22
The crew tossed out ropes to secure the ship to the little pier at Reven’s Landing, and Brice stepped off. He waited for Laedron, Valyrie, and Marac to join him, then walked with them along the dirt path and up the hill. Reaching the crossroads at the edge of the village, Brice turned and said, “Well, it would seem that this is where we part ways.”
He stood looking at Laedron and Marac. He’d relied on them for guidance for almost a month, and leaving them with no plan to meet up a little later was a little frightening. “Will I see you again?”
Marac folded his arms. “We live in the same town, you know?”
“Right, yes.” He cleared his throat, swallowed, and glanced at the ground. “It won’t be the same, though, will it? We’re going back to our regular lives, back to the way it was before.”
“Can anything ever be the same? I don’t think so. Especially not between us.” Marac reached out toward Brice. “How could it be?”
Brice eyed his hand as if he were suspicious of Marac’s intent.
“You won’t take it?”
“I… you’ll toss me to the ground or something, won’t you?”
Marac shook his head, and Brice walked over and took his hand.
“Now, was that so hard?”
Brice raised an eyebrow. “I can never tell with you. One minute, you hate me. The next, we’re friends.”
“We’ve been through a lot, and sometimes it’s easier to blame someone else than accept the situation for what it is.” Marac sighed. “I know I’ve caused you pain, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Brice turned to Laedron. “I know you’ll be on to bigger and better things, but can we see each other again someday?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” Laedron swatted him on the shoulder. “Look, we’ll meet up tomorrow, at Calvert’s side street counter, for drinks and conversation.”
“What time?”
“Just after noon. Should be pleasant with autumn approaching.” Laedron smiled. “And if you can’t see yourself at the loom, you’ll always have a place reserved on my adventures.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Lae.” He hoped he wouldn’t be standing at the counter, waiting for his friends who wouldn’t show. “See you tomorrow?”
“You can wager on it.”
Brice walked away, glancing over his shoulder until he couldn’t see them anymore. For the first time in a long while, he felt alone. He almost wished that a journey still lay before them, that some monster or madman waited for Laedron’s knights to come forward and deal justice. He’d probably be afraid, but his friends would be there to encourage him. We’d fight it together, whatever the threat. Together, we could do anything. He wanted to cry, but he kept control of himself, unwilling to disgrace the king or his title should anyone be watching. Knights don’t shed tears, especially not when others might be near.
His family’s house came into view, and he picked up speed. He saw the sheep in the field behind the house, and he remembered his father’s favorite speech. ‘Brice, my boy, we’re fortunate enough in our trade to make our wool from our own sheep. A tailor with an unending supply of thread will never be hungry.’ He chuckled, realizing that he had a pound or more of pure platinum in his pack. A month of adventuring, and I have more wealth than I could ever spend. It took my father the better part of twenty years to get to where he is, and I could buy a hundred-the man, land, sheep, house, and all-just like him.
He jogged up to the door and burst through it.
His mother turned, and her jaw dropped along with a bowl. Sliced fruit scattered across the floor. “My boy has come back to me?” Ignoring the mess, she ran to him and, being that he was small and light for his age, nearly lifted him off the floor in a tight embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
“I told you I’d come back, Ma. You never had a reason to worry.”
“No reason to worry?” She hugged him so tight he wondered if she would soon cut off his breathing. “How could a mother not worry when her son goes off to war?”
“It wasn’t that bad, but you were right.”
“How so?” she asked, stepping back. Ah, to breathe again.
“Sending me to the knights and keeping me from the front lines.”
His father walked into the room, his signature pipe in hand. “Karina, what’s all the-Brice?”
“He’s come home to us, Geoffrey.” She dragged her sleeve across her cheeks to wipe away the tears. “At long last, our son is home.”
“I can’t believe it. Come here and let me get a look at you.”
Brice obliged, and Geoffrey grasped him by the shoulders. “Looks like you came back in one piece.”
“Yes, Da. The knights took good care of me. Thank you for putting up the money. I can repay it, and then some.”
“Nonsense. Any father with the means would have done the same. A Warren’s place isn’t on the battlefield, never has been.” Geoffrey smiled and pulled Brice toward the living room. “Come, sit a while. Tell me all about your travels.”
And Brice obliged.
23
Marac watched Brice tread the road until he disappeared from view, then said, “See you tomorrow, Lae. I’d better get home, too.”
“You’ll leave it at that?” Laedron asked.
“Leave… what?”
“Brice? The sudden change of heart?”
“I’d never tell him, but I was scared, Lae.”
“You?”
Marac nodded, then stared at the ground. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, and I would’ve defended him to the death… but…”
“But?”
“It helped. It’s not easy to stop being a big brother.”
“You replaced Naettan with Brice? I should’ve known.”
Marac grinned. “I shouldn’t have, but it seemed to come so natural. I didn’t even know I was doing it until the ride to Morcaine. When Meklan made me apologize, I thought about how my father had done the same thing when I went too hard on Naettan. Then, it clicked.” He snapped his fingers.
“No worries. We made it back home. That’s all that matters.”
“All except Mikal.”
Laedron closed his eyes. “I wonder if they’ve told his family.”
Marac shrugged. “If not, we’ll have to.”
“We’ll go together tomorrow. Let them have one more day of peace.”
Nodding, Marac started down the road.
“On the morrow, then. You’d better be there,” Laedron said before Marac got out of earshot.
Marac waved over his shoulder without stopping. Heading through the village, he caught sight of Calvert’s stall and figured that it couldn’t hurt to stop by for a quick drink. Why wait? A glass of honeysuckle cider would do wonders right now. He walked over and climbed onto a stool.
Calvert served the man who sat on the other side of the counter, then turned. When he saw Marac, his eyes grew wide. “Marac Reven?”
“The one and the same.”
“It’s not every day that true, genuine heroes visit my little establishment,” Calvert said, grabbing a pint-sized mug. “What would you like?”
“Honeysuckle cider. It seems like it’s been ages since I’ve had the stuff.”
“Couldn’t find any on your travels? It doesn’t surprise me. A closely guarded secret, it is.” Calvert paused, his eyes shifty as if he’d remembered something, but he said nothing. Instead, he fetched Marac’s drink and served it.
Finding Calvert’s demeanor strange, Marac asked, “Anything new going on?”
“No, nothing. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Just the one drink.” He pulled out a silver coin. “Then I’ll be off.”
“That one’s on the house.”
“Surely?”
“Least I can do to thank you for all that you’ve done. Enjoy.”
He nodded. “Always do. Thanks.” He sipped from the stein, trying his best to ignore the sickening aroma of the nearby fish stall. Just like old times. When he finished, he stood and walked off toward the edge of town and his family’s home. His mind wandered as he went, all of the memories and good feelings of homecoming back to him with each passing step.