Taerak's Void (Fantastica Book 1)

by M. R. Mathias

  Braxton found himself trying to wipe the wetness from beneath his eyes before anyone, especially Davvy, noticed. After a few moments, he mastered his emotions and spoke.

  “After we get all this stuff to the barn, I’ve got to go spend some time at home.”

  “Yes,” Davvy said, struggling to get his arms around the tied bunch of stuff he was going to carry. It was the smaller of the two bundles. He took a moment of great concentration, got a good grip, and caught up with Braxton, who waited with the door open.

  Braxton noticed that Davvy wasn’t limping anymore, and outside of the ugly scars he carried, it wouldn’t be long until he was completely recovered. Braxton was greatly relieved by his friend's improvement. For the first several days after the return from their adventure, Braxton had been weighed down with worry that Davvy was maimed for good.

  “How is your mom taking it?” Davvy asked as they struggled down the road to the Flamus family’s barn.

  “She says that she is sad to see me go, but happy I am going,” Braxton answered.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think it means that she wants me to be more than just a farmer like my father and brothers. She said I should learn a craft or study to become a scholar. I think it is part of that stuff Master Finn used to teach about spreading our roots as a people or something.”

  “Oh.” Davvy clearly didn’t understand but Braxton was sure he remembered that particular lesson because Davvy’s uncle lived in Antole and was a metalsmith. “After you leave, Brax, the world will never be the same.” He shrugged. “But I suppose you should spend tomorrow with your ma.”

  “She has a big family dinner planned, and I need to spend some time with Parl and Savit, and I would like to see my father and Kareen for a little while, too.”

  Braxton could feel the moment of departure looming over him like a bucket of icy water on a hot summer day. He knew the feeling of it washing over him would be refreshing if the shock of it didn’t kill him. “Did you ask your father if you could ride to the outskirts with me?”

  Davvy’s mood brightened a little bit. “He said I could take his horse and ride with you until dark. One last camp, but in the morning, I have to ride back.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Braxton smiled, trying to keep his friend’s spirit up.

  They dropped their bundles inside the barn, and after a quick goodbye, Braxton started home. He was glad to be free of Davvy’s sadness, but he felt guilty for having such feelings about a friend as true and loyal as Davvy had always been. Braxton wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye to his family either, but it had to be done. The sooner it was behind him, the sooner he could be on his way. The urge to get going pulled at him like one of Master Finn’s magnets, and he had no desire to resist, even if it meant leaving the comfortable world he’d always known behind him.

  Chapter Three

  It was just getting dark outside when Braxton’s family farm house came into view. The breeze was slight but carried in its caress an uplifting sense of hope and comfort. A few stars twinkled between the sparse puffs of cottony clouds that could still be seen in the night sky. The distant sound of a barking dog and a closer conversation could be made out until the unmistakable sound of his eldest brother Parl’s laughter came bursting out the front door of the house. As always, Parl was followed by Savit, who seemed to Braxton to be not much more than Parl’s shadow. He couldn’t remember Savit ever having an opinion of his own or an original thought.

  Savit dutifully carried out Parl’s creative torture schemes. Braxton usually had the misfortune of being the recipient of them. But Braxton remembered Savit huddling in terrified tears behind the pickle barrel with him one day when Parl and his friends had decided to torture them both. That brought on another memory of Parl getting strapped across the yard by their father for something he had done, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud, alerting them to his presence.

  “There he is,” Parl bellowed loudly. “Mighty Braxton Bray, killer of lake beasts and adventurer extraordinaire, coming home to humbly visit his worried mom before he runs off.”

  It was hard to tell if Parl was proud or jealous Braxton was getting to go on an adventure. What was clear was that he was angry that Braxton hadn’t spent more time with their mother, and maybe even that he hadn’t spent more time with Parl and Savit. Braxton felt it in Parl’s words, the sarcastic undertone of them. It gave him an idea.

  “Hey, Parl. Hey, Savit. It’s too late for me to sit around and talk to ma tonight.”

  The look they gave him made him wonder if they weren’t going to jump on him and beat him senseless. It was one of their favorite ways of showing affection.

  “Why don’t we go down to the riverside and drink a few? I will spend all the morrow with mother, I promise.”

  Parl stopped stone still and looked into Braxton’s eyes, searching. What he was looking for, Braxton wasn’t quite sure, but he seemed to understand something, and the corner of his mouth turned into a smile.

  “That would be a good thing.” Parl nodded, and then punched Braxton in the shoulder pretty hard. “If you’re buying, that is.”

  “Yeah, if you’re paying, we will go,” Savit added from behind Parl.

  Braxton felt every bit of his older brother’s love for him in his bruised shoulder. It caused him pain but there was a greater bit of satisfied pleasure.

  Braxton bought a whole bottle of the more expensive brandy from the keep at the River Inn. He and his brothers sat in the common room for a while and watched a few of the girls dance and sing. Before long, they were drunk and decided to go sit by the slow, ever flowing water of the Vasting River, reminiscing of the glories and horrors of their youth. To their great amazement, Savit told them a story about how he and his friend Grimbol set loose a few hundred crickets in the lesson hall one night. They caused Master Finn much grief, for when he opened the windows the next morning a whole flock of hungry finches flew in to feed on the noisy little treats. A few of the birds refused to leave, forcing Master Finn to call off class and round up several cats to chase them out.

  Braxton remembered showing up to find Master Finn swinging a broom spastically through the air trying in vain to get the birds to fly out the window. This started a whole string of Master Finn stories that had the three brothers rolling with laughter.

  Savit was in the middle of another story when Braxton looked over and saw that Parl had passed out. Braxton quickly hushed his middle brother. “Let’s throw him in the river.”

  “No, Braxy,” Savit said drunkenly. “Unlike you, I’m not leaving. I have to stay here with him, and he will kill me.”

  “Are you scared? Are you a chicken?” Braxton slurred.

  “I’m not a clickchen.” He giggled at his misspoken word.

  “Remember when Parl and his big friend Joch tied your pant legs up and then put that snake in your britches?” Braxton reminded. “They cinched your belt tight and tied your hands behind your back.”

  Savit looked at him for a long time, and then a devilish grin spread across his face. “I’ll get his legs, and you can get his arms.”

  They got in position and somehow managed to stop giggling long enough to heave Parl into the cold water. They might have had a chance to escape his wrath if they could have stopped their hysterical laughter long enough to run away. Instead, he crawled to shore submissively, but then, in a flash, he grabbed Braxton by the leg and pulled him into the river.

  Savit cheered him on until Parl caught his leg and with Braxton’s help, he, too, hit with a splash. Braxton laughed so hard at Savit’s girlish squeal that he swallowed a mouthful of river water and nearly choked.

  They didn’t quite make it into the house but managed to pass out sometime before dawn on the front porch. Luckily, the night was warm because when his father woke him up with a stiff, but gentle boot, Braxton found he was still soaking wet and his head pounded.

  “Wake up, boy,” his father said. “We need to have a word b
efore these other would be jesters wake up and get under foot.”

  Braxton raised halfway up, and then collapsed, blinking his eyes furiously. Luckily, the sun was blocked by the old leaky porch roof. His father’s hand reached toward him with a cup of caffee. The strong aroma of the stuff nearly made him vomit, but his father's stern glare caused him to swallow hard and take the cup.

  He followed as his father led him around the outside of the house to the back. His pa stopped and put his foot on the center rail of a wooden fence and leaned his elbow onto his knee. He then put his chin in his hand and took a deep sip of his own caffee.

  Braxton remembered a time when he had to look up to see this giant force of a man. Now, they stood eye to eye. Braxton drained his cup with a grimace, leaned his back to the fence, and put his elbows on the top rail as much for support as for comfort.

  “You’ll be going soon?” It wasn’t really a question, Braxton knew, and he nodded that it was so.

  “Twenty-seven years ago, I left Halden on my own.” He sipped from his cup. “I spent a year or so in Antole, then I came here to Uppervale. I was full of piss and pickle juice and looking to get in on the ore boom, just like everyone else.”

  Braxton had heard bits and pieces of this story, usually when he was being disciplined. It had never occurred to him to pay attention until now. He walked a few feet over to the well and cranked up the bucket while his father watched. He took a sip of the cool water, and then splashed more on his face trying to clean away the grit as much as the cobwebs. His father waited patiently for him to return to the fence before he continued.

  “I didn’t make no fortune, as I intended, but I made enough before the vein ran dry to buy this piece of land and trick your ma into marrying me.” He was silent for a while, staring off into nothing, obviously choosing his words carefully. He took another sip from his cup and slung the remainder of the stuff into the grass. “I’ve been a lucky man, Braxton. Not many men get to have three fine boys to carry on their name. I envy you, and I want you to know that I am proud to call you my son.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small pouch, then handed it to Braxton. “It is a hard thing to go out on your own, and it takes guts. This isn’t much, a handful of silvers and a few gold, but I want you to take it. It will hold you up until you get your feet under you.”

  “I don’t need…”

  “Nonsense. Don’t be too proud, boy. Don’t ever be too proud.” He looked into Braxton’s eyes now, showing more than a little respect. “And don’t ever be ashamed to come back either. If you fall down, get up and do what you have to do. I want you to know you always have a place here on the farm. Always.”

  Braxton had tears in his eyes and would have tried to hide them, but there were tears in his father's eyes, too. He searched desperately for something to say but could find no words. Instead, he hugged his father fiercely and was comforted when he felt the embrace returned.

  “Spend some time with your mother today.” His father sniffled and stepped back with his hands on Braxton’s shoulders. “She is fussing around in the kitchen, and I don’t imagine it will be pleasant, but out of all of us, you’re the baby, and she loves you the most.”

  “Yes, sir.” Braxton wiped his cheeks.

  The kitchen was hot and filled with savory smells. Braxton’s mother spoke quickly as she moved from the table to the counter to the oven. All the while, Braxton sat dutifully in his chair and listened to her ramble. Several times, she stopped and held his head between her hands, looking down on him with tear-filled eyes. Braxton endured this until the food was almost finished, then he snuck out to the front porch to get some air.

  He felt like a character in one of Master Finn’s stories. He wanted to be the hero, but he didn’t fit the position. The hero was always an orphan raised by people pretending to be his parents, or a bitter young man who had seen his family killed, or some betrayed prince. He was just a young man with a loving family about to venture off into the world as his father had done before him. He had no wise old wizard to guide him, no life or death quest ahead to save the world from doom, he just had to go make his own way. Sure, there would be adventure in that, but what if he couldn’t survive out there? Would he have to swallow his pride and come crawling back to the farm? Or would he be too proud to do so and wind up settling for mediocrity as a ship hand, or a scullion, or something. He had always been sure his life would be bigger than all he’d known so far, but he never knew how.

  He always hoped he would play some intricate role in a grand and glorious scheme. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Would having a wife and kids of his own be mediocre? Would he settle for a farmer’s life? Could he?

  Dinner was finally called, bringing him from his thoughts. He was hungry and hoped food would brighten his outlook.

  The first part of dinner was quiet, and everybody busied themselves with what was on their plates. It was clear they were all afraid to speak lest they upset their obviously distraught mother, but about halfway through the main course, Savit blurted out, “So where are you going to go, Braxy?”

  Now the object of everyone’s attention, Braxton had no choice but to answer.

  “I reckon I’ll go to Camberly for a while,” he answered and quickly stuffed another mouthful of food in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to elaborate.

  “That’s only four days ride from Uppervale,” his father said, clearly trying to ease his mother’s worry. “I’ve been there several times over the years.”

  “Master Grant said that the Ancestor's Dream is a wonder to behold.” This came from Kareen, Braxton’s older sister by a year. Willian Grant, Master Grant’s oldest son, was sure to marry Kareen soon. At least everyone hoped so. The Grant Family owned four grain ships and did better than most in Uppervale.

  Braxton swallowed his bite and readied another in his spoon before speaking. “I’m looking forward to seeing it. That, the new palace, and the Hall of Scholars.”

  Braxton’s mother smiled for the first time since they’d sat down. A tear rolled down her cheek un-checked. “Oh, Braxy, I’m going to miss you so,” she said, starting with a strength that faded with every word. “I’m so happy that you’ll be able to see all those wondrous things. It is——” She sobbed. “It is so selfish of me to be this sad, but I just can’t help it.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Braxton said bursting into tears. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  Parl had to excuse himself, so did their father, while Kareen cried openly and dimwitted Savit took the opportunity to get himself another helping. Eventually, Braxton found himself alone, hugged in his mother’s loving embrace. It was then he realized something had just come to an end.

  All he had left to do now was say goodbye to Davvy, or so he thought.

  Later, the sound of something clacking repeatedly off the wall by his room woke Braxton. He figured it was Davvy so he opened the shutters and looked out. He was immediately overcome with a loin-tingling jolt of excitement. It was Hally Brighton, the girl he'd danced with in the barn, and later taken to a bonfire the older youth had built, out away from the gathering last Winterfest. Her hair was a tangle, and her robe was open revealing her well-shaped form, barely clad in her night clothes.

  The angry scowl on her face erased any excitement he was feeling, and he remembered he hadn't so much as said a word to her in days. In fact, he was supposed to have met her the night that Davvy was mangled by the lake creature.

  He glanced at her body jiggling freely under her thin garments, and wondered how he could have forgotten. He doubted he would ever forget what they did in that barn after Winterfest wound down.

  The next pebble hit him in the head, and he could tell she'd meant for it to.

  "Ouch! I'm coming out, Hally." He rubbed at the pea-sized knot forming on his brow. "Stop throwing things."

  "You'd ride off without so much as a word.” She must have realized he was ogling her for she closed her robe and tied it off. "You're not but a scoundrel, Brax
ton Bray."

  Braxton pulled his britches on, threw a shirt over his shoulders, and went outside. It wasn't nearly as late as he figured, but the majority of the town had put out their lamps and shuttered themselves in. He met Hally on his porch, where she promptly throttled him, and then kissed him. But then punched him again before bursting into tears and storming away, leaving him standing there speechless and confused.

  "No need trying to figure them out young Braxton," a familiar voice said from the lane. "She was probably hoping you'd stay and ask her for her hand. But it would be easier to understand why some hawks favor fish over mice than to understand a woman's mind." It was Master Finn, and he looked to just be riding by, but something told Braxton that wasn't the case.

  "While I'm here," he started, indicating Braxton's notion was correct. "I have something for you."

  Braxton walked out to the road, saving the lesson master from having to dismount and lead his horse under the walk gate to get to his side of the fence.

  "What is this?" Braxton asked, taking the offered scroll case.

  "It is a letter of recommendation for you to have your things looked at when you get to the Hall of Scholars."

  "My things?"

  "I've been tending Davvy Flamus's wound for weeks now." The older man grinned and gave a wink. "He told me about the map and showed me one of the fancy coins you two found. Someone at the hall will be able to tell you where they came from." He held up a hand, when Braxton started to protest. "I've told no one, but people know about that cavern now. Others have gone in there. In that tube is a letter of recommendation to show at the Hall of Scholars. It will get you seen by someone who might be able to tell you where the items came from."

  Braxton grunted his thanks. He hadn't told Davvy about the book or that there was more than just one map. In fact, he wasn't sure when Davvy had seen there was a map, but the morning they spent smashing the markings off the coins, Davvy could have easily gotten a glimpse inside the satchel.