Rick Shelley - Son of the Hero

A long table had been set up inside, parallel to the burial wall. The capstones of the burial niches for all the Heroes of Varay were missing. The dead Heroes were sitting along one side of the table, my father at the center. They all stood and raised golden goblets in toast when I appeared in the doorway. They looked as though they belonged in a reunion picture of victims from slasher movies. Dad's wounds were all open, gaping, both the wounds that had killed him and those that had scarred over long before-the scars that had once made me believe that he was a spy like James Bond. All of the other Heroes sported similar wounds. There was no blood-just open gashes in skin and clothing.

The man standing next to Dad at the center said, "Hail the Hero of Varay," and then he took a long drink from his golden goblet. The rest of the Heroes echoed his toast and drank. Then each introduced himself-in chronological order, I think. The one who had offered the toast called himself Vara. Dad was the last. I caught a few other names in between that I recalled seeing on the missing capstones back in Basil.

Even Dad introduced himself formally when it finally came down to his turn.

"We've been waiting for you, son," he said after he drank his toast. He raised his goblet again. "I had hoped that the wait would be much longer, though. Your mother and I had such great dreams for you. Come, your place is waiting."

I didn't move from the doorway. I couldn't move. I was frozen in place. Moving would mean-at least in my mind-that I was accepting this… this verdict, and I wasn't ready to do that. I held on to the doorjamb.

"What's this all about?" I asked. My voice echoed over and over, so thickly that the words were almost obliterated by the interference. None of the other voices had raised even a hint of an echo.

All of the Heroes but Father and Vara sat down. Most seemed to busy themselves refilling their goblets from a row of decanters. Father looked to Vara. Vara spoke.

"My dying vow was that no other Hero of Varay should ever die alone," he said. No echo.

"I haven't died," I said.

"We will be with you," Vara said.

"I see." I shifted my gaze to my father. "At the same place you died?" He didn't answer. He looked away from me. I had little choice but to look to Vara again.

"Does this mean that you can see the future?" I asked.

"There is no time on our side," he said, which wasn't an answer at all. "Come in and have a drink with us." He pointed at the one empty chair at the table.

I stared at the chair for a while-I can't even guess how long. Finally, I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I don't think so," I said, opening my eyes to focus on Vara. "It's too soon. I can't give up yet. I've still got a job to finish." I looked to my father again. "Your job." He acknowledged that with a nod.

"I'm leaving now," I said. And then, I wasn't sure that I could leave. I experienced some kind of split-existence thing. My mind had me turning around and walking back to the stairs, but my body wasn't responding. It took a moment before I figured it out-a dizzying realization. My hands gripped the jambs of the door yet and I had to consciously relax my grip and remove my hands.

I'm leaving now, I told myself, and this time I did. Movement still wasn't automatic. I had to concentrate on every step, watching as I moved each foot out in front of the other. I seemed to be sweating profusely by the time I got to the stairs and started up, and it wasn't over even then.

I climbed those stairs forever. Now, the stairway leading from the crypt back up to the living levels of Castle basil is extremely long, but no stairway could be as long as the one I climbed in that dream. I climbed and climbed, and when I looked back down, I had scarcely gone a tenth of the way. I climbed some more, making a little progress, but not as much as I should have. I counted my steps over the next stretch and looked back down when I reached fifty. It looked as though I had actually made it up about a dozen.

I kept climbing.

I woke to find that my body had started without waiting for me. I wasn't climbing steps now, though, and I couldn't remember getting to the top of that stairway.

But this was no dream now. Annick was on top of me again. I'm not even positive that she was fully awake when we started making love the second time-near the tag end of the night. While our lovemaking lasted, my memories of the congregation of Heroes in the crypt were pushed aside, out of focus but not completely out of mind. Afterward, Annick and I lay together, neither of us ready to sleep again. Memories of the dream-nightmare-flooded back over me. For some minutes, all I could do was relive the scene below Castle Basil. To get that out of my head, I tried to focus on the battle that was coming, the fight that I would be one nexus of by necessity-and that Annick would certainly be in the middle of by desire.

The night had nearly ended. Annick and I got up, cleaned up as best we could, and dressed. There was a trace of distant morning visible outside, a glow that let me see well enough to move about in the cottage. As soon as there was enough light to work with, I had to complete the passages. Soon after that, unless something went drastically wrong, our private arena would be the staging area for the complete armed might of Varay-as pitiful as that might me.

Annick hugged me and rested her head on my shoulder for just an instant. She was warm, pliable for a change. She kissed my cheek and whispered, "I needed that."

I brushed the hair away from her face. "I think I did too." I returned the hug and we broke the clinch. There was neither the time nor the desire for another round, not then, maybe not ever. Despite the vigorous intimacy of the night, we were still worlds apart, in many ways. We looked at each other but found no words. I couldn't ask Annick what she was thinking, because I couldn't share my thoughts in return, not a cold appraisal of how little we had in common. After more minutes, the spell was broken, quickly, like the snap of a crab leg.

"I don't suppose that we'll see much of each other after the battle's over," Annick said.

"That's possible." Her words brought my dream back to the fore. If the dream was true, I wouldn't be seeing much of anyone. Back home, I would have dismissed the nightmare without too much thought. But, in Varay, I couldn't be so sure that there was nothing to it but nocturnal fear.

"You have your duty and I have mine." Annick kept her voice low, but the determination was still there. "I won't forsake my vengeance for anyone."

I shrugged. That was safer than words.

"This night is one to remember, but not to relive," Annick said.

"I think that's best." I took her hands in mine, just long enough to give them a squeeze. "I don't think we could ever recapture the moment." I tried to keep any relief out of my voice. "But the paths of our duty may cross on occasion," I added, releasing her hands.

"We'd better get our horses saddled," Annick said. She turned away, and we had enough to occupy us until I could start on the doors.

Sir Hambert and his men were just moving into the orchard when I decided that I had enough light to work. I used the cottage's front door for the link to Arrowroot. I applied the sea-silver and stood looking into the cottage when I reached for the tracing so the men and horses would be coming out of the cottage as they arrived. It would have been incredibly stupid to get that turned around. The actual connection came quickly with only slight effort and a sudden twinge of hunger. Parthet was there, his hands touching mine, his face looking up and grinning.

"Your mother is at Coriander," Parthet said. "We decided that that would be faster than me popping over there after we did this door. I've got Resler and his soldiers here, ready and waiting. I'll hold this way open while you do the other." He looked quite his old self, fully recovered.