Of The Line Of Estelondo: Percival's Tale.

Chapter XII: A Tyrant's Revenge

Begin Part Two

Gary stood on the hill where he had met her so often before, watching the outline of Hunawen against the purples and oranges of dawn, as her red hair danced around her face in the morning breeze. She had her eyes closed and was taking in the ambience of the morning before her when she heard the footsteps approaching. Without opening her eyes, she teased: "I believe it is a Wednesday, not a Thursday, Gary."

"We need to go, now, Hunawen!" She turned toward Gary and saw desperation on his face, which reminded her of their second meeting, but there were an urgency and a fear about him which filled her with concern.

"What is wrong. Gary?"

"My mother intends to kill you, beloved! She probably has someone on their way, right now!"

"Did you hear her say that?" She asked cynically; her question taking him by surprise.

"She said she was thinking of a more permanent way to end the love we have for each other."

"That could mean quite a few things, Gary. Perhaps you are reading more into this than you need to be."

Gary was shocked by her passive rebuke. "How can you be so cavalier in the face of this threat? Don't you trust me?"

She looked at him sharply. "Do not dare to accuse me of ill faith. I trust you with my life." She paused and grimaced. "I do not, however, trust a conclusion you drew based on a few obscure phrases that you heard one time." She put her hands on his shoulders and offered: "I know your mother does not approve of our union, which is a little hypocritical on her part, all things considered, but I doubt she would seek to have me killed."

"Damn you, Hunawen!" The dream form said, but he was still invisible to her. "Why did you not listen!" His mind reproached him. Her cynicism was one of the things you loved about her; it would not have been her if she had obeyed without a thought. He acquiesced to that line of reasoning and returned to watching the scene before him.

"Hunawen, I know my mother. This is well within her moral comfort zone. She considers 'Symvoulites' to be worth less than the loyalists, and she believes that family is the most important thing. She would happily kill for it."

"Gary, I trust that you believe that, but I think you are wrong. There is no reason in the world that she would—" She grunted and stumbled forward, falling to her knees.

Gary ran over and caught her in his arms, as she started to fall backwards. His arm brushed up against the bolt in her back, and as he looked into her eyes, there was a myriad of emotions clearly reflected in their emerald pools. "I—I" He shushed her, but she shook her head, and took a deep breath. "I—I L—love you." She shuddered once in his arms and then opened her eyes to look into his. She said nothing more, but took one more breath, her eyes locked on his, and then the light faded from them. Her body disappeared, and the only thing that remained was her green dress, brown vest, and a bloodstained crossbow bolt.

Gary's tears flowed freely, in both forms; elder and younger. He pressed his forehead to the reddened ground, and wept, holding her clothes pressed flat against his chest. The bolt scraped his chest, drawing blood, but he did not care, as he cried as though his soul had just left this world for someplace better.

The intensity of his feeling remained, but as he saw Angston walking toward him, empty crossbow in hand, his mourning turned to rage and left a black ball of darkness that the elder Gary could still feel in his heart. He still held the crossbow bolt to his chest and the older Gary, who could bear to see no more turned away, but his ears could hear Angston say "Calm down, Perenedhel. She was a girl, nothing more. There will be others."