N. Walters: Embroidered Fantasies

Sednar’s face was flushed from exertion but he smiled and patted his flat stomach.

“What can I say? I don’t want to pine away to nothing.” Radnor snorted. At six-foot-four, of solid muscle, there was little chance of that happening to his brother. Sednar threw his arm around Radnor’s shoulders and the two of them left the training field and headed for the keep.

Craddock Keep wasn’t as large as many castles in the area, but it was strong and well fortified. The tower was built out of thick gray stones and it rose like a beacon in the sky. It was his home and he loved it. And unlike six years ago when his older brothers were still alive, it was in good repair.

Radnor rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if memories of those bleak times would ever truly fade. If there had ever been a more brutal man born than his eldest brother Leon, Radnor had never met him. Vicious and cruel, Leon had ruled with an iron fist, warring with surrounding families and stealing whatever he wanted.

Once there had been six Craddock brothers. Now the only ones left were he and Sednar. Bren and Lednar had been killed in a raid, trying to steal a woman. Leon and then Hamid had been slain on the field of combat, after displaying a true lack of honor.

All four of them had met their end at the hands of the Bakra brothers. Once considered the mortal enemies of the Craddocks, they were now related to the Bakra family by his sister’s marriage. The world was indeed a strange place.

Radnor couldn’t say he was sorry that his older brothers were dead. His early years had been hell. As the youngest boy, he’d borne the brunt of much of their brutal ways.

He’d learned not to trust anyone or anything. An act of kindness was usually a trap that led to disappointment at best, to a brutal beating at worst.

He still found it strange that he and Sednar had formed such a deep bond of friendship and brotherhood over the past six years. With their older brothers out of the picture, it had fallen to them to bring the castle and the land surrounding it back from the brink of poverty and destruction. In doing so, they’d learned they were more alike than they’d realized.

“What ails you, brother?” Sednar’s arm dropped away and he paused at the bottom of the stone staircase that led to the entrance of the keep.

“Memories,” he replied, knowing his brother would understand.

Dark shadows crossed Sednar’s face and he nodded. “Some days are worse than others.”

That was true. Days went by when Radnor gave no thought to his dead brothers. It was ironic that the two youngest boys were now the lords of the keep.

“Come. Get cleaned up and have something to eat. You’ll feel better.” Radnor snorted. “You think food is the answer to every ill.” The corners of Sednar’s mouth tipped upward into a half grin. “Maybe not the answer, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.” After many lean years, they both appreciated a full belly.

The two of them walked up the stairs side by side. The massive door opened just as they reached it and Johhan, their steward, greeted them. “Good morning, my lords.” He gave them both a short bow before turning his attention to Sednar. “I need a moment of your time if you can spare it. There is a minor structural change the builder would like to make to the training area behind the new stable.”

“Give me time to get cleaned up and I’ll be right down.” Sednar turned to Radnor.

“You want in on this?”

That was another change in how things were now. Leon would never have asked for any of their opinions. In fact, he’d beat any of them if they dared question his decisions, his authority, taking it as an affront to his leadership.

As the eldest brother, it was Sednar’s right to do whatever he chose, but from the moment they began to rebuild their home and their lives, the two of them had functioned as a team.

He gave his brother a nod. “I won’t be long.” His long legs ate up the stairs as he climbed to his room. Now that there were only two of them, they each had their own room, complete with private bath. It was a luxury he appreciated, especially on days like today.

Radnor entered his personal domain and unbuckled his sword, setting it carefully on the trunk at the end of his bed. His muscles flexed as he rubbed his left biceps. He’d pushed himself too hard today, trying to beat back the demons of the past.

Sighing, he pushed the dark thoughts away. The past was what it was. No amount of thinking or wishing could change it. The here and now was good. That was what mattered.

A servant had left water, which was still warm, in the bathing chamber. Radnor poured some into a basin and dunked his head forward, rinsing off the worst of the sweat and grime before grabbing a washcloth and running it over his arms and chest.

He immediately felt better.

He grabbed a drying cloth and was rubbing it over his torso when he suddenly paused. The back of his neck tingled and he spun around, dropping the towel and reaching for the knife in his boot, while cursing the fact that he’d left his sword in the other room. That wasn’t like him. He usually took his sword everywhere. Years under his brothers’ rule taught him never to be unarmed. They’d often attacked with no provocation, simply for the sport of trying to hurt him. He was getting careless and lazy.

But he was alone. He cocked his head to one side and listened intently. There it was again. It sounded like a woman crying. His gut tightened. He hated the sound of a woman’s tears, had heard it often as a child. His mother’s life had been a hard one and so had his baby sister’s.

It had eaten at him that he couldn’t do anything to help them. He’d learned as a child that any show of kindness on his part made things worse for them. Radnor had learned to ignore the women in his life and deflect his brothers’ attention onto himself.

It was painful at times, but he counted it well worth it if it saved either of them a beating.

His brothers had been an abomination. In Javara, women were scarce and, as such, were treated as the treasures they were. Because there were more males than females, it had long ago been decreed that two brothers would share a woman, but only one of them could marry her and claim her children. The other brother would get one night a week in her bed and would be there to take care of her if her husband died. No more than three brothers to a woman. That meant that the Craddock brothers might have had three brides between them all, two at the very least. They’d had none. No family would give their precious daughters into the brutal hands of their family. Radnor didn’t blame them.

They’d treated their sister with blatant disregard. Radnor was glad that Genita had found happiness in the arms of the two younger Bakra brothers. They were good to her, treating her with the honor and respect she deserved.

He prowled to the bedroom, knife in hand, and looked around. He was alone. The sound came again, a low sob that tugged at his heart. “Where are you?” he called. He turned in a circle, unable to locate where the sound was coming from. “Don’t be afraid.” Even as he said the words, he knew she might not believe them. There were many, even those who lived and worked at the keep, who still didn’t quite trust him or his brother, even after six long years.

Sometimes Radnor thought they were right not to. The violence of his childhood had left deep emotional scars inside him. Thankfully, Sednar didn’t seem to be quite as damaged by their upbringing. His brother had always been more affable, avoiding the worst of their older brothers’ scorn and anger, deflecting it with humor. As a result, Sednar was a good leader, firm but fair in all his dealings.

Radnor hadn’t been quite as lucky. He’d borne the brunt of his older brothers’