Hope - from chapter 1- NaNoWriMo 2010

Grey orangle light filters through the trees and eases the shadows by the time we break from the tree line up on the High Ridge.


The effects of the water have mostly worn off and I feel grateful to rest as we caome to the cliff’s edge. The wood stretchs out behind us, covering the backside of the hill. Below us, Holen lies quiet and deceptively at ease. For a moment, I wish the peace was real but that would mean taking back all the events of the last seven days. I can’t honestly wish that. I wouldn’t take back from Nathan what he has only begun to discover.


Even the murder?

He did not murder her!


“Nathan liked this place.” Nick interrupts my internal quarrel. He leans forward at the very edge of the bluff. His precarious balance makes me feel lightheaded.


“He did.” The truth of the comment strikes me then. “How did you know?”


The old man shruggs slightly and his body sways to counter balance the gesture, “You can see this ridge from his room.”


I picture the view from his window. He is right but he hasn’t really answered the question. Just how well had Nick known Nathan before he came to Holen? “Did he like high places when he was a child?”


“Perhaps.” Nick says, noncommittal again. “I had thought to come up here first before I came across your bit of skullduggery.”


I think back to the tattooed man at the well and the creepy call. “It served its purpose.”


“Perhaps,” Nick frowns, “even a little delay can help… or hinder. He has a night’s start in front of us all.” He took a breath and I knew the question was coming again. “Tell me, adalan, did Nathan leave as a fugitive, or not?”


Not the question I had expected. I would have taken offense but there was no slight in the way he asked it. He truly wondered.


“The council would mark him a fugitive.” I say. The light continues to grow. The council would be ensconced with Jared now to deliberate pursuing Nathan.


“And you?”


You are not a murderer, Nathan. “I would call him seeker.” I say at last.


“And what does he seek?”


“Sneaky,” I reply, “isn’t that another way of asking where he is going?”


“I have not passed judgment on him yet.”


I look away from Holen to face Nick, “but you would put him on trial.”


Nick meets my gaze, “He confessed to murder.”


How did Nick know that? The simple words pierce my confidence. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what he said.”


“Your entire council witnessed his confession. It is recorded in their meeting records. Do you accuse them of falsehood?”


I turn away. I can hear Nathan’s voice in my head, speaking the words I refuse to believe. I swallow and blink back tears. “Not of falsehood, I think they misunderstand.”


“You weren’t there.”


My own words turn on me. “No. I wasn’t.”


“I read the record. There is not much room for ambiguity in what he said.”


I know my anger towards Nick is irrational but I can’t keep the hot flush from spreading up my face. I ball my fists, missing the reassuring feel of my stave. “You said, you haven’t judged him. Why not if the evidence is so clear?”


“I try to make a point of not judging a man in his absence.” Nick’s voice remains impassive, making my venom even more shameful. “You seem very certain of his innocence, in spite of his own words, why?”


I open my mouth and press it shut again. There is no contempt in his statement, only puzzlement. My anger ebbs almost as quickly as it had flamed, leaving only sorrow.


How can I explain something to him that I can’t explain to myself?


My legs refuse to hold me and I sink into the grass. I hold the grief in, let it wind through the whole of me unreleased. If I cry now, I don’t know when I will stop.
Nick kneels down near me. Errol whines and whirrs deep in his throat.
“You love him.” He says.


“My heart is held in the palm of his hand .” I reply. How strange to first say the words to a stranger and not to Nathan.

Oh, how I miss him already.


Compassion tinges Nick’s next words, “If he is a man worthy of such esteem, then I promise you, I will not be his enemy.” Errol flitts from his shoulder to bump his head under my chin. He chirrups encouragement and I can’t help but smile.


“Please,” Nick says softly, “tell me where he went.”