by Kim Bowman
“Aye, he takes after his father in many ways.”
Brynn must have said those very words a hundred times over… only they were about her son.
As if Marek somehow knew what she was thinking, he turned toward her. “The boy?”
“Mmm.” A frown marred her face. “He is nearly five now.”
Marek exhaled a long breath through pursed lips and ran his fingers across his matted hair and down across his brow. “I’m sorry. Had I known, Brynn — I am just so, so sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”
Talon’s infectious laugh floated to her ears, caught on a breeze. “Don’t fret yourself.” A soft smile briefly formed on her lips before fading away just as fast. “He is the reason I breathe.”
Marek watched Talon pick up a wooden sword and swing it fiercely at his hound, completely mesmerized by the boy.
Brynn laughed when Talon jumped on Rufus’s back and rode him as he would his pony during a romp around the pasture. When Talon heard the laugh, he paused, pushed the hair from his eyes then waved. “I know that this may come as a shock to you — to learn you have a son after all this time — and I never once tried to seek you out to tell you about him. I know he cannot replace your first born, but Talon is your son. Could you find it in your heart to love him as one? Please do not deny him.” She looked at Marek. “I couldn’t bear it.”
Marek’s palm lightly cupped her cheek, and he wiped a falling tear with the pad of his thumb. “If you declare it as such, then he is my son. I ask no questions.”
He searched her eyes, seeking absolution. Marek had been gone from her life, end of story. Now everything had changed within the course of just a day. One single day, and her entire life had been turned on its backside once again.
~~~~
Marek pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arm around her neck, closing the gap between them. He inhaled the fresh smells of her body, burying his face into her long, untamed tresses. Her hair was longer; the end curls curved playfully around her buttocks. She was more of a woman now than she had ever been. He had only wished that the past five years had been as kind to him as they had been to her. He had thought her beautiful then, but now, he had never seen her equal.
He’d seen more than he cared to over the years traveling during his hunt for Engels to kill. He’d always assumed if he found Lord Westmore, he would find Brynn as well. After years of the Engel just barely slipping through his fingers, Marek changed course and returned to where it had all started, the Crossroads. It was there he learned from the blacksmith that Brynn had escaped and eluded the Engel forces, vanishing into oblivion. Many thought she had returned to her homeland. The older woman, the Engel Abby, was said to be with her. That information led him to searching the Engel countryside for nearly two years before getting caught in the middle of the greatest Archaean and Engel war, the battle at Kirkwood. He fought alongside his countrymen, driving the Engels deeper into their own territory and further away from Archaean lands. He had narrowly escaped with his life. It was there, on that battlefield, surrounded by death and despair, he had decided he’d finally had enough. He had given up his will to live — tried with all his might to be cut down in battle — and still death wouldn’t claim him.
The gods showed him a different journey.
Searching the depths of his soul in solitude, he had wandered without purpose, without the passion he’d once had for life. Without his little Archaean girl, he had no meaning, no reason to live. And then, in a tavern near Kirkwood, he learned Abby once resided there. She had run away with an Archaean merchant when she was just a girl and the stories of her daring escape were still told. In hopes they would return to the only place Abby still held fond memories of, he forged on to Dunlogh.
It didn’t take long after arriving in Dunlogh to hear word of the beautiful healer who lived on the hillside down in the valley. And here she was — alive and well — and in his arms of all places.
~~~~
“Aye, just like that! Good, lad. Now, when you are blocking a strike, hold your ground. Look your attacker in the eye and never lose your concentration. Not even for a pretty girl.” Marek teased Talon. “They will only bring you trouble.”
“Like this, Da?” Talon swung his practice sword at Marek, narrowly missing his arm.
“Aye, now quickly come in for the kill. The first rule of fighting is to spill as much blood as possible. Aim for an arm or leg — incapacitate your enemy the quickest way you can.” Marek borrowed the sword and demonstrated to the eager young boy. “See, if I attack you here,” he said, gently slashing the inside of the boy’s thigh with the tip of the wooden sword, “you will no longer be able to stand. The kill will be easy once your enemy is on the ground. The second rule — never hesitate. It will only show weakness.”
“How do you know so much, Da?” The boy looked up at him in awe.
Marek chuckled. “Well, my da taught me when I was about your age. He taught my brother and I how to stand, how to walk, and how to hold and swing a sword, how to attack and defend. You try to outsmart your opponent and be the victor. It is a very difficult skill. It takes discipline to learn. I practiced and found it to come easily to me, and I have great suspicion it will to you as well.”
“Will you teach me, Da? I wish to be a great warrior, just like you. Mum has told me all the stories. When I am big enough, I am going to defeat the Engels, too.”
Marek knelt on the ground near his son, to search his eyes. “All the stories, eh? I have also learned there is more to this one life we have been given. There is more than the blade — than death. There is also life. Choosing to kill another is a heavy burden. The rains wash away the stains of war but those battles will forever stay in your mind. Each and every strike will haunt you for the rest of your days.”
Talon stared at Marek, his skin pale and eyes wide. He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the wooden sword between his palms.
Marek ruffled the boy’s hair. “Forgive me, Talon, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Would you like to battle me? I would bet you have a fair amount of good skills to take me down. What say you? Want to give it a go?”
“You think I can best you?”
“The gods willing, I think you can.” He winked and flashed the boy a devilish grin. “Let me fetch my sword.” Jogging to his things nearby, Marek retrieved the long sword, keeping it sheathed.
“Well I’ll be buggered!” Talon whispered as he eyed the blade. “Might I hold it?”
Marek couldn’t deny the boy’s eager face. He handed Talon the hilt and watched as it sunk quickly to the ground, tugging the boy down with it under the heavy weight of the steel. A full laugh escaped Marek as he retrieved the sword. “I think you should stick to wood for just a bit longer, son.”
“Will you be coming with us to Kaius, Da?” Talon traded Marek’s sword for his wooden one and raised it over his shoulder, at the ready.
“What is in Kaius?” Marek lightly parried with his sheathed sword, letting Talon try his best to beat him.
“The games. Mum has a job there, and she promised this season she would take me. I’m to compete with my sword.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye. Will you come? You could best any man there!”
“I don’t think I’m invited,” Marek replied, eyeing Abby near the cottage. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, watching — no, guarding — the boy. Talon burst into another one of his verbal eruptions, but Marek ignored him. The look on Abby’s face bothered his insides. It told him he hadn’t been invited, nor was he wanted.
“I think we should go inside now.” The sun had set below the tree line of the gently sloping valley. The last few beams of amber light clung to the treetops like spindly fingers reaching for a last hope at life.
Talon agreed, gathered up his sword and trotted off toward the cottage, while Marek took his time ambling in, the angry stares of Abby following his every move. “Abby.” His nod was polite. Her wariness was justified.
More than once, he had disrupted their lives. He had hurt them both. She only had the best of intentions for Brynn and the boy — he could see that.
“I knew this day would come,” she began, looking over her shoulder to make sure there weren’t any other ears listening. “I know she would never say it to you, but I must. Your arrival won’t go unnoticed. We have been living here quite peacefully and undetected for many years now with the notion that you are dead. Brynn is — in all respects — a widow, to the people of Dunlogh. We have raised Talon in a loving, merciful home, and I cannot have you unsettling that and filling his head with all that noble warrior nonsense only to leave again and break more than one heart this time.”
“Abby…”
“No, you listen to me for once. I will not see her hurt again. I do not know what your intentions are, or why you are even here for that matter… but wherever you seem to be, the fighting follows you. Now sooner or later, that Engel will find us, and your vicious game of cat and mouse will continue! We have managed to keep our past lives a secret. We have managed to keep the scars a secret. Of course, she will welcome you back — I have no doubt in the matter, for she loves you, even after everything that has transpired between the two of you. But my arms will not be as open to the idea as they once were.”
Marek pressed his fingers against the deep crease in his brow. “Dearest, sweet Abby. I don’t know what I can say to you to make you trust me. I don’t know what Brynn has told you of our parting, but I’m not the only one at fault. All I can offer you is the truth of my heart. I have given up that life. I’m no longer the man I once was. I’m sure you’ve heard the story of what a fool I was in my younger days. For years I wandered like a drunken sod, seeking my own death for what I’d done. I should never have left. I should never have let her go in the first place. Please believe me when I tell you that I mean no harm. I have given up the ways of the warrior. I seek only to live out the rest of my days with my family, if they will have me. I have a son, Abby. A son!” He took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I sought death but it would not come for me, no matter how hard I fought for it. And now I know why. If only I had known then. I have been given a great gift this day.”
“Very well. I will not interfere but please, I beg of you… don’t break her heart. I fear she wouldn’t survive it. She has had to endure seeing you in that beautiful little boy every day… watch him grow up without his father.”
Marek placed his lips to Abby’s forehead and kissed away the worry line. “I’m here now.”
~~~~
“All right, off to bed with you.” Brynn stood from her chair to stretch.
“But, Mum!” Talon wrinkled his face tightly in protest. “I haven’t finished telling Da my story!” He sat at his father’s feet, leaning back against his hound while it slept next to the warming fire. Marek had listened patiently to the many stories Talon spouted about various things that happened — or rather, how he remembered them happening.
“I’m sure he would be happy to hear the rest tomorrow. We have a busy day in the morn, and the hour is late. Come and give me a kiss.”
Talon rose, reluctant, and stood up on the tips of his toes to reach his mother’s cheek. After planting a quick peck he threw his arms around her, squeezing her tight. He whispered, “Thank you for my present, Mum, I love him.” As he climbed the ladder to the loft, he paused. “Goodnight, Da.”
“Goodnight, Talon.” Marek turned toward Brynn. “I should be going. I didn’t realize how far from the inn you live.”
Talon jumped off the third rung to the floor. “Mum, don’t make him go! He can stay in the loft with me! Please, Mum?”
“No, Talon, ’tis all right,” replied Marek, halting the boy’s pleads.
“He may stay if he wishes. There is but a sliver of moonlight tonight. A trip to town wouldn’t be the wisest of ideas at this late hour.” Brynn placed a hand to her hip. So much had changed this day. It was all a bit much to take in at once. Her son had simply accepted his father without question or second thought. It was as if he had known him his entire young life and tonight had been no different than any other. If only she could feel the same. There was a familiar tightening in her stomach — it was disconcerting.
~~~~
“Da?” The voice was barely a whisper.
“Hmm?” Marek murmured, surprised the boy was still awake. He had taken Talon up on his offer to share the loft. The space was tight, but he was able to lay out a few blankets and make himself comfortable enough on the floor next to Talon’s bed. The open window allowed a comforting breeze to flow, cooling his skin and stirring up wonderful odors from the rooms below.
“What happens when we die?”
“Well, we become part of the earth, part of new life.”
“Mum says the gods take us, if we pray to them. Do you pray to the gods, Da?”
“Aye, I do, if I remember.”
The boy paused. “What gods do you pray to?”
Marek couldn’t help but chuckle. “Whatever one suits me best at the time, I suppose. Why are you asking all these questions about the gods?”
“I hear my Mum pray. Each night it is to a different god, some I don’t know. Perhaps she cannot pick the right one, so maybe she needs to pray to the same gods you do.”
“What does she pray for to these different gods?”
“It is always the same thing — she prays for her prayers to be answered.”
“Oh?”
“Aye — but this night she prayed to them all at the same time. I heard her in her room. She was crying and saying thank you over and over and over, for answering her prayers. Do you think, perhaps, she finally found the right one?”
Marek smiled in the darkness. “Perhaps she did.”
After patiently waiting for silence, Marek rose to his knees and checked on his son; Talon’s chest rose with each rhythmic breath. His eyes were closed — finally asleep.
He descended the ladder in three strides and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before turning the corner toward Brynn’s back bedchamber. Rufus huffed out a warning but soon calmed and resumed his guard by the front door when Marek hushed him. A tapestry nailed over the entrance served as a door to her room. Looping a finger around the edge of the worn fabric, he pulled it back, peering into the shadows. In the corner was the milky white glimmer of her skin, a beautiful contrast to the deep darkness encompassing her.
She slept like an angel with her golden mane spread about her pillow, shimmering like waves when the slivered moonlight from the window touched it. Without a sound, he slipped past the tapestry and crossed the room. A curl lingered atop her cheek, and he brushed it to the side with his thumb, leaving a gentle kiss in its place.
A breathe escaped her lips. “I have missed you.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The Games
Three black ravens circled above her, eagerly awaiting her death.
Crimson spilled from her nose and mouth, cascading to the powdery blanket of snow below. It pooled around her toes, congealing into pale red clumps on her boots and carelessly staining the front of her pretty gown. Her breath crystallized in the air before her, but yet, she felt no cold.
A great sense of foreboding overtook her body then, paining her insides, and she reached up toward the ravens, searching the heavens for strength. She had been there before. She paused to twirl her palm in the air and watched it intensely as it slowly rotated. It felt disjointed from her body, as if it didn’t belong to her. She felt no immediate pain from the deep laceration on her palm. She gaped at the gash as it wept bloody tears — watched as they dripped in steady rhythmic beats to the perfect white earth.
There were others surrounding her — faceless, lifeless beings standing where hearts once beat to the tune of life. Blood trickled from their burning eyes and spouted from their fingers as if some strange death spell had been cast over their unmoving bodies. It kept them erect but frozen in time as swirls of white and
crimson danced around their corpses in victory.
So much death.
Had she caused this?
No, the death swirl surrounded her as well.
It wanted her.
It took her.
Brynn shot upright, hot tears scorching her flushed cheeks. Fine beads of sweat gleamed over her pallid skin. Darkness surrounded her.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
She drew in a ragged breath, forcing her lungs to accept it. With a trembling finger, she pushed a lock of matted hair from her brow and swallowed hard. She had dreamt this before. It seemed to come more frequently as of late, each time growing worse.
More death.
More destruction.
She shuffled from her bed, donned relatively clean clothes, and plunged her toes into a pair of worn shoes, eager to free her mind from the night terror.
“Good morning.” Abby greeted her with an obligatory smile.
The dark circles under her eyes told Brynn it had been a restless night for her friend. “Good morning,” Brynn muttered in return, her thoughts elsewhere. “Where is Talon? I’m surprised to not find him engrossed in deep conversation with you by now.”
Abby shrugged her shoulders. “I have not seen him. I assumed he was with you and Marek.” His name seemed forced from her lips.
“No, I have just risen. They are not with you?” Brynn yawned, stretching tall in the morning sun. Then the realization hit her. “Abby!” she breathed, clutching her chest. She darted toward the door without bothering to search the cottage. Could he have taken him during the night? Had he been so angry that he would punish her by taking the one thing her life depended on? “Talon!” she screamed, reaching the top of the drive. Her voice echoed between the hills and disappeared into the treeline.