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The afternoon sun baked down as Bryar took a blow – another blow – and collapsed on what was left of the lawn, covered in sweat and dirt and anticipating a healthy bruise. A tough way to learn, but he wouldn’t be making that mistake again. He and Joss were both pulling their punches, but it didn’t follow that either of them was immune to hard strikes. Tai watched the mock battle from the porch steps, next to the pile where they’d dropped their tunics. The little herd of goats regarded them solemnly from the edge of the grass. In four days, the two men had managed to largely destroy the lawn in front of the house, but when they’d apologized, shamefaced, Rebecca waved them off. “Bosh. The grass will grow back. I leave the window open so he can hear you. He enjoys it.”
Because Ezra’s chair sat empty. He had taken to his bed. Tai had been allowed one visit, yesterday, but neither he nor Joss had seen the Old Man since the fateful conversation on the porch.
Joss offered him a hand up. Once, Bryar would have disdained the helping hand; now he accepted it willingly. Sparring with Joss served as a useful reminder that he wasn’t as young, or as fit, as he once had been.
“You okay?” Tai called.
“Mostly.”
“Debatable,” Joss rumbled. Bryar smirked under the dirt coating his face; he’d landed a telling blow or two himself. Good. He’d already picked up several valuable techniques from Joss, and he intended to use them. He backed away and readied himself.
“Adjust your feet,” Joss said. “Like so. You’ll get better leverage.”
Bryar made the change, felt the improvement in his balance, and braced himself for Joss’s next attack.
This time they both ended up in the dirt. Instead of grappling, they collapsed there, content to abandon their practice bout. Tai came over and stood above them, hands on hips. “Fine defenders you two will be, if this is the best you can do.”
Bryar reached up a hand and grabbed hers, tugging her down, his mind flashing to her gently rounded breasts... He let the memory go, though he’d certainly return to it. She intrigued him more each day, it seemed. The three of them lolled on the remains of the grass.
“Me, I’m good with you defending yourself for a while,” Joss said. “I’d forgotten what hard work this is.”
“I suspect you don’t need any defending,” Bryar added.
“Gran made fresh ointment for your bruises,” Tai said. “You’ve both taken a pummeling this time. I’ll go get it.”
“Not yet,” Bryar said. “Give us a chance to clean up first.”
“Did you know you can make a whistle from grass? Listen.” With a blade of grass anchored along her joined thumbs, she blew. At the shriek she produced, Rebecca rushed out onto the porch, only to shake her head and return inside.
“That’s horrible. Whistles should be musical, not sound like a dying animal.”
“Makes me glad there wasn’t much available grass on Terra.”
Tai sat back and grinned.
Bryar resisted turning his mind to the reason he was subjecting himself to a daily battering at Joss’s hands, but he had to admit their bouts felt good. Muscles unused for years ached pleasurably at the end of the day, and the river soothed the cuts and bruises.
Tai’s almost constant presence didn’t hurt, either.
Rebecca reappeared. “Tai, I need you.”
“Sure, Gran.” She scrambled up and headed for the house.
“That it for today?” Joss asked.
“I hope so. Some of what hurts needs time to heal.”
“Same here. You’re a fighter. Didn’t expect that.”
Bryar experimentally plucked a thick blade of grass and mimicked Tai’s position with his thumbs. He blew. Nothing much happened. “Must be the angle of the breath, like when you play a flute. I’ll practice.”
“Not when I’m around. I can still take you, you know.” Joss got to his feet. “I’m cleaning up, then going in search of food. You’re swimming?”
“I need the water.” Joss, being both earth clan and a novice swimmer, kept himself well away from the river, but for Bryar it was as essential as life blood.
He emerged an hour later, refreshed, clean, and ready for Tai’s ointment. Several new bruises decorated his arms and torso, and he suspected he’d have to forego practice tomorrow to give his muscles a chance to catch up. He used his walk back to the compound to start his mandated half hour exercise, trying to find what Ezra sought, what Tai had forced into his focus, the old, broken-off pieces of himself from his years enduring taunts, the cataclysmic loss of his first flute. But it was hopeless. He understood with words the importance of moving past those long-ago hurts, but he lacked the techniques to restore the parts of himself that she swore had gone into hiding for safekeeping. Instead, he paid attention to the vegetation, the patterns on the forest floor where animals had foraged or run. Every time he and Tai ventured anywhere, he got an earful, how the world worked, the interdependencies among the plants, the soil, the water.
Thunder rumbled overhead as he reached the edge of the lawn surrounding the house. Ezra once again sat in his chair, relaxed and peaceful, as if waiting for the rain.
Bryar trotted across the grass with a friendly goat at his heels. He bolted up the steps and sank down on the porch floor beside the Old Man. “You’re...”
“Better, yes.” Ezra’s clawed hand clutched his arm, squeezed, and let go. “And you owe me a conversation. And a decision.”
Tussling with Joss was a game. The words that came out of his mouth next would seal his fate. With every fiber of his being, he didn’t want to say those words, and couldn’t keep the tinge of bitterness from his voice. “Did you ever doubt?”
“I’m afraid I did.” Ezra leaned back and closed his eyes. “I appreciate your reluctance, Bryar. You wouldn’t be the man I believe you to be if you came into this without doubts. It’s one thing to ride helter-skelter into battle without preparation – and I don’t mean physical exercises – and quite another to do the work. If it comforts you at all, trust me when I say that the way of life you long for is dying. You might have been given a year or two to roam the Midland and perform, but the end is inevitable. Until that power cell is disposed of, all we love is under threat.”
“Joss is a good fighter-”
“And Joss is fulfilling his role. The rest is yours to do. The decisions, the primary action. Have you been working with memories of your lost flute?”
“Tai told you?”
“Yes. I was convinced the birthmark caused the rupture, but I see now it’s much more. A loss like that, right at puberty, too...”
“I don’t know how to do what you want. I get the concept, but there must be some technique, something I’m not seeing. Tai talked about finding missing parts of myself.”
“Exactly. I will arrange for Tai to help you. There is a form of trance work, unrelated to the Aura. It may break this blockage for you.”
“Okay.” Ezra probably heard his reluctance. Even back in his training days at the Motherhouse, he hadn’t been sure which was the more painful, the physical beatings he’d endured as part of his childhood or being forced to confront and come to terms with them.
“Be still. Let’s watch the storm roll in.”
The sky had darkened, the first sign of rain since the storm that accompanied their arrival in Ezra’s neighborhood. Joss emerged from the house, his arms shiny with ointment. Wordlessly he settled against the house wall.
“Give us a show,” the Old Man muttered, and the heavens opened. Lightning danced from cloud to cloud, thunder added a bass counterpoint to the rush of falling rain. Bryar closed his eyes, sheltered by the roof but also by the power of the man in the chair next to him, and heard music dancing through the air. He listened, hypnotized, as the harmonies seeped into him. Not since they left to cross the hills had music entered him this way.
Feeling as if he’d been given his life back, he swallowed hard, unable to speak.
“Record it,” Ezra murmured. “Make it yours. You won’t get many more opportunities.”
“I will.” His voice came out a whisper.
Later, when the thunder died out and the rain settled into a steady pounding, Ezra said, “We will develop a plan to use our remaining time wisely. From now on, your days will be fully occupied. Physical and mental training, and I will require your assistance to devise a template that will block your Auric connection. We have never explored such techniques, but this is crucial for your safety, possibly your survival.” He paused, then added, “Joss, I know we must talk, but for the moment your help here is vital. I hope you will stay.”
“Sure, if you need me. There’s nothing urgent in my life.”
“You want to go to the Motherhouse. I understand that. But your whisperer skills can wait for now.” Ezra relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes, ending the discussion.
Bryar and Joss looked at each other across the porch. Committed, Bryar thought. You and me. Willow, far away in Borgonne. Tai and Ezra and Rebecca, the Motherhouse, the Midland. Mari, his daughter. The weight of it might rest on his shoulders, but for this afternoon it didn’t matter. Because today the music had returned. Today, he’d found peace.