Chapter 22 - Decisions

Matthew and Alexander walked back towards the house on the top of the hill. After two days of riding, Matthew had not been eager to return to the back of a horse. Alexander had all but put him on the saddle, repeating that it was important that Matthew learn to ride properly and control his mount.

The sun stood directly above them, but Matthew felt as if it was much later in the day. They rose early that morning, Alexander’s father, Theman, waking them to begin the morning chores. Theman believed that if Alexander was home, he could work. He also believed that Alexander’s two young friends could help.

Matthew had trouble not grinning at Jaron’s reaction to working on the farm, though he doubted that his initial reaction was not much better. They had begun by feeding the few animals on the farm. The chickens that wandered the area nearly overrun Matthew as he scattered a grain of some sort on the ground near the barn. Jaron found himself learning how to milk a cow, and then doing so. Alexander and Theman busied themselves caring for the horses, both the ones that had arrived with the group the night before and the pair of massive horses that had been out grazing when they had arrived.

After the animals had been tended to, every member of Alexander’s family, as well as the three guests, made their way out into the crops. The women busied themselves in the garden, picking vegetables and pulling weeds that had grown up around the plants. Even Kari helped in the work.

Meanwhile the men went out into the fields, armed with hoes. The spent what seemed like all morning, the sun still barely above the horizon, removing weeds. Eventually Matthew did not even have to think about what he was doing. Pull the weeds out with the hoe, pick them up, throw them in the canvas bag that hung from a strap over his shoulder, move to a new spot and do it all again.

It all made Matthew a little glad that he had not been able to find work on a farm when he was younger. He supposed at that age, he would have grown use to the work. But even the life of hardships he had lived was easy compared to working a farm.

They remained in the fields until Anara called from the top of the hill. They left their work and returned to the house. They entered the kitchen to be greeted by the aromas of breakfast. On the table before him was what Matthew would have considered a small feast of bread, fruits and vegetables, dried meats and other various foods.

Matthew ate until he felt like he could not eat anymore. He was astonished at the empty table before the group of people, surprised that so much food could be eaten. Everyone seemed to be pleased with the meal and Matthew was content to remain in his seat and fall asleep. Alexander had other plans. That was when he took Matthew out for his lesson.

Matthew was told to saddle Belle without any instructions. Alexander did the same with his horse, Cirrus. They two then found a flat, open area of land and began their lesson. Alexander began simply teach Matthew proper vocal instructions. When to whistle and when to click; what words would get what response from the horse; and other various things that would come in handy while riding.

They then covered the proper way to sit in the saddle. Matthew had thought that Alexander looked uncomfortable in his saddle when riding, back straight and arms hanging at his sides, bent at the elbow to rest on the horn of the saddle. When Matthew took up the same position he was surprised with how comfortable it was. It shifted his weight off of his thighs, which were still worn from the riding they had already done, and even with his arms loose, he still had complete control of the horse with the reins.

The lessons grew continually harder until the call for lunch came from the hill. It had surprised Matthew how quickly the rest of the morning had vanished, but he was glad to get off the horse. His thighs, though better than they had been the day before, still ached and the sun had been beating down on them for some time.

Lunch consisted of bread, cheese and a soup broth. After they had finished eating the light meal, Alexander asked Matthew and the others to join him in the living room. Theman seemed disappointed at loosing some of his work force, but Alexander assured him that they would join Nathan and him in the fields as soon as they finished their discussion.

Matthew enjoyed being in the living room. It was a bare room mostly, a single book shelf and rocking chair in one corner, a bench and chairs surrounding the fireplace, and a single, small table decorated with simple flowers sat under the single window of the room. The night before everyone had gathered in the room and Theman and Miktan took turns telling stories. Miktan’s stories were much more elaborate, but Theman’s had an air about them that drew you into listening.

Matthew, Jaron, Miktan and Alexander all sat in chairs around the fireplace, arranging them so they could see each other. They all knew the reason they had taken the time to meet alone. They needed to discuss their next course of action. Where they would go next.

“We need to leave here tomorrow I think,” Alexander began, “Any longer and we may draw attention to ourselves, and worse, to my family.”

“I agree. If we wait too long to leave someone will be bound to notice us, and I’m sure there is at least some search for you three going on in Garlin,” Miktan explained.

“So where do we go?” Jaron asked, “I am not even sure there is anywhere we can go. At least not anywhere that someone could help, or that they would even listen.”

“As much as I hate that we may have to go there,” Miktan started, “but the Weaver’s Guild would probably at least hear us out. They may even have knowledge regarding the Threads of Creation, and if that is really what you unleashed.”

Matthew cringed at the idea that they had released the supposed Threads of Creation. He was not sure how much of the theory he believed, but he was sure that someone powerful was contained and they at least began it’s release into the world.

“Are you suggesting that we travel to Aldrath and ask the Weaver’s help?” Alexander asked.

Miktan nodded, “It is the best course of action I can think of. They are most likely to know anything, or at least have a theory regarding the situation.”

“It sounds like a logical course of action to me,” Jaron chimed in.

Matthew felt obligated to break his silence, “If this Weaver’s Guild is what you said it is Alexander, I think Miktan might be right.”

Alexander stared at the floor for a moment before nodding, “I think your right too Miktan. There is too much that we don’t know right now and the Guild is the most likely place that we’ll learn anything.”

“So we leave tomorrow?” Matthew asked.

Alexander nodded, “Tomorrow morning would be best. I would say that we leave this afternoon, but by the time I convinced my mother and we were all prepared, it would be too late in the afternoon to truly get any good time made,” Alexander paused, “That and if we can help my brother and da get ahead on some of the chores, it would make things easier for them.”

Jaron groaned, “I guess that means we are heading back into the field?”

Miktan barked a laugh, “This is honest work boy. It’ll do you good to understand what it is that the farm folk have to endure.”

Matthew eyed the older man. He seemed to have a reason for everything. It seemed that his reason however was always just a slight twist on the last one he used.

——————-

“Are you sure you have to go?” Anara asked.

It was not the first time that she had asked that very question. The first time it was said, Matthew knew that it was meant for all of them, but most of all for Alexander. They had announced during the evening meal that they would be leaving in the morning. The announcement had hardly even stunned Theman and Nathan, though Kari and Anara took it hard enough for everyone.

What hurt Matthew the most was that they could not reveal to them the real reason they had to leave; they could not inform them of the danger they would be in by their staying. Matthew had never known what it was like to have a real family, but the short time he had spent with Alexander’s had taught him many things he never would have realized. Things that would stay with him for a long time.

“Yes mother, we have to go,” Alexander explained for what seemed to be the hundredth time, “We only really stopped here to rest and plan out the next leg of our journey.”

Anara looked disappointed, “I know. I only hoped that maybe you would stay a bit longer this time.”

Alexander finished tying his saddlebags to the saddle and walked to his mother, giving her a hug, “I will try my best to visit again as soon as I can and make it a worthwhile visit.”

“Try to make it around harvest time,” Theman commented from beside his wife.

Alexander laughed as he released from his hug and shook hands with his father, “I’ll try my best.”

Everyone exchanged their farewells and once again they were headed off into the unknown. It all worried Matthew, not knowing what was waiting for him. It was not that he always knew what he was going to experience, but this was all so new to him; all so foreign that he could not even begin to imagine what was coming. He only hoped that he was strong enough to survive it.

Chapter 21 - Family

Alexander sat on the ground, staring at the fire as it danced. The ride out of Garlin had been long. He had not slept in over a day, but he could not bring himself to sleep just yet. His mind was still trying to work out the situation he was in. Alexander’s back and legs were sore from being in the saddle so long, but he was use to the feeling from so many years of long rides.

They had stopped only when necessary as they rode away from the only place Matthew had ever known. The short stops they did make were to let the horses rest and drink from one of the many streams that were found throughout this area of land. Alexander had taken those opportunities to stretch his legs and get a drink for himself. There had not been a single cloud in the sky their entire trip, so the sun beat down on them mercilessly.

Though the sun was low in the sky when they stopped to make camp, the shade of the small group of trees they had found was still welcome as they set up their small camp. Alexander had had to take care of Matthew’s horse, but walked him through the process of removing the saddle. He had also covered how to properly hobble a horse and other various ways of keeping it where you wanted.

Now the four men sat around the small fire. Each one remained silent, but the looks on their faces made it clear that they were deep in thought. None of them had said much since leaving the city. Miktan had tried sparking conversation with each person, but nothing ever really took off.

“We had better get some rest,” Alexander suggested, “We made good time today, but I expect we won’t reach my family’s farm until late afternoon tomorrow.”

“Rest sounds good,” Miktan said as he stifled a yawn, “But I dare not let us all sleep at once.”

Alexander nodded in understanding, “I’ll take first watch, Jaron, why do you take second and Matthew third. Miktan, would you be willing to take a turn?”

The older man chuckled, “I may seem old, but I am more than willing to take a turn. The more people we have rotating through watch means more sleep for everyone.”

Alexander gave a smile to Miktan as the other three lay down on their bedrolls. Alexander stood and moved out from the fire light. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark and the twin moons were bright enough to let him see farther than he would usually be able to. He made his way to the outer rim of the thicket, looking towards Garlin. If anyone was pursuing them, they would no doubt come from the city.

Alexander gazed out over the grassland before him. Other small groups of trees dotted the landscape but Alexander had chosen this one because of it’s distance from the road. Anyone that might be tracking them would have to venture from the road to get to where they were and would easily be spotted before they arrived.

He continued to think as he watched. Surprising to him, his mind wandered not to the events of the day past, but instead to what was to come. He thought over how his family would react to his sudden appearance. Alexander had not contacted him since the last letter he sent just short of a month ago. At the time he had not yet received the orders sending him to Garlin, and so they did not know he was in the area.

Alexander thought over the last time he and his father had spoken. The words exchanged that day had not been pleasant. He wondered how his father would react when he saw him again. Theman Varros was always a hard man. When he told someone what to do, it was rare that they did not do it.

Alexander’s brother, Nathan, had always followed their father’s commands. Alexander had too, until he was of age and decided to leave. His father never actually said that he could not leave, but usually, what Theman did not say was just as clear as what he did. The man disapproved of Alexander’s leaving.

Alexander worked harder than his older brother. It was not a rivalry between the two so much, it was just that Alexander knew that the work needed to be done and the longer a job took the less one was able to finish. Nathan was a hard worker too, but he had a knack for getting caught up in something and ending up distracted from his chores.

Alexander smiled as he remembered his childhood and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a twig snap from behind him. He spun around to find Jaron walking towards him.

“My turn,” the young boy said with a smile, “get some sleep.”

Alexander nodded. He had not realized how long he had been standing there until he looked up at the moons. They stood almost directly above them now, Neomet bright blue and Lauros a red crescent. Alexander looked away from the sky and started back into the thicket.

He wasted no time settling on top of his bedroll. It was too warm to get underneath any of the layers so he laid on top and closed his eyes. He focused on the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped and could heard birds of the night flitting from tree to tree. He began to drift into sleep; drift into dreams.

Alexander stood out in the field south of the farm house. He was aware that he was dreaming, but he did not care. The scene was familiar to him. It had been one of the many possible lives he had experienced underneath Garlin. It was unsettling, being aware of knowing that what he saw and felt was not real, but at the same time it was comforting.

The sun beat down on him as he leaned against the spade he held. He looked down at the hole he had dug. It seemed the right size for the post. Picking up the fresh cut post, he dropped it into the hole. Steadying it with one hand he maneuvered the spade with his other, pushing dirt in around the post. He packed the dark soil down tight and tested the firmness of the post, nodding in satisfaction.

He made quick work of the final two posts, digging the holes and setting them in place. Tomorrow he and Nathan would bring out the boards to box in the small pasture. Alexander was pleased with his work. It had taken him less time than he expected.

He walked back to the farmhouse. The wooden building was not large, at least not compared to any of the residences in Garlin, but it did for the people that lived in it. Theman and Anara, Alexander’s father and mother; Nathan and his wife Caren, as well as their daughter and son; and finally Alexander and Myra, his beautiful wife.

Alexander smiled at the mental image of his wife, now carrying his child. Alexander’s mother was certain that Myra was carrying a son, but only time would tell. Alexander could not think of a time that he was happier than when Myra had told him the good news nearly four months ago.

The worn back door to the house creaked as Alexander pushed it open and entered into the kitchen. He thought again that he should replace the door before the winter came and the cold winds that came with it. The door had fallen to the back of his mind when he found out he was having a child.

The week after the announcement, Alexander, Nathan and their father had begun a new addition to the house for Alexander and Myra to move into instead of the small bedroom they shared now. The project was moving along at a decent pace, but as there always was on the farm, other things need to be dealt with too. Things such as the new pasture.

Gathered around the small table in the kitchen, Caren, Myra and Alexander’s mother sat preparing the evening meal. Alexander smiled at the women and spoke, “A lovely site.”

“Alexander, always ready with compliments. Don’t think that they’ll keep you out of trouble like they did when you were still a boy,” his mother commented. She stood and walked over to him, placing a light kiss on his cheek as they hugged.

Alexander moved over to Myra, standing behind her and kissing her forehead as she looked up at him, “And you are the loveliest of all.”

Myra smiled as she looked back down at the dough she was kneading, “Did you finish your work?”

Before Alexander could speak, his mother answered, “Of course he did. Have you ever known Alex not to finish a task set for him?”

Alexander just laughed, “Where’s father?”

“Last I saw he was in his chair reading a book,” Caren said as she sliced some carrots.

“Thank you,” Alexander said as he placed another kiss on Myra’s head and exited the kitchen.

He moved through the simple hallway towards the living room. All that decorated the hall was a single painting that had been handed down through the family for as far back as Alexander’s father could remember. It was simple painting, which fit the house, that depicted a field of wildflowers. Alexander had wondered as a child if the field actually existed, or if it was just an image from the painter’s imagination.

Entering the living room, Alexander looked around. A fireplace made up of smoothed river stones was set into the wall directly across from him. A wooden bench that had been fitted with a backing sat facing the fireplace, parallel to it. A few chairs created a half circle where the family would often gather at night to talk or listen to stories while enjoying the fire.

In the corner to Alexander’s right stood a tall, hand carved bookcase. Various books lined the shelves, mostly things that had been gathered here and there as the family travelled into the city. Alexander’s father considered books to be a great treasure that were just waiting to be shared with others.

Next to the bookshelf, sitting in a high-backed rocker was Theman Varross. He was not a large man, shorter than Alexander and thinner that Nathan, but one would be a fool to anger the man. His skin, worn and tanned, was tight around well toned muscles that made up his arms. His gray hair, still speckled with the darker color it use to have, was cut short so as to beat the heat of the summer sun.

The man looked up from his book as Alexander grabbed a chair from by the fireplace and moved to sit nearer his father, “You get those posts all put in?”

“I did father,” Alexander replied nodding.

Theman nodded. He placed a bookmark in the book, marking his page and placed it in his lap, “Good, not that I thought you wouldn’t finish. You and Nathan will need to make sure to get that pasture finished soon. Jonul should be here end of the week with those sheep,” the grizzled man barked a laugh, “Never thought I’d find myself raisin’ sheep.”

Alexander grinned. His father had always had a few animals around on the farm. A team of horses to work the fields. A cow or two for milk, as well as to breed and sell off any calves. A few chickens roamed the farm, which were great for eggs as well as the occasional meal. When it came to sheep or other herd animals, Theman had always said he would never take them. But when his long time friend Jonul said that he was moving in to Garlin and that he would sell Theman his flock at half its worth, Theman took the offer. He said he would have been a fool not to buy them.

“How’s your knee doing?” Alexander said, noted concern in his voice.

His father rubbed at his right knee, “Oh it’ll be fine. The healer said I could be up and around next week, long as I take it easy.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow at the last part, “I find it hard to believe that you can take it easy.”

“With you around boy, I could retire and live happy,” his father said, rolling into his gruff laughter that had always made Alexander smile as a boy.

“I don’t think you’ll ever retire da,” Alexander said, joining in his father’s laughter.

Alexander awoke from his dream as he heard someone returning from their watch. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he saw Miktan step into the small campsite. The fire was nothing more than coals as Miktan kicked dirt over it. Through the trees, Alexander could just tell that the sun was beginning to rise.

As Alexander stretched, Miktan moved to both Jaron and Matthew in turn, shaking them awake. Alexander was surprised as Matthew pulled one of his daggers out from underneath the thin pillow under his head at being shaken. He was more surprised at how quickly Miktan moved to grab the young man’s wrist.

“Easy boy,” Miktan said soothingly, “It’s just me. It’s morning and we need to be on our way.”

Matthew groaned as his head fell back onto the pillow. Alexander smiled. He knew that the boy had to be tired. Alexander still felt as if he could sleep for a few more hours, but he knew that they could not spend their time sleeping right now. Not yet at least.

Alexander made quick work of gathering up everything and returning it into the pack that held their supplies. He moved to the horses, saddling Cirrus and tying the pack to the saddle, and his bedroll behind it.

When Matthew lazily walked up to Belle carrying his bedroll and saddlebags, Alexander joined him. The boy was a quick learner, remembering what Alexander had shown him the night before and reversing it to saddle the mare with only a few instructions. Alexander was impressed. Even after only a day around a horse, he seemed much more comfortable.

“You have to adapt and learn quick when you live a life like mine,” Matthew said when Alexander complimented him.

Before long the group was headed back towards the road. There were a few others on the road, as there had been during the day before. None of them were threatening however. Most appeared to be farmers that had taken goods to Garlin for sale and the rest were either just travelers or merchants.

The day was cooler than the previous one. Clouds dotted the sky that allowed for periods of shade. The group seemed to have relaxed with the cooling temperature, though it probably had to do more with the distance from the city. Conversations sprung up about the landscape and the weather. Alexander was glad to see that everyone seemed to be worrying a little less about what had happened. At one point of the journey, Miktan had begun to tell tales. Epic stories of heroes and saving damsels.

A few hours past midday, as the sun off in the western sky leading their way, Alexander spotted the familiar farmhouse. He announced that they were near and kicked Cirrus into a trot. The building sat on a short hill, half a mile off of the road. A small barn sat at the bottom of the small hill and Alexander could make out a pair of horses grazing in a fenced in area near the barn.

Chickens scattered as Alexander drew Cirrus to a stop near the barn. He dismounted and tied the gelding up at the tack posts. What had been a fresh log set on two posts when Alexander left was now well worn and would probably need to be replaced next spring.

The others did the same as Alexander but he paid them no mind. He noticed from the house that someone was standing outside the door, watching them. Alexander recognized the man as Nathan, even from fifty paces a way. As Alexander walked up the hill, followed by the three others, another joined Nathan, leaning against the doorframe. It was his father.

Theman Varross’ face was set, marking that he was ready to dismiss anyone that was there to trouble him. Nathan’s eyes widened as he recognized Alexander coming up the hill and he disappeared back inside the house. Alexander’s father however remained where he was; watching.

“Father,” Alexander said as he stopped a pace from the old man standing in the door.

“Alex,” the man replied, his voice stern and relaxed in only the way Theman Varross could manage.

The two just stood there eyeing each other until Alexander’s mother pushed his father from the door. Anara Varross had always been plump and kind. She was no different now. Her dark blue eyes locked on Alexander, looked him up and down once, and then she was there embracing him. Alexander was shocked at his mother’s strength. She held him so tightly that he was finding it hard to breath.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said, still clutching him, “I wondered if you would ever come back here.”

Alexander was returning the hug now, a smile on his face, “I wish I could be here under better circumstances,” he said.

Anara released her son and took a step back, “Why? What’s wrong?” Her stance was that of a mother bear ready to kill to defend her cub, but she soon shook her head, a smile returning to her face “Never you mind that right now, you and your friends come inside and get comfortable while I fix you all something to eat.”

“Anara,” Theman’s voice seemed to force silence from everything, “Who are you inviting people into my house?”

Alexander’s mother spun, staring at the old man. Anara had always been the only one Alexander had ever seen able to cow Theman and she was doing just that right now. The old man’s eyes tightened at her stare as if to argue, but they soon dropped to the ground.

“Now Theman, you may own this house, but I am the one that cleans it. I am the one that cares for it. And if you have any intention of eating anything anytime soon, you will invite your son and his friends in right this instant, do you understand me?” Alexander flinched at his mother’s words. Alexander had always respected his father, but his mother’s anger was something to be feared.

Alexander’s father took a deep breath before speaking, “All right then, come on in and introduce yourselves.”

His father then turned and disappeared into the house. His mother however, herded them all through the door with her kind words. Soon they were all sitting at the small dining table off of the kitchen. Alexander’s father sat in his carved chair at the head of the table, just as he always had. His mother busied herself with Caren at the table, cutting up vegetables and throwing them into a pot with some water and dried meats. Caren was slicing a loaf that had probably been baked that morning.

“So, can I know who now sits as my table?” Theman asked, his voice still holding a tone of anger.

“I am Miktan Lonstrat,” Miktan said placing a hand on his chest and managing to give a slight bow from his chair, “These two are Matthew and Jaron,” he motioned to the two younger men.

Jaron seemed a little disappointed at not hearing his last name, but they had discussed that it would probably be better if they kept that unknown for the time being. People would take note of a noble’s son, especially when word got out that he had suddenly disappeared in the night.

Alexander’s father nodded at the introductions, “I am Theman Varross, my wife is Anara. The man that spotted you all and has seemed to have gone into hiding is my son Nathan and the young lady helping my wife is his wife Caren.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Jaron said politely.

“I hope we are not intruding too much,” Miktan said with a smile.

It looked as if Theman was about to make a comment, but at a sharp look look from his wife, he gave a quick shake of his head, “It’s no trouble. We have plenty to share.”

“And we thank you for your generosity,” Miktan said.

“Now, while I don’t necessarily mind your being here, I would like to know what brings you here so suddenly,” Alexander’s father said, not even sparing a glance to his mother.

It was Alexander that answered, “I was recently ordered to move, along with some men, to Garlin. While in the city, I met with Jaron, Matthew and Miktan. Something came up in which they were leaving the city. I haven’t taken much time away lately, so I informed my superior about a leave of absence and decided to join them.”

Theman’s eyebrows rose a bit as he listened to Alexander’s explanation, but they soon relaxed and his father nodded, “It’ll be good for you to have some time away from the army. Maybe you’ll come to your senses and finally leave.”

Alexander was relieved that his father had taken the lie as truth. Alexander had never really been able to lie to his parents effectively. They quite often saw through his lies and confronted him about it.

“Leave the boy alone Theman,” Alexander’s mother said as she placed some bread and a dish of butter on the table, “Alex is well aware of your feelings on him being in the army. That doesn’t mean you can harass him about it now.”

“I was just saying Anara,” Theman began to defend himself.

“No, you drop that subject right now. You all eat some bread while the soup finishes. Go on, help yourselves,” Alexander’s mother returned to the kettle that was now over the small fireplace hanging on a hook.

Everyone seemed to wait until Alexander’s father nodded before reaching in for some of the bread. They sat in silence while they ate. The bread was just as Alexander remembered it.

“This is very good,” Matthew said before taking another bite.

“Well, the boy does speak,” Alexander’s mother commented from the soup kettle, “Caren, why don’t you fetch the boy something else to snack on. It looks as if he only eats every other day.”

Alexander thought he heard Matthew say something about that being close to truth and smiled. It was good to be home again, even if his father was avoiding looking at him. They continued to eat as Caren set a plate of vegetables on the table.

Alexander could not help but grin as his brother entered the room herding his daughter in before him. Kari was taller than Alexander had pictured her. It had been almost two years since he had last seen his niece. He stood from his chair and knelt down as she rushed him.

“Uncle Alex!” She exclaimed as she charged. The two hugged, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Kari,” He held her out in front of him, “you’ve gotten big.”

Her grin seemed to cover her entire face, “I didn’t believe him when daddy told me you were here.”

“Well, it’s true,” Alexander said as he stood.

“It’s good to see you Alex,” Nathan said as he stuck out his hand.

The two shook hands, “You too Nathan.”

Nathan took a seat at the table and Alexander returned to his, Kari climbing up to sit on his lap. Conversation sprang up as bowls of soup were placed in front of everyone. It all reminded Alexander how much he had truly missed his family.

Chapter 20 - Escape from the City

Alexander was glad for the time he was moving carefully through the halls of the barracks. The only men that had seen him enter the complex had been the two men guarding the gates in and out. Luckily they had been the same men that were stationed there when he left. They had given him looks of confusion at his time of return, but did not bother to question him about it. Once in the complex, there was no one but the occasional man on patrol, but once they saw his uniform, they did not bother him.

Once he had gotten to his office, with it's attached bunk, he gathered up anything he thought was important. He had made sure to take the letter he had received from the General, as well as any other communications he had received since the first. He had changed his clothes into something more civilian, not wanting to draw attention to himself, though he packed the uniform and any other items that would identify him as military in a small pack.

After he had gathered up everything he saw as important, he began his way back out of the complex. Most of his men, Alexander included, felt that the fact the stables was separated, outside of the complex, from the rest of the buildings was an annoyance. This evening however Alexander was thankful for it.

Heading back out into the night, Alexander made his way to the gates without seeing any of the guards. At the gates, the men let him pass back out mostly unbothered. They looked as if they were going to stop him, but as one of the men recognized him, they let him through. It was not so much their job to keep people in as it was to keep people out.

He made his way out, down the street, towards the stables that kept all the mounts that had been brought with the soldiers, and a few that the guards had access to. The building was very different from the guard complex inside the walls. Where the rest of the buildings assigned to the guards and the military were stone, the stables were made of wood.

Entering through the side door of the building, he was bombarded by the familiar smells of horses, dung, hay, stall bedding, and leather polish used on the harnesses and saddles. The familiarity was comforting, even in the madness that was that evening. He quickly made his way through stables, working towards the stall that held his horse.

He found the stall, having visited it multiple times since arriving in Garlin to care for his steed. Entering the stall, Cirrus wickered. Alexander placed a familiar hand on the gray gelding’s neck to calm him as he approached the animal's head. When Cirrus realized who was in the stall with him, he calmed, giving Alexander room to maneuver in the stall.

Alexander made quick work of the knot that tied Cirrus into the stall and lead him out. He tied the horse back up outside the stall and turned to go and retrieve his saddle and bridle. A sword point stopped him as he finished his turn. The blade was steady and the light of the lantern the man held, as well as the few lanterns in the stable that were lit gleamed of the well cared for metal. Alexander held his breath as the other man examined him.

The sword dropped away, "Lieutenant, what are you doing here at this hour?" Jogan asked, surprise full in his voice.

"Jogan, thank the weave it is you, I need your help," Alexander placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him to walk along side him to the tack stall, "I need to leave Garlin tonight. I have some companions that will be coming with me. They will all need horses. I need you to find two mounts for them. I need them to be fast, but even more importantly, they need to be well rested and well broken."

Jogan stopped mid-step and stared at Alexander, "Lieutenant, what is going on?"

Alexander sighed, "I can't explain right now. The letter I gave you will explain, just don't read it until I have left. Will you help me?"

"Of course I will Lieutenant," Jogan said, almost saluting, and moved off into the stables to retrieve the other animals.

Alexander moved into his tack stall and retrieved his saddle, saddlebags, and bridle. His mind raced as he went through the process of saddling his horse. He was so rehearsed at the process that he found himself standing there, completely finished, without realizing he had done a thing.

He heard hurried, quiet footsteps coming from behind him and spun, hand on his sword. He almost collapsed as Jaron stopped, eyes wide and panicked. The young man still wore the same outfit he had been in all night, but now carried a bundle, wrapped in what appeared to be a blanket.

"Alexander, it's me, Jaron," he said, the look of panic leaving his eyes as he realized the sword remained in its sheathe.

"You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that," Alexander said, turning back around to look over his work, "Especially not tonight."

Jaron walked up to Cirrus and stroked his neck, "I know, I think I've jumped at every little noise since leaving the sewers."

"Lieutenant," Jogan said, looking at the ground as he approached. His eyes locked on Jaron when he looked up, "is he one of your companions?"

Alexander shifted his eyes, first looking at Jaron, then Jogan, "Yes Jogan, he is one of the others I'm leaving with tonight."

"Then, who are the two that are bringing the tack for these animals up?" Jogan asked, glancing behind him.

Alexander's brow furrowed and his hand returned to the sword as the images of two men began to emerge from the shadows, "Who's there?"

Matthew stepped into the light, followed by an older man that Alexander soon realized was Miktan, "It's me, and Miktan. He wouldn't stay behind. There wasn't anything I could do."

Alexander raised an eyebrow at the two newcomers, "How much does he know?"

"All of it," Miktan said plainly, "and I'm not about to let these two rush off into the night without a proper chaperon."

Alexander's gaze passed over every one gathered. Jaron stood there, a questioning look on his face; Matthew just shook his head in resignation; Miktan stared at Alexander as if to challenge him to object; and Jogan looked completely lost.

"Very well," Alexander said, turning to sort his bundle into his saddlebags, "Jogan, we are going to need another horse."

"Lieutenant," the man responded, waiting for Alexander to turn and look at him, "I don't know what is going on, but I am not about to let you go rushing off into the night alone. I will accompany you."

Alexander tried to keep his eyes from rolling, but it was in vain, "Jogan, I need you to stay here with the men. They will need your strength to help them through what is to come. You can not come with us."

Jogan seemed to be caught. One part of him wanted to obey the orders given him, as he always did. Another part wanted to throw away his orders and protect his superior officer. Alexander shook his head, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. That seemed to be all Jogan needed and he turned, heading off into the stables after another animal.

"Well, at the rate we're going, I'll need someone else to saddle this other horse if we are to leave before dawn," Alexander scanned the three men standing before him.

"Don't look at me," Matthew said putting his hands out in front of him, "I'm just a street thief. I don't know anything about these animals. We'll be lucky if I can ride one."

"I've always had my animals saddled by someone else," Jaron said apologetically.

"Very well," Miktan said, moving towards one of the now tied horses, "I suppose I'll have to do it. I just hope my back doesn't give out."

Alexander gave a smile at the older man. Regardless of his age, Miktan seemed to move with surprisingly youthful grace and strength. Both men made quick work of the gear, and as they finished, Jogan brought a fourth mount, already saddled and ready to ride. Each man worked their belongings into the saddlebags and Alexander looked over the small group of men.

“Jogan, could you grab us one of the camp bundles and four bedrolls please?” Alexander almost felt guilty asking the man to do anything more, given he knew nothing, but the man moved into action without delay anyway.

“So,” Miktan spoke, “where is our destination?”

All eyes moved to Alexander. He supposed that he had taken control of the situation up until now, and it made sense that, given his military training, he would make the decisions for the time being.

“My parent’s live two days ride from here. We can go there for a short while and plan the best choice of destination when we have some breathing room,” Alexander explained.

Everyone nodded in understanding. Alexander hoped that they would be okay at his parent’s farm. It had been many years since Alexander had been to visit his parents and his father had not been too happy with his decision to join the military. He knew his mother would greet him with open arms, but his father’s word was as good as an order given by any of the five generals.

Jogan returned carrying a pack filled with various gear for making camp and four bedrolls. The man handed the pack to Alexander and gave a bedroll to each man without speaking a word. He returned his eyes to Alexander. He knew the look on Jogan’s face well. He was standing, nearly at attention, waiting for his next order.

“Jogan,” Alexander said, back straight and arms to his side, “you have always been a loyal soldier and I hope that I know that my actions this night have been strange. I have one final order for you. You still have the letter I gave you when I left this evening?”

The other man nodded, “Good,” Alexander continued, “In my office, in the bottom left drawer, under some reports is another letter for you. I want you to retrieve it and when completely alone, read both letters. They will explain some of what it going on. Is that understood?”

“Yes Lieutenant,” the other man said giving a proud salute.

Alexander returned the salute, “You are dismissed. I hope to see you again soon my friend.”

The other man spun on his heel and marched out into the darkness of the stables. Alexander felt as if he had betrayed Jogan. He knew that it was better if Jogan remained with the men, but he still felt horrible about it all.

“We had better leave now,” Miktan said, “that is if you are wanting to avoid detection.”

Alexander nodded and mounted Cirrus, the gray horse taking a few quick steps, ready to move after a few days in a stall. Miktan and Jaron mounted, both smoothly. Alexander supposed that he should not be caught off guard at the bard’s movements, but it was still surprising to see him almost flow into his saddle.

Matthew stood there, looking at the bay mare before him. His eyes never left the horse, but Alexander knew the look in his face. It was obvious that the young man had never been on a horse. Alexander sighed, dismounting from Cirrus who seemed disappointed at losing his rider.

“Matthew,” Alexander said, walking to join the frozen man, “it’s all right. I know this mare. Her name is Belle. Come over to her head and let her smell you out.”

Matthew did as he was instructed, though it took a hand at his back to get him started. The two moved to the horses head and Alexander placed a calming hand on her nose. The horse snorted and Matthew jerked. Alexander held him close with a hand still at his back.

“Show her your hand,” Alexander instructed and Matthew raised his hand cautiously to the mare’s nose, “and now just let her figure you out a bit.”

The mare sniffed at Matthew’s hand for a few moments before dropping her head a bit and pushing her nose into his hand. Matthew’s hand pulled back for a moment, but was soon stroking the mare’s nose along the stripe of white that travelled the length of her face. Once Matthew seemed relaxed, Alexander took him over to the saddle.

“All right, you need to put your right foot in here,” Alexander held out the stirrup and Matthew raised his leg up, placing his foot in it, “Good, now brace yourself with the horn and seat of the saddle and pull yourself up and settle into the seat.”

Alexander placed Matthew’s hands on the horn and back of the seat and took a step back. Matthew bounced a few times, testing the steadiness of the hard leather that made up the saddle. Finally he lurched up, swung his leg over and fell into the saddle.

“Good, now make sure that your other foot is in the stirrup and Belle is likely to do the rest for you. Once we are away from the city a ways, we’ll work on your riding,” Alexander explained as he once again mounted Cirrus.

Matthew remained silent, as if his voice may scare the horse he was now atop of, but nodded in understanding. Alexander pulled Cirrus around and started out the stables and into the streets. Jaron took up a position behind him and Matthew, or rather Belle, took place behind the buckskin gelding Jaron was astride. Miktan skillfully directed the chestnut stallion into the rear position.

Alexander was well aware of the stallion’s nature and was glad to see that Miktan was more than just a capable rider. Maestro could be strong willed and would fight against an inexperienced rider. As long as the horse was made aware that he was not in control, he was fine. Alexander was glad that Matthew had not been left with the stallion.

Their procession carefully, but quickly made their way through the streets and before long were at the eastern gate of the city. Going out the eastern gate would make the trip a little longer, as his family’s home was just around two days ride west of Garlin. However, if any of the gate guards were questioned as to their leaving, it would appear that they were heading east.

None of Alexander’s men knew where his home was, at least not specifics. Most knew he was from Garlin, or nearby, but he had told none of them where they could find his parent’s farm.

As they approached the gate, a guard stepped out of the small gatehouse to the left of the opening in the wall, “Halt.”

Alexander drew his horse to a stop and all of those behind him did the same, “What can I do for you?”

The guard carefully examined the four men in the poor light given off from the open door of the gatehouse and the single lantern that burned nearby. He was a good guard. He took in every detail from their plain appearances, to their swords, to the fine horses they rode and even the pack of camping equipment that hung from Alexander’s saddle.

“Where might you be going at such a late hour?” the guard asked, locking eyes with Alexander.

“Late?” Miktan spoke up, “My good man it is early. We have a long journey ahead of us. Some friends of ours are getting married over in the village of Burwood in two days. Hardly enough time to get there I know, but our invitations only just arrived yesterday afternoon.”

The lies slid off the man’s tongue so eloquently that Alexander could have almost believed him. The guard’s head turned to examine the older man who had slowly moved nearer the guard during his speech. The guard’s face began as one of absolute confusion and disbelief, but it slowly melted into one of understanding.

The guard nodded and waved his hand towards the open gate, “You’d better get going then. Safe travels.”

With that the guard turned away and went back into the gatehouse and closed the door behind him. Alexander gave a questioning look to Miktan who just smiled in response. Not wanting to waste anymore of their time or give the guard a chance to rethink things and come back to stop them, Alexander kicked Cirrus into a trot and started out from Garlin. The others followed, though he heard a choked off grunt which he assumed came from Matthew as Belle moved to match the speed of the rest of the group.

Alexander felt tension begin to release from his body. He had not been able to truly relax since the realization of what had occurred that evening struck him. Now that he was moving away from Garlin he felt for the first time as if he had a chance to fix what he had unknowingly started. Though he had no idea as to where they should start.

Chapter 19 - Realizations

“What have I done?” Matthew heard someone say, but he could not tell who.

He opened his eyes. He felt as if he had not slept in days. He lay on a plain stone floor. He sat up, his head spinning as he did so. He held his head with his hands in an attempt to stop the spinning. He tried to examine the room, but his vision was cloudy. He could make out shapes, but could not identify them.

“No!” another voice shouted. Matthew’s head reeled at the noise and he felt like he might vomit.

“Matthew, Jaron, are you all right?” The first voice asked, it had to be Alexander.

His mind was still in a fog, but he was beginning to remember what had happened, “I’m okay,” he spoke, his voice weak, “I think.”

“I am not injured,” the second voice, Jaron, said, “any more than that and I am not sure.”

Matthew squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. They cleared a little. It was enough that he could identify what the shapes were, even if they were still a little blurred. Alexander stood, doubled over, to his right. Jaron was off to Matthew’s left, and was on all fours. It looked as if the man had vomited.

“What happened?” Matthew asked, getting to his feet.

He wavered slightly, but maintained his balance. In front of him was a pedestal. On top of the pedestal sat an all too familiar stone chest. The lid stood open. Matthew hurried to look inside. As he squinted down into the chest, he found that it was empty.

“This is all that was inside the chest,” Alexander said holding up a half-sphere with little protrusions evenly spaced along the outer edge, “though I doubt the key out of here was the only thing contained. Whatever else was there is now gone.”

Matthew turned to see Jaron getting to his feet. The young man had vomited. He stood, knees weak, but he stood.

“What I saw,” the young man said, “did I really do those things? My father? My mother? They were dead and yet other times they weren’t. By the weave, what was that?”

“I can only venture a guess,” Alexander said, head looking towards the ceiling, though his eyes were closed, “We each are a single thread in the tapestry of creation. The direction our thread takes, the part we play in the weave, is as much our decision as it is the guiding of other threads.”

Matthew knew the story of the tapestry of creation well enough, but he decided to let the man go on, “I think what we saw were lives we could have lived. Lives we would have had if different threads had pulled us in different directions, or if some threads were not there.”

“You mean,” Jaron began, “that we saw possible lives?”

Alexander nodded, but it was Matthew that spoke, “How can that be possible?”

“The chest is not a chest, or that is my theory. I think it symbolizes something else. You both know about the threads of creation?” Jaron nodded but Matthew gave him a questioning look. He went on, “The threads of creation are what many believe what started the world. They were the initial threads in the tapestry of creation. As the weave grew, the threads blended together into plants, animals, earth, water and every other element of the world as we see it.”

Matthew nodded, signifying that he understood, at least slightly, what Alexander was saying and the man continued, “When the tapestry no longer needed the threads of creation, the Great Weaver hid them away within the tapestry. They are a great power that could unravel the tapestry.”

“But the threads of creation are still here today,” Jaron said, a confused look on his face, “Weavers use them to do many things.”

Now Matthew was really confused. Alexander seemed to read his confusion and explain, “He doesn’t mean weavers in relation to textiles. He means Weavers, those that can use the threads of power to do great and wonderful things.”

“Like magic?” Matthew asked.

“Many would frown at the use of that word, but yes,” Alexander said, he turned to Jaron, “The difference between what Weavers do and the Threads of Creation is great. A thread of power is similar to one of the Threads of Creation, but wholly different at the same time. The Threads of Creation are theorized to work together to create and destroy. However, a Weaver can only use one thread and to my knowledge, no Weavers have found a way to cast their weaves as a part of another’s.”

“So, what does that have to do with this?” Matthew asked, pointing to the chest.

Alexander nodded, “As I said, the Great Weaver hid the threads of power away in the tapestry. I believe that chest is a piece to where they were hidden.”

Jaron’s jaw hung open, staring at Alexander, but Matthew spoke, “So we just released a power capable to ultimate destruction and complete creation?”

“No,” Alexander said frankly, “At least I think not. This was too easy. The tapestry of creation is complex, and I’ve no doubt that the Threads of Creation are behind more than just one lock. I just wish I could figure out why it was we were tricked into releasing this one.”

Alexander’s voice trailed off in thought, but Matthew’s mind put a piece of the puzzle into place, “If we were the ones to release theses Threads of Creation, we would be the ones held responsible!” Alexander and Jaron both stared at him, “I’ve used it multiple times when stealing something. Misdirection. How many people knew why you were coming here tonight Jaron?”

The young man gave him a confused look before answering, “None. Well, I mean Celes knew, but other than her, there was no one.”

“And you Alexander?” Matthew turned to look at the other man.

“Captain Edbar,” he answered plainly.

“And for me it was Lord Bething, and I suppose Celes,” Matthew said, expecting another to piece everything together. When no one spoke, he went on, “If no one knew we were coming here, no one can support us when we try to defend ourselves. That leaves those that sent us to be able to operate freely with whatever they have planned and place any blame they have on us!”

The other’s eyes went wide as they realized what Matthew had already pieced together, “No one would suspect those that sent us,” Alexander said, realization clear in his voice, “And it would be their word against ours. For me, it would be the word of my commanding officer. For you Jaron, it would be Lady Celes, unless you have any proof of tying her to us.”

“The only proof I had is burned to ash,” Jaron said, his head hanging.

“And for me, it would be my word against Lord Bething. The word of a street thief against the word of a High Lord,” Matthew’s voice was weak.

The three stood there in silence for a few moments, each man internalizing the situation. Matthew’s mind raced through all the possibilities. He thought about what he could do to inform people of what had happened without linking himself to the situation. He thought about trying to ignore it. He thought about hiding out to let the situation settle. Each plan was crucially flawed in that the people involved knew too much about him for it to work. He thought of other plans, but each one led with him back in prison, or worse, dead.

“We have to stop what he have started,” Alexander said plainly.

Matthew looked up at him, an eyebrow arched, not understanding his words, but it was Jaron that spoke, “And how do we do that? Do you know anything about the Threads of Creation? Do you know how to seal back up what has been released? To lock away the most destructive power in the world?”

Alexander shook his head, “I don’t, but we have to do something.”

“Why?” Matthew asked, breaking his meditative silence, “why should we do anything? What can we do?”

“Why? Why do anything? It is our duty,” Alexander replied, his tone and words held that duty. The duty he felt responsible.

“Duty? I’m no soldier. I’m a thief. I have no duty to nothing but myself,” Matthew turned to walk away.

“What about Tavira,” Alexander said coldly and Matthew froze, “What about Vansen and the rest of your friends. Would you leave them to die because of something you did?”

“Alexander…” Jaron started.

Alexander cut Jaron off, “No! We are responsible for what happened here, whether we acknowledge that or not! What he had done here this night could destroy the world! No, not could, will destroy the world if we don’t try something! What are we to do, leave here and forget this ever happened? Sit back and watch as something we set loose is used to take everything we love, everything we know? I won’t do that!”

Matthew felt tears streaming down his face. In one of those visions, one of those possible lives, he had known his father. His father, in that memory, did what was right without regard for himself, and died doing so. Matthew could not know for certain that his father truly lived that way, but he wanted to think so. How could he be so weak? How could he be so selfish as to try and forget about all of this and  surrender the people in his life over to their ultimate destruction?

“We’ll have to leave the city,” Matthew said, holding back any more tears. Holding back any sobs.

“What?” Jaron asked, turning to look at him.

Matthew looked up, eyes swollen, cheeks wet, “Alexander is right. Whether or not this is our fault, we are responsible for it. We have to try and stop what is happening,” Matthew made sure to meet each man’s eyes before continuing, “But we can’t do that here. Not in this city. We don’t know enough, and the people that do know what’s going on aren’t going to tell us. We need to leave Garlin. We need to try and find what information we can. We need to try and get ahead of them in this.”

“Dig a trench to stop the fire that is ravaging the forest,” Alexander said with a nod.

“That is a little bit too fitting I think,” Jaron said with a forced chuckle.

Matthew smiled, “We have to know more, and to learn that, we have to leave the city?”

“So where to?” Jaron asked, a light tone of sarcasm in his voice.

Matthew shook his head and Alexander spoke, “We can figure that out later. For now we just need to get out of the city before any questions start to get asked.”

“First we need to get out of here. Does that map show any other way out of the sewers?” Matthew asked, pointing at the rolled paper Alexander had tucked in his belt.

“I believe so, why?” Alexander asked, pulling the paper out to look it over.

Matthew shrugged, “If I were going to con a group of people into doing something for me, I would be waiting for them to come back out. I’d want to know everything that happened, and I would also want to keep a close eye on them with the information they probably now had.”

“You mean that someone is waiting for us up there?” Jaron asked, pointing up towards the ceiling of the stone room, though Matthew knew he meant back in the streets.

“It would make sense,” Alexander said, still examining the map, “However, I think I can get us out using a different path, and put us up somewhere they wouldn’t expect, even if they planned for such a likelihood.”

“Good, so, anyone else care to get out of here?” Matthew said with a laugh, his regular spirits returning a little. Everyone nodded and they started their way back up to the streets.

——————-

Wilric sat in the shadows outside the sewer grate along with four others. They sat waiting for three men to come out. They had been warned that they would likely be armed and to be prepared for them to be able to defend themselves. The instructions that had been given to Wilric, but that he had not passed on to the others, were that if they did not come out before mid-evening, they were to follow a map he had been given.

The map led them right though the grate and into the sewers. The few gold he and the others had been given was not enough to convince him to send any of the others in there, let alone go in himself. Wilric had heard that others groups such as theirs had been hired to watch other exits from the sewers, and no doubt they had been given the same instructions, so he would let them wade through that filth.

Wilric and his men had been sitting there, watching the grate for hours. There had been no sign of anyone entering, let along that anyone would come out. He began to question the sanity of his employer. But, gold was gold, whether the man giving it to you was sane or not.

Wilric strode down the street a short ways and kicked one of the men with his boot, “You’re up, it’s my turn to sleep for a bit now. Just wake me if anyone comes out.”

The man grunted and muttered something under his breath, but slowly stood and walked to the end of the street. Wilric had decided early on that four men with the skills his man had should be enough for three, even if they all knew how to handle themselves. So it made sense to him that while four watch, one could sleep. He sat on the packed dirt of the street and leaned back against the wall of the building, shutting his eyes and drifting into slumber.

———————-

Matthew was glad to be out of the sewers and back onto the streets. It was still evening, though it had felt like days down below the city. The route they had taken to avoid any detection had taken them nearly a quarter of the length of the city away, coming up in an alley, rather than on the wall.

Stretching, Matthew relished the clean air. Sure it was dusty, but it was without a doubt cleaner than anything below the city. The other two had come up before him and had already set off. Each one was on their way to gather up at least a little before they left the city. They could not afford to take much, but they would not last very long on the road without at least some supplies.

Matthew’s destination was Miktan’s. He started off in the direction of his place. Even with the street lamps doused and with only the night sky to illuminate his way, he had no trouble navigating the streets. The streets were his home. They were his life. Four years running through them, dodging guards, making getaways. Four years of his life were dedicated to the ground beneath his feet, and they repaid him by remaining the same.

It was not long before he was standing at the back door of Miktan’s house. He had thought about going through the front, but he knew that Miktan always left a way in for any of the crew through the back. Matthew ran his hand along the outside of the doorframe and came across the indentation he was looking for. He counted four bricks over and found the loose one. Pulling it out he retrieved the key. Just as he was about to use it, the door swung open. Jonson stood there, staring down at a shocked Matthew. It took all his strength not to run just then.

“Master Matthew, we have been expecting you for some time,” the red haired man said.

Matthew had always trusted the man, but in that light, with his voice, weary from being up so long, he thought he might be safer running. He swallowed the impulse and stepped through the doorway. Jonson motioned him towards the library and Matthew was willing herded that direction. Inside the room sat Miktan and Vansen. Both sat in one of the high-backed chairs, each one staring at him as he entered.

“What took you so long?” Vansen asked. Matthew was worried. It was rare that he did not have a smile, and there was no sign of one on his face now.

“Uh, well, I,” Matthew searched for what to say before finally deciding on the truth, “As I am sure you knew, I was in prison for a few days,” he chuckled, but neither man flinched, “and, well, this past evening, Lord Bething heard my case and had me released.”

Miktan cut in, “We know all of this. What we don’t know is why instead of coming straight here after your release, you are here now, late into the night.”

Matthew swallowed, it was louder than he had intended it to be, “Well, you see, there was a condition for my release. I had to do something for Lord Bething.”

The words just spilled from Matthew’s mouth. Everything from first meeting up with Alexander and Jaron to the Fire Hounds to the stone chest to the decisions they had made. He left out the part of the visions of possible lives. There was too much of those that he was still piecing together to reveal anything yet, though he did recount the final vision with the maps that were not really maps.

The two sat there, Vansen’s face was full blown shock, Miktan’s was more an expression of curiosity. He was the first to speak, “Threads of Creation you say?”

Matthew nodded, “Yes Miktan, I’m sure this sounds completely outrageous, but it is all true.”

The visions Matthew had seen under the city flashed back to him. In most of his visions he had been reunited with his father. In those visions, his father possessed the daggers now at Matthew’s back. The daggers that Miktan had told Matthew had belonged to Gabriel. The man in the visions who was Matthew’s father had been Braas. Matthew was not sure what to make of the visions, if they were honestly possible lives he might have had, or if they were just dreams that were pulled from his mind.

“I believe you Matthew,” the old man said rising to his feet and Matthew’s mind returned to the present, “The tale you have shared with us tonight is too unbelievably not to be true. I suppose we have better get you ready to travel.”

The man strode out of the room. Vansen remained sitting in his chair, the look of shock had been replaced by a new look of shock, if a little less. Matthew looked to Vansen before turning to follow Miktan out of the library. He found the man I the kitchen with two loaves of bread and some cheese and dried meats laid out on one of the counters. He had a piece of fabric that he was placing them on.

He tied the corners together and turned to Matthew, “That should be enough for the two of us at least for a short while.”

“The two of us?” Matthew asked, not understanding what the old storyteller meant.

“Do you really believe that I would let you, barely a man, go out into the world without my direction?” Miktan asked as if the answer were obvious.

“Miktan, no offense but…” Matthew began to argue but the old man cut him off.

“No offense but I don’t know anything about the world outside the walls of this city?” Miktan said mockingly, “Matthew my boy, I have seen more of this world that you could ever dream of. The young Lord Kensly knows barely more than you do probably. As for the Lieutenant, well, he’s a soldier Matthew. He sees things through the eyes of a soldier, not the eyes of a travelled bard.”

“Miktan, I can’t bring you in to this,” Matthew protested. Matthew’s mind again returned to the visions, comparing them to the information Miktan had given him.

“I’ll hear none of it. Come on now, we’d better grab the clothes you have here, and I’ll want something a little different to. Can’t ride a horse in these,” he said motioning to his clothes.

Miktan strode back out of the kitchen carrying the bundle of food. Jonson stood in the doorway staring at Matthew, “Jonson, he’s insane.”

“Indeed Master Matthew,” the manservant agreed with a nod of his head, “but I learned long ago that it is best to do as he says when he gets like this.”

Matthew threw up his arms in aggravation and strode after Miktan. When he got to the room near the top of the stairs he threw open the door took two steps in and froze. There, sitting up on the bed, her red hair framing in her face. Her blue eyes froze him mid-step. It was Tavira. In his haste he had almost forgotten about her.

“And I suppose that you are the cause for all this commotion that woke me up?” She said as if the answer was obvious, which it was.

“Tavira, I’m sorry,” Matthew began to apologize, “I didn’t know you were in here. I should leave, let you get back to sleep. I, I am so sorry.”

Matthew was half turned around when he truly realized who was in the bed. He knew well and good it was Tavira, but it was as if he had forgotten what had happened to her. It was not just Tavira in the bed, it was Tavira, who had been stabbed, in the bed.

He spun back around, his vision spinning slightly as he did so, “Are you all right?”

Tavira smiled then, “I was beginning to think that you had forgotten. I’m fine.”

Matthew was immediately at her side, kneeling down on the floor, “I am so sorry, it’s all my fault. I’d noticed the man in the streets but didn’t realize that he was following us until it was too late. Then I don’t know what came over me. It was all a blur, as if I was watching it happen with no control over what I was doing.”

Tavira halted him with a raise of her hand, “I am fine Matthew. I’m fine, you’re fine, Vansen’s fine. We are all fine. You don’t need to apologize,” she rolled her eyes, “Burn my thread, Vansen has apologized more than enough the past couple days. I’m just glad that you’re safe Matthew and maybe now things can get back to normal.”

Matthew’s heart sunk, “I wish it could, Tavira, but something’s happened.”

“What’re you doing boy, we don’t have time for this,” Miktan said, stepping into the room.

“What do you mean? Matthew, what’s going on?” Tavira asked. Panic filled her eyes as they darted from Matthew to Miktan and back to Matthew.

“Miktan is right, I really don’t have time to explain right now,” Matthew stood, unable to look Tavira in the eye any longer, and walked over to the wardrobe.

Miktan began to explain what he could to Tavira as Matthew gathered up the three fine suits that had been made for them. He placed them gingerly on a light blanket before going back to the wardrobe. Miktan had taken the liberty it seemed, to have another outfit made, though this was not of the same fine style the originals were. This was something closer to what he would wear, something more common.

He took the leather britches, looking them over, and set them with the fine clothes. There were two decent shirts, finer than what he was use to, but most things were. They were of a sturdy, light materials with cord at the neck that could be tied, as well as cord at the wrists. Matthew took everything that belonged to him from the wardrobe, leaving nothing that he could use. Wrapping them up in the blanket he turned to look at Miktan and Tavira.

“I’m ready to go,” he said to Miktan, both he and Tavira turning to look at him when he spoke.

Tavira was crying. She sobbed as she watched Matthew, eyes red and cheeks wet. Vansen was in the room now, sitting on the bed next to her, and arm around her shoulders for comfort. Matthew wanted to be there to, comforting her, telling her that he did not actually have to leave. But he knew the danger that would bring and the duty that Alexander had made clear was his. He could not stay now.

“I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can,” Matthew said, not able to bring himself to speak the final words of ‘goodbye’.

Miktan strode over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “We should be going now.”

Matthew held back tears, not wanting to make Tavira’s pain any worse, and left the room with Miktan. Heading out into the night once again.