No Name for the Free

by Devin Harbison

  In the throne, a man of almost-equal stature sits, looking bored to death. Though, despite how his throne is even larger than my father's was, just as this man is, he does not look like a king upon first glance. No, he looks more like a beggar than he does a king, but, to be more precise, he looks no different from Gorm. Hair just as dark, muscles just as large, and clothes just as tattered as his brother's are, I finally understand why the man needs no one to protect him, nor does he need a crown for anyone to know who he is, when he sees us walking towards him at a crawl, stands up, and lifts an axe of his own.

  When you look like such a warrior and have just as many, if not more scars than Gorm, you don't need much protection, especially when the only people to pose a threat to you are actual giants, or the two brothers you have left who carry the same amount of strength in their step, and, as Gorm and this king without a crown walk towards one another, it is like two, identical mountains sliding across the earth and staring each other down. The two mountains step forward, with only so much distance between them that it wouldn't take much effort to rush towards one another and go for a blow as large as their axes are, but, before any attacks are made, words come first.

  "Why are you here? I would kill you myself, were she not so sick."

  The fact that either of them would speak first is enough of a surprise, but this mention of another woman, sick apparently, comes as even more of a surprise to me, and even Yemi. Who she is, neither of us know, but the anger in his brother's tone is heavy enough for us to move forward and raise our weapons, even Em who shows enough of her strength just in the way she grips the handle and moves with it beside her body. Though, we all look like fools when the man we rush to help loosens his hold on his own weapon, gets down on a single knee, and lays it out in front of him, like Gorm is giving into defeat already. The king then speaks.

  "I will not help you with your little crusade either, nor will it redeem you to us. Not now, not ten years ago, not ten years from now. Never. I have forbidden any man from joining your army as well, so do not try to bring anyone with you."

  As Gorm signals to us with a single, halting motion, the three of us stop and listen to him when he explains his intentions without looking at his brother in the eye, or without taking his stare away from the ground, even.

  "We do not ask for men or arms. We have our own. I have only come to see her one more time."

  When the truth comes out, I seethe with more anger, or any emotion, than anyone else in this room, and I'm not sure how to let it out. Part of me wants to scream, to let my voice carry through this keep and out into the streets, and another part of me wants to see if I can take a man twice my height on in a fight, or force the others to join me, but, before I can decide, Em catches me gritting my teeth and grabs my arm with more strength than I've ever known. The grip feels like it is enough to break the bone, but, because it is her, the pain pushes away the anger and leaves room for nothing but sadness. I am heartbroken because we have come so far, for what? I lost everything I once knew, my family, home, everything, only to discover a new life that I have come to love until we lost so many men, Abraham, and other friends, just to endure this weather for nothing, almost, but, while those thoughts play out in my mind, this interaction between Gorm and his brother, a supposed king, continues.

  "Yes, the other men have told me about your little, ragged band, and I have seen them for myself. They are not much."

  This king laughs at us when he is finished speaking, laughs at our family, stands there feeling so strong when we have accomplished what should have been impossible, but, somehow, it is Gorm's response that hurts more than anything else.

  "You're not wrong. We are nobody, but I do not expect you to understand what that means."

  At first, I take the direct meaning, that we are nothing, nothing to him after all this time, yet the way he explains that this king would not understand clues me in, into who we are, all those silly talks about how we are free. And, therefore, need no name. We are nobody, nameless, because our actions speak for themselves, and, more importantly, what Gorm says appeases his brother, despite the scoff that he offers before he speaks again.

  "See her and be gone, then. Only when you die will you ever be welcomed again. Be thankful, Gorm. Thankful I do not take your head, and thankful I would even consider letting you and your ilk be buried with our ancestors here one day. The only feelings I can share with a man like you is sadness that her days are coming to an end too."

  The reminder that only in death will Gorm and maybe even Em join their family again hurts me for different reasons. I did not need to be reminded that a darker fate may wait for us all, not too long off, nor did I need to be bothered with their sick family politics. To be invited to join them means nothing. What is the past is in the past, and has been so long it should not affect the present or the future, but I bite my tongue and say nothing so that Gorm, here to see some sick woman that I have never heard a word of prior to this, can get us out of here before I do blow up.

  "Thank you for your hospitality, brother. I will say my goodbyes, and then we will be on our way."

  This whole time, Gorm has not looked up from his feet or the stone he kneels on for the first time since he left after an earned murder, but, when his brother seems satisfied enough to turn around and walk off, back towards his throne, Gorm glares at his back as a reminder is given to him and all of us by this 'king'.

  "Yes, yes, spare me from the show you are putting on, and remember. I am not your brother. I am your king."

  He puts so much emphasis on the word king that I want to spit just to rid my mouth and tongue of the poor taste it leaves, but, instead, I save what emotions I have for Gorm when he walks back over to us, still standing with our weapons, expecting a fight and wanting it, in my case.

  "Gorm. We need to talk. We cannot leave here without any men or weapons."

  Yemi and Em look at me like I am out of my mind, or my place, but, if there is something I remember that I was taught back on that beach, it is that there are no places, ranks, or titles among us. So, whether or not Yemi and Em are surprised that I would demand something of Gorm or that I could even bring myself to do that, it matters little when Gorm offers his own thoughts.

  "I know. Just trust me. Come."

  The anger starts to seep back into my veins and my mind, but there is something in Gorm's words that keeps me from losing it all. Equal parts confident and sad, the man almost sounds broken but still sure of himself, so, when he and everyone else put their weapons away, I do the same and get by with cracking my knuckles until we reach a door on the side of the throne room that triggers even more thoughts of the past. Beyond a wooden door that looks all too familiar, besides its size, an even more familiar hall awaits.

  Dark, long, barely lit by a few candles, the path we take reminds me of the corridors inside of my family's castle, and I only get some idea of what we are walking into when I hear Em sniffle as we enter a dark room with nothing but a bed, meant for a woman no taller or shorter than Em, Yemi, or myself. Yet, everything else is different about her, besides how much she looks like Em. As the four of us spread out in the room, Yemi and I by the door and Em and Gorm at her bedside, on their knees, the light that seeps into the room from the hall is just enough to light the room, more like a stone prison, and her features. She is so pale and gaunt. But, her features are still the same ones as Em's, just stretched across weak flesh with no muscle left between that and the bones. Her hair is Em's too, still long and beautiful, yet the white of it stands out even more than the girl I can only assume is her granddaughter.

  If this woman is Gorm's mother, like I think she is, it hurts to see her look so cold despite the heat building up in the room from the fire back in the main room. And, as we all stand quietly for a moment, it is only when Gorm grabs her hand that she stirs, opens her eyes, and smiles faster than she can be sure if what she sees is a dream or a reality. For someone who is so strong any other time, Gorm's following inter
action with her is a moment of beautiful weakness.

  "I am sorry, mother. I would have come sooner, but I did not know you were sick until my brother told me. I came just to see you again, and only the gods could bring me home to be with you in a moment like this."

  She is able to hold her smile despite her own lack of strength from old age, sickness, or both, but it seems she doesn't know if what appears before her is real or not.

  "My child, my beautiful, baby boy, is it really you?"

  Gorm caresses her hands as he responds, and it is hard to tell who has the greater tremble in their arms, the dying mother or the man that may be seeing her for the last time.

  "Yes, mother. I feel like I'm twice as old as when I left, but I am here, in the flesh."

  She blinks a few times after he says that, and, when she is finally sure, she tries her best to sit up in bed, only to be met with a cough and a dizzy spell that sends her back to the mattress to catch her breath. Once she does, she is able to share a few more thoughts.

  "Just look at you both. Your nose still looks like a button, but you have even more scars than you did the last time I saw you... And Em, she is beautiful."

  Em has been beside her father this entire time, but she moves in closer just to put her hand in place of one of her father's, so that the three of them can share their comfort and warmth for some time, between a single compliment from the father and the son.

  "She looks just like you."

  I could tell Em was already bursting at the seams before she entered this room as she held back sniffles and kept them from becoming sobs, but, somehow, she still holds back the sobs enough that, with her father's words, silent tears roll down her cheeks, leaving wetness to well in the corners of my eyes too. I cannot imagine the pain. I do not know it, in fact. What both of them go through I have never felt, the same as this. Both my mother and grandmother died before or as I was born. I struggled with thoughts of having never met her, and growing up without her, which is a massive hurdle on its own, but watching that person slowly fall ill in front of your face is something else.

  That was my father's case, but it just wasn't the same. Even he did not hurt me the way this woman I have never met does, as he left this world. Being here, I feel such a weight that more tears start to come as my regrets sink into place, and I deal with them as the ailing woman fights for more words.

  "You best take care of this poor girl."

  Gorm is quick to take his daughter under his one, free arm as he comforts his mother's fear, and, at the same time, I wipe away tears with my own arm, now upset that I could have gone so long without missing my father, or being sad he is gone. He was not the best, but he was still present, while Gorm and Em have not seen their family since she was a child.

  "Do not worry. We have lived a good life since we left, and our own family is bigger than ever now."

  His reminder that, even without our blood relatives, the idea of family lives on calms me and brings a few more tears simultaneously, and I try to get myself together as fast as I can when I notice her staring at me from a gap between Em and Gorm, as they too follow her gaze. Though this woman has never met or seen Yemi and I prior to this day, she has something kind to say.

  "Oh... Yes. Strong men, they look like. They might not be one of us, but I have no doubt they are good help on your crazy adventures."

  Yemi and Em smile at the compliment and mention of what we do together, Gorm chuckles despite the pain I'm sure is filling his heart, if not broken already, and all I do is suck back some more tears as I too try to laugh, since what we have done to get to this point has been more than crazy. Insane, maybe. She then speaks to all of us at once.

  "You all gift me more than you could ever understand by being here... That goes for your friends too. It is good to know my son and his daughter have found a new family when ours have acted so horribly."

  I have never seen a group of people listen so intently, not even when Gorm shouts at us during a fight, and, so, we all keep our mouths shut while she continues, addressing me directly.

  "And you, boy, you may not be one of us, but I can see the look in your young eyes, the same as Gorm's father and I had so long ago. He would be proud of you all."

  How she knows there is anything between Em and I beyond a friendship, or just that we both fight for her father in different ways, I don't know. Maybe it is a mother's intuition, or a grandmother's intuition in this case, but, for one of the moments in my life, I do not mind being called a boy. This woman has earned it, nor does she mean any harm by it, especially when she sounds ready to cry too with what she says next to Gorm.

  "Just know I have missed you so much these past few years, and I still love you as much as I did the day you were born, my son."

  With that said, Em kisses her hand and seems at peace with her emotions, finally feeling the need to leave the room, so it is good that I have had my sword put away this whole time because, as I chase after her out into the hallway, when I have to wipe away my own tears and grab hold of her once I catch up, after the two of us have left Gorm and Yemi to say goodbyes for all of us. When I first grab hold of her by one shoulder, then turn her around so I can look at her and grab hold of both, she squirms, and I don't think it is because I am touching her. More so, I think she would be upset by anyone touching her, and, with the way she hides her face, she seems not only upset at what has just happened, but also because she, against her own wishes, appears so weak against something that was not what either of us would have expected.

  I don't think any of us would have expected this, yet it was the right choice. I admire Gorm, somehow, even for risking his life and all of ours just to see his mother one, last time, and I am so deeply proud that Em made it this far, showing so much strength, even now as we both cry into one another's arms in this dark hallway. We both keep each other warm, along with the help of the fire only a few strides out of sight, and I can only hope her grandmother doesn't have to bear the sounds of our sobbing or sniffling. And, while I try to gather myself enough to say something to Em, my tears calm for the most part, and all that leaves is hers to dry against my jacket. The drops may freeze and always be a part of this coat, as long as we stay in this land, once we head back outside, but, in the meantime, I try to say something to calm us both.

  "Em... Emily, I am sorry. I wish I had known that was why your father wanted to come home. I would have understood."

  I do not think I made the best choice of words, since I'm just sharing more problems with her in a moment when I am struggling to come up with any other words, but, for a time, it seems like my voice is enough to calm her, until she asks a question that hurts us both even more.

  "Aedan, do you think it's my fault that my father had to leave his family and everything else behind because of what happened to me, and... Because of what he did in response?"

  Her words are muffled as she says them into the fabric of my coat, and presses her cold nails into the shirt underneath, but I'm still able to make out what she says. I think we both know the answer to what she asks, or I can only hope, and the reason she asks is because, at a time like this, the pain numbs any other reasoning and leaves us to feel the blame. No victim would ever be responsible for what happened to them, and she is certainly a victim, along with her father, more than anyone else. Were I Gorm, I would have done the same, if not worse, because the fact that she was only a child makes it hurt so much more. In almost any case, I do not think the child can ever be to blame.

  Under normal circumstances, I might argue that, if a child misbehaves, even then the parents or those who teach them right or wrong, family, mentors, or any other adult, are to blame for either failing to teach the child or set the child straight. And, in a rare case, the child may even drive the parents and others insane, so much so that nothing good gets taken away, but none of that applies to Em and what has happened to her, her father, and their family. She is blameless, and that only leads to more pain. The mind will want to know what we co
uld have done to change the past, and, because we did not cause the history, no answer comes. So, with that in mind, I finally respond to her.

  "I think, deep inside, you already know the answer, Em, but it doesn't hurt to be reminded. For none of this, are you to blame."

  She says nothing, nor would I want her too, and, in time, the tears slow. It is then that I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn my head just enough so that I can keep Em in my embrace while Yemi speaks to me.

  "It is time to go."

  Those words are enough for Em to stir from my chest, and I can see Gorm leave the room too behind him. So, in no time, with nothing else said, the four of us have done what we came here to do, unknowingly, and we take our leave. Nothing is even said to the king, Gorm's oldest brother, as we leave, and he seems to care little, as bored as he is on his throne, with his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, his thumb under his jaw, three other fingers closed in a fist on his beard, and his index finger pointing up past his cheek bone. That serves us well, for, when we exit, out and into the cold once more, it is hard to know how much time has gone by. All there is to indicate anything is that there is no longer sunlight.

  The day has gone, and, so, I'm sure we must too. Thankfully, as the sun has left, so too has the snow, leaving the valley empty and lit by nothing but moonlight. From where we stand, we can look down the hill, over the city in its entirety, and, over the rooftops and the wall of the city out in the distance, I'm able to count the mountains that surround these lands in every direction I look, with some taller ones nested behind ranges that are short enough to see over. Seeing that so clearly gives a whole new understanding as to why it took so long to get here, and why it seemed there was raised earth, and a valley between, wherever we went. Though, as we get going, I have a feeling we are not done with these mountains yet.

  Despite all the time spent traveling, Gorm has yet to tell any of us what giants wait for us in these lands, besides that this is their home, where many of them originated supposedly, and I've been left to put the rest of the pieces together myself. With the way the men on the wall ahead of us dealt with that giant, the fact that they have such a massive wall, and that one beast would throw itself at the wall like its nothing, I fear with certainty that there is not one, or two, but many nearby that Gorm is determined to slay. The change from one to many, giant to giants, is bigger than even the difference in size between the two we have fought so far, and I do fear what is to come especially when, from our talks alone as we made our way to these lands, I have gathered that not even Yemi knows what lies ahead. So, for the time being, I focus on the fact that the city ahead of us is no longer dead, rather than worry myself with the fate that may await us all.