Thelion
03-05-2008, 07:21 AM
<p><span style="font-size: small;">The sound of his father's fist striking his mother's face was one that Jaxa would never forget, in this life or the next.The child looked down from the relative safety of the loft that served as his bed chamber, the sounds of his mother's terrified screaming pulling his attention from the rest through which he had tried to escape. His father was a tyrant; that much the boy had known since he was able to understand the meaning of the term, and few were the paths through which he could undo the anguish and pain that his father had caused, and continued to cause, through his childhood years.In his sleep, the child was free.Free from pain.Free from remorse.Free from the torture that was listening to his mother's pained and painful cries in the dead of the night.This night, however, he was not to be so lucky as to find distraction from the harsh realities of his father's tirades. Though Jaxa was but a child, he heard though could not understood, at least to any degree, his father's rationale. A farmer since he could walk, Jaxa's father had found only frustration in his vocation of late, for the market was far more difficult in which to survive. Qeynos was a city growing in breadth and population, and the musings of a single farmer living on the outskirts of such a place were often lost in the din and dither of the day to day of the growing population. Many sold the same crops and food stuffs that his father did, and some did so at far lower prices. As the weeks, months and years went by, Jaxa has watched his father fall from prosperous farmer to less and less, until it was clear that a living could no longer be made in such pursuits.At least, for his father.It was then that he had taken to violence and drink, in the face of the failure he was forced to serve. Jaxa had heard the stories of the orcish and goblin incursions, and often though that it was an unpardonable shame that his father had chosen his own family as the release for his rage, instead of the enemies of the civilized races that seemed so abundant these days.And yet, chosen them he had.On this night, he seemed to have followed his rage to a place heretofore unseen."Please Jesp!" his mother cried, her prone form throwing her arms to her face to protect her from his rage and inebriation. "You're hurting me..." Jaxa could feel his young heart break at his mother's impassioned begging, and he felt his lips and face curl into a twisted snarl of near hatred."Then maybe you will learn to remain apart from my anger, when the days are this long, and heat so unbearable! Mayhap a time bound in bandage and bonds might see you to a clearer understanding!"Jaxa heard the words his father spewed, and despite his youth, he understood the inherent stupidity of them. His father was a strapping man, easily twice the weight of his mother, and yet there he stood, daring to blame his violence and his rage upon the victim of his ire! It was madness, and a madness, Jaxa feared, that he could not resolve nor ignore.A sharp cracking sound echoed across the small farmhouse, and Jaxa held his place in absolute terror and alarm. The tapestry of pain and anguish unfolding before him seemed to be moving with stunted motion, as though to ensure that his young and unknowing eyes captured every gesture; every action, though for what reason fate might be so cruel, the poor child could not know. His father struck his mother once more, strongly across the face, and Jaxa watched as she staggered backwards, her balance gone and her consciousness leaving her. She stumbled across their living quarters, her hands groping for support, her lips whispering the name of her husband. Not the abusive intruder that stood before her and did her such harm; she called the name of the man she had married; the warm and loving man she had taken to her heart and her hearth. It had been a thousand years, it seemed, since she had seen that man, and this one before her had taken his place, and yet she recalled him with startling clarity and wanton fondness.Where had he gone, this hero that had taken her heart? Who was this beast who then stood in his stead? How could she find her way back to his heart? How could she show him the way back to hers?Such were the thoughts that echoed in her heart and in her mind as she fell from her feet. Such were the thoughts that echoed in her heart as her head struck the stone of the fireplace mantle, and such were the thoughts that echoed in her heart as her life abandoned her, and returned her to the Abyss that awaits any who might wander too soon from the realms.Jaxa looked on and watched his mother die, any notion of aiding her flying from his mind with the resounding echo of her skull meeting the stone of the fireplace. He was but a boy, with no more experience in the ways and wants of the realm than any other of his age, but he knew well enough the truth of what had transpired before him.His mother was dead.The boy closed his eyes and choked back the tears; the rage; the absolute anguish of what he had just witnessed. His eyes fell to his father, and as though his father sensed his presence, he turned his head and looked his only son directly in the eye. Father and son held the gaze and stare of the other for the longest of times, and while Jaxa could not read the passions there in his father's eyes, his father and no issue at all reading the meaning of the glare offered by his son.It was a look of hatred.Of rage.Of revenge.Jesp cursed as he ran up the stairs into the loft, determined in his inebriate anger to silence the accusation that he saw all too clearly in the eyes and soul of his son. As he ascended the stairs to the loft, his rage overflowed and exploded before him, for his son was gone, as though the very wind had carried him off, free of the anger and retribution that Jesp had vowed to visit upon him.Jesp was left alone, with his rage, his pain, and in the end, with himself.**********Jesp smiled at the young woman who stood beside him, her hand warm and comforting in his own. They had met more than a year before, and in that time they had come to know a love that neither of them could have before imagined. She was indeed the half that made him whole, and he thanked the Gods every day since their meeting that he had been gifted with such grace and such good fortune. He had never spoken to her of his youth of course, and of the dreadful crime he had committed that day, so many years before. As far as she was aware, he was simply a widower who had lost his first wife in a tragedy that was too painful to recall. Often he had thought of the horrific day so long before, and thanked he Gods time and again for the redemption that he had managed to find, in the works and wonders he had managed to offer since that heartrending day.He had almost managed then to forgive himself.He was a man of regret, though in truth only two kept him awake at night.The first was the pain and guilt he knew over the life he had taken.The second was the son who had vanished that night.He could not count the number of nights he lay awake, tears streaming down his cheeks, wishing that he might see his son once more, and explain as best he could the horrors of that night so many years ago. He knew that his son could never forgive him, no matter his own regret and want for forgiveness. In truth, he could not forgive himself, and yet he would have offered his very life for the chance to speak to his child once more before his passing, if only to make the effort to explain.He knew it was a wasted want.Jesp and his new bride walked from the small chapel, their marriage held dearly in the arms of the Gods. She was the second chance he had wanted, and in his own mind, deserved.Yes, he had sinned. For that he made no excuse, and made every effort for which to atone. She had come into his life, he knew, at the want and demand of the fates, to offer him the absolution that he so desperately sought. He would see her to another child, he vowed, and in that act of love and loving, he would offer his heart upon the manner of the fates. He would be the father and husband he could not have been, and was not, in his youth. He would raise the child, and carry his wife, in love and loving.He was a good man, and deserved the love that he had found.A shame then, that there were those in the realm who disagreed.The arrow found Jesp's back, and poked through his belly, as though it had been made for the purpose. He lowered his gaze to the feathered shaft, as though it were a mystery to be discovered; a truth to be told; a lie to be undone. He felt his knees buckle and he dropped to the ground, his hand releasing his new bride, and finding its way to the bloodied shaft protruding obscenely from his stomach.He could hear his new found love scream in horror as her husband died before her.He actually wondered what crime he had committed to deserve such a fate, as though the sins of his youth had truly been vanquished through his apology and regret.And then he was dead.**********Jaxa watched as his arrow flew home, and carried his vengeance to his father with a passion and a desire never before known in the heart of the young man. He vaguely heard and acknowledged the scream of the young bride he had made a widow. He almost regretted the hatred that burned in his heart as he had released the arrow that would end the life of his damned father.And then he saw her die again.In his mind'e eye, he watched his mother fall, as he had a thousand times before.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;">He heard her scream.He felt her pain.He swore his vengeance.His father dead, Jaxa turned from the concealment the brush offered, and walked away.Away from the blood debt he had sworn to pay.Away from the memory he had tried to escape for more years than he cared to remember.Away from pain and sorrow, and into the arms of faith.Or at least, so he hoped...</span></p>