger man, Iain said, "You should know that Sir Jamyl has advised His Majesty of your injuries, and the fact that this is the reason you have not reported to him. Jamyl has assured him you have not been derelict in your duties."

"Thank you, my lord. I could not ask for a better brother-by-marriage than Sir Jamyl," Airich said, smiling. "I ask nothing further of you. Would you like me to show you where you can find the memories that pertain most specifically to the security of the kingdom? I keep them all together with other political matters. Come this way..."

[Nezz]

"My friends, we're almost ready to begin," Collos told the group gathered within Airich's mental landscape, "but I must modify my instructions slightly."

"Were you able to determine what went wrong with the spell?" Airich asked. He was more than ready to get this process underway: the sooner they started, the sooner they'd finish.

"I was not," Collos admitted. "While I could see where your initial mistake occurred, that doesn't explain the outcome of so many memories being thrust upon you. I can find no reason for that to have happened.

"But what I can tell you, now that I have had a chance to study deeper, is that these memories are entrenched far deeper than I'd originally feared. They've had four years to root themselves firmly into Airich's psyche, which is evident, based on the presence of Airich's... other self." Da put up his hand briefly as if to identify himself as the culprit.

"For this reason, it is important that Sir Airich integrate as many of the memories as he is able. I will still blur and bury some of them, and I may even need to create new ones, but to remove them entirely risks permanent damage to his mind. By this, I mean that uprooting the wrong memories could destroy many of his own memories, or alter his personality, or even take away his ability to speak."

"I could—I could live with that. I think..." Airich said. It sounded terrible, but could it be any worse than what he had been living with for the past four years?

Amy slipped her hand into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm only telling you this because you deserve to understand the risks you are about to take." Collos set his hands on Airich's shoulders. "Removing the wrong memory could leave you blind, or deaf, or—in the worst case—unable to even think. You would be as a helpless baby."

The bottom dropped out from Airich's stomach, and he stepped back. "Why are you telling me this now?" He couldn't decide if he was angry or terrified. "You made it sound as if this were no more difficult than pulling out a bad tooth. Are you trying to scare me?" In a blink, Airich became the knight he was in truth, fully armed and armored, instead of the student he'd been.

"No, Airich, that is the last thing I want." Collos' gentle voice contained no defensiveness. "I tell you this because I wanted you to know why I won't remove as many of the painful memories as I thought I might. But I believe I can blur them, and others I can hide so deeply, you will never know of their existence. And a man deserves to know the path he's walking down before he makes the decision to take that walk."

Airich nodded. Collos' explanation made sense, and Airich appreciated the master not treating him as a child. But one of the possible outcomes was unacceptable. "Very well." Airich said. "But I need a promise that you will let me die before you leave me a helpless infant."

Amy gasped. "Airich, no!"

"Yes. It must be so." Airich could feel her anguish. The two of them had known each other for such a short time, but it felt that they were meant to be together for eternity. He knew how he would feel if Amy made the same declaration that he had just made.

He gathered Amy in his arms and held her tight. "As difficult as being blind or mute or mad would be, I could bear these things. But to be a babe in a man's body? I can think of no worse fate. And don't say that you would take care of me." He anticipated her next declaration. "I am humiliated by the very idea that you would see me brought so low. And how could you care for me and the children you hope to bear one day?"

She knew what he was reminding her of. Even if it came down to the worst-case scenario, Amy knew where her responsibilities lay. The green squirrel appeared from under Amy's hair and sat on her right shoulder. It chittered at her before switching shoulders, then disappeared again.

Airich turned back towards Collos. "Do I have your word?"

Collos nodded. "You do."

Airich took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then I'm ready." He didn't feel ready.

Collos produced two polished wooden bowls that he gave to Trevor and Da. Each bowl was as big around as a loaf of bread, but shallow. "Gentlemen, your jobs are the easiest. You will fill these bowls with water from the reservoir. Ensure your bowl contains no impurities. Then bring it to Sir Airich, and he will drink from it."

"What would you like us to do if we find impurities?" Trevor asked.

"The impure water represents memories that will likely cause distress to Sir Airich. When you find them, simply pour the bowlful back and fill the bowl again. This will work until we start to run low on memories that can be integrated."

Collos turned to the man from Isles. "Sir Iain, your task is similar. Yonder, you will find three amphorae and a similar bowl. You must scoop up the water, and determine if the memories stored within are a danger to the kingdom. Pour such water in the first amphora and I will remove them from Airich's mind entirely. In the second amphora, you can add the water that contains memories that are confidential, but not such a danger that they need to be removed entirely. These are the memories that I shall bury so deep that they will never be found.

"In the final amphora, add the memories that have become common knowledge, or are safe enough for one of your King's knights to be trusted with. When your task is complete, you will bring this water here, and Airich will take in those memories, along with the others that Father Trevor and Sir Sean give him.

"While you are all thus occupied, I will be further upriver where I noticed an area of brackish water. This is where I shall begin my work."

"What do you expect me to do while you men do your tasks?" Amy asked sweetly—and sarcastically, Airich judged. "Show off my new dress? Tease my squirrel? Or simply stand back and let you all do the work?"

"No, milady, none of those," Collos answered. "I need you for an assortment of tasks. You must assist Airich and encourage him to continue taking in the memories, especially when he comes across some that are unpleasant. If Father Trevor and Sir Sean have a disagreement about the nature of any impurities, then you must break the tie. When Sir Iain brings down his amphora, you must double-check the water to make sure it is clean. And, most importantly, I need you to monitor yourself and pay attention to your own levels of fatigue. If you begin to feel too weary, you must let me know at once, for it will affect all of you the same. Is this all clear?"

"Yes, Master Collos." Amy gave him a demure little curtsey.

"Very well." Collos knelt and drew a bowlful of water from the reservoir. He swirled it and looked into it, then returned. He handed the bowl to Airich. "Drink."

Airich accepted the bowl in both hands. The iridescent water shimmered in the light of his dreamscape. He took a small sip: it tasted clear and clean and sweet, and brought to mind the smell of late spring grasses growing thick in the fields of northern Corwyn. He closed his eyes and felt the sun on his face as he rode towards home.

Airich smiled and drained the bowl.

#

In a small room in Grecotha, five people sit cross-legged around the still form of a man laying on a pallet. Only one person is aware of his surroundings, and he pays close attention to the man before him. Less than three minutes have passed since the others finished the summoning, and Darius detects a slight rise in Airich's heart rate: the meat of the ritual has begun.

[Marc_du_Temple]

Thursday afternoon
September 12, 1168
Collos' larger safehouse
Grecotha

In the apartment where they sheltered from the rain, the archer moved from object to item, furnishing to piece, drawer to cabinet in the space of the first room. He was careful to leave nothing different than how he had found it, and in spite of the exertion of the day, he was alert and wary.

When he had finished with a sigh and a stretch, Elspeth, standing wetly by the front door, asked him, "What are you doing? Could you not relax?"

"Not until I have found material for the fireplace over yonder. And until I have found whatever objects there are here to object to, ye see?"

"I do." It did not take her long to decide to add, "Be sure you get every room."

By the time he had returned from the storeroom with wood and flint, Elspeth was shivering expectantly and Edwin was setting aside his leather shoes by the door. Bede shrugged. "I am yet wary of our newest friend, but I have nothing to justify myself with. This apartment is so dull that it is almost the real testimony 'gainst him."

"Perhaps he spends too little time here to make an impression on the place. At least he left us a means to dry off," Elspeth pointed out, feeling more impressed than Bede was, but yet somewhat wary herself of strange men.

"Indeed. Here," he placed the flint in Edwin's hand and dropped the wood at his feet. "I need a moment to think."

"I think we all do," spoke Elspeth. "Not much this day has gone as it should have."

"I'm so glad to be back with my friends, in the role of a prized dogsbody," Edwin muttered while he struck the flint over the logs he had placed in the fireplace.

"No," Bede corrected him, staring off into the middle distance. "I need ye for something that might interest ye."

"What might that be?"

"Revenge."

Elspeth adopted a most disapproving tone. "That is not becoming of an investigator, nor a guard."

"But it is becoming of men who have seen those they care for wronged too many times, while the doers of the deeds remain untouched," he countered, examining the knight's sword in a muted shaft of light coming in through a high window. As satisfying as it had been to see the small Purple Guard bring low the big bully Jasper, Bede would not be wholly satisfied until Muirea's tormentor and Airich's would-be killer was dead or as good as such, although the local Grecothan was not the one in his vengeful thoughts. He looked Elspeth in the eyes and spoke earnestly, "It is not just us who this MacBee fellow has harmed. This is just the latest in a slew of crimes without culprits, as far as the world knows. But we know better, don't we?"

Edwin said nothing. Bede began to swing the sword clumsily, like it was speaking a language he'd never heard before.((Practicing with Airich's sword 2d6 1 + 2))

"As my guard, I insist you stay here," Elspeth commanded while she sidled over towards the burgeoning fire, fearing not for herself but the two men who had already been through enough.

"As your guard, I say that nobody but us and our new friends know we are here. Ye will be quite safe while we patrol for our foe." ((Practicing with Airich's sword 2d6 1 + 2)) Embarrassment began to show on his face, as his hands kept undercutting his mouth. "The balance is off," he grumbled.

"It's not my safety I fear." Elspeth said firmly as she warmed her hands before the blaze. "I think I understand your need to teach this MacBee a lesson; he sounds to be a rotter to the core. But Sir Airich lies near death, and I know that Amy won't leave his side." She turned to face both men. "So we are two down, and can't afford to lose either or both of you to injury or the dungeon." She left the word death unspoken.

"I'm sure our new acquaintances are each deadly enough alone to more than support ye. Maybe even the priest," Bede chuckled with reverence.

"How does that account for your own safety?" she asked patiently.

"It doesn't," Bede admitted. "But this could: after what Macbee and his friends did, however many there are, they would split up. They wouldn't want to be caught all at once, or even give anyone the idea that they have spent the day together. Not to mention that they all have individual obligations, being students. In other words, we're like to find him alone. On his own, he is but a crafty hypnotist, nothing more. When he made sport of us, we were blindsided thanks to our own foolishness. We are more wary now, aren't we, my Pugilistic Scholastic?"

"You presume too much, Bede," Edwin turned now to face them, shaking his head. "You and I are not driven by the same urges. Whatever your history with this man, it is not mine. If he is a trickster or a jester or a fool or merely an ass, he is yet a foul vagabond and as such beneath my notice. If he is a student, then there's a chance he's somehow above me in rank, and I should know my place, although it is certainly not in a crypt. Your wanderings have brought you to care for peoples more than places, and I'd wager that's even true of your homeland. Grecotha and its troubles weigh more heavily on my mind than ... petty or even bloody revenge. Now my name means something here. I can't walk it back if I knife a superior in the street. And besides, my head hurts. Badly," he slowly buckled to the floor, having said his piece.

((Practicing with Airich's sword 2d6 6 + 6)) Reminding himself that it was not the battlefield, but the stage where he had learned to swing steel, Bede changed his approach from harming his imagined foes to dancing with them, as he had so often done under Scimmio's agile guidance. He finished his practice with a twirl that shredded the air and fanned the flames of the hearth. Full of his old bravado, he buried his frustration and sheathed the knight's sword, declaring, "This foul vagabond can do it without ye."

"Maybe, but you won't," Elspeth said with finality, raising her skirts to sit by Edwin and check his head. "Believe it or not, both of your lives have value enough that I will not part with them or have you throwing either of them away while we are bonded. Consider it an extension of my principles as a healer, or a sign of our friendship; it matters little to me. Now, find us a good supply of water to heat for washing up. Do not think I haven't noticed your bleeding, as well as your dirtiness."

After Bede retrieved a deep iron pot in a dark pantry, and just before he opened the outer door to go off and collect rainwater, Edwin called after him, "I'm sorry for attacking you when I now see that I had no cause."

"I'm sorry for pushing ye to be things ye are na," Bede replied over his shoulder, then went to collect the last of the day's rain.


You cannot view this attachment.

Hi all. Bynw here. I modified Marc's post to add the floor plan of the place they are staying. It's a small image, but the best I got without redrawing it. Room 1 is the main room. Room 2 to the left. Room 3 is the top right. And room 4 is the bottom right.

[A team effort that I could not post without the input, guidance, and bits from Jerusha, Revanne, Nezz and Laurna. ]
[Proof that Bede did a thorough job of his search]
((Resistance 3d6 2 + 6 + 1))
((Sneak 3d6  6 + 6 + 1))
((Perception 2d6 1 + 5))
((Perception 2d6 3 + 3))
((Perception 2d6 5 + 1))
((Sneak 3d6 2 + 6 + 3))
((Resistance 3d6 4 + 2 + 5))
((Perception for the fourth room 2d6 1 + 4))

[Nezz]

((Many thanks to Marc for our lovely Coroth drinking song and to Revanne for supplying about half of the Godfather memory))

Within Airich's dreamscape...

They'd been at it for days. Possibly weeks, or even months. Yet no one seemed to need food, or sleep, or even rest. Trevor and Sean brought water to Airich, who dutifully drank it. Occasionally Iain would emerge, carrying with him a Byzantyum-style amphora, and leave it with Amy before trudging back to his work area. Amy, in turn, poured water from the amphora into a bowl she created using only thought, then inspected the water for anything unusual before giving this to her knight. And every once in a great while, Collos himself returned to observe the procedure.

Airich was sitting now, as if meditating, and in fact seemed to be in his own trance. For the first few hours (or days, or weeks), he would gulp down the water as fast as he could, but now he drank at an unhurried rate, as if pacing himself. If Amy shook his shoulder, he would look at her and answer questions, but otherwise, he dreamed his father's dreams and stared at things no one else could see.

Amy set her hands along the sides of Airich's face, using her empathy to see how he was feeling. Calm. Content. And then...

Tell me lads, is it a sin?
To dance beneath The Griffon!
And tell me lads, is it a sin?
To feast underneath The Griffon!
Now tell me, lads, is it a sin?
To kiss her 'neath The Griffon!

Heaven forbid we love anyone else!
And God forbid we love anyplace else!
Beside the castle of Coroth,
May all stones and towers be wroth!
Challenge The Duke, be he childe or man;
Face our rebuke, for he loves our land!

Derry hops from the table to his seat, then onto the floor and sits back down while the singers he'd been leading cheer and pound the tables, calling for more ale. The Griffon himself, Derry's tablemate, is already well into his cups and barely manages a small wave and a half-smile. It is definitely time to get him home.

"Milord?" Derry shakes his shoulder. "Morgan? Can you do your..." Derry mimes the gesture Morgan typically uses to rid himself of his fatigue, with the hand across his eyes motion, but Morgan stares blearily at him.

"Alright, men, let's get his lordship home before Lord Robert discovers us." Derry motions to a few of Morgan's men nearby to assist. As they head out the door, Derry can't help but grin. Once again, he'd drunk his liege under the table...

***

The foal is the stud's third, and the most beautiful Derry has seen. When this lad goes to auction, the cost of the lame stallion will be recouped in full...

***

"I ask you this not as my lord, but as my friend," Derry says, somewhat awkwardly. He knows how Alaric will react—some quip about his lieutenant's misspent bachelor days—but Derry can put up with a little ribbing when it comes to such an important question.

"You want me to stand Godfather to Seamus?" Alaric asks.

"Aye."

Derry doesn't expect to see the duke quickly turn away his head, a move that betokens too deep an emotion for words.

"You would trust me with the boy's soul?" Morgan whispers.

"Aye," Derry says. "I've always trusted you with mine..."

***

It's not wenching if I'm getting information from her, Derry thinks to himself as he orders the pretty Torenthi lass another drink.

***

They sit in the Great Hall at Castle Derry, where they've been waiting for hours. The lord of the castle idly tosses dice to keep from twisting his fingers in anxiety. At long last, his mother comes out.

"Well?" Derry gets up and goes to her.

Mother can't keep her smile hidden. "It seems I have a granddaughter," she says.

"I have a daughter?" Derry's grin lights up his face. He turns to face the men. "I have a daughter!" he calls to them. The cheers are so loud, he thinks perhaps Celsie might hear them.

"Head full of blond curls," Mother adds. "Faith, but she's a darling one..."

[Laurna]

Sir Iain handed Amy an overly heavy amphorae jug. "This is serious times," he said to her. "But it is no longer a king's secret, and I fear that it has such great impact upon the O'Flynn family that it can not be buried or forgotten. It is important to remember and to incorporate into Sir Airich's knowledge."

Iain stood there as Amy poured the memory into her bowl. The substance was not cloudy, as she had been warned to look for, but the crystal clear water was nonetheless tinted with colors of Greens, blues, and a deep black at the bottom.

"I don't think I should give this to him," Amy said as she looked up from the bowl.

Iain only nodded, "Yes, you should. It is a very dear memory that should not be lost."

Amy looked over her shoulder, but Collos was far away. Still uncertain, she waved over Trevor and Sean. "Gentlemen, what should I do with this? Sir Iain implies it is a painful memory. What ever this is, I can not see it. Regardless, I don't want to give Airich more pain. Especially if the memory is his father's and not his own. How old was he when this occurred? Surely not old enough to remember it himself?" Amy lifted the bowl for Trevor to see, but it was not Trevor who touched it, the young knight Sir Sean passed his palm over the bowl.

He didn't even touch the water, and his reaction was one of a man stung by a bee. "Saint Camber, be still!" he exclaimed. "That was the worst day of my life. None compare!"

"At least it was not you who were injured on that day," Iain tried to say, knowing that Lord Sean Derry had had many incredibly bad days in his life.

"That day, my heart broke!" was all Sean managed to say.

Trevor finally understood what the memory was, and the pained look he gave Amy was telling.  "I had just turned Squire that year, that means that my brother would have been perhaps two or three years old."  He could see, Amy was deciding that she would not give this memory to Airich. So the nobleman put his hand on Amy's arm. "Don't toss that memory away. Airich needs it. We all need it, it is the foundation of all that has come to pass and all that is in our hearts."

"Amy, this affects even you!" Iain told her.  "Even your past has been touched by this event. Please give it to Airich. We will all stand by and see that he is supported through this memory's assumption."

She nodded. With a shaking hand she passed the bowl with its tinted waters to the Deryni knight who was smiling wide from some joyful memory. "I am told this is the king's business and a serious memory that you need in the foundation of other memories. We will all stay with you as you experience this."

For the first time in a long time, Airich acknowledged all four faces looking on at him. "Thank you," he said. Then, taking a few deep breaths, he lifted the bowl to his lips.

***

The swift rising sea tide stripped the blood away from the bodies laying upon the white sand tidal beach off the east side of Coroth Point. The battle was ill timed for the invaders, with the rising sea ending their surprise attack. They pulled back to their lines where the forest came down to the rocky shore. "Get our wounded out of the water." Derry yelled. He hefted a wounded knight across his shoulders and carried him to the high side of the beach.

As he grew closer to the King's Champion, he heard one nobleman yelling to the duke."We can not fight them on the cliffs or in the forest! We will have to back-track to the gates of the city to face them again on open land."

Duke Alaric yelled back."I am not waiting for dark when the tide turns, and I am not letting that louse Teymuraz take one step closer to my city or my king." 

"We are outnumbered six to one, your grace. We did not know they had gotten so many across the Twin Rivers. They must have been ferrying them across for several days. We can not win where we stand. We must return to Coroth and wait for King Kelson's army."

Derry watched as calculations ran through Duke Alaric's mind. "The Royal Army is only just mustering to arms, it will be days, maybe even weeks, before Kelson is at full strength to meet this foe. By then, the invading Horde of Phoustonia could be halfway to Rhemuth." Derry heard the low, guttural declaration from his dearest friend. "We are ending this today, before more of my king's subjects are lost!"

Alaric then turned his dangerous smile into one of control and surety. He put his hands on Derry's shoulders. "Organize the men, get them back in line on the crest of the beach dunes, there. Move the cavalry North on the cliffs, let no enemy sneak past you, we are holding them here. If I fail, then retreat to Coroth and hold the city until Kelson arrives."

"By Camber, Alaric, what do you plan to do?" Derry demanded.

"I am calling in a favor to certain members of the Deryni council who owe me. Brendan! Kelric! To my side! We need to reach out to Bishop Denis Arilan, together! His seat in Dhassa is not so far away. He should hear us, and he will understand what and why I am going to do what I need to do."

Derry saw his determined friend and his son's huddle together, protected by the soldiers and horses standing around them. Sadly, this was something that Derry could not help in. So he turned to the disarray of three hundred men, getting them sorted, some to guard the beach heights, some to guard the cliffs above. He would not forsake his duty to his duke.

#

High on the cliffs, Derry battled a contingent of a hundred Byzantyun foot soldiers. They had thought the distraction down on the beach was a good time to skirt past the Corwyn defenses.  Derry proved them wrong. His cavalry were strong and well-trained. At one point he was close enough to the edge of the cliff to look down and see the shimmer of a green and blue dome on a small dry spot among the beach rocks. Even at this distance, he could see that there had been trouble afoot. A surge of the duke's men were pulling the crew off a newly beached sailing barge carrying the Isle of Orsal's flag. It was clear in the way the Duke's men were treating these newcomers that they were not the Hort of Orsal's men.

Derry's keen eyes searched the Corwyn men below him. Dismay filled him when he spotted four injured lords laid out together; the Purple Episcopal robes of a black-haired man with an arrow in his shoulder lay among them. The man twitched in an odd manner as the battle surgeon tended to his wound. Between the line of Coroth men and Byzantyum soldiers stood a shimmering dome of blue and green. As he watched, one color would brighten and the other would fade, but then the brightness would reverse. The battle going on under that dome seemed evenly matched. Grand Duke Teymuraz and Duke Alaric were both formidable Deryni. Then the green of the dome brightened. Abruptly, the blue winked out of existence. The green half held for a minute longer, and then it faded away in a soft billowy cloud. In his moment of victory, Duke Alaric Morgan stood tall, he walked to the body of his adversary, and leaned over him to ascertain if the man lived or not. He bowed his head for a moment as if saying a prayer, and then he stood and turned exhausted features to look toward his sons. They were leaping over rocks to reach his side.

A hair-raising flash of Lightning blinded every man there. The sound instantaneous in following the flash deafened all the men as well. 

Dazed, Derry jumped up, only to see Alaric, his lord, his friend, lying crumpled against a rock, the tidal waves washing up to engulf him. His sons were at his side, and they were yelling. Men on both sides of the beach started howling too. Teymuraz had lost the Arcane Duel. But someone had cheated Alaric's victory.

It took nothing for the men of Gwynedd to exact revenge: the Corwyn men on the beach surged through the waves. Derry summoned his calvary and charged down the cliff road, coming upon the enemy trying to escape into the forest. He put the sword to every Byzantyum he met. By nightfall and the retreat of the tide, the Horde of Phoustania was no more. But that did not allay the devastation of Duke Alaric Morgan's Death.

***

Lord Iain, king's man, knew this story well. He had not witnessed this traumatic event, but he knew men who had; he had seen second-hand how the horde army of Teymuraz marched on Gwynedd to reclaim the Furstan Crown; a pretender's crown that disputably was still claimed by the eldest surviving son of Teymuraz. In an attempt to allay the grief from this memory, which was overwhelming them all, Iain used rapport to share the knowledge he had learned four years before. A man named Feyd had gifted to another man the name of the boy who had conjured that lightning bolt. The gift had been intended to invoke rage and bring a burgeoning Deryni under the influence of Feyd's Order. Yet the other man had not killed Valerian, youngest son of Teymuraz. Circumstances had changed the need for revenge to the need for survival, instead. That man did, however, clip Valerian's wings and make him susceptible to failure. Iain shared the image of a tall blond knight in green touching the Grand Duke's forehead and Blocking Valerian's Power permanently!

Iain was sure that Trevor and Airich knew the image of Washburn Morgan well, they already knew his story, but he was surprised that Amy was actively attentive to the nuance of what he shared. Light behind her eyes flared as she looked up toward Master Collos in the far distance across the reservoir of memories.  Iain had purposely blurred the resemblance of Feyd from Collos, but Amy's eyes saw more than he'd shared.

Airich's pain from the memory brought her attention back to him, and the two young Deryni hugged each other, seeking comfort. This brought a long delay to the ritual process, which caused Collos to come to them all and chastise their idleness. Reading the thoughts flowing around him, Collos finally understood what memory had caused this grief. "I, too, was there that day." All eyes but Iain's looked up at him in shock. "I was too young, not yet a man, to stop it. Know that!" he said truthfully. "But I knew the men who could have stopped it, but did not. Know that those men no longer walk in this plain of existence. If that is of any comfort to you."

Amy's lavender eyes flashed as she looked into Collos's face. Her green squirrel chittered in her ear and darted around her neck, but this time she ignored his warnings.  What her mind shared with everyone was an angry tall blond knight, brought to her lord's house, held as a prisoner by a dark scholarly man. The servants bathed and dressed this handsome prisoner, but all the while he voiced how he would get his revenge upon the man who had murdered his father. Amy had not known the name of the knight then, but she knew it now.  Lord Washburn was the son of Alaric Duke of Corwyn. And that dark scholarly warden was the man standing right in front of her.

"You! It was you! You brought the son of Morgan to the manor house of Chantel! You filled him with such anger."

Collos nodded as if she had praised him. "I wondered when you would recall my face. I didn't forget yours."

Claws out, Amy jumped at Collos, but this being Rapport with the Deryni Master in full control, he brushed her aside with a blink, putting great distance between himself and her. "Calm down, my lady, what we do here is simply to assimilate the past, not to invoke the emotions that it garners. I know your odd-colored squirrel is meant to protect your memories of Washburn from those of us here. Now that it is out, stop fretting about the past. Feel safe, my lady, Washburn is not the key to your kingdom's future as he once was. Yet he still plays a part, even as Sir Airich will play a part. Know that I intend to protect both men equally. So saying, we need to press forward. We waste too much energy on one memory."

Amy spun back to Airich, seeing grief in his eyes. She steadied her own emotions, and shooed her green squirrel under her hair. Then she held Airich and let him shed tears into her shoulder. But he was strong, and soon he looked up at everyone, "I wish I'd gotten to meet his Grace, Alaric Morgan." Airich commented.  "As an O'Flynn of Derry, I am happy to call his sons my good friends."

Trevor squeezed Airich's hand. Sean and Iain nodded in agreement. Another minute passed and Collos was pointing to the empty bowls.

"Do you think I could have a few happier memories for a time?" Airich asked. The mood within the ritual lightened as faces nodded in agreement.

Quickly, Sean set a bowl in Airich's hands. "This is our family: my wife, my first son with his new wife, my two other sons, the toddler is you, beloved Airich, and three daughters. We spent a glorious day at the spring faire in Calabasas, Carthmoor. A more enjoyable day could not have been planned."