Murtagh's New Story

They flew north, the night wind whipping through their hair. The whoosh from each wing stroke and the wind were loud in their ears. Soon, they reached the Ramr River and followed it. Icenia needed to tell Murtagh where they were going, but his mind was probably blocked. He’d probably been trained to protect his mind as he had with his sword. She tried to speak to him and found she was right; his mind was very well blocked.

“Murtagh?” she asked tentatively with her thoughts. “I must speak with you. We’ll yell ourselves hoarse trying to speak while flying. I swear I won’t go any further into your mind than what is needed to speak with you, unless you allow me to.”

He hesitated. She knew he’d heard her. Then he cautiously let her in. It was like a small door being opened in a huge brick wall. She was tentative, and stayed as far out of his mind as possible. The emotions of his she felt were the ones he permitted her to sense. Everything was filtered before it got to her.

This was fine. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t been allowed in. Of course, if she wanted to, she could push further in. He wouldn’t be able to block her. Still, she kept her distance to earn his trust.

“Yes?” he asked. She felt his pain for the loss of Tornac, wonder and…was that bitter irony? This feeling he had in regards to flying.

“How are you? Were you injured in the fight?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just sad about Tornac.”

“I’m sorry about him. He told me you two were close.”

“Yes, he taught me how to handle a sword. What did he tell you about me?” There was concern in his voice.

“Not much; only that you were escaping a past that you shouldn’t have had.”

“My old servant was always loyal to me.” Relief and bitter amusement was in his voice. “I will miss my old friend. No other death would have satisfied him. He died to save me. I didn’t understand his last words. ‘My part in this tale is over. Get yourself and Icenia out safely. You are the resistance’s only hope. Ride the winds and fly free my great master and closest friend.’ It has to do with the things you can not tell me, doesn’t it?” His pain came across their connection. A pain he was all too accustomed to.

“Yes. I promise: as soon as you’re ready, I will tell you. It will make sense then. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know him that well, but I could see his loyalty to you. He shall be sorely missed.”

“Thank you.”