Garrett stared at the man who had taken his home from him, had taken his very flesh from him and left him only a scarred memory of the life he once had. He had lain awake for so many nights, dreaming of vengeance upon this man, and, now that he had it, he just felt a kind of sick hollowness inside.
“Go on, boy!” Graelle raged, “If you’re any kind of man at all, pull out your blade and put it through my heart! I killed your people! I burned your cities! Do it! Just do it!”
Garrett felt as though he might vomit. The pitiful sight of the man he had hated for so long, reduced to this… the smell of his rotting legs. Garrett shook his head and looked away.
“Don’t have the guts, do you?” Graelle shouted, tears streaming from his eye, “You need someone else to do your killing, the way you did… with my Kadreaan.”
“Perhaps he would just prefer to see you go on living and suffer as he was forced to suffer all these years,” Max hissed.
“Suffering is!” Graelle shouted, “The world is suffering! Life is suffering! I am simply the revelator of that truth.”
“You were, perhaps,” Max chuckled, “but now, I think, you will simply be an example of it… an exquisite example of true suffering.”
“I don’t care what you do to me,” Graelle sighed, “Take your vengeance as you will. I will not have long to endure it.”
“Such a defeatist attitude!” Max said, waving his hand, “I expected more from you Dragon Lord.” He paused in thought for a moment. “Though I suppose you aren’t, technically, a dragon lord anymore… I’m not really certain what to call you now.”
Graelle looked away.
“In any case,” Max said, “We must be going. We have a party to attend, you know. I hate to leave you on such a sour note.”
Graelle turned and spat at Max, but what little spittle the dehydrated Chadirian could muster fell short of Max’s black robes.
“I wouldn't want you to die so soon,” Max sighed, “It would be a shame for you to miss out on any of the quality suffering that awaits you in the future. So, for old time’s sake, I think I will leave you with a parting gift.”
Graelle eyed Zara warily.
Max clutched his black staff tightly in his left hand and stretched out his right toward the crippled dragon rider. The jewels of the staff flared a brilliant green as Max whispered a spell in something that sounded like Draconic.
Graelle’s eye bulged and his body stiffened. He gasped for breath, and his face went red, the cords in his neck standing out as he began to shake with convulsions.
Garrett looked at Max who was grinning cruelly as he chanted his spell.
Graelle let out an anguished moan as both of his legs stiffened, stretching out as the shattered bones within them popped back into place. His bloodless feet twisted back into their proper alignments as the big man screamed in agony and shuddered in the clutches of the necromancer’s spell.
Suddenly, Max fell silent and Graelle gasped and slumped forward like a dead man.
“You killed him!” Garrett cried.
“No,” Max laughed, “He may have deserved death, but instead I have saved his miserable life.”
Garrett looked at Graelle again as the Chadirian groaned, regaining consciousness. He stared down in confusion at his legs as he drew his knees up before him, seemingly uninjured.
“What… what did you do to me?” Graelle demanded.
“You know that little trick we necromancers do with corpses?” Max chuckled, “You know the one where we make dead things get up and move around again…”
Graelle stared down at the cold gray flesh of his legs and let out a pitiful cry. “No!” he gasped, “No!”
“You’re quite welcome,” Max said, “and don’t worry, the smell will go away soon enough. You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy your new legs in the days ahead.”
“Damn you!” Graelle moaned as Max turned to go, “Damn you to hell!”
“Come Garrett,” Max said, “or we’ll be late for the party.”
Garrett took one last look at the broken dragon lord who sat, writhing in his chains against the wall, before Max snuffed out the torch and plunged him into utter darkness.
*******
Garrett stood on the balcony and looked out over the city to the south. A few fires were still smoldering here and there, sending up little streamers of ash to join the eternal gray haze above the city. There was so much work still to be done, and he was wasting his time at some stupid party.
He had managed to slip away during Diggs’s retelling of the final moments of their battle with the dragon. The sounds of laughter and applause came from inside, and Garrett was glad that the richest citizens of Wythr would be so accepting of the fame-addled ghoul. Serepheni as well had her share of admirers. The people of the city were already beginning to treat her as though she were the new High Priestess.
He was happy for his friends, but he felt nothing but misgivings in his heart for what lay ahead. Without the dragon, the Chadiri might be weakened, but having rid themselves of their internal enemy, would they not then turn their formidable legions southward again?
And what of Marla? Had the messenger fox actually carried Garrett’s message to her? Even it she knew of his victory, would she be allowed to return? He thought back to what he had seen in that black room beneath the embassy, and he felt sick to his stomach. He remembered what master Jannis had said about the price of immortality. Was that really what Marla was?
He remembered the look on Graelle’s face when Max had animated his rotten legs. At this very moment, somewhere beneath the temple of the death goddess, the man was probably screaming in horror to have become the very thing that he had devoted his life to destroying. Max had laughed about it. What did that make Max? What did that make any of them?
He wondered if Banden was all right, if he would ever find the Peacebringers and find a way to end the war without killing. Garrett laughed to himself at the naivety of the thought and, just as quickly, felt ashamed for thinking it naive.
He sighed, looking away toward the south again, hoping that Shortgrass and the others would find their way home. Was Lampwicke there already? Would they tell her about what had happened? Would she even recognize Garrett if she saw him again now?
Somewhere inside the estate house, a band began to play, and Garrett’s thoughts drifted into the past once more.
“You’re going to miss the dance,” a girl’s voice spoke from behind.
Garrett turned to see the Girl in Brown, only she wasn’t wearing brown now.
She smiled shyly at him, her fingers fidgeting at the long skirt of her sky blue dress. She seemed awkward and unsure, her hand now going to tug at the neckline of her strapless top, her bare shoulders hunching together as if she were trying to withdraw into the dress like a turtle into its shell. She wore a single purple flower tucked behind her left ear where she had pulled back her short brown hair. She laughed nervously as he stared at her in amazement. She shifted her weight on the toes of her matching blue slippers.
“You look beautiful!” Garrett exclaimed.
She blushed red and looked away. “Thanks,” she said.
“I’ve never seen you in a… like this,” he said.
“But… you have seen me before?” she asked, lowering her face and then looking up at him again.
“Yeah… I have,” he said with a smile.
She walked to the edge of the balcony beside him and leaned out to breathe in the night air.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Aren’t you?”
Garrett laughed at the absurdity of it and leaned against the balcony as well.
“I see you didn’t take my advice about getting out of the city,” she said.
“No,” Garrett answered.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she said.
“I had to stay,” Garrett said, “People here needed my help.”
“I know,” she sighed, “I’m sorry I didn’t
believe in you the way I should have.”
“What do you mean?” Garrett asked.
“I mean, I knew there was something special about you,” she said, “but I didn't trust it… I didn’t believe it was real… I should have believed in you. I could have helped you instead of...”
“What?” Garrett asked.
She looked at him and smiled again. “I’m glad you stayed,” she whispered.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said.
Her eyes fell and then she looked out across the shadowy gardens and rooftops of the heights. “I just wanted to see you again,” she said.
“I’m glad,” he said.
She nodded and smiled at him again.
“I like your dress,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, “I stole it this morning… On a whim really. I didn’t exactly plan on coming to the party… then I just thought…”
“What?”
“It’s stupid,” she said.
“No it’s not,” Garrett said, “just tell me.”
“I just thought…” she said, “I wondered if, just for tonight, we could pretend that we really know each other… like we’re just two normal people at a party… like tomorrow we’re going to wake up and have breakfast and talk about how much fun we had together… like it won’t all be gone again as soon as we close our eyes.”
“I’d like that,” Garrett said.
She sighed and leaned close to him, and Garrett put his arm around her.
“I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,” she whispered.
“You weren’t meant to be alone,” Garrett said.
“Yes, I was!” she scoffed, “That’s the problem.”
“If you were really meant to be alone,” Garrett said, “They wouldn’t have given you a name at all.”
“What good does it do if no one knows it?” she demanded.
Garrett smiled sadly at her.
“I don’t know,” she said, pulling away, “Part of me wishes that the dragon had destroyed the city… that I had finally died, and it would all be over… but then a part of me says this is enough… that these few moments that I steal with you are enough… that it’s worth all the emptiness in between.” She walked a short distance away and twirled, letting her skirt fan out and then bounce back into place as she turned to face him again.
“But it’s not enough!” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t want to be forgotten… if you can’t remember me, then I don’t want to be here at all! Can you understand that?” She looked at Garrett, her flawless brown eyes filled with pain.
“No,” Garrett said, “there’s no way I can understand it… The only thing I can do is to promise that I'll never forget you again… not ever.”
“But you can’t promise that, Garrett!” she cried, “You can’t!” She turned her back and walked toward the end of the balcony with a bitter sigh.
“Yes, I can, Haven,” Garrett said.
She froze mid-step. “What did you say?” she whispered.
“I'll never forget you again, because I know your true name now,” Garrett said, “Annalien told me.”
She turned slowly to face him, her eyes filled with disbelief.
Garrett crossed the balcony to reach out and take her hand in his. “I'll remember you tomorrow,” he said, “I'll remember you the next day… Haven, I will remember you until the end of time.”
She looked down and then up again, her lips trembling as she struggled to speak.
Garrett lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss upon her knuckle.
“You wanna dance?” he asked.
Haven broke down in tears and wrapped her arms around Garrett, clinging to him as she wept.
The first breath of winter swept down from the mountain, smelling of ash and snow, but she did not feel its chill, only the warm glow of something that she had never dared to dream that she would possess.
End of Book Four of the Songreaver's Tale
Garrett’s adventures will continue in Book Five.
####
Discover other works by Andrew Hunter at Freemancer.com
The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) Page 47
