XVIII - Drennich
Jes was all alone and feeling it. She’d been sitting on the weather-beaten bench on the back porch of their house for hours. Urwen built the bench for her as a tenth anniversary gift. She loved nothing better than to wake before daybreak, brew her tea, and sit on the worn seat watching the sun peek over the horizon. She ran her hand slowly across the armrest. Her husband was not a man given to emotion. But her bench—faced precisely to where the sun rose over the meadow, armrests matched perfectly to her height, a notch carved just for her ever-present mug of tea— that was Urwen’s expression of love. She hadn’t even asked for it; he just knew.
She sighed, wishing for his presence next to her. But then again, maybe not. Though she’d hardly seen him the past few days, she wouldn’t begrudge any of the time he spent caring for Ben. It was a side of her stoic husband few ever glimpsed. Pride swelled in her chest.
But she was lonely. Four days had also passed since she’d confronted Renn, shredding him as though he wasn’t the same insecure, oft-excluded boy she’d always been so protective of. How had she lost sight of that? This was surely just a phase, a confused boy trying to understand his world. She had no idea where he was sleeping or how he was eating.
Jes hated being alone. She cradled her mug, watched the sun slowly rise.
“Got room?” Urwen shuffled around the corner and plopped down next to her.
Jes pressed herself into him, rubbing her cheek along his stubbly face.
“Ben’s dead.”
“I was afraid of that. I’m proud of you, Urwen. You did so much to make the end of his life bearable.”
Urwen grunted.
“And Emmie?”
“You know, never would’ve guessed a bouncy little thing like that could have such steel in her. But now. . . she was still clinging to his body when I left. She’s got no one else.”
Urwen trailed off into silence for a long time, then eventually picked up his train of thought. “Brie’s there. Sent me home. Said it’d be best for it to be just Emmie and her. Said I had other things to worry about. Renn go off the deep end?”
“Something like that.” If he had gone off the deep end, Jes was afraid she’d been there to give him the final push. “Brie popped over last night. I told her. She said you and I’d have much to discuss. Something else.”
“Mmm.”
“Is that your idea of discussion? Brie was giddy like a kid with a new puppy; you know how she can get. All over the place. I swear that woman could hold three conversations at the same time.”
“Uh, yeah, so. . .” Urwen drummed his fingers. “Ben asked a favor. No, not a favor. Horrible to call it that.”
Urwen stared into the sunrise.
“Spit it out.” This was obviously something big. Brie had been so goofy. Urwen’s inability to articulate thoughts wasn’t that abnormal but he was leaving Jes in the dark.
“Ok, here goes.” Urwen sat up, flexed his fingers. “Ben asked to pursue betrothal between Rennwinn and Emmidawn.”
Jes sat straightly and frowned. That was big. If Renn hadn’t become so erratic, she’d hardly be able to contain her excitement. As Brie obviously hadn’t. “Those kids hardly know each other. One of them initiate this?”
“Ben did. Brie was—as you said—a kid with a new puppy. Probably would’ve married them right then and there if she could‘ve.”
“And you?”
“I said yes?” Urwen replied tentatively. He thought it was the correct answer but Jes was starting to turn purple. “Sort of?”
“Urwen! These are people’s lives, not bartering goats in the market. We need to discuss these kinds of things!”
So, it hadn’t been the correct answer. “I said I’d need to talk to you first. I didn’t commit anyone to anything. Well, knowing Brie, maybe I’m not so sure.”
That answer did not pacify his wife. She glowered at him.
“I said, yes, we’d pursue it. If either kid balks, or you, there’s no obligation.” Urwen couldn’t hold his wife’s eyes. “Ben was dying. He needed an answer. There wasn’t time to talk it all around in circles with you.”
“Talk in circles with me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jes crossed her arms and scooted down the bench. “And you. . . you haven’t spent much time with your son lately. I’m not sure what he’d say about Emmie right now.”
“What’s that mean?” Urwen practically growled. “What’d he do?”
“Well, nothing, as such, I—”
“Mother?” Renn called from inside. The first time she’d heard his voice in four days.
“Not a word of this to Renn.” Jes wheeled on her husband. “He’s been a bit—”
“A bit what?”
“Just. . . oh, you’ll see. And don’t speak. Clear?”
Urwen grunted.
Jes stood up, straightening out her skirt. “Out back, Rennwinn.”
Renn came around the corner slowly, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his eyes. His body visibly tensed when he saw his father.
“Uh, hi, Dad.”
“Hmph.” How was that for not speaking?
“Rennwinn, your dad’s just back from Ben’s. Ben died last night.”
Renn pulled down his hood in an instinctive act of respect. Which had not been his intention. His left eye was black and swollen shut, dark bruises lined his left cheek.
“What happened?” Jes unconsciously melted into mother mode.
He tugged the hood back over his eyes and mumbled. “Got what I deserved.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Renn shuffled his feet. “Means nothing.”
“Rennwinn,” Jes began. “I should apologize for the other night, I was—”
“I don’t want your apology, Mom.”
Urwen’s knuckles cracked in response to the sullen tone.
“I mean, you’ve nothing to apologize for.” Renn hung his head. “You were right, about everything. I’ve been too ashamed to even come home.”
“You can always come home, Renn. You should never be too ashamed for that.”
Renn shrugged.
“So, ahhh, this doesn’t explain. . .” Urwen pointed to Renn’s battered face.
“I said some things about Ellika. Things I never. . .” Renn waved off his dad’s questions. “I tried to apologize. Apology not accepted, obviously. And why should they? I’ll go back again tomorrow. If Kal wants to belt me again, I won’t stop him.” Renn tugged his hood back down lower. “I can’t believe Ben’s gone. I wanted to apologize to him, too. And to, uh, Emmidawn.”
Urwen’s hands balled into fists. “You talking bad about Emmie?”
“I’ve never said one bad word about her.” Renn backed up a step. “I swear.”
“We believe you, Renn.” Jes glanced at her husband. “Well, I believe you.”
“Hmph,” Urwen grunted.
“I haven’t said anything about her. I’ve hardly said anything to her either.” Renn cocked his head towards them. “I’ve made no effort to make her feel welcome. Be a friend. That’s every bit as bad, yeah, Mom? That’s going to change.” Renn kicked the grass. “Maybe that stupid ‘old’ Renn wasn’t good for much but at least I could come home at night without feeling ashamed.”
“I’ve always liked that Renn.” Jes glanced at Urwen with a smile. “You might find that some good things happen for that kind of Renn.”
“So, uh, could I borrow some cash?” Renn asked. “I’m kind of broke.”
“You’ve saved for years.” Urwen’s eyebrows shot up.
“Um, bought some apples from old Weseca.” Renn scraped his foot through the dirt.
“You buy some of her trees or something?”
“Big tip, I guess,” Renn muttered.
“You didn’t have to do that, honey,” Jes said, but her heart swelled.
“Yeah, Mom. I really did.” Renn shuffled his feet. “So, uh, I kind of need—look, I’ll pay it back. The right way to formally welcome somebody new to town
was always with a gift. That’s tradition.” Renn’s eyes widened, as though suddenly realizing he wasn’t talking about a hypothetical somebody, but about a real, live girl. “Unless you think that’d be too awkward, too forward with, you know, a girl.”
“No, no, I think it’d be fine.” Urwen dug some coins out of his pocket. “Maybe you should wait a few days, though, give her some time.”
“I’ve waited too long already. Besides, if it was me, and my dad died—sorry, Dad—now is exactly when I’d want someone to make an effort. Even if that someone is not much of anybody and is way, way late.”
“Okay, honey. Tomorrow, then.” Jes rubbed her tea mug a little too vigorously. “Brie will know where you can find Emmie.”
XIX - The Lone Mountain
Haddurah clacked her long red fingernails along the trellis of the aviary window at the peak of the Lone Mountain. She cast a baleful look west towards the Lobridium. The Lobrid dynasty should be extinguished, their lands rightfully hers.
Where’s that falcrane?
Creating the monstrous birds had provided one of her foremost joys in life, and the best possible distraction when she was boiling with impatience. Haddurah crossed her arms, centered her thoughts, her being—prodding her body for that old piercing sensation in her gut. She couldn’t feel it, yet her mind betrayed her. . .
Should the Silver Claw of Chastien perish,
The nations of the Westerlunds will perish with her.
The witch’s face flushed. Chastien’s last descendant was dead. Where was the perishing? Lomuir had squandered so many troops or Haddurah may be preparing for conquest even now. Fool that Lomuir was, though, she laid waste any Bandu hopes when she scourged their southern settlements. And she’d snuffed out any possibility of that damned old prophecy as well. On the horizon, two pairs of humongous, unnaturally long wings appeared.
Ah, my pets. . .
Patience, she soothed herself. All happens in due time.
Yet her army had not grown appreciably over these last thirteen years, her kingdom hadn’t flourished. Her power that she’d carefully cultivated for three centuries had not bloomed with the fruition she’d expected when the last in line Bandu heir was snuffed out. She couldn’t grasp what had gone wrong. When she did, it would be a dark day for the incompetents responsible. And the beginning of a very dark day for her enemies.
But that galling Golden Child Prophecy. . .
She shook her head—nothing but a faint promise spoken centuries ago by a prophet long since forgotten. Yet her doubts were strong enough that for the umpteenth time she rehearsed its every point. Could she have missed something?
Should the Silver Claw of Chastien perish,
the nations of the Westerlunds will perish with her.
The day Chastien’s heir stands hopeless and alone,
rally to the Golden Child, the Silver Claw
Repay your debt, the curse lifts. Deny your debt,
and all the Westerlunds will perish along with she you’ve betrayed.
The last of Chastien’s heirs perished when the little wretch drowned. There would be no Golden Child. That was worth the heavy price she’d paid on the Tablelands thirteen years ago. The traitor’s word was irrefutable. Her intelligence corps’ recon from the north and west wings of the Bandu peoples was irrefutable. They had not been able to hide the final handful of Chastien’s descendants. Most importantly, they had not been able to protect that last surviving girl. Chastien’s line was dead.
Yet Haddurah had grown weary for the rest she craved when this all was over. She resumed dispatching her Wolf Patrols to comb the northern wastes for Bandu survivors. The few she found were pathetic, knew nothing, were nothing. The Bandu up in the peninsula were but a headless shadow of themselves, yet too paranoid and insular to attack with her limp remains of an army, or to infiltrate with any effectiveness.
If she had clipped Chastien’s claw, then why the uncertainty?
She glanced up. The massive birds were about to land.
Haddurah popped open the lockbox fastened to her belt. Greedily, she eyed the old ragged locks of dirty blonde hair, wrenched from the girl’s head. Oh, to have been there to hear the girl’s muffled howls of agony as these hairs were torn loose. To watch her coffin sink to the bottom of the lake. Now, encased in amber, this pathetic lock of hair was all that remained of Chastien.
The falcranes landed, folded back their immense wings, cocking their toothy-beaked heads. The lead bird blinked a shrewd eye at Haddurah. With a few caws, the witch’s pesky unrest was soothed.
“Nothing, eh, friend?” she cooed. “As expected, of course. Rest—you’ll fly for the Tablelands tomorrow, cruise the labyrinth again. . . just in case.”
The falcrane nodded, the sorcery-bred intelligence in its eyes communicating much.
She stroked the amber ball that imprisoned those last few hairs of Chastien’s line. She popped it in its casing, clasped the lock. That girl belonged to her now.
XX - Drennich
The closer Renn got to Emmie’s favorite spot along the river, the more flustered he became. Brie padded softly along on the grass beside him. She was supposed to be helping him. She was not. At all.
“Give her these candied fruits.” Brie handed him a woven bag, neatly clasped with red twine, tapping it with a finger. “She loves these, all but the raspberry ones. Point out how you asked none be included. Very thoughtful of you, no?”
Renn awkwardly fingered the little bag.
“Remember her dad has just died. She’s crushed, but, oh, she loves to laugh, Renn. If you’d lift her spirits. . . but no off-color humor or cracks about wheat-heads or. . .” Renn shot Brie an annoyed look. Brie only chuckled and mussed his hair. “I know, nothing to worry about with you. But she’s not lewd or crass. She’s a good girl. Good, clean girl. Pretty, too, I’d say!
“Oh, Renn!” Brie’s eyes lit up. “Look, lilies—her favorite! Pick her some lilies.”
“Brie, stop it!” Renn pushed Brie’s patting hand off his shoulder. “You’re making me crazy. I’m only saying hello, for crying out loud. Trying to be a friend. You’re acting like. . . I don’t even know. What’s gotten into you?”
“You want to welcome her as though it were your first-time meeting. All formal-like.” Brie, unfazed, returned her hands to his shoulders, scrutinized his appearance. “You want to do this right, no? First impressions are important.”
She straightened his shirt, tried to brush down his mop of hair, and then threw her arms around him. Renn tried to duck away, ignore her goofy smile, remind himself that Brie loved him and frequently went silly like this.
“You’re so weird sometimes, Brie.”
“Thank you, Renn. Love you too.” She squeezed his arm. “There she is, down by the river. Relax, be yourself, and remember: girls are complicated.”
“I can certainly see that girls are complicated,” Renn grumbled, and haltingly headed down the riverbank.
He wouldn’t have needed to try to relax if Brie hadn’t gotten him all worked up. He was simply righting his wrongs, making a new start, welcoming her as a friend, in the formal, honorable tradition. That was all. Then he remembered he was ‘meeting’ a girl—and actually talking to her, just the two of them. His intestines seized up. Okay, maybe he did need the reminder to relax.
Brie stood out of view at the top of the slope, biting her nails and practically shaking with nervous energy. I love you Rennwinn, but please don’t do anything too awkward. Brie so wanted this to work, could plainly see how these two could be so good for each other. In all her years of doing this, she couldn’t think of two kids she’d be more thrilled to help get together. She also wasn’t sure she could think of two kids more prone to spooking themselves or each other even if they wanted to make it work. Don’t do anything stupid, Renn.
Emmie sat at the edge of the river, her boots and leggings lying in the grass. She’d hiked her skirt up over her knees to feel the chilled rush of the current on her legs
. She craved that freezing sensation on her calves. Maybe it wasn’t Khuul water, but the tingly numbness in her toes reminded of her home, helped her find some peace. Along the Khuul, in and out of the water all day, girls often wore their skirts tied up over their knees or would forego skirts altogether, wearing just their baggy breezer shorts. In the more conservative Vale, however, seeing a girl’s knees and calves—while not exactly scandalous—was not a common sight for a boy. Especially a respectful, bashful boy like Renn.
Renn, his nerves already rattled, came to a dead stop some 20 yards short of Emmie. Though she was a small girl, and looked even smaller in her hand-me-down cloak, Emmie had spent her young life hard at work on the docks. She had healthy tan skin and well-toned muscles to show for it. As she nonchalantly kicked her bare legs through the waves, Renn found himself at a loss for what he was doing there.
Emmie felt somebody behind her and glanced over her shoulder.
“Hi, Rennwinn. I know you’re there, you know. You got something to say or just come to stare? I don’t love being stared at, so if that’s your plan, well. . .” Emmie scrunched up her nose. Her heart ached with loneliness. She doubted a boy like Renn had come to stare at her. “But I. . . well, I’d love to have someone to talk to.”
“Sorry, Emmidawn, I, uh, wasn’t meaning to stare.” Thankful she’d broken the silence, Renn plopped down on the riverbank a few feet away from her. “Just, uh, getting my bearings back there. . . or something.” He let out a long breath. “I did come to talk. Uh, came to say hello. Introduce myself. Say welcome to town. Kind of late, but, uh, hello and welcome.”
“Hello and thanks, I guess.” Emmie, amused by Renn’s ‘introduction,’ smiled timidly. “I’ve lived here four months, though. I’ve been to your house, like, fifty times. We’ve met, yah?”
“Yeah, but not really met, have we?” Renn remembered what it was he wanted to say. He best get on with it before his purpose escaped him again. “I’ve never made a point to say ‘welcome to town, Emmidawn. I’m happy you’re here. If you ever need something or want to hang out: don’t hesitate to ask.’ And I’m guessing not too many others have either, because I know what people can be like.”
The Silver Claw Page 11
