by Tara Brown
Not ever.
As was customary in Blockley when a ship went down and no bodies were found, lanterns were lit by the family members of the missing and sent out into the harbor, in hopes the dead found the light and it guided them.
After the magistrate finished his speech, the group of mourners walked as a herd to the boardwalk where the brothers from the Silent Ministry set out the lanterns. They rarely came from their rectory to the north of Blockley, except for funerals. They alone handled the dealings with the dead or dying.
One of the brothers handed Lenny her lantern.
She carried it unaccompanied to the boardwalk, lighting it and staring out at the sea.
Wilfred came and stood next to her, silent but present enough that it seemed wrong to light the lantern and send it out. It was unnecessary now, he had found his way home.
She glanced at him, their eyes meeting, yet his were silvery and cold. He offered something near a smile, his lips lifting just enough that the ache in her chest tugged again. Tears filled her eyes, flooding them until the liquid could no longer be held and it spilled over, running down her cheeks.
She lifted the lantern to the air when it got hotter, holding it there until it rose on its own and flew from her hands. The wind blew it back a bit but the lantern pushed on, lifting higher and higher until it got the upper winds and was pulled out of town, over the sea.
The sun was setting in the east, over the Ruins of Moyer and the cliffs where Wilfred had died. So close to home. He had nearly made it. Her father assumed Wilf had overshot Blockley, carried by the storm. When he’d said the sentence aloud, Wilfred had nodded. Confirming the storm had carried his boat but minutes too far to the right, and he had been taken by the cliffs.
The lantern followed this journey, pulling to the right and heading for the sunset.
Lenny’s lantern was not alone.
A group of them, twenty or more, floated together and moved to the right. As though the bodies of the dead aboard Wilfred’s boat called to them, pleading with the light of the living to find their spirits and guide them back to Blockley.
And just as odd as this sight was, the other group of lanterns strayed left, again at least twenty of them. They crossed over the tiny islands that protected Blockley Harbor, becoming small dots of orange light as they flew away, appearing to be controlled.
Lenny’s eyes stayed with Wilfred’s lantern. She was stunned to see it ride the coastline, right to the place where she had found the sail.
Her heart ached, throbbing with the agony of the loss and the reality it became as the lantern left her, taking all her light and love with it. She blinked more tears down her cheeks.
“Almost as if the dead control them,” Alek whispered from beside her.
She nodded but said nothing. How could she? The dead, the missing, her brother was next to her. Touching shoulder to shoulder, one made of flesh and the other mist. If that were possible, it too was possible the lanterns were drawn to those they were intended for.
She slipped her hand into her right pocket, gingerly touching the now cool stone, just in case it decided to heat up again. She drew it from her pocket, avoiding looking into it, and pulled back her arm. She threw the stone as hard as she could, firing it off into the bay where she had found it.
She sighed relief at it being gone.
Her eyes drifted to Wilfred’s and then to the other side where her uncle stood. He reached for her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “The pain will not lessen and the loss will not be forgotten. You will never be whole. And he will never be replaced. And the sad truth everyone tries to hide from us is that this loss is a wound that will be carried for life. You will feel the sting of it forever, I’m afraid.” Tears flooded Alek’s eyes.
“I hope so, Uncle,” she replied softly. And it was the truth.
“I know you do. If the pain were to subside, you might forget something. Pain prevents that. And from here on, the sting of this will be the constant reminder he lived. He loved you and his love is now a sore on your heart, one that must ache so you remember.”
Alek put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in, hugging her to his body.
Lenny closed her eyes in the embrace, but when she opened them, she saw her father, standing alone, facing the sea as if asking her why. Why his son? His only son?
She stepped away from her uncle, toward her father, slipping gently into his embrace, but it was not the same as Alek’s. It was cold and stiff, and he did not want her there.
But she remained.
She clung to him, forcing him to feel her there.
After a moment he whispered, “Did I fail him, Lenny?”
“No, Father.” The question broke her battered heart more and it brought a heavy expression to Wilfred’s face.
“I hope he knew,” Edwin offered a half thought, a prayer perhaps.
“He knew. We all know. Your love is there even when you are not,” Lenny finished his prayer for him.
The words animated him again. He sniffled and leaned into her, pressing a soft, damp kiss on her forehead.
Scar nudged her way into the embrace, forcing Edwin’s hand to rub her head. His large, callused fingers gently massaged her, rubbing her ears and neck.
Ollie found his way in as well, nudging Lenny, until she too was rubbing her dog’s ears and neck. The wolfhounds leaned against their family members, pushing on them with their heavy bodies. It forced Lenny and Edwin to push back, to lean on them too.
“I’m glad you got these guys,” Edwin muttered, sniffling and wiping his face.
“Me too.” Lenny smiled at her father, hopeful today’s closure might help him a little.
But as they watched the lanterns disappear while the sun set and the stars began to pop out, they didn't move. They stayed right where they were, clinging to one another and leaning on the massive hounds offering them a place to rest some of their burden.
The waves were soft and the air was warm, summery sweet.
Next to Lenny stood Wilfred. And as if Alek knew, when he walked up to Lenny and Edwin, he stood with enough space for Wilfred.
After the sun was gone and the sky was dark and the lanterns had likely landed at their destination, Edwin whispered, “You never know the weight or cost of love until it’s time to pay the price and shoulder the loss.”
Lenny, Alek, and Wilfred nodded.
“And that, my darling boy”—Gran interrupted, walking over and slipping her arm into Edwin’s—“is how we learn worth. Love that is worth the pain of its loss and the weight of absence is the only true love. If it didn't leave a hole in your heart, it wasn't true. If you can heal easily, it was not love.”
“That’s very true, Mum,” Alek spoke quietly.
Lenny noticed the crowd had thinned. The lanterns were lit along the boardwalk and Seaswept Lane, but few people were left to linger in the light.
A face she recognized all too well slipped from the shadows, watching the four of them, five of them if he too could see Wilfred, standing along the shores. Uncle Cyril smoked his pipe, his eyes glistening as if he may have shed a tear, though Lenny doubted it.
He nodded at her before stepping back into the shadows and disappearing. Even that simple acknowledgment made her stomach tighten. She gripped her father tighter.
“We should be getting home.” Edwin slipped his arm from Lenny’s grasp and took her hand in his. “Wen went ahead to make dinner, but he might not have gotten the animals into the barn yet.”
“All right,” Lenny agreed.
“See you tomorrow, then?” Alek hugged his niece and brother.
“I’ll walk with them, dear,” Gran said and kissed her youngest son. “Make sure Cyril gets home.” She smiled weakly and slipped her arm into Edwin’s.
They were nearly to her house when she finally spoke again, “I’ve seen hundreds of lanterns lit. I’ve never seen them do that before. Ride the wind that way.” She turned toward Edwin and Lenny, her eyes wide in the light o
f the lanterns along the road.
“Neither have I.” Edwin shook his head slowly. “The way they split and sailed in nearly opposite directions was almost—”
“Magical,” Gran finished his sentence and her eyes darted to Lenny’s. “Yes, it’s as if the magic from the legends found its way back.”
“Yes, well if that’s the case, then I guess I’ll be out of work.” He smiled at his mother. “Wasn't Arben the Great able to call the fish to jump into his nets?”
“He played a pipe, Father. Luring the fish to their demise.” Lenny laughed, recalling the details of the old story. “Perhaps you’ll have to get a pipe.”
“Indeed.” He smiled wider and his eyes lit a tiny bit.
Lenny thought there was a chance he might find himself again. One day.
Wilfred gave her a knowing stare. He saw it too, she was certain.
“And here I am.” Gran stopped walking when they reached her walkway. “I am so sorry for this loss, my loves.” She hugged Edwin and it was as if he let go, loosening. He draped over her, weeping once more, overcome with grief that hit as the storm had. Fierce and fast and overwhelming. “My poor boy.” She stroked his head and Lenny noticed how much he resembled a child in his mother’s arms.
Scar nudged him, whining and pushing into his body with hers. Ollie joined her.
Lenny finally stepped into the embrace.
She closed her eyes, struggling with the heaviness of her feelings. She knew very little of the world or her own fate, but she was certain this would forever be the hardest day of her life.
Eighteen years, not one day had hurt like this one.
And she didn't know—couldn't know—it was the first day of the rest of her life.
And not the last hard one.
Not even close.
Chapter 17
Waking had been hard for days.
But Lenny let her hounds pull her from bed, as she had done since the storm.
It wasn’t quite dawn and the house was already warm with the summer breeze blowing in the windows. It smelled of morning dew and ocean air and a promise of peaceful and serene weather.
For the first time in her life, Lenny understood the cost of that smell. What the price was. Wilfred wasn't with her. She assumed he was with Bethel, hoped he was. And she hoped Bethel might sense him there, resting his hand on her belly and sending her the love he might have accidentally refused her in life, assuming there was time to fall in love later, as with all arranged marriages.
The house was empty, except for the cats.
Wen was still sleeping and her father was not there whittling by the unlit fireplace. She assumed he was on the docks already.
She fed Tubby and Sir Kitty, giving them both a rub down before putting the hounds out for their morning ablutions. Grabbing an apple and some water, she hurried outside to get the animals sorted for the day.
Scar and Ollie milled around Lenny, still not acting like themselves. They hadn’t since the storm. No one had.
When she got back inside, it was just past dawn. She was sweaty and hot and in need of another glass of water. She was grabbing it when Wen came stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
“Morning,” Lenny said softly.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned, not making words. He sat in a chair and Sir Kitty took it as an invitation to also sit.
“I know you’re half asleep, but I wanted to thank you. For everything.” She walked to him and took his warm hand. “We couldn’t have gotten by without you.”
“You will never need to,” Wen whispered and rubbed the cat with one hand and his eyes with the other. “Where’s your father?”
“I don't know. I had thought the docks but his boots are here.” She frowned and walked away, creeping down the hallway to his bedroom. The door was closed which was odd. She lifted her hand to the knob, having a sense of apprehension as she turned it, making no noise. She opened the door a crack and peeked in, finding him asleep.
Her heart ached and the worry she had for him overflowed inside her, consuming her.
She knew there was one thing he needed. And while Lenny didn't understand that need, she realized he wouldn't come back without it. He was lost. Maybe he was still at sea with Wilfred. The brief glimpse of peace she saw on his face had been false. An act.
Lenny closed the door and went directly to her room. She packed a small sack of things and changed into clean clothes, giving herself a quick wash before dressing. She hurried back downstairs, holding the sack open and stuffing some food into it.
“Are you going to get them?” Wen asked, as though he had read her mind.
“I am.” She closed the bag. “He needs her. She’ll be able to bring him back. He shouldn’t shoulder the loss alone. Same things as last time. Same list. He might not do the work around here. He might just mope.”
“I know.”
“I’ll bring the hounds in before I ride off. You have to keep them distracted until I’m gone. I’ll be back in twelve days at the most.” Lenny knelt in front of Wen, taking his hand in hers. “Take care of them all.”
“I will. I promise. Just get them and come back as fast as you can. Before the sadness overwhelms him and he makes a mistake,” Wen whispered, knowing it was something that happened. Sometimes a sailor who lived through the storm didn't always feel right in the world of man after he’d lost his crew and succumbed to the need to be with them.
“Thank you, Wen. You are genuinely the best man I have ever known.”
“I’m not, Lenny.” He blushed and grinned. “But if you manage to convince Amaya of that, I’d be awfully grateful.”
“I wish I could.” She smiled back, standing and turning away.
She hurried to the door before her father woke. He wouldn't approve.
For the second time in a fortnight, Lenny gave her hounds rubs and love, with the intention of leaving them. Only this time she meant to keep that promise.
She gave them both kisses and brought them back into the house. They hurried to their bowls where she had put food. After she offered a wave to Wen but said nothing, she slipped out the back door and closed it softly.
Rushing to Asher, she saddled him quickly with the extra-light saddle Andy had made for her.
She jumped on his back and hurried him from the yard.
Riding a horse with no carriage, she didn't have to stick to the main road. She rode across the yard to the forest’s edge, to a small path leading to the Ruins of Moyer. From there she would cut across the great fields of Wetwoodshire, past Wetwood Lake, and onto the ancillary road into Waterly City.
It was a faster route with a single horse than the King’s Road which took the valley beneath the Brown Mountains.
“We have to hurry, Asher!” she shouted at him as they rode hard for the plains of the ruins. It was uphill until they reached the wide-open fields of an ancient place, a city that once was the southern palace for the rulers of Dahleigh. The sun rose high, reminding Lenny she was burning daylight and would have to be fast if she might make the nearly three-day journey to Wetwoodshire in one. Fast riders had been known to do it, couriers with desperate messages had been said to ride it in twelve hours instead of the twenty it took a carriage.
Asher’s feet took longer strides in his gallop when they crested the hill, leaving the cool of the forest behind them.
She clung to him for life as he sped up, reaching full speed as the ground leveled and the ancient city spread to the left of them, lining the coast with rubble and roads. The guardians remained steadfast, each watching a direction and standing tall, as high as the palace that had once been there.
Lenny didn't dare look. She was focused on the destination before her.
They rode until the sun reached the high point in the sky and they came upon a creek that crossed their path. She slowed Asher and stopped him at the creek, jumping off and stretching her cramping legs and aching bottom.
He was breathing hard and struggling to slow his heart. She s
poke soothingly. “You’ve done well. We’re halfway.” She stroked his side and pulled a bright red apple from her sack, taking two large bites before feeding it to him. She drank from her water skin and washed her face with the cold creek water. It was fresh from the rivers that washed down from the snowy caps of the Brown Mountains that lost their snow every summer.
When they had rested enough for his heart rate to slow and his breathing to normalize, Lenny jumped on his back, both of them wishing she hadn’t.
It took several minutes for her bottom to go numb again and for Asher to get back to a gallop. They didn't stop until she saw the fields of Wetwoodshire in the distance.
The sand-colored fields moved like waves as they swayed in the soft summery breeze. Lenny’s mind wandered. Had Wilfred seen this sight? Had he noticed the way the waves of wheat and grass looked as though they could be ridden?
The loss of her brother, even if he was there as a silent ghost, was a type of pain she had never felt. It was the same sensation as being under water and close to the brink of death. Oxygen gone, body seizing, mind struggling to find answers, heart rapid, and the drowning fear that she wouldn’t survive or get to the surface in time. That was how she felt every time she thought on him. And even when she didn't mean to think on him. A memory or a curiosity would drift to the surface and attack. But she rode on, forcing herself to remember the living. The ones who needed her.
She was certain she was half mad by the time the fires of the inn at the edge of Wetwoodshire were visible. She slowed Asher, who was already well on his way to slowing, and eventually stopped him. She walked the rest of the way, her feet wishing she were lying down, but her sore bottom was grateful to be standing. She pulled a pear from her bag and fed Asher as they neared the inn.
While the sun was setting, traffic in the area seemed to be increasing. Carriages and riders created noise and stirred dust on the pathways leading in different directions. The day had been long, hot, and lonely, and the addition of people and commotion wasn't an improvement. But the idea of a meal and a bed was enough to keep her feet moving in the direction of the inn.
