David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

“You and the old man are still fighting, I see,” Patrick said.

“We are.”

“Sounded a bit more…emotional than before.”

“It was. It has been. A lot has happened since we last met.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not particularly. Our people squabble with the elves. Let us leave it at that.”

“There’ve always been squabbles with elves, from the day we first stepped out from the clay. What does that have to do with you and your father?”

Bardiya let out a long sigh.

“I might have made it significantly worse.”

Patrick turned to his sister, who was still sitting on her horse and staring at the sky.

“Ness,” he yelled. “I think I know why those Dezren acted like we didn’t exist when we crossed the Corinth. Big bones over here made them angry .”

“Big bones?” asked Bardiya.

“Eh, it’s the best I can come up with at the moment. It’s so hot I see three of everything. By Karak’s fiery cock, I think I’d be more comfortable in mother’s bed, and I haven’t slid beneath those covers in sixty years.”

Bardiya chuckled. Five years had passed since they’d last met, and Patrick was still Patrick.

“It’s fine, my friend,” Bardiya said. “I can handle fights with father. I don’t need to be coddled any longer.”

“You positive?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I’m tired of coddling you. You’re way too big to be a baby.”

Bardiya rose up on his knees, leaned forward, and wrapped his friend in a tight embrace, his size nearly swallowing the much smaller Patrick.

“I missed you, old friend,” he said.

“Missed you too,” replied Patrick. “But don’t suffocate me.”

“My apologies.”

Patrick pushed away from him, swiping at his breeches to flatten the folds. “You’re always so damn sorry,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

“I know. It’s my nature.”

Patrick grinned his snaggle-toothed grin. “Well stop it already. It isn’t becoming of the great Bardiya of Ker to be apologetic all hours of the day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Using his right hand for support, Bardiya lifted his body off the ground. His knees popped once more.

“Oh shit,” said Patrick, “you grew again.”

“I did.”

“I figured it would have stopped by now.”

“I wish it had.”

“Well I’ll be,” said Patrick, slapping him on the lower back, which was as high as the hunchback could reach. A wave of concern washed over Bardiya when Patrick’s hand touched his flesh, a sensation that trickled into his mind from the ether. He silenced his old friend’s banter with a single raised finger.

“Patrick, why are you here? Where is it you’re going?”

Patrick shook his head. “Some obtuse garbage. I guess Karak finally tired of the folks in the delta not bowing down to him, so he sent some soldiers to teach them a lesson the really hard way. Don’t know the whole story, really. Jacob wasn’t very forthcoming in his letter-just said I need to go to Haven and convince them to tear down that temple they built.”

“The Temple of the Flesh?”

“That’s it.”

“And Eveningstar sent you on this mission?”

“The one and only.”

Bardiya frowned. He’d heard whispers from his people that the temple had come under fire, but he’d passed them off as wild fireside stories. Many Kerrians tried to outdo each other with tall tales of war and great battles, things none of his people, nor anyone in the west, knew about. It made for interesting mealtime conversations and nothing more…or so he’d thought. If Jacob, Ashhur’s most trusted, was involved, then the situation was far more serious than a fireside tale. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks to his god that none of his people had been harmed.

“And what are you to do if they don’t do as you tell them?” he asked Patrick, who shrugged.

“I guess I charm them into submission.”

“Seriously?”

“Bardy, I don’t know. I’m no diplomat. I’m walking as blind as a goat at the bottom of the ocean. But if you’re so worried, why don’t you come with me? The delta’s still a few days’ journey from here, and I’m sure you could use a nice escape from your father.”

Patrick’s easy smile vanished from his face.

“Please. I could use your help.”

Bardiya wanted to go and hated that he couldn’t.

“I apologize, my friend,” he said, trying to ignore the guilt in his stomach. “My place is here in Ker, whether my father wants me or not. I’m bound to this land as its protector, its guiding light.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Patrick, come on ,” shouted Nessa from behind them, impatiently tapping her foot against her horse’s flank. “This saddle is chaffing my thighs; we’re running low on water; and I need a bath. Can we please go now?”

Patrick laughed and said, “She’s an impatient one, isn’t she? We’ve only been traveling for less than a week, and already she’s complaining. Spoiled brat. With how much she whines, you’d think she was only ten years old.”

“If she’s spoiled, you know it’s your fault.”

“Don’t remind me, please.” His warped face softened as he gazed at the petite girl. “But it’s tough to say no to her. She’s so innocent and naïve. She looks at this world with Ashhur’s love in her eyes. She doesn’t know pain or suffering-can’t even understand that they might exist. She’s also one of the few who doesn’t mind my appearance, which I much appreciate,” he said with a laugh. “Other than yourself, of course.”

“Patrick, please! ”

“All right, Ness!” Patrick shouted back. He glanced up at Bardiya, shook his head, and extended his hand. “I guess I should be moving along,” he said. “I am itching to get out of these riding pants and slip into something more comfortable. Besides, I shouldn’t keep the princess waiting any longer, should I?”

“Not if you want to stay sane,” laughed Bardiya. “Take care of yourself, Patrick.”

His deformed friend slowly departed, shuffling sideways so he could still look at Bardiya despite the painful twist in his back.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Always have. And you take care of yourself too, my friend. I know how difficult a distant father can be, and I’d hate it to get you down. Perhaps when I’m done in Haven, I’ll come back for a spell. We can sit around the campfire, bitching about the bastards and how they lessened our lots in life. It’ll be just like old times.”

“That would be nice.”

A pang of sorrow struck Bardiya’s heart. As the only two male offspring of Ashhur’s First Families, he and Patrick had always shared a special bond, one their mutual oddness only reinforced. But Patrick had it wrong. Bardiya’s father was not distant, nor had he hurt him in any way that mattered. Richard DuTaureau, on the other hand, had damaged his son more than Patrick would ever know. Ashhur’s forgiveness of that man was truly remarkable considering what he had done.…

Bardiya shook the ugly thought from his mind.

“Stay safe, and stop growing already!” Patrick shouted, after awkwardly mounting his mare. He and his sister held hands as the horses broke into a slow trot. It was a sublime and beautiful moment, one that demonstrated just how pure Patrick DuTaureau was despite his flaws. Bardiya smiled and waved his giant hand, understanding that no matter how physically twisted he was, his friend was as perfect a creation as Ashhur had ever made. I only give to my children the trials they are capable of overcoming , the god was fond of saying. It seemed as though Patrick were capable of conquering anything. Bardiya decided that Jacob had chosen wisely when he’d selected Patrick to do whatever it was he’d been sent to do.