The Iron Badger

Chapter 20

Rye's Temptation

1

My father stayed awake while everyone turned in for the night. Widor said his goodnights after Equinox announced to everyone he was turning in for the night. Widor's lights became dim, then faded into blackness. Rye was alone to himself after being asleep for seven years. Despite what Widor said or believed, Rye, my father, believed that seven real years had marched on without him.

Sleep was little importance to my father as he stayed awake, looking up at the vast stars that twinkled above him. As he looked, he could not help but remember the teachings that his father had taught him. His father Ian, a believer of all things unseen, taught the importance of the constellations that shone upon the world of the great sacrifices that were made by warriors of long ago. Ian would further say. "Only the greatest warriors would be immortalized as constellations. So, we can remember them as they were in life."

With all that had happened to my father, I saw a considerable amount of growth on his part when he shared this part of his story with me. My only regret was not being there for him. Later, my father would remind me that all things under heaven have a time and place. And with that--I looked through the pages of my writings and found all to be correct in my father's speech. Example: it was my father's disbelief in the gods that led to his capture. And through his capture, he learned the impossible. His eyes, like my own, widened to the vastness of which we call life. Si in life bowed his head and prayed to the impossible, as my father did not. There for my father's experience proved to far more profound than it would have had with Si, thus started the changes in my father's life. Perhaps

Si's death in the blizzard was a debt paid in full by the gods for Si's faith, giving him entrance to the afterlife. No. My father changed his way of thinking after seeing a god face to face, trapped in a maze of the god's doing. For the first time, Rye's heart was humbled.

I believed he was grateful, feeling free to believe in something greater than himself. Excited at the possibility of seeing Si and his wife in the afterlife. He did not articulate this, but I saw it in his eyes when he regaled his story. And I saw it for the second time when he closed his eyes for the last time.

The night was clear and warm as my father looked at the night sky, waiting for sleep to call. But something unexpected called out in the darkness of the woods. It was faint and nearly unforgettable, but it kept calling out the name of my father. "Rye, Rye, Rye."

What could this be? He thought to himself, placing his legs underneath himself, still feeling weak and tired, for they had not worked for years. "Isabella?" He shouted.

"Rye, I have found you! At last, I have found you. I cannot see my love. Would it be possible for you to come closer so as I can see you? Tara is waiting for us at home."

"Tara? Is she okay?"

"She is fine. She misses you dearly. Come into the woods to find me so we can go home."

And so, my father stood to his feet, leaning upon the trunk of the tree. Then slowly he placed one foot ahead, then placed the second foot beside it. He repeated this until the strength returned to his legs, which he had worked most of the day on. "Stay where you are, woman. My legs are not what they used to be."

"I will wait. I cannot wait to see you."

"Nor can I wait to see you, my dear. I am coming as fast as I can."

The weight of his sword was heavy. The length of the sword kept him off balance as he walked. Rye dropped his sword slowly, making his way to his wife. The only source of light was the moon's glow.

The forest was densely blotting out the moon and the stars. He noticed not for his mind was on home to his wife and to his daughter. "Call out to me so I may find you easier."

"I am here, my love. Follow the sound of my voice."

And so, he did. Following the voice of my mother, Isabella. "You are so close. I can vaguely see the outline of your form. Keep walking, my love. I am not far."

Fireflies blinked as Rye came closer to the one he loved most in this world. His eyes, for the first time in seven years, cast themselves upon his wife. He stood in silence before speaking to his bride. "Is it really you? Are you really Isabella?" He asked, placing his foot forward, having the other to follow.

"Aye, it is I, your wife. Oh, how I missed you. It is best that we in getting home. Tara is busy fixing stew. It is your favorite. A warm bath awaits in the barn. You and I together, holding each other with only the light of the stars above. I want you. I need you... Let us go home."

Rye reached out to his wife, and his wife reached out to him. But something seemed off. There were not the hands of his wife. His wife's hand were soft and tender. They smelled like wildflowers in spring. These hands felt or smelled anything like that. These hands felt dry and scaly. Fear ran deep inside him. "You are not Isabella. You are a trick."

All faded as darkness swallowed my father.

2

The next day, all was well, and the sun came out of all its glory. Rye opens his eyes, seeing his wife Isabella looking down at him. "You must have had a nightmare last night. Do you remember?"

My father sat up in his own bed in his own house smelling breakfast being prepared. "I remember very little." Then he laughed."

Isabella sat on the bed and then kissed her husband dearly. "Tara and I thought you were never getting home. Well, the important thing is that you did. You slept for two whole days straight. So... Tell me... Tell me what you can remember."

"You would not believe it. But my horse Equinox talked? Then I had this know-it-all medallion around my neck that flew and had lights as he spoke. Wi--doran? No, we, something. I can not for the life of me remember. I have been sleeping for two days? I do not remember coming home. How did I get here?"

"Si brought you home. I must say I am glad that our daughter did not see you in the state that you were in last night. I told you about smoking anything other than Masa weed. Si told me everything, and he took full responsibility. It is okay for a man to go out drinking with his friends. Or smoke a little. It is okay. You needed to blow off some steam."

Rye listened very little. "Wait? Si? He is alive?"

"Aye, my love. He brought you home and laid you on your bed. I do not think it is best to disturb him. Which leaves me to my next question. Do you want to lie with me? Do you want to make love to your wife? Why should Ada be satisfied and not me?"

"But where is Tara?"

"She is out working. We have the house to ourselves."

Isabella's lips touched Rye's. Then her lips traveled to his neck. "Let us make love. Take me."

Isabella pushed Rye back down on the softness of the bed. "Remember the last time we did this? Tara was born. I want a baby. I will give you a boy, a son. Just lay back and I will do all the work for you. Feel how good it would be to have a son. Feel how good it feels to make love."

Rye questioned, not the words of his wife. He placed his hands on his wife, feeling the movements of her hips. "That is right. Lay still. We can do this as many times as you want. I am all yours. Take me."