Keira
On the table there was a plate of sausages set beside a bowl of porridge topped with strawberries, looking every bit as delicious as it smelled.
After an hour’s walk along the country roads, passing grain fields and vineyards, the small settlement of Fairborough came into view.
The village was made up of the tavern, a meeting house, the old smithy, and the farmer’s market that sprung up once a week at the crack of dawn only to dissipate by evening.
So many of the graves were marked with rusted swords or weathered staves driven into the earth.
Soldiers. She wondered if one of them was for Caspian.
If it was… would it be the weapon he had carried in his final moments, or were they merely for decoration?
She did not know. Either way, it would be disrespectful to remove it, even if she considered it for a moment, just to have a piece of him.
Another shuddering breath in. She was here for a purpose, to find Ignatius’s resting place. Afterward she would search for Caspian as well, even if she knew it would only mean opening up an old wound.
Ignatius’s grave was easier to find than she had feared. It was larger than the common markers around it. On its surface it read:
Ignatius the Red
Accomplished Wizard
Beloved Guardian
Keira stood staring at the words for an immeasurable time. The first time she read them, icy hot guilt spilled over her. Beloved Guardian. Had he even known she loved him in spite of everything? Or had he died reviled and alone…
Alone.
Another thought came, one of reason. Who had commissioned this stone? Ignatius may have set aside a sum for his burial and certainly had the funds to afford something grander than the common farmer. She could even imagine him describing himself as an Accomplished Wizard, but Beloved Guardian?
She straightened, foolishly looking about the empty hillside for the culprit.
Who would have known to mark his grave with these words?
A colleague of his? Certainly not. Perhaps the village had taken pity on him in death and chosen such wording so that he wouldn’t seem so alone, unmourned.
Though that would be exceedingly charitable of people who had met him only on spare occasion.
The mystery of it troubled her until she turned for the gate. There would be other days to seek out Caspian’s grave… days where she might have the strength to walk that path again. But only after this matter had been put to rest.
Keira set a quick pace down the hill toward the town.
As it was early morning, and not a market day, the common room of the Golden Sheaf was basically empty.
She had come to the tavern on brief occasions in the past. On one daring night when Ignatius had been away, she had come here with Caspian and shared an evening full of ale and laughter.
She sighed the memory away as she went up to the bar where the innkeeper was setting up for the day.
He looked up at her as she approached, and soon a glimmer of recognition came to his eye. It was unsurprising, even though years had passed. People tend to remember the local mages well. Keira dug through the depths of her memory for his name.
“Wondered if we’d ever see you around these parts again,” he said before ducking below the bar to grab a glass and setting it before her.
“No thank you, Angus,” Keira recalled. “I just came to ask some questions.”
“Alright,” he said, taking it back slowly.
Keira struggled over where to begin. “Ignatius is dead,” was all she could think of to say.
Angus nodded sympathetically. “Must be more than a year gone now.”
Her breath hitched.
His bushy brows pinched together. “You only just heard?”
“I was traveling,” Keira said distantly.
“Why don’t I pour you that drink, eh?”
She nodded, and Angus poured her a mug of ale.
Keira took a sip, the earthy taste washing over her palate. “Who oversaw… his final arrangements?”
The innkeeper sighed. “Well, that was a real problem for a time, as I recall. No one could collect possessions from his tower for the payments, you understand. Some magic, I suppose. Village undertaker waited a while to see if you or the lad who lived with you would show. What was his name?”
“Caspian,” Keira whispered.
“Right. But no one showed up, so he was buried in the village cemetery. It was a few months after that your Caspian came round and paid for a proper headstone. I suppose he has the money nowadays-”
Angus stopped short as Keira stared back at him in utter disbelief.
“Caspian is dead,” she said, her voice too harsh.
His brow furrowed. “Then a ghost wandered into my tavern.”
“He died in the Ogre Wars,” Keira added as if they were arguing, unable to temper herself. Caspian was dead. It was the terrible truth that had broken her heart, reshaped her life. To suggest any differently, to offer up that hope… It was too great an offense to leave undefended.
Angus let out a lengthy breath. “You left too soon to hear the news, I take it.”
“What news?”
“I guess he saved the prince’s life,” he repeated as if it was a common tale, as if he was amazed she hadn’t heard it before.
“The crown gave him lands and title, few days north of here. They call him the White Knight now, Lord of- Well, I can’t rightly remember the rest. But I saw him here myself, dressed like a lord and all.
Easy enough to recognize even so with that white hair of his. ”
Keira stared back at him, mind blank.
“He asked about you too, I remember. Only no one knew where you’d disappeared to.”
“Caspian is alive?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The earth pivoted beneath her as time ran still. Her heart was going to explode out of her chest as she tried to quell the tide of hope swelling within her. It might not be true. He could be confused, mistaken, wrong. But it was no use. All her heart could sing was he’s alive.