Shared Admissions

Part 13

Section Two

The next day they stood together in the rain at the bottom of what once used to be the cliff face where the alternate Sinbad’s body was burried. Maeve had used her magic to clear away a path to the grave of Sinbad, then extended that path beside the grave. Sinbad dug a hole deeply into the ground, tiring from the difficult work, but not giving in. Once the hole was dug deeply, a good six feet, he moved to the creek to wash off the dirt. Both Maeve and Sinbad desperately tried to ignore the wooden box that sat nearby their handiwork, but even blind, Maeve could feel it, as though it were staring at her. It was impossible to forget what that box contained, and it was impossible to convince herself that that box was not evil.

She walked over to Sinbad, the mornings drizzle running through her hair, but she didn’t care. Reaching into one of her pouches she pulled out a small piece of parchement.

"Sinbad." He turned to face her. "I meant you to have this before we were married; I meant you to have this while we were still on the Nomad, while I could still see, when I wasn’t pregnant, when we weren’t going to have our futures ripped out from under us. I wrote this for you a long time ago." She could feel the box staring at her back, so she quickly stuffed the parchement into Sinbad’s warm hands, and turned away.

As she walked away from him, tears streaming over her cheeks, he looked down at the note in his hand. "To My Sailor" was written across the top. Sinbad looked back up at the sorceress, sadly standing by the coffin of the son she had never known and now never will know. Every so often her hand would reach out to touch to smooth wood of the casket, a casket that Sinbad had built himself the night before, trusting noone but himself to do the job correctly. Maeve seemed to be trying to convince herself that Declan truly was dead with every caress of that coffin, and her shoulders would slump as she would step away again. So much grief had been piled upon that young woman’s shoulders, so much pain for her to deal with, and more was yet to come. How she could even still be standing there amazed Sinbad; her strength of body and spirit gave him the strength to go on himself.

Blinking back his own tears, Sinbad returned his attention to the note Maeve had given him; it was a poem, a thing of beauty. With a lump in his throat, Sinbad began to read:

To My Sailor: My Gallant Knight

You came into my life, Shining your white light,Chasing away the darkness threatening to overwhelm me.

You led me through my strife, You were my beacon bright, Leading to the happiness you saw waiting for me

There was nothing you couldn’t do, My noble sailor,My gallant knight.

You bravely slew my dragons; Putting out the fires Burning up my mind.

But you had no shining armor, Nor a white horse Upon which to ride.

You were only a person With out-stretched arms, Ready to love.

Ready to love? To love me? For being me? You were a novelty.

You were my novelty, And for that I thank you; For your love I thank you, And I thank you for me.

For without you there would be no me: No loving novelty, no sweet discovery, There would be no bright soul living free, For you’ve framed my destiny.

You needed no shining armor For your armor is your heart, And with that heart you’ve filled my world with light.

I realize now how much I love you; You who have always been my confidant, And you who will forever be my champion knight.

Maeve

Sinbad’s heart clenched as the words blurred before him, he could feel every ounce of pain radiating from her delicate wording, and every ounce of love.

Moving to stand behind his wife, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting gently over her stomach. Together they watched as the servants who had accompanied them lowered their son’s coffin into the ground, thinking of the small life waiting to be born, yet already lost.

Would Declan ever have the chance to live? Would he ever be allowed to grow up, mature, have a family, a safe, loving home, or would he always be destined to die in sacrifice? Would their son ever have a chance at a real life?

****

"Xaldar’s dead, Sinbad. I swear it, the instant we cross paths again I will slay him where he stands." Maeve’s eyes flashed in anger.

"Maeve as much as I would like to see him dead, killing him will only bring us down to his level."

"I don’t care what level I’m at! We have an oath sworn to stop him from changing the past by any means possible, and after what he did to Declan...." her voice trailed off and her hands covered her stomach protectively.

"What he did to Declan is the whole reason we have to stand back and take a rational look at our position. Maeve, he’s much stronger than either of us, and besides, we’re not murderers."

"ARGH!" Maeve yelled in frustration, hurling a fireball against the wall of the palace garden. "He killed Dermott, and Declan, and Sinbad are you forgetting he also killed Doubar?! How can you even consider allowing him to live?!!"

At the sound of Doubar’s name, pain flashed across Sinbad’s face, and he had to choke back his grief. Slowly and deliberately he formed his words so as not to show her how upset he actually was. "Maeve, I will never forget what Xaldar did to Doubar, Declan or Dermott. He has single handedly murdered our entire family, but even though they are gone right now, it is only now that they are dead. They can still all live."

"But then Declan may never live!" Maeve’s heart was breaking. "The only way I can justify all the lost lives is to lose one more, Xaldar’s!!"

Sinbad sighed and took Maeve’s hand. It was hard to argue against something you were feeling yourself. "Through better or worse has taken on a whole new meaning, hasn’t it?"

Maeve nodded. "It can’t get much worse than this."

"All right, Maeve. Let’s go find Xaldar, together."

*****

Xaldar couldn’t fathom how Maeve and Sinbad had arrived in the future. He had put on a face of mirth as if he had known everything that was going to happen, but as far as he knew, he had killed Sinbad twenty years ago, the day he married that wench sorceress.. that intrepid sailor’s body should be nothing but bones, not here wreaking havock upon him again! His eyes narrowed; that peasant actually believed that she could pass off Sinbad’s bastard child as his own; one look at the boys eyes confirmed Sinbad as his father. Xaldar was pleased that Declan was dead, he should have drowned the little trouble maker at birth, along with his poor excuse for a mother. What ever had possessed him to put up with her all these years? She never learned, he could whip her, beat her, send her for sessions in the dungeon, and even beat the boy but still she would never learn!

The day he knew he had pushed too far was the day Maeve had taugh Declan his first magical act. The boy had run to him, his blue eyes shining and sparkling with a joy only a four year old could possess, as he held out the tiny blue ball of magic over his even tinier hand.

"Look, daddy!! Mommy taught me to shine!" Declan had cried gleefully, "See how I shine?!"

That little ball of light dissapeared quickly enough, just as the sparkle did in the boy’s eyes when the whip first cut across his back. He had ordered that witch to not teach the boy magic, but to no end, she just ignored him as she did everything but her magic and the boy. Xaldar figured that was the night Maeve told the boy about his true father, because after that Declan had never looked at him the same; always distrusting, always hateful, and that look never changed.

That four year old grew into a man, a man possessing the looks of Sinbad the sailor, and the blood of the sorceress; he was dangerous to Xaldar, so he had no regrets in killing him, he would have had to die soon anyway or else Xaldar would be risking ursurption of the throne. All the townspeole loved Declan, and hated Xaldar, and the king realized that there was a rebellion at hand, but now, with Declan dead, the people had no cause to fight for. Xaldar smiled, he’d had an excellent day.

He’d allow Maeve and Sinbad the day to wallow in their grief, and then tomorrow he would kill them both, slowly.

Continued in Shared Admissions: Chapter Fourteen

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