by V. S. Holmes
“When those riders crest this hill your choice will be made for you. I’d miss the open air, but if I had to, I’d live the rest of my life without ever seeing the sky again.”
Alea stared at her hands. “What would you do?”
“I can build and we both can hunt. A cabin and a garden would take just a year to build. Winter in the Hartland would be mild.” He glanced up and their eyes met. Somewhere, deep inside her chest he felt a gate open in the battered wall erected around her heart. With a smile, he stepped inside.
Φ
An’thor shrugged deeper into his cloak and called for a dismount. The day was steely and cold. The clearing was empty, frozen grasses crunching underfoot. He eyed the tracks. The remains of a fire smoked through the hasty coating of frozen earth. There were marks of a tent and the smell of meat and tea. The tracks of Alea’s single horse were evident. There were faint scuff marks from her boots and deeper ones from a larger set. He turned slowly, looking at the marks of two people crouching by a fire. His frown deepened.
“Should we go after them, sir? Her Majesty wanted her back in the city.”
An’thor went to stand beside Metters on the outcropping. A horse was just visible on the road, bearing two riders south. He watched them a moment. Finally he heaved a sigh and pulled himself into the saddle. “There’s hot food and good stories back home. Let them have their peace.”
END OF BOOK TWO
OTHER BOOKS BY V. S. HOLMES
REFORGED
Smoke and Rain
Lightning and Flames
Madness and Gods*
NEL BENTLY
Travelers
Drifters
Strangers*
*forthcoming
Turn The Page For A Sneak Peek Of The Third Book In The Reforged Series:
MADNESS
AND
GODS
MADNESS
AND
GODS
The 27th Day of the Month of Rainfall, 1272
The Forest of the Hartland
Arman stood in the doorway. The bed was made as usual and the desk tidy. The clothes chest was shut and a pair of breeches hung on a hook. It’s all wrong. The same way his gut had known what Alea was, he knew his son’s room was more than empty. Deserted.
They had kept the truth of their identities, their bloodlines, from him. They hoped he would be live the life they never could. One of peace. Of anonymity. Perhaps it was a mistake. Arman was surprised at his reaction to his son’s leaving. He would have thought Alea would panic and he would comfort her. Keplan may not have told them what happened, but Arman would see it was something horrifying.
He stepped into the room hesitantly, as if unwilling to have the last person to cross the threshold be someone other than his son. It was only upon entering that he saw the folded parchment on the pillow. He touched the ragged edge before tucking it into his pocket. He retreated to the main room and set water to boil. Soft footfalls sounded behind him as he took the kettle from the fire and poured two mugs of tea.
“Has he come back?” The circles under Alea’s eyes spoke to how well she had slept.
He jerked his chin at the tea cup waiting on the table before her. “I don’t think he will for a long time.”
“How can you think that?” Her voice rasped from tears and fatigue.
Arman heaved a sigh and sat. “Alea, when I left home I packed my bag, made my bed, swept my floors. Trust me when I say I know what running looks like.” Saying it broke his fear, replacing it with a strange mixture of confusion and understanding. “I found a note.”
Neither spoke or looked at the letter until the tea leaves had slowed their spinning around the bottoms of the two mugs. Arman opened it carefully, smoothing the tidy crease down the center before drawing a breath.
“‘Ma, Da,
‘I cannot imagine what my leaving might do to you, but I hope you understand. Something happened to me. Not an injury or illness, but something deeper than that. I saw things that no one knows, that I shouldn’t know, that I’ve never seen. I do not know why or how, but I know I cannot stay here. Perhaps I am mad, in which case I am saving you from seeing me succumb.
‘I will be more scared if I am sane.
‘I hope you do not mind that I took one of Da’s drawings, the one of Ma holding me from years ago. I hope you understand I need answers, ones I cannot find here. I love you both.’”
“Mad? How can he think that?”
“Alea, we denied him the truth. You did to him exactly what your mother did to you.”
“I was trying to protect my child!”
“So was she!” Arman’s hand shook again, but now it was not panic.
Alea pointed at the backside of the paper. “He wrote more.”
Arman turned the letter over. ‘Da, I found the letter from the man called An’thor. I cannot fathom why he would need to see me, but I know why you kept it secret. I know you and Ma hid things, things greater than just a letter. I do not understand, but I forgive you.’”
“Letter? What letter?” Alea shifted nervously, refusing to look Arman in the eye.
He was tired of secrets, tired of protecting. Look where it brought us. “Tzatia is ill. Dying, probably. She’s named whatever child you have. You promised Athrolan’s crown would be safe, and I guess she interpreted it differently. An’thor did not say it in so many words, but the meaning was obvious. Keplan may not know what we were, but he damned well knows they want him in the capital.” Arman rose, dropping the letter to the table, driving home their son’s leaving.
Alea trembled, eyes frantic. “Arman, what have we done?”
Her words paused him as he tugged on his cloak. “I protected you both. You blinded him.” The words he threw over his shoulder were more biting that the draft that blew past him. “You better thank fates he forgives you.” He slammed out the door. “I’m not sure I could.”
Look for Madness and Gods spring of 2017 from Amphibian press
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
V. S. Holmes lives in a Tiny House and owns too many books for such a small abode. Her favorite genres include fantasy, science (of both the non-fiction and fiction varieties), and anything with diverse protagonists.
Holmes graduated from Keene State College with a Bachelors of Science in Biology. She has a particular interest in prehistoric peoples and stone tools. When not writing, she works as a contract archaeologist doing Cultural Resource Management throughout the northeastern U.S.
Smoke and Rain, the first in her fantasy quartet, was chosen for New Apple Literary’s 2015 Excellence in Independent Publishing Award. Starfall, a science-fiction short can be found in the January 2016 issue of Vitality, an LGBT magazine.
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