The Silver Claw

by Erik Williamson

  “I was down by the fourth pier, listening to somebody soooo thrilled with life. Planning their wedding.” Jes took slow, measured steps towards him, voice low and cold. She got so close he could feel her exhales with each word. “With Ellika.”

  “No.” Renn tried to swallow, but his throat felt dry as wool. “Not Ellika.”

  “Oh yes. Water’s funny, how voices carry. Each word clear, unmistakable.” All Jes’s fury was used up. Tears began welling at her eyes. “As though you were speaking directly to us. She heard everything. Every last insult.”

  “I didn’t say one—” She already knew. Denying it was pointless.

  Jes stared, unblinking, far too long for Renn’s comfort. The fury had been unexpected. The menace, unnerving. But the look of abject disappointment undid him. Disappointed for him? All the times he was let down or left out, she was right there for him. Disappointed in him? Renn was drowning.

  “Oh, thank you, Rennwinn. For not lying to my face.”

  Had Renn said so much as ‘please’ in such a snarling tone, he probably would’ve been slapped.

  “Even if you hadn’t said anything about Ellika, or about Emmie, that’s...” Jes clamped her lips together. She rubbed her temples. “The way I see it, the way I’ve raised you. . . it’s unconscionable that you didn’t say one word to defend them, to stand up for them.” Jes’s voice cracked to a whisper, “Kal’s your best friend. How could you say that about Ellika? She was devastated.”

  Jest started to shuffle towards her room. She turned, with finality, to Renn.

  “I have never been so ashamed in my whole life. The look on her face, when she heard you. . .” Tears forming again, Jes waved him off and left the room.

  Renn extinguished the torch. Mouth open and mind numb, he stared at the smoldering tip of the wick. He couldn’t extinguish the haunting disappointment in his mom’s eyes.

  He couldn’t stay here. That felt wrong, like more than he deserved. His first thought would’ve been to go crash at Kal’s, but he’d betrayed his best friend. That was unforgivable.

  So Renn wandered aimlessly through the long moonless night, through fields and meadows, heading nowhere in particular. Shocked into a clarity he’d lacked far too long. More than any other time in a lifetime of hating who he was, he was repulsed by who he’d become.

  XVII - Drennich

  Ben had lost most of the feeling in his arms and legs, and his appetite was gone. Not gone like after some of his daughter’s overly ambitious cooking experiments. This felt like permanently gone. He was thankful his mind remained sharp and clear. The end could come any day and so much remained undone.

  Emmie was ever-present, tending to every need, trying to ride out each unpredictable emotional wave. Breathing in every last moment with her dad, celebrating all that had been so good. Ben also knew she was single-mindedly avoiding any consideration of her imminent future. He could see that with one look into his daughter’s eyes. She was such an easy read for him. Oh, how he would miss that.

  For the first time in her life, though, he was confident he wouldn’t leave her alone. He shuddered to think what would’ve become of her had they not left Dungarvale. After he’d become bed-ridden, Brie and Urwen had spent hours at their home cooking, cleaning, giving them another presence to keep them from being thoroughly overwhelmed. And they had the wisdom to be absent often enough that he and Emmie could have their time.

  “Emmie, honey, we need to talk,” Ben said when it was just the two of them.

  “Oh, Dad, we talk all the time.” She bounced on the frayed cushioned chair Urwen had brought over, a playful smile lighting up her face. That was good, but her highs came crashing down almost instantaneously as of late. “I love it.”

  “Me, too.” He weakly grasped her knee. “Specifically, though, about after I’m gone.”

  Emmie stilled and folded her hands in her lap. “I know.”

  “Will you stay in Drennich? Fresh river water. Plenty of Dreggars.”

  “Yeah, suppose so.” Emmie loved their new word: Dreggars. She imagined Dreg would approve if he knew.

  “What about this house?”

  “I don’t know if I could live here without you. It’d feel too. . .” Emmie scanned the sparse room. “. . . empty.”

  “Brie has a spare room. I’ll speak with her.”

  “Please don’t. I’m serious, Dad. If she offers. . . I mean, I love Brie. I don’t want her to feel. . . I know that I’m. . ..” Emmie trailed off, looking away. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Ok, Goldie,” Ben said. He would ask Brie regardless. He didn’t think she’d see Emmie as a burden. And if she did? His daughter still needed a home, and he was finding her one. “How about anybody you’d like me to—”

  “I’m done with this.”

  “Emmie, we need to. What I’m asking is—”

  “Please, Da?” She bit her knuckles. Tears formed in her eyes. “Just stop, please?”

  “Ok, Goldie.” Ben had no desire to spend their last hours together fighting. After a few beats of silence, he tried another tack, though. “Well, any more thoughts about what I told you the other night?”

  She stuck her tongue into the side of her mouth, clicking her fingernails on the chair. Then, the mischievous half-grin and silver glint in her eye appeared. He knew her curious mind couldn’t help but latch onto this. A subject they needed to discuss, and none of it specifically involving Ben’s death.

  “I been thinking, and it hit me.” Emmie shifted on her seat, tucked her hair behind her ear. “Before you found me, I had a real life, didn’t I? A family, a home, like, an actual life. And something about that life; those people wanted to kill me. Now I have so many questions.”

  Ben waited but she just stared at the wall.

  “What are you going to do with those questions?”

  Emmie’s lower lip jutted out, eyes squinting up at the ceiling. Highlighted the round point of her chin and big bright cheeks that formed her heart-shaped face. Same thinking expression as when she was two. Ben was going to miss that face.

  “I suppose I need to find out or I’ll always wonder.” Emmie shrugged. “But. . . I’ve always been fine being. . . plain ol’ Emmidawn, fishergirl from Khuul Duvar. Never wanted to be anything else. Just plain ol’ Emmie.”

  “Nothing plain about that girl.”

  “Yah, yah.” Emmie rolled her eyes. “What I’m saying is, part of me didn’t want to hear that story. I’m good with what I am.”

  “Part of me resisted telling you. You deserved the truth, though—embrace every bit of who you are.”

  They sat together quietly, listening to the birds outside. Theirs was a comfortable silence, yet Ben knew his time was precious.

  “What about Brie’s belief one of those men may be in Longardin? She didn’t want to tell you that either, but after telling us, she said somehow she felt okay about you checking it out.”

  “Well. . .” Emmie’s mind processed her options. “The cards you found with me, and the statues, I’d rather not even look at ‘em. The map’s a mystery, so nothing there. I could stare at my sparkly lynx necklace for hours, but it says nothing far as I can tell.”

  Ben nodded agreement to all three assessments.

  “So, I guess. . . visit the old monastery and Lake Winnepaca, go to Longardin, or do nothing. It’s a long way to ‘Paca, and nothing, I suppose, is the coward’s way. That leaves this Kelebis, eh?”

  “Agreed. If that’s a dead end, head up to ‘Paca, try to make some peace at the lake. If you find something in Longardin. . .” Ben shrugged. “Just remember, Brie and Urwen know. You can always talk to them.”

  Emmie’s eyes darkened. The conversation had returned to life after Dad. “I guess that’ll be my plan,” Emmie stammered. “When. . . the time comes.”

  “That’s my girl. Promise me, though, you won’t face that man alone.”

  Emmie gave a noncommittal nod.

  “I’d like your word, please. You go wi
th somebody. Promise me, Emmidawn.”

  “Yes, Dad. Promise.”

  She dropped her gaze and fell silent again. That sounded too final.

  Ben gazed out the window at Emmie picking lilies, kicking her feet along the riverbank. Their conversation that morning had gone better than most lately, but her unwillingness to discuss her future complicated what he was about to do. What he owed her as a father in their society. He would need to do it without her consent.

  Urwen stooped over their too-low counter chopping potatoes, apparently enjoying cooking even less than Ben. Brie, eyes closed, looked deep in contemplation. Ben had been dreading this moment but there was no more putting it off.

  “Jes’s going to thank me for making a cook out of you.”

  “I’ll stick with the goats.” Urwen stuck a bleeding finger to his mouth.

  “I haven’t thanked you two enough, for all you’ve done for us. But I’m afraid I need to impose a bit more.”

  “No imposition,” Urwen murmured. “Ask away.”

  “Right.” Ben exhaled and tried to collect his thoughts. He glanced out the window. Emmie was dipping her feet in the cold river. Left, then right. Over and over. “So, Brie. Emmie can’t stay in this house, it’d be too painful. And picturing her sitting here, night after night, empty and alone...” Ben cleared his throat. “Do you think, I mean, if it’s not too much to. . .”

  “If you’re asking if Emmie could live with me, I’d be honored.” Brie straightened her skirts, smile growing. “Is that the question?”

  “Yes.” Ben shut his eyes, an ache in his chest at the feeling he was giving her away.

  “Done, then. I’ve lived alone far too long. I’ll fix up the second room. Well, no. We’ll do it together. Tell her it’s her home, when the time comes.”

  “I’m afraid that time’s real soon.” Ben paused to collect his breath. “Now, uh, bigger request. Urwen...”

  Urwen and Brie exchanged questioning looks.

  “Not sure how to preface this. Best just say it.”

  Silence.

  “You’ve a good son. . . Would you consider. . . Geez, I don’t even know how to. . .”

  Brie bolted upright in one sudden movement. She glanced at Urwen with wide, shining eyes, hands tented together at her mouth. He shook his head, clueless.

  “Ben, that’s perfect! Oh, gracious, I’m off my game.” Brie let out a silly giggle. “How did I not see this?”

  “I’m not sure what we’re seeing, Brie,” Urwen said. Ben’s question had been for him. He wasn’t getting it, which made him nervous.

  “Well, how it works is someone makes the initial inquiry into pursuing betrothal.” She leaped from her chair, began pacing the room with her arms circling wildly. “And then, then compatibility interviews prior to any possible courtship. And then. . . Oooo! Sorry.” Brie clasped her hands together, veritably bouncing on her feet. “Emmie and Renn? Is that what you’re asking?”

  “Um, yes,” Ben said quietly.

  Brie really was an exceptional advocate, known for not playing favorites or acting irrationally. However, she held Renn and Emmie in higher esteem than any kids she’d known. The potential for a wonderful, complementary match hijacked her professionalism. She was forgetting Renn’s current erratic moodiness, but she’d loved him since he was a baby and that was the Renn who lived in her heart.

  “Oh. . .” Urwen said. Then, “Ohhhh. . . right.”

  Gleefully, Brie began power-pacing again, talking much too fast, as she did whenever she was excited. “So, initial inquiry: one father approaches the other and asks. . . well, you know, like you did now. Oftentimes, at the behest of the kids.” Brie paused, eyes flickering between the two fathers. “Either one in on this?”

  The two men looked at each other, slowly shook their heads.

  “Not a problem!” Brie shot her pointer finger in the air. “Common enough, actually. Of course, we should probably give them time to get to know each other better, before beginning anything official. Nothing more awkward than ‘Hi, you don’t really know me, but I hear we may be getting married one of these days. . .’”

  Brie chuckled at her joke, then surged forward.

  “So, together, you’ll speak to a marriage negotiator—that’s me, of course!” She placed a hand on her chest. “I sit down with each kid, each family, then all together. If everyone agrees, we begin an exploratory courting phase. There are sponsors, arrangements, betrothing. . .” Brie clasped her hands together and squeed. She turned to them, beaming. “Where were we?”

  “As you can see, this Drennich advocate is quite difficult to read,” Urwen said. “Since there’s no mystery where she stands. . .”

  Brie sat on her hands, finally realizing she’d gotten way too far ahead of herself.

  “Where we were,” Urwen continued, “was with me. Obviously, I’ll have to speak with Jes first—well, and with Renn and with Emmie not too far down the road. But. . .” Urwen grinned. “I haven’t a single objection to moving this forward.”

  Ben’s greatest fear was leaving his daughter alone: nowhere to live, no one to turn to, not knowing how to navigate her future. He let out a clean, easy exhale. He’d done what he could. Exhausted, he drifted off to sleep, into dreams, prepared to face death with confidence.

  Ben could hear Lyda’s arrhythmic breathing struggling to keep going, that rattle in her chest that wouldn’t go away. Sitting in the oversized prow of the fishing skiff, just as she’d requested this One Last Time, Ben hugged her frail body, unable to find words. The brilliant colors of an autumn sunset slowly splayed across the distant mountains.

  “The purple.” Lyda forced a smile through a grimace of pain. She pointed feebly to the purpling mountains east of the lake. “That beautiful explosion of violet, of the sun cutting through the fall haze. Like hope, against all hope.” She paused, trying to breathe. “Promise me you won’t lose hope.”

  “I’ll try. But Lyda, I. . .” Ben couldn’t continue.

  “Keep living for me.” She gave a gulping breath. “It may seem dark, but death is not the last word.”

  Ben pulled her in tighter, rocking her softly until she looked like she was sleeping. When the purple had faded and the sun set, the night sky came alive with stars. Lyda always loved the brilliance of the stars as they announced the beginning of nighttime. He couldn’t let her sleep through this. Especially if this was One Last Time.

  “The sky’s alive with light,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “You should see.”

  Nothing.

  “Lyda?”

  He put his ear by her mouth.

  He laid his head on her chest.

  Ben pulled Lyda’s lifeless body even more tightly against his own. He sat in the boat all night, unable to believe, with her, that darkness did not get the last word. He carried her back into the house before the sun rose. The sun had set on Ben’s life. He couldn’t bear the sight of the dawn of his first day without her.

  After Ben fell asleep, Brie, still all jittery excitement, headed home while Emmie sat, half-asleep, at her father’s side. Urwen stayed the night, as he and Brie had taken turns doing the last few nights as Ben’s condition became bleaker. Urwen drifted off to sleep with one eye on Emmie, seeing her through the lens of new possibilities. It was a pleasant last thought for the day.

  The night would not prove so pleasant.

  “Dad, wake up!”

  Urwen woke sometime deep in the night to Emmie’s frantic voice.

  “Da!” She turned to Urwen, pleading. “He’s not breathing. Do something!”

  Urwen blearily staggered to Ben, found only a weak pulse. Spotting torchlight on the path, he ducked his head out the front door. “You there! Fetch the doc. Now! And fetch Brie. Hurry!”

  Ben’s eyes fluttered awake soon after and he asked to be alone with his daughter. Emmie crawled into his bed and desperately grasped onto him.

  “Emmie,” he wheezed, “Gotta talk about something. . .”

  “No,
Da. Don’t wanna.”

  “I talked to Ur-”

  “Da, please?” Emmie’s body wracked with sobs. “If this is it. . . can we just be?”

  He studied her disconsolate face. “Okay, Goldie. Okay.”

  He raised his hand best he could to stroke her hair.

  “Always loved your beautiful golden hair, Em. You’ve made my life such a joy.”

  “Don’t go, Da.” Emmie sobbed, clinging to him for life. “I need you.”

  “After Lyda died I. . . lived, without hope, for seven long years. Don’t make my mistake. Don’t stop living because I stopped living.”

  “I know, Da.”

  “You know, Goldie, how in the fall, at dusk, the setting sun burns through the haze. Casts purple on the eastern mountains. Lyda said, that last night, when she left. . .” Ben’s voice cracked. Now he was leaving his daughter. “Death doesn’t get the last word.’ I told her I couldn’t believe that anymore. She pointed to those purpling mountains. ‘Hope, against all hope’.”

  Ben allowed his lungs to fill with some last strength. Emmie cried at his side, wiping clammy sweat from his forehead.

  “Never forget.” His voice was getting hoarser. Each word quieter, a little more slurred. “Hope, even when you gotta fight just to hang on.”

  “’K, Da,” Emmie barely managed.

  His breathing became more labored, his chest struggling for each gasp.

  “Love you, Goldie. Always.”

  His breathing slowed to shorter gasps.

  “Please, don’t leave me.”

  Ben’s eyes fluttered.

  “Dad?” Emmie screamed. “Please!”

  Emmie’s hand was on his chest as it went still. As a curious smile crossed his face, Emmie heard him whisper with his last breath. “Lyda. . .”

  Urwen pulled a disheveled, bleary-eyed doctor into the house a few minutes later, only to find Emmie weeping, clinging to her dad’s lifeless body. Clinging to his last barely coherent whisper. Clinging to believe that somewhere her dad was experiencing joy and for that she could be grateful.