Michael Manning - The God-Stone War

“I forget you don’t perceive some of the magical glow that other people see,” I told him, in a bored tone that was entirely feigned. “It does look different though, even to your eyes, as the power level stored within it varies over time. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

He rubbed his bearded chin. “It probably doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you had noticed. You know a lot more about these matters than I do, that’s for certain.”

I smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Speaking of matters I know better than you… have you really considered the consequences of continuing to lead patrols? Your wife is not going to be happy if you keep trying to wipe out the shiggreth single-handedly.”

Dorian gave me a wide eyed glance, as if I had already betrayed him. “I thought you understood, and I’m not doing it single-handedly. There are always at least nine other knights with me, not to mention the men at arms.”

I used my extra inch of height to look down my nose in what I hoped was a paternal glance. “You have one child now and another soon to arrive. What is your greater duty, fatherhood or knighthood?”

He frowned. “Considering I am your knight, I should think you would prefer I prioritize my knightly vows over other considerations… and I only go every other patrol.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. We were friends long before I became a noble or you a knight. As a father myself, and as your friend, I cannot help but think you are going about things ass-backwards,” I said brusquely.

“If you truly feel that way then why did you tell Rose you still wanted me on the patrols?” he asked suspiciously.

“I know how stubborn you are. I was hoping I could talk some sense into you rather than give Rose good cause to make your life hell.” My stare was piercing.

Dorian looked back without flinching. “I want to be here, for Rose, for my children, but I can’t rest yet, Mort.”

“That’s not…” I started to interrupt but my friend held up his hand.

“Hear me out,” he said, and once I had closed my mouth, he continued. “I can’t explain this as well as you might. You’ve always had the words, you and Marcus both, but I don’t… so be patient and listen.” He took a deep breath and stared at his hands before holding them up for me to look at them. “I’m a man of my hands, Mordecai. I don’t always know what to say, but these hands always know what needs doing.”

Staring at them, I noted for the hundredth time the multitude of scars that marked his large, rough hands. Dorian had had large hands and feet even when we were young, and much like a puppy he had grown into them. Now there was little about him that was small, from his broad shoulders to his powerful legs, yet in my mind, I still saw that awkward youth, tall and gangly, with oversized hands and feet. Time passes too quickly, and in doing betrays us all. My friend and I were no longer children, but men with children of our own.

“They’re out there Mort, somewhere, and not as far as we’d like. They know you, and they know me. They know where we sleep and where our children play. They are neither alive nor dead and they will never rest until they have had their vengeance, upon us and every other man, woman, and child alive.” He stopped for a moment and then repeated himself, “They will never rest… and neither will I, not until they are dust, or I am.”

A long minute passed before I replied, “There will always be an enemy or threat. Once the shiggreth are gone, we will still face the shining gods, and after them the dark gods, and after them… who knows? We can never be completely safe, and if we spend our entire lives trying, then we’ll wake up one day and find our time spent and none of it on the things and the people we loved.”

The massive man who had grown from my weedy childhood friend, gave a deep grunt and looked at me from beneath dark heavy brows. “Men I can fight, and thanks to you and this sword, the dead as well. Gods and their kin I leave to you. Once the shiggreth are done, I will stay home and tend the hearth, until you command me to rise again, whether against human foes or for some other purpose. But until the dead stay in their graves, I will not rest.”

“And if I command you to set that sword aside and stay home?”

Dorian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t do that Mort. I’ve never broken my word or vow, but if you force my hand…”

Letting out a deep breath, I stepped forward and hugged the stubborn giant. “I was just making sure my friend. If this is really your choice, I will not keep you from it. We’ll find a way to end this quickly, for both your sake and the sake of your children. Until then, I’ll take the blame from Rose. I can do that much for you easily enough.”

Later, I filled Penny in on my conversation with Dorian. She didn’t agree with his decision, or with mine, but we had already agreed to disagree anyway. Over the years the tempestuous woman I had married had mellowed into the most agreeable person I had ever argued with. I told her as much and she responded with a different viewpoint.

“It isn’t so much that we’ve changed, but more that you never seem to change. I’ve simply given up the hope of reforming you of your stubborn ideas,” she explained with an expression that bespoke both affection and amusement.

Sounds like the very definition of ‘mellowed’, if you ask me , I said silently to myself. You’re just too stubborn to agree with me. Rather than say that aloud I gave her my most innocent smile.

“Sometimes I’d like to wipe that smug expression right off your face. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking!” She took a threatening step toward me.

Never fearing a challenge, I caught her around the waist and after a few playful seconds I stole a kiss. The moment didn’t last however… a cry of dismay erupted as Matthew walked in and saw us.

“Ewww… ugh! Moira! They’re kissing again!” he cried. I never understood why he called for his sister at such times, as though she could save him. Personally I think he just liked sharing the trauma.

Moira appeared, followed by Conall, and any hope of a private moment vanished. I gave Penny a mournful look before replacing it with a smile, then I released her and turned to chase the children, threatening to curse them with kisses as well.

That afternoon I went back to my rooms and checked the message boxes again. After my first box had proved so useful years ago, I had seen fit to make many more. Of course, so many boxes were inconvenient to carry about, so most of them we kept in my study where I could check them once or twice a day. It had gotten to be a bit of a chore and I worried that someday I might not be present to get an important bit of correspondence, but I had yet to change the arrangement. Just a year past, Genevieve, now Queen of Lothion, had suggested a better solution during a brief visit.

Her idea had been to set up a messenger’s office and staff it with a trusted clerk. It was a wonderful idea in my opinion, but I had yet to find the time to make it a reality. I also wasn’t sure if some of the boxes should be trusted to other people’s hands and eyes. The messages sometimes contained sensitive material, as a result I was still putting the idea off to sometime in the future.

As I stepped into my study, I noted two of the boxes had gems glowing on their lids. One I expected; it was the daily report from the patrol Cyhan was leading into Gododdin. The other box was the mate to the one that I had given to Marcus. He was still living in Albamarl and it was handy to be able to communicate with him now and again without having to make a trip to see him.