E06 - Ch 24: Aftermath

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

✣✣✣✣✣✣ EPISODE SIX ✣✣✣✣✣

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣ "Resurrection" ✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Yellow flowers entwined their hair and leaves of the world tree covered their eyes. Their bodies had been cleaned and shrouded in white cloth before being gently laid on the funeral pyre. A chit of arcana was placed in each mouth, so that their souls would have something to hold on to before it was released by the cleansing fire and into the Beyond.

Aelric stood among the wide circle of villagers as Chief Clarity spoke the funeral rites. He heard none of the words, feeling a numbness that stretched from his chest to the soles of his feet. His mind still rang with the events of the night, repeating itself over and over again in an unending cycle.

The Ascendant had wanted to Brint to kill Aelric. But then she had banished the demon, in a display of terrifying, beautiful power.

Yes, it was beautiful, he admitted to himself. He remembered being able to do nothing as the demon charged at them. Feyna and Feyla had fought to protect him, and then he watched in awe as Syl cast a spell that seemed to split from the heavens.

So much power she had carried in that spell. A stark contrast to himself. Afterward, Feyna and Feyla had thought her a hero until they learned the truth from Chief Clarity’s.

By the time Syl had arrived to defeat the demon, she had already murdered the hunters. She had murdered Brint’s father.

Each time the cycle of thoughts completed, he tried to make sense of them. But he couldn't and the numbness in his body grew.

He found he was staring at Welta, the wife of Samon, the village's best archer. She stood with wide red eyes, seemingly staring into the distance, her four young children huddled around her, their faces confused, lost. She was not the only one who was made a widow, but for some reason Aelric could not look away from her.

Like Aelric's father, she had been Mirebound before Samon married her. Her arcumen was not greater than any Earthborn's, but it was not so abysmal that it would turn the village against the marriage. Not when her husband had been such an excellent marksman.

He now lay beside Brant. The two men had been the closest of friends.

Aelric dreaded what he would say to her once the funeral proceedings ended. There were no words that would ease her pain, but he knew he had to say something. Just to show that she wasn't alone.

His father would have known the right words, but he was not here now. His father, who had not listened to Aelric's pleas to go to the shelter, who had not obeyed the Chief's order, and now lay in Elder Calm's cabin, his leg wrapped in healing salves.

The memory of the words Brint had said about his father came back to him now.

"His pride, Aelric. Everyone's always tiptoeing around his pride."

That pride would now cost them everything.

Aelric remembered the look on the elder's face after he had rushed to find his father upon learning what had happened to him.

"I am sorry, Aelric," Calm had said, his typical serene expression replaced by downcast eyes. "His left leg is badly broken. It does not look good."

"Will it mend?" Aelric asked.

"It does not look good."

Tears formed at the corner of Aelric's eyes now. He was feeling something again that seemed to spring past the numbness. He wiped his eyes and pushed them away. He didn't want to feel anything. The numbness was better. It kept his mind clear. There was much to be done in the coming days. He couldn't falter now.

His eyes found Feyna. She stood with her family, holding her little sister's hand. Felya cried openly beside her sister, and Aelric saw wetness in Feyna's eyes too. Her parents, who had always been a proud and happy couple now looked aghast, as if they had just woken to a horrible reality. Their home had been torn to shreds, and all within broken.

All morning long the villagers had whispered the question again and again. "How could such a thing happen in Village Aldin?"

Aelric wondered the same as Chief Clarity spoke the rites for the dead.

Aelric’s mother stood beside him, her hand clutching his arm as if she was afraid she'd lose him if she let go. Her face was a pale mask, but he could see the cracks—her eyes red-rimmed from crying through the night and morning. She had been at his father's side until the village had gathered for the funeral.

Each time he looked at her, he knew her worries. How would they afford to pay the legionnaire's taxes now? How would they pay the next season's if his father could not walk again?

Aelric dared not consider these questions. They threatened to overwhelm him. So he focused on the pain of those around him. Despite his struggles, their loss was greater.

He looked at Brint now, who stood near the front of the circle ahead of him. He could not see his face from this vantage point, but he knew what he would find there. It would be the same look that Brint carried when he had come down from the forest with his father's body in his arms. Bright with uncontrolled rage.

Aelric had shuddered when he'd met them. He wondered what had happened in the forest. He knew that Syl had killed the hunters. But he wondered how it had transpired to make eyes like that in Brint. There was no room for grief in them.

Brint had always told Aelric that he hated the way Aelric looked at him. It was because Aelric hated Brint for turning on their friendship. He hated him for the bullying and snide comments. But he knew his eyes never took on the pure, roaring fury that filled Brint’s eyes now.

Chief Clarity had finished speaking. She had prayed to the gods, but unlike funerals of recent past, he made no thanks to Legionnaire Kallow, who's men had still not arrived.

She nodded to the families of the dead men, and each stepped forward, taking a torch from beside the stacked pyre. They placed the flames against the oiled logs, some whispering prayers as they did, some crying, some silent, their motions wooden and without ceremony.

The pyre lit quickly, enveloping the bodies upon the stacked timber. Welta began to cry then, first streams falling to her eyes, then she dropped her knees to great painful sobs. Her children were still too young to fully understand, but they held onto the hem of her clothes, breaking into cries with her.

Soon Aelric found tears falling from his eyes again. And sobs echoed among the gathered villagers. Aelric even saw them upon Chief Clarity's eyes. A woman who had always been strong and reserved even in the harshest of seasons.

The fire roared higher now, hiding the bodies behind their flames. That terrible feeling began to grow in his chest again, but again he pushed it down with all his might.

Not now, he told it. Keep it together. There's still much to do.

Chief Clarity spread her arms out and called toward the rising smoke. "Go, sons of Village Aldin, go and be amongst your fathers and ancestorial kin, and may you watch over us until it is our time to join you."

The village stood as one, watching the funeral pyre burn the bodies to ash. Then, when the fires had died down, Brint stepped forward and addressed the villagers.

Aelric had been right. The rage still burned ferociously in his eyes.

"Great evil has taken from this village,” Brint called out. “Great evil has killed our fathers, my mentors, and my friends. To the families of Samon, Varun, Tomune, and Kiryan, know this, I will bring justice to the one who did this. I will bring revenge to the one who has taken from us. I swear it on my life. I will make her pay for what she has done."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of shock and concern. Aelric's heart sank. He knew Brint was serious. Brint thought him stubborn, but he was no different.

Feyna pushed her way through the crowd. "Brint, that's ridiculous!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "You did not see her might! You cannot defeat her, and even if you do, she is an Ascendant! The courts will not—"

Brint's eyes flashed with anger and resolve as he turned to face her. "She killed my father!" he roared. "I don't care if it takes my whole life—I will find her and make her pay!"

Feyna took a step back in shock. "Your whole life? But what of our marriage?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brint looked at her for a long moment, his face hardening with each passing second. He glanced at Aelric once before returning his gaze to her, no doubt thinking about the conclusion of their duel.

"Maybe it was never meant to be," he said finally, his tone cold and distant.

Then Brint stepped out of the village square, not unlike he had done the day before, the villagers parting from his path.

✣✣✣

His hands shook as he opened the lid of the large chest at the foot of his father's bed, revealing an assortment of his father's belongings. Hunting knives, greaves and gauntlets, and a thick leather belt that his father wore on long journeys. Brint took them all, strapping them to his body. The greaves and gauntlets were still a little big on him, but he knew he would grow into them. The belt felt good around his waist, hugging him tight, and the knives secured onto the belt's loopholes made it feel even better.

There was one other item inside the chest. It was a large quiver that had once belonged to his grandfather. Old and faded, it bore the marks of countless hunts. Brint traced his fingers over the weathered leather and tested its strap. Despite its age, the quiver was still sturdy. Then he looked up to the matching bow that was hung above his father's bed. It was larger than any normal bow. It was said his grandfather could fell a wolf giant with a single shot back when the beast still roamed the forest.

Brint slung the quiver over his shoulder and lifted the massive bow from its mounting. The wood felt familiar in his hands, heavier than any training bow he'd used before. The other belongings he had gathered lay scattered across the bed. There were a few extra leather straps, a whetstone, some preserved meat wrapped in cloth. He wrapped them up in a leather satchel and headed out the door without another glance backward.

"That's the last of it," he said to his father's mare who he had tied to the post outside while he packed for his journey ahead.

Her name was Whisper and she looked at him wordlessly, silent as ever. But Brint thought he saw some kind of longing in the horse, and he realized it was the first morning in as far as he could remember that his father had not been the one to feed the horse.

He frowned then and gently brushed Whisper’s muzzle. "Yeah, I'm going to miss him too."

Brint secured the leather satchel to Whisper's saddle. The massive bow he tied carefully across the horse's flank, making sure it wouldn't slip during travel. His movements were deliberate, each item placed with the same precision his father had always used when preparing for a hunt. Whisper stood patiently, her dark eyes watching Brint's careful preparations just as she would with his father.

As he secured each strap, he heard movement behind him. Someone was approaching. He turned and found that it was Aelric. The large boy had his usual sad kitten-eyed look that frustrated Brint as ever.

"What do you want, Aelric?" Brint said, returning to securing the belongings.

"Are you really leaving the village?"

"No, I made that speech just for the fun of it."

Brint glanced back at the big lad and found the sad kitten look had turned somber.

"They need you, Brint."

"Who does?"

"Everyone. You're the Chief-in-Waiting and you have the highest arcumen in the village. They are all counting on you."

"They've got Chief Clarity and the elders. They'll find someone better."

"But-"

"What do you expect me to do?" Brant snapped, turning to Aelric. "Stay here and pretend everything's fine? My father was murdered, Aelric. Murdered before my very eyes!"

Aelric flinched. "I—I know that. I'm sorry… I…" Aelric began again but then shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"But I am Brint, and I don't know what else to be. That's all I can do is say I'm sorry. I told Welta the same. She just nodded, her eyes blank as ever and walked away. It didn't do anything, and that's the problem Brint. There's nothing I can do for anyone. But you can. That's why you can't leave. Not when everything's a mess."

Brint glared at Aelric, this was Aelric playing his sad kitten act to the very finest. But he couldn't find anger for him. For the first time, Brint understood how Aelric felt. He had learned the feeling as Syl sent dagger after dagger into his father's body, and all he could do was watch.

"I'm sorry too, Aelric. Wouldn't you do the same if you were in my boots?"

"I… I don't know. I'd have no chance against her. It'd be impossible."

Brint grinned at that. "That's true, but you'd probably go charging in all the same."

Aelric looked uncomfortable at the comment. "I don't know about that..."

"I do. And that's why I know out of everyone at the village, you're the only one who gets it."

"I do?"

"Yeah," Brint said, his smile softening. "I heard what you told your father at our duel. 'I have to do this.' That's what this is too, Aelric. You understand that don't you?"

Aelric's eyes widened a little and his eyes dropped. But he nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Brint tightened the last strap of his belongings and took Whisper's reins. "So long Aelric, take good care of the village. If I am successful, I'll come back and become chief if the spot's still open."

Aelric frowned. "Good luck, Brint,” was all the large boy said.

Brint climbed atop the horse and nudged her in the direction of the main road that would take him north toward Elduros. He knew that Chief Clarity would inform the Legionnaire's steward of his leaving. He would no longer be a member of Village Aldin. And despite the words he'd told Aelric, he knew not when he'd come back, if he'd ever come back.

And then he felt something welling up in him and he turned and called out, "Aelric!"

Aelric was still standing where he had been, down the path in front of Brint's home, looking lost as he ever had.

"You were right!" Brint called. "I chose envy over our friendship! That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry! I hope you can forgive me some day!"

The last thing he saw of Village Aldin was Aelric's stunned face as if he’d just heard the most unbelievable words ever to have been strung together. Brint smiled, and then he was riding Whisper hard toward the main road.

There were more words that could have been said. But Aelric had been a distance too far away. A distance he could not yet cross.

And in any case, he could not allow himself the joy of gaining an old friendship. Not right now.

Now, he had vengeance to seek.

He wiped his eyes and heeled Whisper to hasten.