Marac took a deep breath. “I need some time to think. I’ve got to go… somewhere.” His mother nodded, and he walked out the front door, bound for the village. Calvert’s should still be open.
He paused when his feet hit the bottom step and imagined the night ahead. I’ll be drunk and out of control, washing away my worries a pint at a time. No. He turned around and stared at the door of his house. The drink didn’t stop Andolis or Gustav, and it didn’t help anything else. I’m strong enough without it.
He climbed the stairs and opened the door. His mother and brother looked up from the sofa. Marac sat next to them and took his brother’s hand. “I’m back, Nate. Come, hug your brother.”
Naettan smiled and held Marac tight. “I prayed all the time that you would come home. Every day.”
“You decided not to go?” Ma asked.
“My place is with you, not at a side-street counter. I don’t want Da to be disappointed in me.”
“I don’t think you could disappoint him, Marac. Even when you were drunk and jailed in Westmarch, your father blamed everyone but you. ‘It had to be the guards picking on him for being a country boy,’ he said, or ‘They must be lying. My son wouldn’t do those things.’”
Marac shook his head. “Today, that tradition ends. I have only myself to blame for the things I’ve done.”
She smiled, then looked away.
“What’s wrong, Ma?”
“Oh, I’ve been trying to decide what to do. We still have some money from the last shipment to Westmarch, but it won’t last. I don’t see you running the mill on your own, and Naettan’s too young to help.”
Naettan waved his hands. “I’m not too young, Ma. I can do it.”
“No, Nate. I can’t work in the place where Da…” Marac closed his eyes. “Too many memories. We’ll sell it.”
She looked surprised. “Sell it? But this land’s been in our family for centuries. We can’t sell it.”
“Things change, Ma. If my adventures have taught me anything, that lesson was painfully learned.”
“It’s not even worth what we’ve put into it, though. If we sell the land, we won’t have enough-”
“Money is no longer a concern, Ma.”
“Not a concern? Of course it is.”
He reached into his bag and produced a hunk of platinum.
“Silver? That’ll help, but I still don’t think-”
“Not silver.”
“No?” She leaned forward and squinted. “What is it?”
“Pure platinum.”
Her eyes widened. “Where’d you get that? Are you in trouble?”
“No, nothing like that,” Marac said, shaking his head. “I have more than enough. More than we’ll ever need.”
“This is all happening so fast. Let me think about it, would you?”
Marac nodded. “We’ll talk about it later, then. Whenever you’re ready.”
She stood, walked into the kitchen, and pulled a pot from the stove. “I didn’t make much, but we’ll spread it around.”
“We’ll make do.” Marac joined her in front of the stove and put his arm around her. “Revens get by however we can. Always have, always will.”
24
The Comforts of Home
Laedron and Valyrie started down the road, then walked the perimeter of the village. Little more than a few steps lay between me and my family, he thought, seeing the old oak by which he’d spent so much of his childhood. He stopped, smiled at Valyrie, and ran over to the tree.
He drew his scepter, pointed it at the bark, and chanted, and by the time she’d joined him, he had finished. “What do you think?”
“A sweet gesture, Lae.” She smiled. “Is it a tradition of some kind?”
Brushing his hand over the inscription, he made certain that he’d formed the heart shape and their initials, “L T” and “V P,” so that they were legible. “Somewhat, yes. Your people don’t do sentimental things like this?”
“You would have a hard time finding a tree so big in the city, and even if you did, the law prohibits marring them.”
“A shame.” He grinned. “It doesn’t surprise me, though. The theocrats seem to prefer their perfect shrubs, pristine lawns, and impeccable buildings.”
“Your people just let things go without care or regard?”
“Not exactly. We maintain things within reason, but we tend to avoid absolute perfection. It’s unachievable, and in Sorbia, we’ve learned that beauty can be found in letting things be as they are.”
“I thought I knew most everything there was to know about you. It would seem that I have a lot more figuring to do.”
He took her hand, then continued toward his home. “We have a lifetime ahead of us.”
* * *
Rounding the last bend of the road, he saw his house on the rise. Ma stood on the porch, her broom in hand, toiling away at the dirt. That woman will never learn. What am I saying? She’s a Telpist. Stubborn and willful as the day is long. A sudden wind came, and when it reached his mother, she clenched her fists. “Blasted breeze fouling up my hard work!”
“I’ll never understand why you don’t use a spell and be done with it.” He stepped onto the porch.
Ma dropped the broom. “Lae?” She rushed over to him and gave him a big hug, then picked at his hair. “I’ll have to cut this-”
“Ma…”
“What? You’ve gone this whole time without grooming? Your hair looks much better when it’s short-”
“Ma…”
“Let me grab the scissors-”
“Ma!”
She stopped, then turned to Valyrie. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t see you had a guest.”
“Ma, this is Valyrie Pembry.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Filadrena said, offering her hand. “I can’t say that Laedron has ever mentioned you. Are you from Reven’s Landing? No, I would’ve heard the name of your family, at least. Westmarch, perhaps?”
Valyrie gently shook his mother’s hand, and Laedron could tell she was nervous. “No, madam.”
“I see. Well?”
“She’s from Azura, Ma, and I’ve asked her to come home with me.”
“Azura?”
“And I love her.”
“Love…?” Filadrena paused, her eyebrows high. “The capital of the theocracy? You’ve brought a Heraldan girl home, Lae?”
Overbearing and to the point, as always. Sometimes, Laedron wished he wasn’t related to his ma because she seemed to treat only her children in such a haughty way. Although he knew that she meant well, was sometimes uncomfortably blunt. “I did.”
“Let me get a look at her, then.” Filadrena squinted and circled Valyrie as if examining a farm animal prior to purchasing. “Tall, slender build, and beautiful-”
“Ma, enough.” He slapped his hands against his hips.
“I’m kidding, Lae.” Filadrena took Valyrie in an embrace. “If you don’t recall, I married a Heraldan, your father, so I can’t hold too much prejudice. She seems like a fine, upstanding young woman.”
“She is, Ma.” He put his arm around Valyrie’s waist. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“That’s good. If you can stay together through the tough bits, you stand a better chance of lasting.” She gestured for them to enter. “Come, I need to check on my tea. Would you care for some?”
He nodded, then led Valyrie inside. The same, yet so different. The living room hadn’t changed, but he felt awkward at seeing it. The place didn’t feel quite like his home anymore, probably because he had been on the road for so long. Almost a solid month of camping, renting rooms, and-for a brief while-staying with Ismerelda had lessened the draw of hearth and home that he was certain he would have felt upon returning.
Filadrena poured three cups of tea and dropped pinches of sugar and cuts of lemon into each. Laedron and Valyrie sat opposite her at the counter.
Handing out the cups, Ma smiled. “I’ll wager that you’ve ne
ver had a cup of tea so fine west of the Great Winding.”
“I’ve never had one at all,” Valyrie said, then sipped it. “It’s amazing, ma’am.”
“You can call me ‘Ma,’ Valyrie. Everybody else around here seems comfortable with it.”
“In that case, call me ‘Val.’”
“All right, Val.” Ma set her tea on the counter. “Did you two have a good journey home?”
They bobbed their heads at the same time.
“Good. Show her around the house, Lae. Make her feel at home.”
His eye twitched because he had expected Ma to say something else entirely. “You don’t want to hear about our mission?”
“What’s to know? I know the beginning and the end, the two most important parts for me. The middle-the journey-is for you to know.” Taking the empty cups to the basin, she glanced at them. “You’re surprised?”
“I only thought you might be interested in hearing about it.” He sighed. “Ismerelda is dead, Ma.”
She nodded, turning back to the sink. “I know.”
“You do? How?”
“We heard about the attack on the academy, and a few days later, Laren and I set out to Westmarch to find you. When we got to Ismerelda’s house, you weren’t there. Fearing the worst, we went to Morcaine to learn the details-the names of those killed, where the survivors had gone. They took us to the rows of unidentified dead, and there, we found Ismerelda. Since we knew her-I told them I was her aunt-they allowed us to take her body, and we laid her to rest here in Reven’s Landing.”
“But you didn’t find me there.” He smiled.
She lowered her chin and grinned. “But not you, my son. It gave me hope, and that hope grew stronger as time went along. ‘If we’ve had no news,’ I would tell myself, ‘that’s good news indeed.’”
“Where’d you go after that? Marac said you vanished without a trace.”
“We went to Cael’Bril, one of the few neutral countries left when the war started. Throughout the conflict, we heard rumors of a sorcerer and a handful of knights deep in Heraldan territory, and when I found out it was you, I prayed for your safe return. And now, my prayers have been answered.”
“Where is Laren, anyway?”
“She’s been spending more time by the creek of late, for she’s had mixed emotions over the last week on account of Bordric Reven’s passing.”
He blinked. “Passed? Marac’s father?”
“Indeed. An accident in the mill-a fall, if memory serves-claimed him. Did… his son survive?”
“Yes, he’s probably been home for an hour or more by now.” He glanced at the window. “I need to see him.”
“He needs his family right now, Lae. Give him some time to adjust, to grieve with his loved ones.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Ma. I’ll go this evening when he’s had some time to take it in.”
“Good.” She wiped her hands on a linen hanging from the stove. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve planned a feast. I’ll fetch something at the market; there’s still time yet.”
“We’ll go, Ma. It’s no trouble.”
“No, no, you rest and show Val the house. The walk and the fresh air will do me some good.” She took her traveling shawl from the rack, wrapped it about her shoulders, then walked out the front door.
“A shawl? In this heat?” Valyrie asked.
“A woman must always be proper and dress according to her status,” he said, laughing at the end. “Sorry. We posed the same question to her a number of times, and that’s what she always told us.”
“Is she nobility?”
“Gentry, I would say, but not by royal decree. The people of this village respected my father, and when he passed, they held the rest of us up in the same light, and it wasn’t just because his title had been inherited by my mother.”
“He must’ve been a good man.”
“The best, so they say.” He stood and gestured invitingly. “Care to see the place?”
She nodded and took his hand.
* * *
After Laren returned, and they’d enjoyed the fine meal that Filadrena cooked, Laedron stood from the table. “I think we’ll head over to the Revens’ house now.”
“Why not wait until tomorrow, Lae?” Ma asked. “It’s nearly dark.”
“No, I’d rather see him this evening. I can only imagine how hard it’ll be for him to sleep tonight, and I just want to assure him that his friends are there if we’re needed.” He kissed his mother on the head, took Valyrie’s hand, and promised his ma to be back soon.
Once outside, Valyrie asked, “How far is it, Lae?”
“Not far. A few minutes’ walk if we go by the old path.” He pointed out the variety of flowers and trees as they walked.
They passed the mill and approached Marac’s house, and he immediately noticed that only a single lantern had been left to burn in the kitchen window. “Strange.”
“What?”
“It would seem that they’re asleep.”
“Perhaps they don’t want to be disturbed. Should we turn back?”
“No. It’s Marac,” he said. “I can think of nothing that would make him want to be apart from me, but if he tells us to leave, then-and only then-will I do so.” He stepped up onto the porch and knocked.
After several minutes, Marac’s mother opened the door. “Yes?”
“My condolences on your recent loss, Mrs. Reven.”
“Thank you for your kindness.”
“I wanted to see if Marac was all right. Could we see him?”
“Yes. Would you care to come in?”
“Thank you.” Laedron stepped through when Mrs. Reven stepped aside.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met your friend before,” Mrs. Reven said.
“Valyrie,” she said, extending her hand.
Marac’s mother embraced it. “Gloria Reven.”
“A pleasure to meet you.”
Laedron turned when he heard footsteps approaching from the hall, and he saw Marac come into the living room.
“Oh, Lae,” Marac wiped his hands and face with a towel, “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I heard what happened. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“As well as could be expected, I suppose. It’s still hard to believe.” Marac rubbed his eyes, obviously concealing a tear, then joined them near the door. “How is your ma?”
“She’s well. Do you need anything?”
“No, nothing.” Marac glanced at his mother. “I have everything I need.”
“If you should change your mind, you need only to call on me.”
Marac patted Laedron on the shoulder and opened the door. “I will.”
“Good.” Following Marac onto the porch, Laedron smiled. “We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, right?”
“Of course, but I doubt I’ll drink anything.”
Laedron stared at him with curiosity, then started down the stairs, but he stopped when he saw someone walking up the path to the house. “Is that… what’s he doing here?”
Brice waved. “Marac, I just heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“It’ll be all right,” Marac said, holding up his hand. “We’ll have to find a way to make it through.”
“Well, my folks told me, and I had to come straight away. Are you well? Do you need-”
“No, no. Thank you for the offer.”
It’s good to see those two finally getting along. Laedron smiled. “See you tomorrow, my friend.”
“Until then.”
Laedron and Valyrie started down the path, and Brice asked, “Mind if I walk with you a while?”
“I’ve never objected before,” Laedron said.
Brice grinned. “So, I was thinking-”
“Oh, dear.”
Brice raised an eyebrow.
Laedron laughed and said, “Just kidding. What’s on your mind?”
“Are you going back to Westmarch soon? To help Victor?”
“I should think so.”
“When?”
“A week, maybe less. Why do you ask?”
“I want to go,” Brice said, then ducked his head. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“You do? Why?”
“I’m not cut out to be a sheep herder. My destiny lies somewhere on that horizon.” Brice gestured toward the distance. “I’ve tasted the adventuring life, and I want more.”
“Truly? I imagined you would’ve wanted to stay here, in safety.”
“No, it’s not the same now.” Brice stopped at the fork in the road. “And I promise not to complain or be afraid… well, I won’t tell you if I am, anyway.”
“All right. You can come with me if that’s what you want, but we’re all afraid sometimes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Not Marac, though. He doesn’t get scared. Bravest man I ever knew.”
Laedron nodded. “Just as a knight should be. Brave and bold.”
“All the way until the end,” Brice said.
Casting his gaze toward Marac’s home in the distance behind them, Laedron smiled. “And after.”
FB2 document info
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The Immortals of Myrdwyer amob-3 Page 24