Had Blodwyn’s cheeks reddened? “Perhaps we will stop at the islands for a brief visit, if neither of you mind?”
Anna and Mykal laughed.
“What do you think will happen to the subjects that Cordillera used to rule over?” Mykal said, as he gathered up his belongings.
“I suppose one of his daughters will step in as queen until she marries,” Anna said. “Let us hope she is nothing like her father!”
Mykal raised his eyebrows. “I shudder just at the thought of his kin occupying the throne!”
“Come here, and give your Grandfather a hug goodbye.”
Mykal set his things down, resting his new cloak over his staff, and bag, and bow. He climbed the porch stairs and knelt beside his Grandfather. “I will find a way to visit,” he said. His words came out in a whisper.
Grandfather shook his head gently; the tears brimmed along the bottom of his eyelids. “It won’t be safe for you to return. I’ll be at peace knowing you’re with your mother, and Blodwyn, and that the three of you are safe.”
They hugged.
It was tight, and warm, and Mykal didn’t want to let go. He breathed in the scent of his Grandfather. It was a musty aroma, that was unique, and he hoped, unforgettable. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’re not. You are going out to live your life. I have raised you the best I can, and as any parent knows, getting you ready for the world is our responsibility. And if there is anyone who is ready to begin their life as an adult, it is you.”
That didn’t ease the ache in Mykal’s heart.
He didn’t agree with Grandfather, and knew one day he would return. King Nabal wouldn’t have to know. “I love you, Grandfather.”
Grandfather’s lips quivered. The tears breached the lid and rolled down his cheeks. “I love you, my son.”
***
Mykal reined in Babe. “Do you mind if we stop here?”
Applejack neighed, as if in response. “I think we should,” Blodwyn said.
Anna stopped Jiminey, but remained on her saddle. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to say good-bye alone?”
Mykal walked up to the tree where he once kept his bow, quiver of arrows, dagger and the Jian sword. Under the leafless branches, sticking up from the near-frozen, snow covered ground was a large, flat rock. Hammered into the stone was EADRIC.
They had retrieved his body from Ridgeland, and buried him before the ground became too hard. Mykal touched the dragonfly pin under the cloak, and his fingers traced the sets of wings.
“Thank you for protecting Mother.” He pressed his back against the tree, his knees unlocking, and his legs weak. “I don’t think I hated you until that night I met you by the lake. It was the last thing I thought I’d feel. I barely remembered what you looked like. And then there you were, drunk, and sitting by the water in your private little home.
“You stood by me through all of this. I just wish we’d had more time together now. I wish I could have told you when you were still alive that I still loved you, and that I forgave you in my heart. I was going to tell you, Father. When this, all of this, when it was over. And now it’s too late.
Mykal dropped to his knees. The snow crunched under his weight. He fell forward, his hands atop the tombstone, his head bowed. Cold tears fell from his eyes. “I forgive you, Dad. I forgive you. And I do love you. I miss you, Dad. I just wish you could come back home!”
He cried, shoulders shaking. The sobs racked his body.
Anna knelt beside him in the snow.
Mykal released the tombstone and wrapped his arms around his mother. “I had so much I wanted to tell him!”
“He knows, Mykal. He knows.”
THE END
About The Author
Phillip Tomasso lives in Rochester, NY, and is an Award Winning Author with over 18 published novels. After nearly two decades of working at the Eastman Kodak Company (1990-2008: the last 10 spent as an Employment Law Paralegal), Tomasso landed a job almost seven years ago working full time as a Fire & EMS Dispatcher for 911. When not writing, or reading, he enjoys playing guitar. He can keep the rhythm, but is a horrible singer. Admittedly, and also regrettably, Tomasso sings when he plays guitar. Tomasso’s three grown children are his main inspiration. Currently, Tomasso is hard at work on several new novel projects. Be sure to stop by his website, and sign up for his blog to be kept up to date on his happenings, and follow him on Twitter for his often witty, if not more than often repetitive tweets. One of his favorite things in the world is emails from fans who have read his books, (and one of the saddest is receiving story ideas. He will not accept, or write story ideas if sent to him; will delete the email and pretend like he never saw it in the first place).
An Invitation to Reading Groups
I would like to extend an invitation to Reading Groups/Book Clubs/Schools across the country. Invite me to your group and I’ll be happy to participate in your discussion (either in person or via Skype, or telephones with a speaker). You can arrange a date and time by emailing me at [email protected]. I look forward to hearing from you.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
About The Author
Severed Empire: Wizard's War Page 34
