Peter Brett - The Warded Man

“What does this have to do with Arlen?” Mery asked.

“I’m telling you how I think Messengers feel when they travel,” Elissa said. “For Ragen, I think that the risk of losing his life made him appreciate how precious it is, and sparked an instinct in him that would never allow him to die.

“For Arlen, it’s different. The corelings have taken a lot from him, Mery, and he blames himself. I think, deep down, he even hates himself. He blames the corelings for making him feel that way, and only in defying them can he gain peace.”

“Oh, Arlen,” Mery whispered, tears brimming in her eyes once more.

Elissa reached out and touched her cheek. “But he loves you,” she said. “I hear it when he talks about you. I think, sometimes, when he’s busy loving you, he forgets to hate himself.”

“How have you done it, Mother?” Mery asked. “How have you managed to endure all these years, married to a Messenger?”

Elissa sighed. “Because Ragen is kindhearted and strong at the same time, and I know how rare that kind of a man is. Because I never doubted that he loved me, and would come back. But most of all, because the moments I had with him were worth all the ones apart.”

She put her arms around Mery, holding the girl tightly. “Give him something to come home to, Mery, and I think Arlen will learn that his life is worth something, after all.”

“I don’t want him to go at all,” Mery said quietly.

“I know,” Elissa agreed. “Neither do I. But I don’t think I can love him less if he does.”

Mery sighed. “Neither can I,” she said.

Arlen was waiting that morning when Jaik left for the mill. He had his horse with him, a bay courser with a black mane named Dawn Runner, and his armor on.

“What’s this?” Jaik asked. “Off to Harden’s Grove?”

“And beyond,” Arlen said. “I have a commission from the guild to message to Lakton.”

“Lakton!?” Jaik gaped. “It will take you weeks to get there!”

“You could come with me,” Arlen offered.

“What?” Jaik asked.

“As my Jongleur,” Arlen said.

“Arlen, I’m not ready to …” Jaik began.

“Cob says you learn things best by doing them,” Arlen cut him off. “Come with me, and we’ll learn together! Do you want to work in the mill forever?”

Jaik dropped his eyes to the cobbled street. “Milling’s not so bad,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Arlen looked at him a moment, and nodded. “You take care of yourself, Jaik,” he said, mounting Dawn Runner.

“When will you be back?” Jaik asked.

Arlen shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, looking toward the city gates. “Maybe never.”

Elissa and Mery returned to the manse later that morning, to wait for Arlen’s return. “Don’t give in too easily,” Elissa advised as they walked. “You don’t want to give all your power away. Make him fight for you, or he’ll never understand what you’re worth.”

“Do you think he will?” Mery asked.

“Oh,” Elissa smiled, “I know he will.”

“Have you seen Arlen this morning?” Elissa asked Margrit when they arrived.

“Yes, Mother,” the woman replied. “A few hours ago. Spent some time with Marya, then left carrying a bag.”

“A bag?” Elissa asked.

Margrit shrugged. “Prob’ly off to Harden’s Grove, or some such.”

Elissa nodded, not surprised that Arlen had chosen to leave town for a day or two. “He’ll be gone through tomorrow, at least,” she told Mery. “Come and see the baby before you go.”

They headed upstairs. Elissa cooed as she approached Marya’s nest, eager to hold her daughter, but she stopped short when she saw the folded paper tucked partially beneath the baby.

Her hands shaking, Elissa lifted the scrap of parchment and read aloud:

Dear Elissa and Ragen,

I have taken assignment to Lakton from the Messengers’ Guild. By the time you read this, I will be on the road. I’m sorry I could not be what everyone wanted.

Thank you for everything. I will never forget you.

“No!” Mery cried. She turned and fled the room, leaving the house at a run.

“Ragen!” Elissa cried. “Ragen!!”

Her husband came rushing to her side, and he shook his head sadly as he read the note. “Always running from his problems,” he muttered.

“Well?” Elissa demanded.

“Well, what?” Ragen asked.

“Go and find him!” Elissa cried. “Bring him back!”

Ragen fixed his wife with a stern look, and without a word spoken they argued. Elissa knew it was a losing battle from the start, and soon lowered her eyes.

“Too soon,” she whispered. “Why couldn’t he have waited one more day?” Ragen put his arms around her as she started to weep.

“Arlen!” Mery cried as she ran. All pretense of calm had flown from her, all interest in seeming strong, in making Arlen fight. All she wanted now was to find him before he left and tell him that she loved him, and that she would continue loving him no matter what he chose to do.

She reached the city gate in record time, panting from exertion, but it was too late. The guards reported that he had left the city hours earlier.

Mery knew in her heart he was not coming back. If she wanted him, she would have to go after him. She knew how to ride. She could get a horse from Ragen, and ride after him. He would surely succor in Harden’s Grove the first night. If she hurried, she could get there in time.

She sprinted back to the manse, terror at the thought of losing him giving her fresh strength. “He’s gone!” she shouted to Elissa and Ragen. “I need to borrow a horse!”

Ragen shook his head. “It’s past midday. You’ll never make it in time. You’ll get halfway there, and the corelings will tear you to pieces,” he said.

“I don’t care!” Mery cried. “I have to try!” She darted for the stables, but Ragen caught her fast. She cried and beat at him, but he was stone, and nothing she did could loosen his grip.

Suddenly, Mery understood what Arlen had meant when he said Miln was a prison. And she knew what it was like to feel diminished.

It was late before Cob found the simple letter, stuck in the ledger on his countertop. In it, Arlen apologized for leaving early, before his seven years were up. He hoped Cob could understand.

Cob read the letter again and again, memorizing every word, and the meanings between the lines. “Creator, Arlen,” he said. “Of course I understand.” Then he wept.

What are you doing, Arlen? he asked himself as his torchlight flickered invitingly on the stone stairs leading down into the dark. The sun was dipping low, and it would take several minutes to get back to his camp, but the stairs called to him in a way he could not explain.

Cob and Ragen had warned him about this. The thought of treasures that might be found in ruins was too much for some Messengers, and they took risks. Stupid risks. Arlen knew he was one of these, but he could never resist exploring the “lost dots on the map,” as Tender Ronnell had put it. The money he made messaging paid for these excursions, sometimes taking him days from the nearest road. But for all his effort, he had found only dregs.

His thoughts flashed back to the pile of books from the old world that crumbled to dust when he tried to pick them up. The rusted blade that gashed his hand and infected it so badly he felt his arm was on fire. The wine cellar that caved in and trapped him for three days until he dug himself out without a bottle to show for it. Ruin hunting never paid off, and one day, he knew, it would be the death of him.