When he got his first look at the mountain village, his doubts fell silent for several blissful moments. Finally. Home. It hadn’t changed at all in the past seven years, not to his eyes. The stone and wooden cottages were still spaced snugly together, with tall evergreen trees packed in around them, offering protection against the winter winds. At this time of the year, there was no snow, but the air was colder up here than it had been in the valley. People that he knew well were going back and forth on their daily business.
It was so heart-wrenchingly normal that tears sprang to his eyes.
Siobhan kneed her horse around so that she could come to his side. Ducking her head to the side, she asked tentatively, “Alright, Wolf?”
He had to clear his throat and blink hard to quell the tears. “Fine. It’s like I never left.”
She seemed to sense what he couldn’t say and nodded in understanding. “Let’s go down, alright?”
Eager now, he spurred his gelding forward, and they took the one lane road across the bridge, through the open gates, and inside. Once there, he impatiently tied the horse to the first hitching post he found and then strode through the main street.
As he walked, several people stopped and stared, whispering to each other in uncertain tones. They probably thought they recognized him, but weren’t sure. He’d changed so much since leaving here he wasn’t sure his own parents would recognize him.
He was almost to the main well that stood in the center of the village, when he finally found one of the people he was looking for. His mother stood directly in front of him, a basket of loaves hanging on one arm, her free hand gesturing as she spoke to their next-door neighbor. Erik’s feet stumbled to a halt as his eyes drank her in. There was perhaps more grey streaking through her blonde hair, a new wrinkle or two around her blue eyes, but she was still hearty and strong as he remembered her.
Somehow, without him saying a word, she sensed something and stopped mid-sentence, turning to look about her. When her eyes fell on him, she went abruptly still, as if even breath was beyond her in that moment. “Erik…?” The tone was half-incredulous, half-uncertain, as if she were disbelieving her own eyes.
For a moment, just a moment, he felt like he was fourteen again and there was nothing wrong in the world. The years of separation fell away and he reached for her as he had done his entire childhood. “Mooir.”
Tears welled up in those clear blue eyes and she dropped everything in her hands, running for him. He had to duck so that her arms could come around his shoulders, and he put his good arm around her waist, hugging her tight enough to make ribs squeak. She didn’t care, her embrace just as fierce. He soaked her in, the warmth, the solid feel of her, the way her hair smelled of sunshine and bread, the tears that were seeping into his shirt, all of it. His heartache eased as he realized that finally, finally he had made it home again.
People around him burst out into cries of joy when they realized who he was and before he knew what was happening, he was swarmed on all sides, everyone trying to reach out and touch him. He put his mother back on her feet so that she could see him properly, his smile wide with uncontained happiness.
Grabbing his arms, she shook him gently. “Where have you been?” she demanded, voice choked.
“Lost,” he responded sadly. “But through good fortune, I met with an amazing guild, and they helped me get to you.”
Her eyes fell to his iron hand and a strangled gasp of pain burst from her mouth. Tentatively, her fingers trailed along it. “What happened…” she whispered, horrified.
Erik had absolutely no intention of ever telling her the full story. His father, maybe, but not her. It would wound her heart to hear it. “I was in a bad fight,” he responded, cutting down the story to its bare bones. “But this is part of my good fortune. If I hadn’t lost the hand, I would never have made it here.”
“Erik’s here?” a very familiar, gruff male voice demanded.
Through all of the people, Erik couldn’t see properly, but he didn’t have to see to know. He lifted his voice to be heard over the crowd. “Faoir!”
People were kind enough to shift to the either side so his father could worm his way through. When father and son saw each other, it was like another homecoming all over again. Throwing his hands up in an expression of pure elation, he reached for his son and grabbed him in a bear hug that almost lifted Erik off his feet. Pounding his back, he laughed aloud. “Son!”
His father, too, had not changed. Still strong as a bear, beard down to his chest, hair so blond as to be almost white. It relieved him to see his parents well. Erik was sure that if he were any happier than this, he’d burst from it. When his father finally released him, and he saw the gathering of all of the friends and relatives still patiently waiting to get their turn to hug him too, a part of him wondered why he hadn’t already burst from happiness.
“Where were you?” his father demanded. “And who’d you donate the hand to?”
Yes, his father was taking this more in stride than his mother had. Erik decided to tell him the full story later, when his mother and sisters were safely out of earshot. “Lost the hand in a fight four months ago,” he answered. “And I’ve been all over, fighting. Wynngaard and Robarge, mostly.” Reminded, he turned, and gestured for people to move enough that he could call, “Siobhan, Grae, Beirly, come here.”
“Fighting?” his mother pressed. “Fighting who?”
“Whoever I was told to fight.” Erik’s smile dimmed at the memory but he shook his head, clearing it. “But I want you to meet the people that saved me. Without them, I’d never have made it home again.” Turning again, he found Siobhan at his elbow, a warm and tender smile on her face. He beamed down at her. “This is Siobhan Maley, Guildmaster of Deepwoods. She was the one that first rescued me. Siobhan, my parents, Araan and Saira Wolfinsky.”
His mother reached out and grasped Siobhan’s hands. “Thank you for helping my son. You are very welcome here for as long as you wish to stay.”
“Thank you,” Siobhan responded, squeezing in return. “I’d hoped to stay a few days and see what Wolf’s home was like before we go back.”
“And this is Beirly—he’s the one that made the new hand for me—and Grae, a master Pathmaker, who brought me most of the way here,” Erik continued.
There was a round of how-do-you-do’s and expressions of thanks all around before his father asked, “You keep saying they rescued you, or they brought you here. Son, just where have you been? What did they save you from?”
The elation of being home faded as reality set back in again. Resigned, Erik forced a smile and suggested, “Let’s find a shady spot to sit and talk. This…will take a while.”
ӜӜӜ
It took almost four hours, after all was said and done. His family was torn between being horrified by his recounting or being thankful he had survived it. Erik felt emotionally drained by it all and was very glad when his mother called a halt to it so they could prepare dinner.
Siobhan, Grae, and Beirly had sat in on this and listened, even though they knew half the story already, and patiently waited it out. When everyone scattered to their own homes to make dinner preparations, Erik focused on them and saw them settled in his family’s home. Being professional travelers, more or less, they took this all in stride. Siobhan even went into the kitchen with his mother and youngest sister, helping with the cooking. Several times, as Erik passed, he could hear them laughing as Siobhan traded funny stories back and forth on things he had done. It made his heart warm just listening to it. Hearing people laughing was the most pleasant music a man could hear, to his mind.
He ventured up the stairs to his old bedroom. The door creaked slightly as he pushed it in, his breath held in his throat. It had been seven years, after all, he’d understand if his parents had lost hope at some point and chosen to use the room for other purposes. But at the first glance inside, he knew these fears to be groundless. Everything was exactly as he had left it. The room smelled must
y from the disuse, but everything was clean, so someone was coming in here regularly to keep the place tidy.
Despite the fact that he had slept here every night for nigh on fourteen years, it felt odd to step inside the room. It felt even stranger to sit on the edge of the bed. This place felt so much smaller to him now, almost constricting. Looking about, he tried to regain the feeling of being home again, but this quiet room felt more alien to him than anything else.
“Feels strange to you, doesn’t it?”
Glancing up, he found his father in the doorway. “Faoir.”
Taking this as an invitation, he walked all the way in. “That bed won’t fit you anymore. It’s a good foot short.”
Erik studied it for a moment and then snorted. “You’re right.”
“I imagine not a single thing in this room will fit you anymore.” A strange timbre was in these words, his father’s face unreadable. “You’ve outgrown everything.”
“Aye, I probably have.” Erik had a feeling that neither of them were talking about the bed or the clothes anymore. “Faoir, I half-expected this room to be different. Did you and Mooir never give up on me?”
“We knew you were alive, somewhere.” His father’s expression relaxed into a sad smile. “We felt we’d know, somehow, if you weren’t. Or maybe it was just that we couldn’t bear to think of you as truly gone. We held on to the hope that eventually you’d find your way back to us. I’d never imagined it would take a guild to bring you back, though.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without their help,” Erik replied honestly. “I was branded as a dark guildsman, I had not a penny to my name, and my arm was in bad condition when Siobhan first laid eyes on me. It’s purely through her generosity and good reputation that I was able to travel here.”
His father’s eyes fell to the iron hand resting in his lap. “There’s more to the story of how you lost that hand, isn’t there?”
“Aye,” he confirmed grimly. “But I think only you should hear it. It’s…gruesome.”
“Then tell me later, when there’s no chance of interruption. It’s well now?”
“Oh, aye. Siobhan made sure of that before Beirly put the hand on.” Lifting it in the air, he added, “I know it disturbed Mooir to see it, but in truth, I’m rather glad to have it.”
“Because by losing the hand, you were able to escape that dark guild?”
“That and it’s as good of a weapon as a sword, some days.” Erik grinned in memory of a time or two where he’d put the iron hand to good use.
“Come down and eat!” a voice commanded from below.
His mouth watering in anticipation, Erik immediately got to his feet. “Let’s have dinner.”
Chuckling, his father led the way down the stairs. “I think your mooir fixed all of your favorites.”
Erik certainly hoped so.
ӜӜӜ
For three days, it was like a never ending festival in Reske, and Erik was the main attraction. Everyone wanted to have dinner with him, or lunch, sometimes even breakfast. He was invited everywhere, he and the members of Deepwoods. As he went from place to place, talking with old friends and family, sometimes helping them with chores while catching up, Erik felt this strange feeling grow in his chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. This place was nostalgic and familiar and he knew it like the back of his hand. Yet somehow he felt displaced, as if he no longer belonged there among them.
It was perhaps because of this, and not because of his short bed, that Erik found it impossible to sleep that night. Giving up, he crept down the stairs, doing his best to move soundlessly so he didn’t wake anyone else in the household. He was halfway down when he realized that the hearth fire was still burning. Pausing, he cocked his head and listened hard. Two voices were conversing quietly with each other, the words too soft to be distinguishable. But he knew them: his father and Siobhan.
Having no compunction whatsoever about eavesdropping, he eased down the last six stairs and then braced his back against the wall so he could listen in unobserved.
“—seems lost sometimes here,” his father was saying sadly. “I’m afraid his experiences over the last seven years have changed him too much. He no longer feels as if he belongs here.”
“I’d wondered if anyone else saw that aside from me.” Siobhan’s tone was gentle, sympathetic. “It’s not a bad thing, Araan. Wolf has experienced more of the world than this whole village combined. He loves the people here, but this small village feels confining to him now that he knows what life outside of it is like.”
“Will you take him back with you, then?”
“I would love to, but that’s not my decision to make.”
Erik’s heart skipped a beat, eyes flaring wide. Go back with her? Stay in Deepwoods? He had that option?
Oblivious to her silent listener or his inner turmoil, Siobhan was still speaking. “Wolf has proven to be an invaluable enforcer and a good friend. He still has his rough edges, granted, but that just needs time. I’d selfishly prefer to keep him with me.”
Faoir grunted understanding. “I must say, I’d prefer he stay in your guild than going back out on his own. At least we trust you to keep an eye on him.”
“There’s that,” Siobhan agreed readily. “I’ve been hesitating to ask him to go back with us because I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. But if you’re sure you don’t mind…? I see. Good, then. And your wife?”
“I haven’t spoken to her about this yet, but I think she knows already.”
“Well, she’s a sharp woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did know. Or at least sense it.”
Judging from some of the looks and comments he’d been getting from his mother over the past two days, Erik was sure she did know.
“Then I’ll ask,” Siobhan concluded. “But don’t look so glum, Araan. We come out to Wynngaard regularly, on one job or another. I’ll make sure that you see him at least once a year.”
Araan let out a breath of sharp relief. “You can promise me this? Then, thank you. I do feel much better hearing that.”
“It will be easy to arrange,” she assured him. “And of course we’ll likely come during the spring or summer months, as that’s when caravans like to travel the most. So expect us during those seasons. If, that is, Wolf agrees to go with us.”
Erik decided that was his cue. “I will return with you.”
The occupants in the other room went silent and he heard two chairs squeak as they were abruptly jerked sideways. Turning the corner, he came into view and found that his father and Siobhan had turned sharply, searching him out in the dim lighting. Smiling, he looked between them as he said quietly, “You’re right. I no longer belong in Reske. I realized that the first day I was here. Faoir, I love you all, but I can’t stay.”
His father nodded understanding, still looking drawn and unhappy about it. “I know.”
“And I can’t leave her side,” Erik continued, turning gentle eyes on Siobhan. “She has given me too much. I must stay and somehow repay her.”
“If it means keeping you, I won’t argue about who owes who.” Siobhan put a hand to her heart and blew out an exaggerated breath. “Phew! I was afraid I’d have to somehow charm you into it.”
She’d done that the moment she’d shown him respect while he still stood in slave chains.
His father stroked is beard pensively. “We’ll have to break the news to the rest of the family, somehow.”
Yes, and Erik wasn’t looking forward to that one bit. “Aye.”
Turning to Siobhan, Faoir pleaded, “You will stay a little longer, won’t you?”
“We won’t leave this week,” she promised him gently. “Or next, likely. Beirly has found some good places to mine up here and wants to take some of it back with him. Grae, too, wants to build a path from here to Quigg so that we can easily come and go. That will take a good week all by itself.”
A thought that hadn’t occurred to Erik, although it should have. With prebuilt paths,
they could easily come and go without spending much time on the road.
Pointing a finger at him, Siobhan ordered mock-sternly, “You are hereby forbidden to help build that path. You are to spend every moment possible with friends and family.”
Chuckling, he swept her an exaggerated bow. “Yes ma’am.”
“Good.” Satisfied, she pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going to bed. See you both in the morning.”
Erik knew that she was gracefully leaving and giving father and son private time to talk. Taking it, he sat in the chair she had just vacated.
“Well, son,” Faoir said, easing back into his chair. “If I had a way to change the past, I would wish we’d been able to find you that day you were kidnapped. But if this is how life must be, at least I know you’re in good company and under a good guildmaster. This way, at least, we’ll see you regularly.”
If Erik had his choice, he might very well go back to that dreadful day he had been kidnapped. But when all was said and done… “I couldn’t agree more.”
Epilogue
“And so ends the story of Erik Wolfinsky.”
Wynngaardian that he was, Rune responded promptly. “That was a fine telling, and I thank ya for it.”
Wolf inclined his head. “I enjoyed the telling.”
After that traditional exchange was done, Rune was speechless for a long time. Finally, he managed with a hoarse voice, “And I thought I was difficult.”
Wolf threw back his head and laughed. “No, I was worse. I admit I set a bad example with her. Because she had such good success with me, she didn’t think twice about taking you on.”
They walked a few paces in silence, Rune mulling this over. “So even though ya made it home, ya decided ta stay with Deepwoods.”
“Oh, I had all sorts of justifications and reasons for it at the time, mostly that I owed Siobhan too much to just stay in Reske. But the truth was, I’d formed deep ties with her. I was very fond of Beirly and Grae by that point too. I wanted to stay with them.” Wolf shrugged, as the decision now seemed completely clear-cut to him and obvious to make.
Blackstone (Book 2) Page 29
