by M. D. Grimm
I stared at my brothers, all in the eye. “From this moment, all connection between us is severed. The only thing we share is blood, but that’s a thin, poisonous thing. It doesn’t bind us, it doesn’t dictate obligation. I want nothing to do with any of you. Do not contact me, do not search me out, do not make known your connection to me. Am I understood?”
Crystif almost looked disappointed but Lazylin and Alyin looked relieved. Derkun grumbled something. I didn’t even look at him.
“What was that, Derkun? Why don’t you speak up?”
“Murderer,” he said in a rough whisper. I did look at him then and he flinched, hunching into himself.
“Aye, I am,” I said softly, steel in my voice. “Remember that if you feel the need to seek vengeance. Move on, Derkun, and live a life. Or kill yourself. It makes no difference to me.”
I took one last look at Lazylin, Crystif, and Alyin. I let the memories surge and bubble around in my mind for one moment more. Then I slammed that door shut and locked it. This was over. Done. No longer would they—or those memories—haunt me.
You’re just like me, that damn voice whispered in my brain. I slammed the door on those thoughts as well. This wasn’t the time to dwell on them.
I turned and gestured to Olyvre, then walked back outside. Aishe had stayed on the porch with Lyli, giving me the space I needed with my brothers. But he followed me as I walked off the porch. Olyvre followed after shooing Lyli back in the house and shutting the door. I led us a little way more, to make sure we were out of earshot. Olyvre had a sad, disappointed look on his face, but he was holding himself well.
I let go of the steel in my voice and even managed to smile slightly. “What I said in there doesn’t apply to you.”
If I told him I had a yen to go dancing naked in the streets, he couldn’t have looked more shocked. His mouth dropped and his eyes bulged, but then he grinned, literally beaming.
“Well, that’s okay then, isn’t it?”
I smiled fully. “I think it is. You mind?”
“Not at all!”
I held out my hand. “If ever you need my help, I’ll come.”
He swallowed hard, his eyes becoming shiny. He held in his emotions and grabbed my hand firmly in his. “What if I just want you to visit? Lyli...she’ll miss you.”
I cleared my throat, glanced at Aishe. Aishe nodded at me, subtly inclining his head toward Olyvre. I swallowed a sigh.
“We can make that work, as well. I guess.”
Olyvre chuckled. Then he held out his hand to Aishe, who took it with a smile.
“It was good to meet you, Aishe. I hope we meet again soon.”
“I hope that as well. I think I’ve fallen in love with your daughter.”
Olyvre chuckled. “Stand in line, she has a large group of admirers.”
Even I laughed. She was a cutie, I had to admit.
“Thank you, Morgorth,” Olyvre said. “Thank you for coming, and...just thanks.”
“I owed you.”
Olyvre blinked. He held up a hand and shook his head, red rising in his face. “No, no you don’t.”
“Yes, yes I do.” I still smiled, enjoying him. Enjoying my brother. “We’re even. Now we’re...maybe...friends.”
He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, we’re friends.”
“Good.”
I began to turn away but Olyvre stopped me. “I don’t know if you care but...I planted a tree behind the house in memory of Mom. It’s an apple tree. Her favorite fruit.”
I looked at him. He’d always been close to our mother, probably more than any of the other children.
“That was nice of you.”
Olyvre shrugged. “She deserved something. She was a victim as well.”
I tilted my head slightly. “Was she?”
Olyvre frowned. “You know what he was like. How he controlled all of us.”
“He wasn’t magickal then. I’ll never forgive her for not knifing him in his sleep.”
My brother paled and gulped. He had different memories of our mother. That was fine. For myself, she’d been a part of the problem, another enabler that helped Lazur attain his goal. I owed her nothing.
With a nod of farewell, I turned and walked away from him, from his farm. Aishe took my hand and squeezed it.
“Are we going home?” he asked.
“Not yet, I have one more stop to make.”
***
Lorelei was outside, attempting to repair a wall of the shack with a long piece of wood. I shook my head. This place needed a major face-lift. She heard us approach and spun around, a hammer raised in defense. Her face was hard, eyes narrowed and gleaming. But when she recognized us, her eyes popped wide and she straightened from her crouch. The hammer lowered.
“Morgorth?”
I walked closer to her, slowly, non-threateningly. “I won.”
Lorelei shuddered and closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths before she looked at me again. “He’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“Did he suffer?”
Memory flashed, but I kept my eyes steady on hers. “Yes.”
Gratitude entered her dark eyes. “Good.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not the only brother you have, you know.”
Her face tightened, and I rushed ahead before she could speak.
“Not all of them are bastards. There’s one, his name is Olyvre. He doesn’t live far from here. He owns a farm, has a daughter. He helped me, Lorelei. He’s good.”
There was suspicion in her eyes but I could see she was listening.
“He wants to speak with you. To know you. I don’t like many, and I don’t trust easily, but I’m asking you to give him a chance. I vouch for him.”
She ran her hand over her hair, pulling a few strands out of the braid that held it back. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe.”
I’d leave the rest to the two of them. I looked past her to the decrepit house, thought of the old, frail seela inside it. I didn’t forgive Matylde for her role in my father’s plans, but what had Lorelei done to deserve such a fate? I knew what it was to receive punishment for simply being who I was.
“I have a lot of minions,” I said casually, crossing my arms over my chest. I continued to look at the shack. “A lot of useful, industrious creatures at my beck. One such are the boygles. They’re vicious little bastards, but they obey me. I think it would only take ten to get this place rebuilt. It would be sturdy and warm. Boygles are even good tailors, and with a loan I could give you”—I flicked my eyes to her—“they could go into the market, buy material, food, whatnot.”
I paused. She said nothing. “Then after that, if you like them enough, I could leave five with you. They come in handy for defense as well.”
I finally looked fully at her to find her staring at me like I’d transformed into a purple, two-headed trulbar. She looked so confused. But as I stood there, the silence dragging, she must have realized I was serious.
She whooshed out a breath, sucked in another. “I... you... you aren’t obligated to—”
“I help who I want.” I kept my voice brisk, knowing she would respond better to that. “I offer what I have to those I wish to. You’re free to refuse, of course.” I shrugged. “Your choice.”
“My—my mother, she...with our father—”
“I don’t do this for her.”
Her eyes glistened. Damn, I was getting a lot of waterworks today. They didn’t surprise me. I doubted there’d been a lot of kindness in her life beyond that of her mother. I knew how she felt. I knew it deep in my bones. Olyvre might have been the first act of kindness given to me, but Master Ulezander taught me what kindness was, and how it should be wholly unselfish.
“If you want it, just say yay.”
She smiled slowly, suddenly looking much younger. “Yay,” it was said in a whisper.
“Good. A deal, then.” I took a step forward, held out my hand. She took a step toward me, and gripped it. “The boygles should arrive in a couple
of weeks. I’ll give them instructions that you’re the boss. Make sure to be stern with them, let them know you deserve to be the boss.”
She nodded. “I will.”
I let go of her hand. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, then she moved in. She was slow, watching me, but I guessed her intention and stayed where I was. She slowly lifted her arms, wrapped them around my shoulders, and gave me a light hug. I exhaled slowly and gently patted her back. She and I were similar, really; both foreign to intimacy, both born in hardness, neglect. She only had her mother, who grew weaker by the day. Without Matylde...who would be there for Lorelei?
I wanted her to know someone else cared. Dammit, when did I become such a softy?
“If anyone, or anything, bothers you,” I whispered close to her ear, “send for me. I’ll come in a blink.”
Another shudder went through her and I heard her gulp. She nodded, her hands clenching against my back. Then she pulled away and I let her go. She glanced at me only once, and I could see tears rained down her face. My heart clenched. She turned away and hurried back to the shack. She yanked open the door but before going in, stopped.
“Safe journey.” Her voice was thick. Then she walked in and shut the door.
I turned to Aishe. He had such a look of naked adoration in his eyes it threw me for a moment. Then I sighed and gestured with my hands.
“Go ahead, say it. I’m a softy. A big ol’ softy. I’m hardly fit to be a dark mage.”
Aishe walked to me and cupped my face. “I love you.”
I sighed again. “Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
Morgorth
I’d been home two days and couldn’t settle. I’d sent a querian to Master Ulezander before teleporting home. He’d sent one back to me, informing me the council would convene soon to determine if an inquiry was needed into the events in Zentha. I wasn’t surprised. I’d seen it coming the moment I challenged Elder Elorn to a duel.
I’d also sent the single hair plucked from Elorn’s head to Master Ulezander in the letter. It had been a hard decision—one I actually consulted Aishe about—and we both agreed it would be a show of good faith. And if there was an inquiry, then it would be a point in my favor. It was hard to let it go, but I told myself it was for the best. If I was going to strive to be a better mage, then I should start now. I’d also sent a short letter to Elissya to inform her everything was well and that I was back home. I hadn’t been in any state to visit her in person.
My mind drifted back to the Council of Mages. There would be an inquiry, maybe even a trial. They would call our witnesses. I wondered what Elder Elorn told the council, or how he’d justify his actions. I also wondered how he admitted getting his ass kicked by a mage who hadn’t even reached his third phase of training. So many questions, but no answers yet. Seemed like the story of my life.
It was deep into the night as I sat in the small parlor, staring at the cold hearth. I couldn’t sleep. Restless and agitated, I’d paced several of my parlors before finally sitting, brooding.
You’re just like me. I’m so proud of you.
The filthy, deranged bastard always knew how to get in the last word.
I leaned my head against my fingertips and rubbed them against my temple. What was I going to do about that? How was I going to move past those words, that thought he implanted in my mind? I’d worked so hard to run away from him, to be different. To forget him. But abuse was a cycle, I knew that. And wasn’t it the pain he caused me my reason for my monstrous acts years ago? I wasn’t so deluded as to blame him entirely for my acts of terror. I’d known right from wrong and made the conscious decision to be cruel. Master Ulezander had taught me well, and I’d spat in his face and upended his teachings. I’d sought power then, power to keep myself from becoming a victim again.
His words continued to replay inside my head, and I closed my eyes, rubbing my temple some more.
I smelled him before I heard him. My eyes popped open. For perhaps the first time since meeting Aishe, I didn’t want him around. I wanted to brood alone, in the dark. I needed to think, to consider, to tear it apart and put it back together. I just needed to think!
Aishe said nothing as he walked around my chair. Then he sat on my lap, without even a by-your-leave, and curled into me. He bent his knees, nestled in, fitting rather perfectly on my lap. He pressed a hand to my heart. For a while, he didn’t speak. I wrapped my arms around him and laid my cheek on his head. I still brooded, still thought, but the darkness wasn’t so dark with him near me.
“Will you tell me what troubles you?” he whispered a long time later. “I know your father said something to you before...before. Will you tell me what he said?”
I would tell him. I knew I would. I wanted no secrets between us, and it was rude, disrespectful not to tell him. It would hurt him, make him doubt my trust in him. I’d rather saw off my own arm then hurt him.
Yes, I would tell him what my father said. But not tonight.
###
About M.D. Grimm
M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!). After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier. Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.
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