The Temple

by Cameron Mitchell

  “Of course you did not think! Why should you? You’re leaving for most of the winter. You selfish pig!” Halas’ eyes widened. “Did you not consider your father’s welfare, or your brother’s? Of course you did not!” He sat down, rubbing his temples, and muttered to himself. “My son is a laosboc. What have I done to deserve such a burden?”

  Garek was sullen, his stare burning holes in his own feet. Halas closed his eyes, wishing he had not gone after the thief. Maybe father would not be so angry with Garek then.

  But he knew that was not so. Halbrick would react the exact same way, but he would have chided Halas first, doling out a meaningless slap on the wrist. Halas was an adult now, but he knew that had no bearing when under his father’s roof. He had always received preferential treatment over his brother, something both Halas and Garek had learned long ago. Neither spoke much of it. Halas felt ashamed, and had ever since they were children. Halbrick did raise a good point, however. How would the two manage through the winter?

  Oh dear.

  Halas could not bear to watch. Halbrick was angry with Garek often, though rarely did it come to such intensity. He knew what would deflect his father’s rage. Garek deserved better, so Halas steeled himself and spoke up.

  “Father, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Halas, no…”

  “Shut up! What is it?” Halbrick demanded. He was breathing heavily now.

  “Yesterday…I signed up. I leave with Garek on the sixteenth.”

  Halbrick looked at the ceiling and bit his upper lip. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked back at Halas. “Well then. I certainly do wish you had asked me about this beforehand.” His voice was steady, but Halas knew he was just barely controlling it.

  “You were not here.”

  “I see. Well!” He stood up. “I’m going into town, see if I can get something out of that buyer. Maybe he will take pity on my worthless son.”

  And with that, he left. As soon as the door had closed, Garek broke down and wept.

  There was little Halas could do for his brother. He cleaned his newest wound. It had already stopped bleeding. After that they went into Cordalis together, and Halas left Garek at the nearest tavern. They were plentiful in Lord Bel. He had a few things to take care of. The thought foremost on his mind was Cailin. How would she take his leaving? She had been eager for Halas to move into a house near her own, but now he came to her with news that he would be gone for six months. He found her outside her house, sitting in the yard with a book. Halas had taught her to read over a year ago. She was a fast learner.

  Cailin looked up when he approached and smiled. The smile fell when she saw his bruised face. She rushed over to him. “Halas, what happened? Are you all right?” She pulled him against her and hugged his chest. Her cheek pressed painfully at the prick Nolan had made with his foil, but only for a moment. Halas kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m all right, Cailin. Garek and I were robbed today. The man hit me.”

  “We should tell someone, report this! The Badges may be able to…”

  “The Badges have no interest in farmers. They proved that when they decided to write my father off.” Speaking of his father, Halas felt miserable. For the first time, Halas thought that maybe Halbrick would raise his hand against Garek. It had never happened, never even come close, but today, Halas was not so sure.

  “Halas, what’s the matter? I know something bothers you.”

  “A lot of things bother me.” He did not like speaking of personal problems, even with Cailin. It was not that he felt uncomfortable with her knowing, it was just something he did not regularly do. His thoughts were his own.

  “Walk with me, please,” she said, and took his hand. Cailin led him down the street. Halas watched her appreciatively. Her dark hair glimmered today. It flowed down her back. “Talk to me, just this once.”

  “The man called himself Nolan Dooley. He took our money from the harvest. Three thousand detricots.”

  Cailin let out a low squeak. “Three thousand? Surely the Badges would look fairly upon such a case.”

  Halas shook his head. “It’s pointless. The money is gone.”

  “But that isn’t all that troubles you, is it?”

  He said nothing. They passed into a park. A group of children played on the far side, dueling each other with sticks. Two men sat near the pond, tossing bread crumbs in for the ducks. Cailin sat in the grass. She took both of Halas’ hands in hers and squeezed them. “You can talk to me, you know. You always can.”

  “I know…”

  “Then why don’t you? It helps, you know. It’s helped me time and time again.”

  “It’s just…Father scared me today. He could hardly control himself when he found out that we had lost the money. He blamed Garek. I thought he would strike him, or worse.”

  “Has he ever hit Garek before?”

  “No. At least, not that I can remember. He always says that he doesn’t believe in it, that it’s wrong. ‘You should never raise your hand against someone unless you intend a fair fight,’ he says.”

  Cailin stared at her lap. “My father felt differently. He said it built character.”

  Halas looked up at her. Cailin often spoke of her father with apprehension, but Halas had not expected this revelation. “He’s hit you?” he demanded.

  “Not for many years, but it used to be fairly frequent. My mother, as well. I suppose I grew used to it, but I remember long nights where I would listen to them argue from my bed. I could hear him become violent, and I heard her cry. Now the most he does is shout.”

  Halas had suddenly forgotten all about the day’s events. She looked on the verge of tears. He took her in his arms and held her. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Now it’s only a memory, is it not? He never truly hurt me, like he did my mother. I was lucky in that respect.”

  “And he never will. I promise you that.”

  “Look at me!” She started to laugh. “Here I am, blubbering in public about something that happened years past, when you’ve had such an awful day. I’m sorry, Halas. Forgive me.”

  He smiled, and tapped her on the forehead with his middle finger. “Nothing to forgive. What is your book about?”

  Cailin looked at the book with surprise. Halas thought she’d forgotten that she had even brought it along. “Some Nesvizhite princess. Jaenelle lent it to me. It really is quite silly; I don’t think I’ll be reading much more of it.”

  Halas sprawled on his back, dragging her with him. Cailin laughed. They watched a gull swoop lazily through the sky, calling for anyone willing to listen. Halas was content to lie there like that forever, but he knew it was not to be. He had to tell Cailin of the draft. Today was a sad day. Cailin had looked so blissful, sitting in her yard with her book, and Halas hated himself for taking her joy and stomping all over it, first with dredging up her past, and now this. He felt like scum, but it had to be said. He could not wait.

  “Cailin, there is something I must tell you.”

  She had reached over him and was now picking apart a blade of grass with two fingers. She did not look up. “What is it?”

  “Garek was drafted into the navy, and I’m going with him. We leave on the sixteenth, and will be gone for six months.”

  At first, she was quiet. Halas hated to see grief on her soft features. Nothing seemed more wrong. Hers was a face that was supposed to happy and cheerful.

  “It’s not right,” she whispered. She was looking at her feet, her head pressed against his chest. He held her tight.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She looked up, her eyes wide and accusing. “Why are you doing this? Am I that much of a chore, that you must abandon me?”

  “No!” He was a little startled by the comment. “Cailin, I am not abandoning you. I would never do that. I love you.” She finally blinked. It was something Halas had never said to Cailin before, but he meant it. Wit
h all his heart, he meant it. “I do. But Garek…Garek is my brother, and he needs my help. I had to do it.”

  “Do you really love me?”

  “Yes. Yes, Cailin, I love you. And when I come back, you will be of age, and I will marry you. We will buy a nice, big house, and have a dozen children. We’ll even buy a dog. How does that sound?”

  She smiled through her tears, and wrapped her arms around Halas’ neck. “I’ll hold you to your promise, though I do not like dogs. My father’s are cruel beasts.” Halas playfully rolled his eyes. “Halas, I want you to be safe.”

  “Nothing will happen to me. It’s only a boat ride. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “I know. I love you Halas.”

  “I love you too, Cailin.”

  Sub Chapter Three

  Nolan stood at the deck of the warship. He thought about the Western Isles, about how Raazoi had calmly walked past the guards right up to Li-Sun, Admiral King. They had stared after the two Easterners: her with her coal black hair and her stiff posture, him with his nervous glances and shuffling steps.

  Just as calmly, Raazoi had explained to the Admiral King why it was in his interest to join forces with the queen’s corsairs. She had stared at him with those eyes, and he had agreed.

  Now they were well on their way down the river. If the winds were favorable, which Raazoi assured them they would be, they would catch up to The Wandering Blade in a matter of weeks. Nolan had no clear idea of why Raazoi was so interested in capturing what she would only refer to as ‘the son,’ nor how she had gotten the full support of the royal navy. He had no idea what she wanted in the Frigid Peaks. Every time he asked Raazoi, she simply told him that everything would be all right, and he believed her.

  They quartered on Admiral King Li-Sun’s flagship, a sleek boat with a name Nolan was still unable to pronounce. The sailors were at work all around him, hard, slanted faces sweating in the cold air. He gathered his cloak closer about him, wishing Raazoi were here to watch the sunset. However beautiful she was in the daylight, she was twice that at night, and even moreso in between.

  She had told the truth when she’d said that the winds would be favorable. Not only were they harsh and furious, but the ship was always blown in the proper direction, never once veering off course. They crossed the waters back to Aelborough in less than a month, coming into the mouth of the Inigo River near Cordalis. Nolan looked off the stern, to see the distant gleam of one of Anaua’s own cruisers. He frowned.

  There was a strange tingling sensation at the forefront of his mind. He could feel something, but what? It itched inside his forehead, seemingly just beneath the skin. Nolan touched it, scratched it, but the feeling remained. He wondered if he’d been bitten by a tick, but knew instinctively that was not the case.

  No, Nolan had a good idea of what this strange sensation was. Images of battle flashed through his head: triumph and glory, death and blood. Contrary to what he would have thought mere weeks previous, he liked it.

  Nolan Dooley licked his lips in anticipation.

  Chapter Four

  Departure

  They spent a lot of time together after that. Halas and Cailin walked every inch of the city and every inch of the surrounding grounds, hands locked firmly together always, and lips locked firmly together more often than not. Then they went to their knoll and watched the sunset, which came a little earlier with each passing day.

  With a few days left before the sixteenth, Halbrick woke Halas early. He and Garek were discussing something, casual smiles on their faces.

  Halas smiled. His family was so rarely at peace, and it made him feel relaxed when so few things did.

  “Halas,” Halbrick said. “Good morning. I was just telling Garek…well, I’ll show you. Follow me.”

  He did, following Garek and their father out back, behind the cottage. It was cold, and the skies were grey. Halas wished he had bundled up. Three sticks were propped against the wall. Halbrick picked one up, and brandished it like a sword. His father had fashioned crude cross guards on each stick, roughly ten inches from one end. “Pick them up,” Halbrick instructed. Halas tucked his hands into his sleeves before doing so. Once Garek had done likewise, he continued. “Hold them with two hands, near the bottom, like I am. Good. Now, put your sticks up, in front of your face. That is your default position.”

  “Default position?”

  “Yes. Aelborough can be a dangerous place, and before you go out into it I would see you both prepared. It is important that you keep your sword in tight at all times. Never leave yourself open. Move your arms quickly, and never stay in one position. Garek, I will attack you. Try to defend yourself.” Halbrick sidled in, swinging his stick. Garek blocked the first stroke, but the second left him in the grass, his own weapon pinned beneath him. “Now you, Halas.” Halas missed the first, and Halbrick struck him across both forearms. It stung in the cold air. Halas hissed sharply. His breath crystallized. He longed for his cloak, but so long as Garek and Halbrick remained uncovered, he would do the same.

  “Good attempt! I do not expect anything out of either of you yet. Come, let’s try that one more time.”

  They continued on into the afternoon. It was hard, intensive work, and Halas no longer felt the day’s chill. For hours, the Duer brothers attempted to hold back their father, who constantly shouted instructions as he attacked. “Move your feet! Twist your arms!” They stopped for a light lunch of apple sandwiches and went back to it. This time, Halbrick pitted them against each other, telling them to apply whatever they had learned. Halas wiped sweaty hands on his shirt, and Garek attacked, jabbing at Halas’ chest. Halas clumsily sidestepped the blow, allowing Garek to step in close. Had he been wielding a real blade, Halas would have been sliced from end to end. Halbrick nodded. “Very good!”

  Garek helped his brother up. Both were beaten, bruised, and tired. Halbrick told them they were done for the day. After supper, Halas draped a blanket over his shoulders and followed his father outside. Halbrick was once again looking at the stars, smoking his pipe. It was something he often did, moreso lately than normal, Halas realized. “Are they not amazing?” he said, aloud. “Millions of them, in places we will never see.” He turned to look at Halas. “I want to give you something.”

  He led Halas back inside, into his room. He knelt down before the chest at the foot of his bed and produced a key from his pocket. It slid easily into the lock and twisted with a loud click. Halbrick opened the chest and reached inside. His hands came out with a bundle of black cloth as long as his arm. He balanced it on his palms.

  “This, Halas, is very dear to me.”

  “What is it?”

  Halbrick unwrapped the bundle. It was a sword, and a very fine one at that. Even Halas, who had seen many beautiful swords in Conroy’s museum, was taken aback. Halbrick twirled it in his hand, admiring the blade. “This is Silvia, the sword I received when I was in the military. I named her for your mother, before we were betrothed. I want you to have her.”

  “Truly?” He could tell there were tears at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t care. This was not something he would have expected from his father.

  “Yes. She’ll keep you safe, as she did me. This sword and I have been through a lot together, and now it is your turn.”

  “I don’t expect to face much excitement.” A thought struck him, one he felt was worth bringing up. “I feel I must ask…do you have one for Garek, Father?”

  “I only wish I did. Promise you will keep him safe?”

  “Yes Father, I promise.”

  “Thank you. Now, go to bed. You need your rest.”

  Halbrick showed Halas how to clean and sharpen the blade, and several ways in which he could practice alone. He continued their lessons the next day, and the day after that. On that third day Desmond joined them, and Halbrick went into Cordalis, leaving the Duer brothers to teach him what they had learned. Halas realized that they had gotten quite good under Halbrick’s tutelage, something he had
not expected. In fact, he’d thought they were getting nowhere at all. He wanted to show Garek and Desmond the sword, but decided against it, so they went at it with their heavy sticks.

  Halbrick returned several hours later to three battered young men. “I’m afraid,” he joked, “that you enjoy hitting each other so much, you are not getting any better!” They laughed.

  “Now show me what you can do.”

  They set to it, but Halas quickly saw that they were not alone. Harri Cormack, Patty Carlyle, Franz Eden, and Wesley Farthington stood on the outskirts of Cormack’s field. Halbrick glanced at them as he approached. “Do not mind them,” he said. “They’re only flies on the wall. This is likely the most exciting thing a quarter-farmer will ever see.”

  As he spoke, Halas watched Cormack lean over to Patty Carlyle and whisper something that made her blush a deep red. Desmond raised his eyebrows. “Can we practice against them?”

  Halbrick smiled. “I’m afraid not. Just ignore them. They will go away soon enough.”

  This seemed enough for Garek and Des, but Halas felt suddenly very silly. What good would swordplay do them? Nothing bad was going to happen. The flies, as Halbrick had dubbed them, had every right to laugh. Halas felt like a child at play, and at twenty, he was beyond such things.

  Still, he couldn’t very well cry off from the lessons. It took quite a bit of willpower, but Halas turned back to his father. “Okay,” he said. “Ignore them.”

  As the sun set, the four, tired and sore, sat down to supper. Halbrick prepared a meal of potatoes, onions, cornbread, and had even found pork. Halas grinned at the sight of it. “How did you get all of this?” he asked.

  “Conroy gave it to me. He’s very generous.”

  They trained long and hard for days on end, sparring back and forth across the field. Against Garek and Desmond, sometimes Halas won, sometimes he lost, though the duels with his father were always brief. Halbrick was indomitable, and a fierce fighter. He often set all three boys against himself, and won every match. Still, he never seemed disappointed. “It takes time,” he’d said. “More than I should like, I think. Yes, I should have started this much earlier. Again!” And so they went again, smashing the heavy sticks together. Several times they had broken the weapons, and yet Halbrick never seemed to run out. He showed them how to whittle chunks of kindling into crossguards. Garek especially took to it, and soon his stick resembled an actual sword, hilt and all. Halbrick smiled appraisingly when he showed him but said nothing.