by David Ekrut
“Wilton,” Feffer said. “Can I ask you something?”
Wilton looked at him with a flat stare. Some time passed before he said, “Ask.”
“What happened to your squad?”
Elwin looked up from his half-eaten bread.
“They all died, Feffer. They were tortured and killed.”
“What?” Elwin asked at the same time Feffer said, “So it is true, then.”
“Were you … hurt?” Feffer asked. He had almost said tortured.
Wilton stood. “It is time to go.”
His brother untied and mounted his mare, then spurred his horse to a gallop. Feffer mounted his own horse, but it took several minutes to catch up to his brother. The short gallop had not been kind to his splitting skull, but it didn’t seem as important as it had.
Wilton did not even glance at him.
Curse it all, he wished he could take his question back. More so he wished there was something he could do or say to make things better. Tortured. His brother had been tortured. The rumors had all been true. Feffer couldn’t help but wonder.
How had he escaped?
As Elwin passed above him, he felt a chill in the air. He pushed thoughts of torture and escape from his mind. Home. A few more days and he would be home.
“Haven.” He patted his horse. “Because you are taking me home. Everything will be alright, as soon as we get home.”
Air rushed around Elwin and through him as he flew high above Feffer and Wilton. Facing the ground allowed him to keep his eyes open, but the rush of air made him want to close them. Each time he blinked, his eyelids wanted to stick together and not open. But it was the wind. He could keep going. They were almost home.
Maybe he could close them for just a second. No. He had to keep them open, or he could veer off course and lose...
A moment panic struck him when he realized he couldn’t see Feffer or Wilton. He slowed to a stop and scanned the trees. When the two horses emerged on the road from beneath the copse, Elwin sighed with relief.
As if they could hear him at this distance, he said between breaths, “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
He shook his head. Jasmine found a way to make him train without even being there. He could almost hear her voice the question when she saw him next.
Elwin raised the pitch of his voice. “Now, what did you learn about flying long distances?”
Well, at least he had an answer for this one.
Balancing the tide of Air flowing into his essence to sustain flight over short distance had become like walking or running in bursts. However, flying for over miles felt like working all day in a field or marching for hours on end. But, he had discovered, hovering didn’t take much effort. It felt more like standing. Sure, after a day of running, standing took effort, but it felt like taking a rest after a run. Hovering felt just like that.
Once his heart slowed, Elwin tamed more Air and moved to catch Feffer and Wilton. Once they were below him, he slowed to match them.
“See,” he said. “I told you I could catch up.”
Being alone was another negative side of flying while they rode their horses. Talking as if they could hear him helped to alleviate some of the monotony. He could fly near them, but he preferred solitude to biting-gnats and blood-flies splattering against his face. Jasmine spoke of creating an Air shield, which would help with bugs and the rush of wind in his face. But Elwin had mostly been worked on flying and the wind thrust. And he had begun to work on a veil and the lightning hurl. Veils would bend the air in such a way to make him invisible. Perhaps, she would teach him the shield next.
In the meantime, he had to fly above the bugs. That meant being alone in his thoughts. Just a few days ago, he had wanted some time alone. But he couldn’t read while flying, and he hadn’t been able to talk to Feffer for almost a year. He was so exhausted by the evening meal, talk around the campfire didn’t last very long.
And the mood felt tense.
Wilton had not said much since admitting to the loss of his squad. Talking about his own year in Justice and the trial seemed insignificant in comparison to torture. Feffer didn’t seem to remember the trial, and Elwin wasn’t ready to talk about the Awakening.
Elwin shivered. Probably from the chill in the air. The prophecies were just superstition. The Awakening had nothing to do with him.
He glanced around. Dark clouds moved in from the north, and even at this distance he could feel the energy in them. Perhaps, they would miss Benedict. Poppe would be disappointed if it rained on his festival.
A surge of excitement went through him. His Poppe had found him. Whoever his mother had been, she picked the best person he knew to look after him. Of all the people in Benedict, he couldn’t have asked for a better grandpa.
The edge of the land flattened out on the horizon, and Elwin saw a log home made of redwood. Smoke rose from the chimney and spread out above the farm and farmhouse. The fields flourished with green leaves in neat rows. This was the first farm on the west side of Benedict.
Home.
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and a chill ran up his spine. Behind those walls, his mother prepared the meal, while Father sat by the fire to read a book or tally his yield.
Elwin felt a renewed vigor.
He ceased his flow of Air and stretched into a dive, angling his body toward the moving horses. As he neared the ground, he jerked upward while taming Air to fly at a level with Feffer and Wilton.
He slowed as he reached them and said, “The farm is only a few miles, not more than a league. I’ll meet you there.”
“Finally,” Feffer said. Then his eyes widened. “Do you think they are cooking?”
Elwin smiled. “I saw smoke in the chimney.”
Opening his essence wide, Elwin let the Air flow through him, and his body lurched up and forward. He heard Feffer’s shout of, “Wooohooo,” as the land rushed by, and he felt bugs bounce off his head as he ascended. But he didn’t care. He covered the last few miles to the farm in less than a minute.
He slowed to descend and landed in the field by the barn, leaning against it to catch his breath. His heart raced, and he wanted to sit. Refusing to give in to his weary legs, he marched toward the front porch.
As he approached the farm, he stopped. The farm was different.
His father had expanded the farmhouse. Gutters and new wooden tiles surrounded the entire house to help the home withstand the frequent summer storms, like he always said he would. Fresh timber extended from the older wood of the house several more paces toward the barn. He turned to look at the barn and gaped. It had doubled in size. Two extra plows rested in the fields alongside the old one, and the crops stretched farther than they ever had. Much more than one man could handle alone. There were too many cattle in the pen for Elwin to count.
He looked at the home again. Had he come to the right house?
Then he saw the porch swing. Worn and weathered, the names Elwin and Feffer had been carved into the side. He stared at the names for a moment. Feffer had chipped the knife while carving his name, and Father had switched them for using his good knife without permission. He hadn’t been able to sit the next day without feeling the sting.
It should have been a bad memory. Who liked to be punished? But it made Elwin smile, and the lingering nervousness at seeing his parents again faded. This was his home.
He walked up to the door, debating whether or not to knock. People left home all the time. Did they knock when coming home? Or did they just walk right in?
As he raised a hand to open the door, a booming laugh from within stayed his hand. The voice was way too deep to have been his father. Then, he heard others talking and laughing.
What in the abyss? What if his parents no longer lived here? Was it possible that they sold the farm or gave the land back to Lord Arca?
Elwin crept up to the porc
h window and peeked in. The new part of the house extended the dining area to fit a much larger table. At least two dozen people he had never seen sat at a long table. Hands extending from dirt-stained sleeves reached for fresh bread at the table’s center.
“Who is in my house?”
He had been about to turn and walk away, when he looked at the table’s head, which was wide enough to seat two people. His mother and father sat side by side.
The smile on his mother’s face lit the entire room, but dark circles hung beneath her eyes. He couldn’t hear her words over the other conversations, but her laugh carried through the window.
Elwin went to the door and knocked. It felt like the right thing to do. The conversation and laughter died off, and he heard his mother say, “Well, who could that be at this hour?”
He found himself shifting his weight from foot to foot in anticipation. His heart started racing and his palms felt sweaty.
The door opened without hesitation. His mother’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth like she always had after being surprised.
“Hi, Mama,” Elwin said, like he had when he was little.
She stared at him without speaking for several moments. Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled him into an embrace. He hadn’t heard him leave the table, but he couldn’t mistake his father’s strong arms holding him.
Elwin felt the worries melt away, and he cried happy tears into his parents arms.
By the time Wilton tethered his horse next to Feffer’s aside the Escari’s house, only a hint of pink remained in the sky. Wilton had several experiences with Drenen, but they were mostly in passing. Whereas, Feffer had practically grown up with Elwin. So upon approaching the farm, Wilton let Feffer take the lead.
It would make everything easier in the long run.
The last time he had come to this farm, he had been a boy of ten. It had been the day his Da bought the wolf’s pelt. He remembered it being smaller, but some of the wood on the house seemed fresh. The smooth seams between the old and new wood could have only come from the work of an expert carpenter. Wilton had always admired Drenen Escari. He was a man of many talents. A part of him regretted not getting to know the man better.
Maybe this farm would be spared from war.
Wilton shook his head against the thought. He knew that war would see these lands. It was inevitable.
Dangerous thoughts. With effort, he pushed them from his mind.
Following Feffer onto the porch, he recognized the porch swing but Feffer’s name had been scratched into the side next to Elwin’s. That hadn’t been there before. The scrawls made his memory of the swing seem wrong somehow as if he invaded someone else’s mind. Black fog seemed to swirl in his vision as he forced the memory into his thoughts.
He had sat on that swing while his Da bartered for the pelt. Drenen was at a major disadvantage in making that deal, since both parties had the knowledge that Melra Escari hadn’t wanted the wolf’s pelt in her house.
Father hadn’t used the disadvantage against Drenen. In fact, he bought the pelt for far more than its worth. On the road back, Wilton asked his Da why he had given so much.
“It is never a loss to give too much to a friend in need. A man should give his life for those he loves, son. A life given over to vanities is a wasted life.”
Wilton had not understood at the time, but now he did. Now, more than ever. The wolf had taken a good portion of the Escari’s livelihood. So his father had made a sacrifice for his friend. That was another lesson.
Sacrifices must be made, he thought, and when it really counts, the price is always high.
“Are you coming?” Feffer said.
Wilton had the feeling Feffer had called his name a few times. Mrs. Escari stood in the doorway with an inviting smile.
“Please,” Melra pointed to his blades. “You don’t need those at the dinner table.”
Wilton hesitated to leave his blades, but he unfastened his belt and left both blades beside the door next to Feffer’s longsword.
To the right, a couple of sofas and chairs boxed in a large, stone hearth that had a sizable fire. Straight ahead twenty-two men sat at a dinner table. There were three empty chairs next to the table’s head to the far left, where Drenen stood.
Meat, potatoes, and greens rested on a wooden plate in front of each empty chair, along with a wooden mug filled with cider. He licked his lips when he smelled the spices wafting from the cider.
Feffer took the seat next to Elwin, leaving him the third seat from the head. Wilton felt his hand shake as he pulled out the chair. He hadn’t eaten a meal like this in some time. His heart began to beat faster as he sat. He tried to keep his breathing calm, but the man next to him smelled of dirt and sweat. The stench threw off his rhythm. He stared at the meat to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.
“Please,” Melra said, “we can make introductions as we eat. I am sure you boys are famished. ”
Glad for the excuse to remain looking down, Wilton began to cut into his meat and potato. Focusing on each action, he placed a bite in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He continued eating each bite with the hope that the routine action would calm his racing heart.
When Drenen introduced his name, Wilton made a polite smile without quite meeting anyone’s gaze. The farmers around the table made small talk with Elwin and Feffer, but he continued to focus on his meal. After a few bites, his tongue began to taste the food. The meat was spiced to complement the cider.
Feeding so many would have been cheaper without the added expense. The cider was freshly made as well. Melra and Drenen were good people. They didn’t deserve the coming war. He felt tears well in his eyes, and forced his thoughts back on his food.
But he didn’t like having his back to the door. On its own volition, his hand went to his sword belt, and he was struck by a moment of panic at his missing sword. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the raqii dath resting by the door. He wiped at the sweat on his brow with the sleeve of his forearm.
He jumped at the mention of his name.
“Wilton,” Drenen said, “as I understand it, you are a thief-catcher. Willem is really proud of you. What is it like working for Lord Zaak Lifesong, himself?”
The pride in Drenen’s voice was like a punch from a hand he shook and trusted.
Like with any assault, Wilton felt the instant rush of his heart and the tensing of his muscles. All the farmhands stared at him with wide eyes.
Did they know?
He tried to rest his left hand on the hilt of a sword that was not there. His heart started beating faster. Why were his weapons so far away? He remembered black fog swirling around him. Pain wracked his senses, and he could see dark eyes staring into him.
His mind began to calculate getting out of the room alive.
First, the wiry man with long hair across from him would need to fall. Wilton had seen a quickness in his step when he had returned from the privy that suggested training with a sword. Next, the smelly man to his immediate right would be dealt with. He seemed clumsy, but his size and proximity would be the second greatest threat. Drenen was no small man and would likely be the next to die.
A part of his mind cried out at the thought, and he realized his hand held the steak knife in a reverse-grip as he would his raqii dath when facing multiple opponents.
What are you doing? A voice said in his mind. This is Drenen, your Da’s best mate.
The war did not need to see the inside of this home. At least not this night. He forced his hand to loose the knife. It took a moment for his fingers to respond to his will. The knife clanked off the wooden plate.
Wilton stood, knocking his chair backward.
“Excuse me,” Wilton said, “I need to use the privy.”
On the way out the door, he grabbed his belt and fastened his weapons. Perhaps staying the night at the Escari farm
was not the best idea. He longed for the cover of darkness.
Untethering his horse, he leapt into the saddle and spurred his mare to a gallop.
“Home,” he told her. “I have to see my home one more time.”
Elwin sat next to Feffer on a cushioned sofa. After the others had cleared the table, his parents had extinguished the lanterns, which made the fire in the hearth the only source of light.
His mother placed a kettle atop the fire, then she joined his father on the sofa across from him and Feffer.
“Tea won’t be long now,” she smiled.
“You look tired, Mother,” Elwin said.
“Elwin,” she teased, “that is no way to speak to a woman. You will never attract the ladies if you insult them.”
He shared a smile with his parents.
Feffer laughed. “I think Elwin only has eyes on one lady.”
“Feffer,” Elwin warned. He should have never told him about Zarah.
“Really,” Father said. “Who is the lucky lady?”
“Well—”
“I told you not to say anything,” Elwin said.
“No,” Feffer said. “You told me not to say anything to her.”
“I know what I said,” Elwin told them. “I was there when I said it. You couldn’t say anything to her, because new recruits aren’t allowed in the castle. I said not to say anything.”
“It’s someone in the castle?” his mother smiled.
“Yup,” Feffer said. “It’s Zarah Lifesong.”
Elwin could feel the heat of the fire in his face. He covered his eyes. “I will never trust you with another secret.”
His father raised his eyebrows and whistled. “As in daughter to Lord Zaak Lifesong, second to the throne, until there is a proper heir?”
“That would be the one,” Feffer said.
“She is third to the throne,” Elwin said. “Jasmine is second, after Zaak. And I can’t stand her. She’s a prat.” A beautiful prat. But a prat, nonetheless.
“Son,” Father said, “you do stare into the stars.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?”
