Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

He rose to his knees, then to his feet, and stared at her. “It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed.”

“No, Marac, no.” She pulled him to her shoulder. “Have you forgotten? He sent you to the knights to save you. You would’ve been conscripted if he hadn’t. There was nothing you could do.”

Marac took a deep breath. “I need some time to think. I’ve got to go… somewhere.” His mother nodded, and he walked out the front door, bound for the village. Calvert’s should still be open.

He paused when his feet hit the bottom step and imagined the night ahead. I’ll be drunk and out of control, washing away my worries a pint at a time. No. He turned around and stared at the door of his house. The drink didn’t stop Andolis or Gustav, and it didn’t help anything else. I’m strong enough without it.

He climbed the stairs and opened the door. His mother and brother looked up from the sofa. Marac sat next to them and took his brother’s hand. “I’m back, Nate. Come, hug your brother.”

Naettan smiled and held Marac tight. “I prayed all the time that you would come home. Every day.”

“You decided not to go?” Ma asked.

“My place is with you, not at a side-street counter. I don’t want Da to be disappointed in me.”

“I don’t think you could disappoint him, Marac. Even when you were drunk and jailed in Westmarch, your father blamed everyone but you. ‘It had to be the guards picking on him for being a country boy,’ he said, or ‘They must be lying. My son wouldn’t do those things.’”

Marac shook his head. “Today, that tradition ends. I have only myself to blame for the things I’ve done.”

She smiled, then looked away.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

“Oh, I’ve been trying to decide what to do. We still have some money from the last shipment to Westmarch, but it won’t last. I don’t see you running the mill on your own, and Naettan’s too young to help.”

Naettan waved his hands. “I’m not too young, Ma. I can do it.”

“No, Nate. I can’t work in the place where Da…” Marac closed his eyes. “Too many memories. We’ll sell it.”

She looked surprised. “Sell it? But this land’s been in our family for centuries. We can’t sell it.”

“Things change, Ma. If my adventures have taught me anything, that lesson was painfully learned.”

“It’s not even worth what we’ve put into it, though. If we sell the land, we won’t have enough-”

“Money is no longer a concern, Ma.”

“Not a concern? Of course it is.”

He reached into his bag and produced a hunk of platinum.

“Silver? That’ll help, but I still don’t think-”

“Not silver.”

“No?” She leaned forward and squinted. “What is it?”

“Pure platinum.”

Her eyes widened. “Where’d you get that? Are you in trouble?”

“No, nothing like that,” Marac said, shaking his head. “I have more than enough. More than we’ll ever need.”

“This is all happening so fast. Let me think about it, would you?”

Marac nodded. “We’ll talk about it later, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

She stood, walked into the kitchen, and pulled a pot from the stove. “I didn’t make much, but we’ll spread it around.”

“We’ll make do.” Marac joined her in front of the stove and put his arm around her. “Revens get by however we can. Always have, always will.”

Laedron and Valyrie started down the road, then walked the perimeter of the village. Little more than a few steps lay between me and my family , he thought, seeing the old oak by which he’d spent so much of his childhood. He stopped, smiled at Valyrie, and ran over to the tree.

He drew his scepter, pointed it at the bark, and chanted, and by the time she’d joined him, he had finished. “What do you think?”

“A sweet gesture, Lae.” She smiled. “Is it a tradition of some kind?”

Brushing his hand over the inscription, he made certain that he’d formed the heart shape and their initials, “L T” and “V P,” so that they were legible. “Somewhat, yes. Your people don’t do sentimental things like this?”

“You would have a hard time finding a tree so big in the city, and even if you did, the law prohibits marring them.”

“A shame.” He grinned. “It doesn’t surprise me, though. The theocrats seem to prefer their perfect shrubs, pristine lawns, and impeccable buildings.”

“Your people just let things go without care or regard?”

“Not exactly. We maintain things within reason, but we tend to avoid absolute perfection. It’s unachievable, and in Sorbia, we’ve learned that beauty can be found in letting things be as they are.”

“I thought I knew most everything there was to know about you. It would seem that I have a lot more figuring to do.”

He took her hand, then continued toward his home. “We have a lifetime ahead of us.”

* * *

Rounding the last bend of the road, he saw his house on the rise. Ma stood on the porch, her broom in hand, toiling away at the dirt. That woman will never learn. What am I saying? She’s a Telpist. Stubborn and willful as the day is long. A sudden wind came, and when it reached his mother, she clenched her fists. “Blasted breeze fouling up my hard work!”

“I’ll never understand why you don’t use a spell and be done with it.” He stepped onto the porch.

Ma dropped the broom. “Lae?” She rushed over to him and gave him a big hug, then picked at his hair. “I’ll have to cut this-”

“Ma…”

“What? You’ve gone this whole time without grooming? Your hair looks much better when it’s short-”

“Ma…”

“Let me grab the scissors-”

“Ma!”

She stopped, then turned to Valyrie. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t see you had a guest.”

“Ma, this is Valyrie Pembry.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Filadrena said, offering her hand. “I can’t say that Laedron has ever mentioned you. Are you from Reven’s Landing? No, I would’ve heard the name of your family, at least. Westmarch, perhaps?”

Valyrie gently shook his mother’s hand, and Laedron could tell she was nervous. “No, madam.”

“I see. Well?”

“She’s from Azura, Ma, and I’ve asked her to come home with me.”

“Azura?”

“And I love her.”

“Love…?” Filadrena paused, her eyebrows high. “The capital of the theocracy? You’ve brought a Heraldan girl home, Lae?”

Overbearing and to the point, as always. Sometimes, Laedron wished he wasn’t related to his ma because she seemed to treat only her children in such a haughty way. Although he knew that she meant well, was sometimes uncomfortably blunt. “I did.”

“Let me get a look at her, then.” Filadrena squinted and circled Valyrie as if examining a farm animal prior to purchasing. “Tall, slender build, and beautiful-”

“Ma, enough.” He slapped his hands against his hips.

“I’m kidding, Lae.” Filadrena took Valyrie in an embrace. “If you don’t recall, I married a Heraldan, your father, so I can’t hold too much prejudice. She seems like a fine, upstanding young woman.”

“She is, Ma.” He put his arm around Valyrie’s waist. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“That’s good. If you can stay together through the tough bits, you stand a better chance of lasting.” She gestured for them to enter. “Come, I need to check on my tea. Would you care for some?”

He nodded, then led Valyrie inside. The same, yet so different. The living room hadn’t changed, but he felt awkward at seeing it. The place didn’t feel quite like his home anymore, probably because he had been on the road for so long. Almost a solid month of camping, renting rooms, and-for a brief while-staying with Ismerelda had lessened the draw of hearth and home that he was certain he would have felt upon returning.