"Klynzahr?...... Klyn? ...... Swys, ken ye hear me? .....KLYNZAHR?!"
    The final call was accompanied by the dash of icy spring water, cutting her breath short and wrenching Klynzahr rudely back to the world of the living.
   "There, she's awake!"
   "Praise th'navigator"
   "Thought I'd finally gone an' killed her that time."
   "Klynswys?" Her brother's voice cut through the babble surrounding them, as Klynzahr became aware of his massive hands wrapped around her own. When had little Merlanka grown so big? The pain in her head arrived with a jolt that pulled a reluctant groan from her throat. Above her head the sea of blurry green faces pressed together worriedly.
   "We'd best send someone ter Mealven's gate..." Freyhawb's voice boomed "I reckon she's cracked her skull this time!"
   "Awe fook off Hawbells!" She managed to splutter up at him, fighting back the urge to vomit on the stocky laborour's boots. "I've seen worse an' ye o'all folk should know it!"
  With her brother's assistance, Klynzahr pulled herself into a sitting position, keeping her curly head bowed until the fields of middle La'Noscea ceased spinning. Her helm was resting in the dust beside her, with a two ilm dent in it's side. "Dammit though..." She groaned clutching her head in both hands. "Ifin ye keep on tossin' head strikes about like that, ye are goin' ter kill someone Hawb."
   Among the collection of boys and laborers clustered by the makeshift areana, Klynzahr was the only one that could boast a fine suit of armour. The remainder wore an assortment of old chain mail, mismatched plate, and family heirlooms, each one lovingly maintained and retrieved from their chests for a 'bit o' sparrin' fun.
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   "No one here's goin' ter kill a pro gladiator." Freyhawb chuckled back, jarring Klyn's pounding head with a solid thump to the back. "I jus' wanted ter make certain I could still land a blow. One fer th'good ol' days Aye?" The motley group rumbled their agreement, while the two combatant's locked eyes again.
   Years had passed since Freyhawb had terrorized and taunted a scrawny girl named 'Small Tears'. They both carried plenty of marks from those childhood fights. If the bloody rags that covered Freyhawb's fresh injuries were any indication, she had left him with a few more marks today. Peering into the bigger Sea Wolf's squinty brown eyes, Klynzahr extended her hand has she had so many times before.
   "Well, ye ken go home an' tell yer lass that ye landed a dammed good one. Yer a credit ter th'woman who taught ye." Among the whole gathering of would be marauders, even Klynzahr's younger brother couldn't know the true value of those words. Her late mother and Freyhawb's teacher was rarely spoken of, but Klynzahr clearly remembered the woman's skill with an axe. From the look of surprise on Freyhawb's face, he remembered it too.
    As Klynzahr turned back to her brother, something white flashed across her field of vision. For a moment the world was a mere blur. She blinked twice and there stood Merlanka and Freyhawb, hands extended to help her up.
    The pain had settled squarely behind her left eye and raised a lump the size of a chicken's egg. Boney fingers reached out of the dark to adjust the cold rag on Klynzahr's pounding head.
     "S'fine James." She forced her right eye open to look up at the withered old highlander. It shocked and frightened her to be reminded again how little sight remained in that eye. James was a nut-browned blur above her head and she could hardly make out his trembling hands. "Jus' get yerself some rest an' let me sleep it off."
    The highlander sat back, slipping almost entirely out of her blurred vision. "Klynzahr," He spoke softly, in a lominsian accent that would do any Sea Wolf proud. "I've known ye since ye were two fulms tall. I've seen ye thrashin' with fevers, an' wheezin' past cracked ribs."
    "I were there th'night they brought ye back after operation Archon." The old man rambled on as he tended to these days. "All bloody an' beatin' an mumblin' nonsense like a mad woman." He took a breath, "I see ye as me own Granddaughter Klynny. Ye know that.... an' I know when yer hurt bad. What is it yer tryin' ter hide?"
     "It's me sight." She admitted, regretfully closing her dimming eyes. "Right eye's been goin' downhill fer moons now. I ken barely see ye sittin' there, but now...... there be somethin' off with th'left one too. Every time I try ter open it, I get flashes an' flickers o'light that shouldna be there. Started when I took that blow ter th'head an' they only be gettin' worse."
       She swallowed back bile, as another wave of dizziness slid past. "Donna tell Da."
   When she woke, it was still dark but the white flashes had finally passed. Through the stout, brick wall she could hear her father's forge roaring, and his booming laugh as he tried to assist the boys around the shop. Odd that they should all be up and working so early. However she could distinctly make out all three voices. Her hearing had sharpened a great deal since her eyes began to decline, and she rarely questioned it now.
      From the soft breathing nearby, she could tell that James had spent the night in a nearby chair and someone had already opened the kitchen windows to let in a cool breeze. Seagulls called from the docks outside.
      Her eyes snapped sharply open. Seagulls only called after sunrise.
She was not greeted with the sight of her customarily fuzzy room or even with the flickering whiteness that had plagued her for two days. Instead there was a dim, constant blur, the colour of morning light in an unlit room.
     Terror gripped her chest until she could barely draw a breath. In desperation Klynzahr lifted both hands to her eyes. They were visible as grayish smears, hardly distinguishable from the blank canvass behind them.
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    Slowly the gray shapes drew closer until she could make out ten fingers. Then closer still until they blocked out all light. Her mind reeled with shock and fear..... she may as well have been blind.
    Covering her useless eyes with both hands, Klynzahr curled up and sobbed.
    The final call was accompanied by the dash of icy spring water, cutting her breath short and wrenching Klynzahr rudely back to the world of the living.
   "There, she's awake!"
   "Praise th'navigator"
   "Thought I'd finally gone an' killed her that time."
   "Klynswys?" Her brother's voice cut through the babble surrounding them, as Klynzahr became aware of his massive hands wrapped around her own. When had little Merlanka grown so big? The pain in her head arrived with a jolt that pulled a reluctant groan from her throat. Above her head the sea of blurry green faces pressed together worriedly.
   "We'd best send someone ter Mealven's gate..." Freyhawb's voice boomed "I reckon she's cracked her skull this time!"
   "Awe fook off Hawbells!" She managed to splutter up at him, fighting back the urge to vomit on the stocky laborour's boots. "I've seen worse an' ye o'all folk should know it!"
  With her brother's assistance, Klynzahr pulled herself into a sitting position, keeping her curly head bowed until the fields of middle La'Noscea ceased spinning. Her helm was resting in the dust beside her, with a two ilm dent in it's side. "Dammit though..." She groaned clutching her head in both hands. "Ifin ye keep on tossin' head strikes about like that, ye are goin' ter kill someone Hawb."
   Among the collection of boys and laborers clustered by the makeshift areana, Klynzahr was the only one that could boast a fine suit of armour. The remainder wore an assortment of old chain mail, mismatched plate, and family heirlooms, each one lovingly maintained and retrieved from their chests for a 'bit o' sparrin' fun.
Â
   "No one here's goin' ter kill a pro gladiator." Freyhawb chuckled back, jarring Klyn's pounding head with a solid thump to the back. "I jus' wanted ter make certain I could still land a blow. One fer th'good ol' days Aye?" The motley group rumbled their agreement, while the two combatant's locked eyes again.
   Years had passed since Freyhawb had terrorized and taunted a scrawny girl named 'Small Tears'. They both carried plenty of marks from those childhood fights. If the bloody rags that covered Freyhawb's fresh injuries were any indication, she had left him with a few more marks today. Peering into the bigger Sea Wolf's squinty brown eyes, Klynzahr extended her hand has she had so many times before.
   "Well, ye ken go home an' tell yer lass that ye landed a dammed good one. Yer a credit ter th'woman who taught ye." Among the whole gathering of would be marauders, even Klynzahr's younger brother couldn't know the true value of those words. Her late mother and Freyhawb's teacher was rarely spoken of, but Klynzahr clearly remembered the woman's skill with an axe. From the look of surprise on Freyhawb's face, he remembered it too.
    As Klynzahr turned back to her brother, something white flashed across her field of vision. For a moment the world was a mere blur. She blinked twice and there stood Merlanka and Freyhawb, hands extended to help her up.
    The pain had settled squarely behind her left eye and raised a lump the size of a chicken's egg. Boney fingers reached out of the dark to adjust the cold rag on Klynzahr's pounding head.
     "S'fine James." She forced her right eye open to look up at the withered old highlander. It shocked and frightened her to be reminded again how little sight remained in that eye. James was a nut-browned blur above her head and she could hardly make out his trembling hands. "Jus' get yerself some rest an' let me sleep it off."
    The highlander sat back, slipping almost entirely out of her blurred vision. "Klynzahr," He spoke softly, in a lominsian accent that would do any Sea Wolf proud. "I've known ye since ye were two fulms tall. I've seen ye thrashin' with fevers, an' wheezin' past cracked ribs."
    "I were there th'night they brought ye back after operation Archon." The old man rambled on as he tended to these days. "All bloody an' beatin' an mumblin' nonsense like a mad woman." He took a breath, "I see ye as me own Granddaughter Klynny. Ye know that.... an' I know when yer hurt bad. What is it yer tryin' ter hide?"
     "It's me sight." She admitted, regretfully closing her dimming eyes. "Right eye's been goin' downhill fer moons now. I ken barely see ye sittin' there, but now...... there be somethin' off with th'left one too. Every time I try ter open it, I get flashes an' flickers o'light that shouldna be there. Started when I took that blow ter th'head an' they only be gettin' worse."
       She swallowed back bile, as another wave of dizziness slid past. "Donna tell Da."
   When she woke, it was still dark but the white flashes had finally passed. Through the stout, brick wall she could hear her father's forge roaring, and his booming laugh as he tried to assist the boys around the shop. Odd that they should all be up and working so early. However she could distinctly make out all three voices. Her hearing had sharpened a great deal since her eyes began to decline, and she rarely questioned it now.
      From the soft breathing nearby, she could tell that James had spent the night in a nearby chair and someone had already opened the kitchen windows to let in a cool breeze. Seagulls called from the docks outside.
      Her eyes snapped sharply open. Seagulls only called after sunrise.
She was not greeted with the sight of her customarily fuzzy room or even with the flickering whiteness that had plagued her for two days. Instead there was a dim, constant blur, the colour of morning light in an unlit room.
     Terror gripped her chest until she could barely draw a breath. In desperation Klynzahr lifted both hands to her eyes. They were visible as grayish smears, hardly distinguishable from the blank canvass behind them.
  Â
    Slowly the gray shapes drew closer until she could make out ten fingers. Then closer still until they blocked out all light. Her mind reeled with shock and fear..... she may as well have been blind.
    Covering her useless eyes with both hands, Klynzahr curled up and sobbed.
