"He isn't going to die." A new voice said, and a third form joined them.
Cree stiffened. "Benjamin?"
"Aye, Mac Torol, it's me. And you are going back."
The guide looked puzzled. "Are you trading your life for his?"
"Yes, I am."
"No, Benjamin, you can't --"
The blacksmith laughed. "I can, and I will. I never told you the whole truth, Mac Torol. I was a Reaper once, as black-hearted as any. And when I was killed, I was sent back to atone for my crimes. I went back to Tir Gan-Nor as a young boy, thinking to pursue the course again, but I was sickened by it. And so I went back to my village. I learned to beat my metal and cool it, but I was only going through the motions of life. And then I met you." Benjamin sighed. "I saw such great potential, and I swore to myself I would help you achieve it, even if it meant the loss of my own life. And you have, more than I ever expected." He smiled. "I have my release now. I can walk in the fields of heaven, and greet my family with a lightened heart. The gods do know what they are about, Mac Torol. It's taken me years to learn that, but I finally have."
"Benjamin, why --"
"Don't ask why, Mac Torol. I told you once that you deserve a chance for happiness, and you've not had that. I'm giving it to you now."
The guide reached for Benjamin's hand. "Come."
Benjamin grasped the outstretched hand and turned toward the light. "Good-bye, Mac Torol." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Do one thing for me?"
Confused, Cree met Benjamin's eyes. "What?"
The blacksmith laughed. "Marry Mirayla and have lots of children."
Tears came to Cree's eyes. "I - I will."
The guide led Benjamin towards the speck of light in the distance. "And one other thing!" he called as he stepped into the light.
Cree sniffed. "What?"
"Don't cry for me either. Remember, I wanted this."
Cree swallowed his tears and smiled. "I won't." As he watched, the light grew brighter, and he shielded his eyes from its glow.
"Remember, Cree Lin," the guide's voice said in his mind. "Second chances are rare, and third chances are unheard of. Do not squander your life on self-pity and remorse."
"I won't," he whispered, and then he was alone in the darkness.
"See that you don't," came Benjamin's hoarse whisper.
The darkness fell away. Nearby, metal clanged on metal. Voices cried in alarm. The acrid smell of burnt stone filled his nostrils. He groaned as pain engulfed him, drowning the sounds and smells around him. He fell into another sort of darkness, one that brought an end to pain.
~*~
He opened his eyes to a strange room, and a soft bed with clean sheets and a warm comforter. Sunlight poured through the windows and into his eyes. He squinted and shifted out of the sun. He immediately regretted the motion. He hurt. His whole body, even his fingertips and the roots of his hair, ached. He groaned and closed his eyes again, wishing he could fall asleep and forget the pain. A door opened close by, and someone sat down on the edge of the bed.
"You're awake. I was beginning to think you would waste away before you woke."
He opened his eyes again. "Cali?" Speech made his chest hurt, and he coughed.
"The very same." She lifted his head and pressed a glass to his lips. "Here, this will take care of some of the pain."
The medicine was bitter. He grimaced. "What happened? Where am I? What about Mirayla, Father, my brother."
Cali raised an eyebrow. "Lots of questions. Let's take them slowly, one at a time." She smiled and brushed a hand across his forehead. "You're in one of the guest rooms in Torol House. Mirayla is in the adjoining room, though she has been spending most of her time at your side."
He struggled to sit. "What about -- "
"Easy now." Cali put a hand on his shoulder, stopping his struggles. "Your Father and brother are fine. Mirayla's fine. Benjamin --"
"Benjamin's gone," he finished and took a deep breath that sent him into another coughing fit.
Cali bit her lip, then smiled. "I knew you'd know that. You've said some very strange things in your sleep."
He coughed again. "What sort of things?" The hollow fear of his dreams was gone, replaced with curiosity.
"You were talking to Benjamin, and to someone else, but I don't know who." She handed him a glass of water. "You need to rest. When -- " She stood.
"No." He reached for her arm. "Please, tell me what happened. I don't remember much, just -- " He stopped and tried to sort through the jumble of memories. The last thing he remembered was pushing Mirayla aside, and pain, lots of pain.
"I'll tell you what I know," Cali said. "Though I don't know the whole story. That you'll have to get from Mirayla."
"Whatever you can tell me?"
"I have to say that slipping off like you did was a foolish thing to do."
Cree frowned and coughed again. "I thought you were going to tell me what happened, not give me a lecture."
Cali chuckled. "True, I did say that." She sighed. "You left prematurely. Clanda's plan was to stall Sarana until Rea's soldiers got to Lishal Tor. When she discovered you were gone, she diverted a troop back to Socorrow's Rest, hoping they'd find you."
"We saw them. Mirayla said something was up -- "
"Mirayla should have shown herself and revealed who she was. But she didn't and you came here. By the time you were inside the house itself, Rea's troops were already at the gates."
"Is that why the house was empty?"
"Most likely. Sarana guessed you'd come here, probably knew you'd come here as soon as he said if we didn't give you up Reorden would be killed. He disappeared before the Council even reached a decision, and the Reapers pulled out as well. Clanda left for Lishal Tor immediately, knowing where you were going. Unfortunately, I only know the rest through hearsay."
He yawned and pushed thoughts of sleep away. "Tell me. I can find out the whole story later."
Cali nodded. "I didn't arrive until after all the action, and by then, you were nearly dead. Mirayla had restarted your heart twice and was holding you steady, trying to get some control over your injuries. From what she said, Benjamin took the last blast meant for you, and when it didn't kill him, he drove his sword into Sarana's heart. Clanda and I arrived soon after that, I suppose."
"But I did die."
"No, you didn't. Mirayla kept you stable until I got to you." She bowed her head. "I was too late for Benjamin, though."
Cree took her hand. "It's okay, really it is. He wanted this, he said." He yawned again and his eyes were growing heavier. "How long have I -- -
"You've been here two weeks. Your injuries were so severe that I've kept you sedated so you can heal. And now you need to rest." She stood and smoothed his covers.
He yawned again. "Yes, rest." He closed his eyes. "Cali?"
"Yes."
"Everyone else is okay, even Delwyn."
"Yes, Cree. Sleep now."
He did not argue.
~*~
Candles lit the room when he woke again. Someone squeezed his hand. "Mirayla?" His chest hurt less now, and the pain had faded to a dull ache.
She lifted his hand to her lips. "It's me. You look much better. How do you feel?"
"I hurt."
She laughed. "Do you feel like walking a little? Reorden's fretting over you, and Mama's fussing over you. It would do you good to walk a little."
He lifted a hand to her cheek. "I need to know one thing, first."
She pushed hair out of his eyes and leaned close. "What's that?"
He raised up just enough that he could kiss her. "I --" In his dreams, the words had been easy, but now, faced with the real Mirayla, he could not say them. Briefly, he worried that she would say no, but the warmth and love in her eyes pushed that fear away.
Concern darkened her gaze. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." The confusion in her eyes at last tugged the words from his mouth. "Would you marry me?" She said nothing, and
her face remained expressionless. He could feel her heart beating fast against his chest, and he smiled. "You're surprised?"
"I hadn't expected --" She laid her head on his chest, her shoulders shaking.
He held her close. "Are you laughing or crying?"
"Both." She kissed him. "And yes, I will." She sat up and held out her hand. "Now, about that walk."
He took her hand and sat up, wincing as his sore body protested. He looked down at his bare chest and laughed. "I might need something to wear."
She laughed and ran a hand up his spine. "I rather like you as you are."
He pulled her to him and kissed her. "You do, but Father won't. Do I have something resembling clothing, or did you steal them all?"
She pulled away. "I'm sure I can find something."
He slid his legs over the edge of the bed and let his feet dangle while he mustered the strength to stand.
"Here." She wrapped a shirt around his shoulders. "I'll help you."
He could resist laughing. "Into or out of my clothing?"
She laughed and helped him stand. His legs shook, and the room started spinning. He sank back to the bed. "Maybe the walk's a bad idea."
Mirayla touched his temples, and warmth spread through him, erasing the weakness. "No, it's a good idea."
With a wall on one side, and Mirayla on the other, Cree walked shakily towards Reorden's study. He ground his teeth against the pain, his blurry vision forcing him to close his eyes, and let Mirayla guide him. By the time she stopped, he was sweating and tired.
"Here we are." She pushed the study door open.
He could not help feeling a twinge of anxiety. What if Father is angry? What if -- He shoved the thoughts aside and let himself be led into the room. Reorden and Clanda sat with their feet on the scarred table, sharing a beaker of wine.
Clanda choked on her wine. "Cree!"
Mirayla eased him into a chair. He took several deep breaths and chuckled. "That is my name."
"It's good to see you up, Son. I was beginning to think we were going to lose you."
Cree met his father's eyes and smiled. "No, Father, not that easily."
"You still look awful." Clanda narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him. "Although you do look a thousand times better than you did. How do you feel?"
"Awful, as you pointed out. I hurt."
Reorden chuckled. "I couldn't understand why."
Silence stretched for several minutes. "Is something wrong?" he asked finally, unable to stand the silence.
Reorden stared at the wine in his hand and swirled it in his glass. "Son, why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Mirayla sat down on the arm of his chair and took his hand.
"About Sarana. About --"
Bitter anger rushed to Cree's throat, and he bit back tears. "Would you have believed me? If I had come to you all those years ago, would you have listened? Or would you have assumed I was only making up stories?"
Reorden flinched as if he had been stung. He sat his wine glass on the table and shook his head. "I don't know, but you could have tried. You should have tried. And now, you're scarred from all that, aren't you? All this time, I thought you were just--"
"I tried to tell you once, and you pushed me away."
"I'm sorry, Son. I truly am. I wish I -- "
"It's all right, Father." He swallowed his tears, his anger already fading. "Cali told me she couldn't erase what had been done, but she could reverse the effect. I'm not broken, not anymore, only bent. I'll heal." He looked at Clanda, who wore a broad smile. "Why are you smiling?"
"Those are words I never expected to hear from you." She took another sip of wine. "The price on your head has been lifted."
"How?"
"When we sent the Reapers back, I told their captain you were dead. They didn't ask to see your body."
"I'm free," he whispered. He closed his eyes and savored the words. "I can go home now?"
Reorden's brow furrowed in confusion. "You are home, Son."
Ignoring the pain, Cree reached across the table and took one of Reorden's hands. "No, Father." He smiled up at Mirayla. "Home. Socorrow's Rest." He raised her hand to his lips, and let her happiness warm his soul.
Reorden chuckled, looking from his son to Mirayla. "I see. Found something you liked there, did you?"
Cree's smile grew a little wider, lighting his eyes with happiness. He nodded. "I found something wonderful there."
Mirayla chuckled. "What was that?"
His world narrowed to the light in Mirayla's eyes, a light he was certain could have illuminated the room. "Myself." He kissed her hand again. "And you." She pulled him close, and he closed his eyes, listening to the beat of her heart. Love - his father's, Mirayla's, even Clanda's - surrounded him, and a single tear slid down his cheek. "A chance for happiness," he whispered, and for the first time, he believed the words.
The End
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About The Author
Vicki McElfresh is an overworked single mom living in the midwest. She makes her living fixing computers and spends as much time as possible writing. Her work has appeared in Dragonlaugh and The Mid Rivers Review. Embrace of Memory is her first novel.
Her author page is: http://www.readerseden.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=293
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EMBRACE OF MEMORY Page 20
