by Curtis, Greg
Perhaps the truest tragedy was that they had actually been lucky. Dimeter had apparently summoned a ‘great beast’ to aid them in the war, never thinking to be more specific, and so the kraken had been brought to them, only to be crippled by being out of its element. But he could just as easily have ended up with something far worse that liked land, a three-headed demon beast or even a snapdragon. Then it wouldn’t have been just two that had died, it would have been hundreds.
And Dimeter still wouldn’t have cared. In his heart Marjan knew that, he just couldn’t accept it. That one of his brothers could be so cold to him, that he could understand, but to others? That was simply unacceptable.
Master Silas would have cared very greatly, and Marjan felt sorry for the wizard as he sat in the chamber with him, his face a mask of pain and guilt even though he had not committed the act. His student had failed, more than failed, and he clearly felt that some of the responsibility for that failure belonged with him. He’d said as much to the elders hearing the case, and apologised to the families as well, while Dimeter stared blankly on apparently wondering what the problem was and even more upset that his master should say any such thing.
“You’ve spoken before the Council, given them your words, surely you can leave.”
Marjan shook his head in sorrow. In truth he would have liked nothing better than to leave and never have seen Dimeter again, and the adept he suspected would have liked that too. He hated being tried, being judged by the Masters and by the Elders, he hated the thought of being punished perhaps even exiled, but most of all he hated Marjan being there, witnessing his failure, speaking of it. But Marjan had to stay there for the families, for those who had lost their kin. Though it wasn’t his fault, on some level he felt he owed them that courtesy at the least.
“One of my brothers is dead, another has taken two innocent lives, torn apart two innocent families. I will see this through.”
“You will too.” She squeezed his hand tightly giving him what comfort she could. “Its what makes you the man you are, and the husband you will be.”
“But Dimeter is not like you. His mistake is not the same as yours. Your hand was forced by that of another as he sought to kill you, an error made in a heartbeat of fear, Dimeter’s was made in the calm light of reason and with time to reflect upon his actions long before he made them. You have accepted your mistake, and made it a part of you, and become a better man because of it, Dimeter has not and perhaps never will. In his heart he still believes that his only fault was in summoning the wrong beast and then in being unable to control it. He knew that it was dangerous, and he knew that it went against the laws of his Guild and he knew why, yet he still did it. Had he known that innocent people would be killed by his creature, I suspect he would still have done it.” She was probably right, he knew that, all her years training as a priestess and as a teacher had made Essaline very astute in judging people, something he simply wasn’t, but it was still hard for him to accept her words. For all his faults, Dimeter was his brother.
“You are too kind my lady.” And to add weight to his words and his gratitude for hers he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers as he had seen others do.
“And you are too hard on yourself.” She pulled her hand loose and swatted his cheek lightly, a remonstration perhaps but also he knew, a gesture of caring. Essaline cared, that was her nature, and somehow, though he wasn’t worthy of it, she cared about him as well as for him, and that made him the most fortunate man in creation.
“Come. We should go and enjoy some lunch before the hearing restarts, and before your friend here eats us both.” Bearabus was of course in complete agreement with her sentiments, she was always hungry, even if she was really just nuzzling Essaline out of friendship. She liked the elf and he couldn’t fault her judgement for that.
“I would welcome that.”
Together they walked hand in hand from the small grove overlooking the orchards, up the nearby ramp and over to the main concourse, a series of platforms which held among other things, the main food halls. Bearabus of course, chased them all the way, and sensing that food was in the offing, she always sensed that, even nudged them in the back every so often with her nose, hoping to make them move a little faster.
The town was busy, as it had been for the last few months or so, with people everywhere, buying and selling all manner of goods, rushing about carrying things, or simply going about their normal business. Children were all about as well, school having apparently finished for the day though it was only lunch time, and they added some cheer to the town as well as a good dose of chaos, as they ran everywhere, usually at breakneck speeds.
They amazed him as always, with their natural ability to run on the platforms and bridges without ever seeming to fear the drop below which in places was at least a hundred feet, the only barrier between them and death a bunch of rope hand rails and some netting, all far too thin in his opinion, but they cheered him as well. He still had many things to learn about these people, about living in Evensong, but seeing the children always reminded him of one thing, humans or elves they were all just people.
The children also led the way in one other aspect of life in the village, tolerance. Evensong had once been, so he understood, an almost purely elven village, but since the war had begun, and since they had started taking in refugees, a quarter maybe even a half of the now terribly overcrowded village was comprised of humans and dwarves, and maybe a few others, many of them like him, always feeling a little out of place, a little lost. But those refugees included children, and where their parents might be a little slow, they were anything but. Not only were they there in the streets with their elven friends, running around, laughing, playing tag and chasing balls, but they were also there in the schools, learning and in some cases even teaching, or helping out with chores, or training in their future vocations, even going to the Goddess’ Grove to give praise for her generosity.
It was a strange thing to understand, but in some way, the children, the most vulnerable of them all, were also the strongest. They picked up the language fastest, often being used as translators for their parents, they adapted to the different way of life quicker, the different values of the elves and even the physical structure of the village itself, and they acted as a bond between their families.
There was a saying in Gunderland that children were the future, and it was strange to understand that that saying was perhaps even more true in Evensong during these troubled times. The children were the future, and they were also the glue that held the people together so that they might one day reach it.
That was important he knew, because not only did he have no idea as to how long this war would endure, he had no idea if even when it was over the people would be able to go home. If they would have a home to return to. Nothing was left of the many towns and villages that had comprised Gunderland, or of the city itself. Whitney he understood was much the same, and somehow he doubted that the Vardan Regency was any better. The towns and cities destroyed, hundreds of thousands of people dead, cruelly butchered by the enemy, what was there to return to? But that was a misery for another day, and as he walked hand in hand with the most beautiful woman in all the realms, Marjan tried hard to put it out of his mind.
In the food court, a pair of large open air platforms just to the side of the food halls, suspended by half a dozen magnificent trees, they quickly found a table, it wasn’t hard to do when Essaline’s family were already there, waiting for them, he’d wondered why she’d been allowed to meet with him unaccompanied and seeing them he finally understood the facts of the matter, they knew she would return shortly. Had she taken too long they would surely have sent out a search party, and then lectured them both about decorum had there been any impropriety discovered.
Arvine rushed off with the children in tow to collect some platters of food, and a dried fish or two for Bearabus even as Marjan held the seat for Essaline while nodding politely to her family. His language s
kills might still be poor, though he studied every day with the teachers after school had ended, but he was learning politeness and it seemed to go down well with the elves. They were a well-mannered people believing that in being polite to others they also showed them respect, and it was a view he was slowly coming to agree with. Certainly it was a vast improvement from the bustling streets and rowdy inns of the Gunder of his memories and never once had he seen a fist fight break out in the town square, or watched an elf collapse to the ground in a drunken stupor.
It was also surprisingly good to sit with Essaline’s family again, especially after the pain of the trial, and it gave him the opportunity to apologise once again for the abrupt way their previous meal together had ended. Though it hadn’t been a choice, not one of his making anyway, it still wasn’t right to have abandoned them before, and it still rankled that he had gone to all that trouble to create an enjoyable evening for them all, only to have it so spoiled. Of course as he was informed, that was merely an opportunity to have another, and the women quickly started setting another date, and a new menu. The apricot chicken had been welcome but it seemed that Elder Maene was truly partial to spiced rabbit and tomato stew, a recipe he was suddenly planning on learning, and perhaps he could plant some tomatoes as well.
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“Still we must speak of your cottage.” Maene caught him by surprise with his words, and just when he was beginning to feel as though they were starting to accept him. What he wondered, could be wrong with his cottage? The very idea filled him with distress.
“Elder?” Perhaps some of that pain showed on his face as the elder looked suddenly concerned.
“No, no, do not believe us critical.” Felesily quickly took over, looking a little worried herself. “Yours is a nice home, and despite it’s being of a strange design, it is a place where an elf might well find some comfort. Our only concern is that it is too small for a family. You do want a family?”
Suddenly it was Marjan’s turn to redden, and he did just that as he spluttered away wondering what to say. It was something that he and Essaline simply hadn’t discussed, and in hindsight, something that they probably should have. The worst of it was that she was right, his cottage was too small, and he’d already been making plans to build on a small alcove just to make a place for Bearabus to sleep, so why hadn’t he considered the needs of a family? Simply because he hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead, and he slowly managed to explain that oversight to Essaline and her family, just before her sister arrived with the food and took away the awkwardness as they all rediscovered their hunger.
Yet the strange thing was that from the moment he let himself think about it a part of him was already thinking about building on. Extending the bathroom back from the middle of the cottage until it was a complete separate room all to itself, with a lofted bed chamber above it similar to the others, while doing the same at the front of the cottage, extending the front door forwards into a proper entrance alcove with a full height lofted ceiling above it. Then maybe he could finally set about replacing the thatching with some slate, building a small side chamber for Bearabus, and if he was really keen he could add on another downstairs room on the front corner of the house to serve as his new library and apothecary. All of a sudden building plans were excitedly spinning through his thoughts, as they hadn’t since he had first started rebuilding the cottage a decade before and all thoughts of the trial were forgotten.
Perhaps that had always been the real purpose of the question.
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Chapter Fifteen.
“Whoa!” The captain pulled the troop up short with a simple raise of his hand and like the well-practiced team that they were, they came to a halt in dead silence. But then they all knew why he was raising his hand, they could hear the sound of trees snapping and feel the ground shaking under their feet just like him. Something big and undoubtedly bad lay ahead of them, or rather over to one side and by the sounds of things, just over the ridgeline that formed the western boundary of the road. Marjan only wished he could have been more surprised by the command, but he just wasn’t. He knew that they had to investigate. Whatever it was it could be dangerous.
Secretly though, he was really worried that what they would find over the ridgeline would be Dimeter. The boy had fled, before facing judgement having finally at least realised that he was going to be punished, both by the elves and the guild. It was the first sign of any clear understanding of his predicament he’d shown, even though his solution was yet another failing and a disappointment to him and the Guild. He should have taken responsibility for his mistakes, accepted his punishment, but he couldn’t do that, not when it seemed that the Guild was considering binding his powers as well as expelling him.
In some ways Marjan understood that, the thought of being so limited in his magic was frightening, but the shame for what he had done, and the need to always obey the laws of the guild should have held him. Ten years earlier he’d had to face the same choice, and he had considered that the binding of his powers would be a possibility too. Yet he’d stayed, taken his punishment and never complained, despite his fear. Dimeter’s flight was merely another example of his failure.
Parties had been sent out after him of course, though without success. The elves believed he had transported himself beyond the province of Evensong, and sent messages and descriptions to the other nearby lands, while the Guild houses were all on the look out for him should he turn up in their lands as well. Yet at least without him it had been restful, and Marjan was in two minds as to whether he wanted him caught. He was already expelled, by his own actions, and binding his powers might make him safer, but it was a terrible punishment for a mage, much as crippling and blinding was for another. Perhaps it was just better that he was gone, never to return. It was easier even if there was no true justice for his victims.
Of course he still had a real worry as to what the lad might do out in the world on his own, and Marjan still believed he had learned no true lesson from his mistake. He could one day become truly dangerous, and the chances were that he would turn his anger towards Marjan if he got the chance. The lad hated him with a passion, and Marjan suspected, he actually blamed him for everything that had gone wrong. How he could justify his hatred he didn’t know, but then hatred was often without reason. In the end the only thing that mattered was that Marjan would always have to be alert for his return, but he fancied he could deal with that when the time came.
Sadly, now that they had encountered something, surely another monster of gargantuan proportions by the sound of the thunder it cast into the land with its every footfall, he was having second thoughts about even his doubts. Could the lad have come this way, found a hidey-hole and then summoned something else? He liked summoning beasts. Yet it made no sense, surely the lad would have worked out at least something from his mistake, not to mention found the intelligence to flee away from the enemy rather than run straight into his arms, but then neither did anything else Dimeter had done.
Still, it surely had to be unlikely, which meant of course, that this was likely something else. In truth it was probably the enemy in a new guise.
Riding out of Calibra as a troop for the first time since the war had begun, he had felt good, almost hopeful, but only for a little while. For several long months, since learning the identity of the enemy, they had been free from attacks, as had the others in Ellington. The new wards were working perfectly. But outside of Calibra, once back in Gunderland, those wards no longer protected them, and though Marjan and the druids were crafting more of them each night and setting them out along both sides of the road as they rode north, it wasn’t the same as having them scattered throughout an entire province, a bulwark against attack.
“Any thoughts?” The captain asked both him and Harvas, and sadly they knew no more than him. They could hear the beast’s strange roars in the distance, they could feel the vibrations it made in the ground as it moved, and they could even
fear it, but that didn’t tell them much, except maybe that as they dismounted and carefully, quietly made their way on foot through the forest towards whatever was making that noise, that it was dangerous.
Not for the first time Marjan wished he was back in his comfortable and newly extended cottage, safe from whatever now owned this once happy land. There at least, while he had a lot of work to do, none of it was in facing monsters. But then again Essaline would tell him off if he dared to return too soon. Their expedition into southern Gunderland was supposed to take them two full tendays and she had wanted every one of them for herself, as she partook in another unexpected, though oddly welcome elven custom.
His home, which was so he understood to become their family home in due course, was largely rebuilt, or at least the structure was. A new annex at the rear of the cottage held the new, larger, almost massive bathroom on the ground floor, and another bedchamber in the loft space above it, while a matching annex at the front gave them an entrance hall with an open space ceiling leading all the way back to the landing which connected the upstairs bedchambers. The huge triangular window he’d forged and set in place above the double oak doors brought in plenty of light and with it a view of the nearer parts of town, so that even sitting in his stuffed chair in the old part of the lounge he could keep an eye out on what was happening on the walkways above.
