With Her Eyes

With Her Eyes

 

The sword was still pointed at my chest. There were a few other men who were now pointing weapons at me too, they weren’t so close though. I had started to lean against my father’s sword and I could feel it digging in, starting to draw blood.

While I examined the room to try and find distraction from the rain who stood right in front of me he looked utterly amazed. His mouth sat open and I could hear and feel his breathing upon my chest.

“Danariel?” he asked tentatively.

I felt a little part of my soul shake when he spoke my name. “That would be my name, Reubin.” I replied, recoiling away from my own words.

He was quiet for a moment. “Everyone out!” he bellowed soon after the silence. When no one moved he screamed again and swung his sword through the air at his own men. “Now!”

After that command the men all moved quickly. They disappeared from sight through any exit they could and the two of us were left alone. I think I wanted to punch him a lot then, I was too worried about hurting my one good arm though. Overstretching my sore muscles could cause permanent damage after all.

“You have her eyes” he said bluntly. He was usually very blunt when he spoke. “I had forgotten about that.”

“My eyes are my own.”

“Well your eyes look just like your mother’s.” Reubin snapped back, advancing a step towards me.

Then he sighed and started to walk away, up towards his chair. His chair. I started to walk after him, the desire to hit him was there and was still strong. I was doing well to resist it though.

“Why are you here, Danariel?” he asked while taking a seat. His posture was so casual, he was slouching in the chair. “And what happened to your hand?”

“Because you’re going to help me.” I replied. I ignored his second question completely, my answer would have been ‘I lost the hand trying to clean up the mess you made of my life’ though.

 He laughed at my answer. Not just the short laugh of someone who’s slightly amused. But the wholehearted laugh of a madman who has just heard an answer that they find peculiar.

“Is that so?” he sneered. “Is this going to be how I make up for… well’ spoiling our father-son relationship’?”

I didn’t even bother to shake my head. I had obviously inherited my occasional stupidity from my father.

“If it helps you sleep at night than sure, you can believe that.” I said at length. “But you should know that nothing will ever make up for that, Reubin”

He shrugged. “Nothing ever used to help me sleep at night save for your mother. And from the look of your eyes I’d say that quite the same thing is true for you. Who was she Danariel?.”

I grunted and completely ignored that question too. I had always hated how easily he could read everyone, or maybe I envied him for the skill. My dishonesty was another trait he had passed on to me, or at least I think it was.

“Was it really all so bad that you can’t answer one simple little question?” he continued with a smirk. “I mean just tell your old man who she-”

“Stop talking already!” I screeched across the hall. For the first time ever he actually listened.

“You trained a man called Symonds into the perfect killer some time a go.” I started.

“Oh I would hardly call that kid the perfect killer” Reubin interjected. “He was pretty useless in fact, I did the best I could with him though.”

His smirk widened. He looked proud of himself.

“I thought I told you to stop talking” I said violently while reaching for my once again absent sword.

Reubin shifted in his chair and pretended to look scared while motioning for me to continue talking. The man was acting like a child, how was a child going to teach me how to kill Symonds?

“I want you to train me” I put simply.

“Easy enough” he replied with a shrug. “When shall we start? In a week? A few days? Tomorrow? Or now even?”

“Tomorrow will do just fine, Reubin.” I cut in before he could speak further. His voice did so infuriate me, and he knew it. That was probably why he spoke so god damn much.

Reubin got up after that and started to walk towards me. He stood just in front of me and placed both arms upon my shoulders in a strange kind of embrace. It was almost a hug. I was too shocked to move, I had forgotten about his occasional mood swings.

He would often go from being happy to sad, or even just downright angry. These mood swings were often accompanied by drinking, which a beating soon followed. Moments that could have lead me to like the man had ended like that.

“How have you been all this time my son?”

It was such a simple question, so simple in fact that I simply couldn’t think of an answer to it. I probably should have said ‘horrible, I’ve been horrible and it is all your fault’. Maybe that would have helped the b*****d focus.

Reubin started to walk away and then stopped, motioning with his head for me to follow. “Come, come. We have much to discuss.”

I reluctantly followed my father, keeping in mind that I did need his help, however much I hated to admit it. There were also a few things I wished to ask the psychopath, it would be in my best interests to appease the man.

We walked through the halls of the castle I had once called my home at a reasonable pace. Tapestries hung from the walls and ornate objects sat around the place. Many of which depicted or honoured my father’s efforts in the war with the barbarians.

My favourite piece had always been a tapestry that showed the end of the war. It was more or less a picture of my father delivering the final blow to the Barbarian King. The background was all regal purples and blues, with vines framing the whole scene like it was some majestic event.

My father’s skin looked almost golden while the Barbarian King’s own skin appeared nearly black in some lights. I mean my father did have a sort of glow about him and the barbarians were supposedly darker skinned, but I found the whole thing rather embellishing.

The entire thing was just a piece of crap really. My father’s sword sticks out of his enemy’s chest, looking like a beacon to those who rejoice below the pair. I think I liked it because it was so stupid… or maybe I used to imagine that my father was the one being killed, and that I never had to endure being born.

“Just a little further if you remember correctly, Danariel” Reubin called out to me. The man had fallen away from me when I stopped to look at the tapestry once more.

I did remember. We were going to his study, the place that he always went to drink away his ‘sorrows’. After my father emerged from his study I knew that pain was sure to follow him and find me. Pain and rain. The two words that rhyme so perfectly mean almost the same thing for me.

It was only a little further until my father swung open the door of his study and we both stepped inside. It was far neater than I remembered from peering in as a boy. Normally papers and bottles of liquor were strewn about the place. Now though everything was organised into neat piles, and the case surrounding my father’s armour was neat for once.

“Take a seat” Reubin said politely. “Would you fancy a drink?” he added afterwards, raising a bottle and raising his eyebrows.

I took a chair and sat down by the first of the tables. “I don’t drink.” I waved my hand.

Reubin shrugged and grabbed a glass and started to pour a drink, presumably for himself.

“You don’t drink either.” I said sternly. “Let’s talk while you’re sober for once shall we father.”

He sighed and replaced the bottle’s stopper before quickly swallowing what was already in the glass. I frowned and shot the b*****d a dirty look. I don’t know why it really mattered, he’d probably already been drinking today.

“What! It is bad luck to waste good drink” he exclaimed. “I can never bloody win with you people, always saying that alcohol is bad for my health and such. You probably won’t even live half as long as I have without it!”

“It’s not bad for your health, it’s bad for mine.” I snapped back. “Why would I of all people care even the slightest bit about your health, Reubin?”

My father shook his head and took a seat opposite me. He looked so miserable, completely desolate of any happiness. He reminded me of myself.

“No. I don’t suppose you would care, Danariel.” He murmured softly. “Especially after everything I put you and your mother through. Your mother… she-“

“That’s more than enough, Reubin” I said back. I wanted so desperately to be angry at the man, to throttle him half to death. But with all his mood swings he was like lots of different people all melded into one, and it was just unfair to be mad at all of them for the actions of one.

“I came here to learn from you so that I could fix the mess that seems to be my life. I did not come to talk about the past or have a heart to heart with you.”

Reubin nodded. It was a very stern and definite nod, just from that I could tell that he was already back to his original loathsome self. Maybe not original self… but the one he was most often nowadays.

Reaching over my shoulder I retrieved the parcel I had strapped there and placed it upon the table. As I unwrapped it the white metal gleamed ever so slightly, just enough that its shine was visible.

“I was told that you might know what this is.” I pointed to the metal. “Any ideas as to what it could be?”

“I know exactly what that is” he replied with a toothy smile. He didn’t say anything more after that. He was like that a lot, he only ever answered a question directly, never actually addressing what you wanted to know.

For example, if someone asked me if I knew what colour the sky was then I would say; ‘yes, the sky is blue’. If they instead asked my father he would simply have said: ‘yes’. Not that that is important in any way.

“What exactly is it?” I asked impatiently. This time he would hopefully give a proper answer, I never did know with my father though.

“A meteorite. Or if you believe in that kind of stuff, than a piece of the next world that fell from the heavens.” He explained.

“Any special traits that it might have?”

He sighed. “Well the meteorites can come in a few colours. There’s greens, blues, white such as yours and probably a few others I’m sure.”

“They all glow in the dark as I’m sure you have noticed with that piece you have there” Reubin continued. “And the different colours of the metal are supposed to have different spiritual powers. You know, all that voodoo s**t”

I never really did believe any of the magic stuff. Just because you can’t explain how or why something happens, that doesn’t make it magic.

“Well what do each of the colours do that makes them magical?” I was interested, I didn’t believe it though.

“Do you believe in that kind of thing, Danariel?” Reubin asked. “All these fairy tales are for children and lesser minded individuals, I should hope that my son is not the latter.”

“No I don’t believe any of it.” I shook my head. “I’m just interested.”

Reubin leaned back and pointed to the display case that contained his armour. I had never notice before but the metal glowed a dull blue colour.

“A gift from some king, made out of a blue version of your meteorite.” He continued. “Said to absorb the souls of men killed by its wearer and add their power to his. Sadly enough though I never killed anyone while wearing it and I don’t plan to either. Armour that glows is a hindrance, no matter how strong it might be.”

I nodded. “I heard in Hollowdell that the green type ferries the spirits of men to the next world.”

“Correct. That’s the widely accepted belief about the stuff, however I’m sure there is some other explanation for the phenomenon, we just haven’t thought of it yet.” He paused for a moment and scratched behind his right ear. “And out of the three I have seen that leaves your little white chunk of meteorite. Supposedly the white metal bonds to the first person who’s blood it consumes, after that it can carry the spirits of their loved ones.”

I gazed at the metal intently. It had turned red when my blood had touched it, and I hadn’t seen Piers’ ghost since then. Although he was only a figment of my imagination anyway, it was all a bunch of stories. Someone would have an explanation for my metal, not that I cared, I just wanted to know what I could use it for.

“Well is the stuff good for anything?” I asked after a moment. “I mean can I use it for anything in particular.”

Reubin stood and walked over towards his armour. Once there he tapped on the glass and pointed to the dimly glowing blue armour.

“Well since it is practically indestructible it makes for good armour, especially considering how light it is.” He squinted his eyes for a second, seemingly deep in thought. “Although you don’t have much there, maybe enough for a pair of gauntlets or a short sword. If you wanted to make a proper sword you would have to use some regular metal too.”

I nodded again. I needed a new sword, and having one that wasn’t going to break so easy this time was a good idea. Even though I hadn’t forged anything in a fairly long time it wouldn’t be too hard for me to make myself a sword out of the metal. Or so I thought.

“What the hell are you doing in here boy?” my father’s voice shattered my thoughts like a piece of glass.

Bottle in hand, and on his lips, the man was now standing atop the table and leering down at me. I could feel his breath on my face, it was disgusting. Just like rain on a hot day, afterwards you’re all sweaty and it’s even worse than being cold.

“Get out get out get out!”

I moved quickly from the chair and out of the room at his command. The door was slammed in my face and not long after I could hear banging and thrashing sounds coming from the study. At least his drunken rage wasn’t taken out on me anymore.

I sat beside the door leaned up against the wall and listened to him thrash about for a while. I thought about things, a lot of things while I was there. I think I kind of felt sorry for him. His mood swings and drinking had resulted in him pushing away everyone he had ever loved, and me. I mean was any of it really his fault? Meanwhile everyone I had ever loved had died the moment I let them get close to me, and that was my fault. Maybe I was worse than he was.

I didn’t have time to dote on it further though when a young women appeared from around the corner. She looked young, younger than me, but she was by no means a girl. Although her face looked almost childish from some angles from others she looked like a dark temptress with her dark curls and full figured body.

Had I been any normal person I’m sure I would have taken her to bed with me, or else forced myself upon her. But I didn’t. Not because I’m a good person or because I have morals, but simply because every woman I ever met reminded me of Katherine. That made sharing a castle with her hard enough, let alone a bed.

“Milord?” she called out tentatively. Her voice reminded me of Elle’s, another person who I had failed. Although the way she spoke was nowhere near as annoying.

“Aye, that would be me” I replied while sliding up to my feet against the wall. The wounds on my leg from Symonds combined with only having one hand made many simple tasks difficult.

“Right this way milord.” She disappeared down the hallway just as quickly as she had come.

I followed after her and eventually caught up. I already knew where we were going, we were moving towards where I remembered my old room to be. She stopped just outside the door and smiled as I moved inside.

“If you need anything than just…”

“I’ll be fine thankyou” I replied before she had even finished. I even added a smile to make it seem more genuine. “The only things I need none of you will be able to provide” I added quietly as she walked away.

Everything in the room was just as I recalled it being when I had left. Everything except for the headboard of my bed. It was covered in long slashes and gouges, probably the result of my leaving. He had never been good with handling his emotions, least of all his anger.

Apart from that though, the books were still scattered across my desk. I had always enjoyed reading and kept all of my books on my desk in neat piles. Whenever my father came in to beat my and I was reading though they would be knocked all over the place.

Once when my father had damaged my favourite book I had cried myself to sleep more fervently than every other night. A few pages had been ripped out and the artwork on the cover of the book had been all but destroyed. I think I attacked him with a knife after that, I was only around eight though, all it meant for me was another beating.

“The Adventures Of Arthur” I whispered quietly. That had been the name of the book.

It was about a young boy who set off on an adventure to become a great hero. After slaying a dragon and saving everyone from a great and terrible fire-breathing dragon he does just that. That was the kind of fantastical crap I used to read as a kid. All happy endings and no tragedy. It was a real shame the same thing couldn’t be said about my own adventures.

I could see the ruined book sitting on the corner of my desk, it looked sad almost. I left it well alone and fell down into my bed. The paintings that had once been on the ceiling were faded now and I could barely see them. With them gone I had nothing left to remind me of my mother save for my father. Well him and my eyes, since my eyes looked just like my mother’s.