42. Faylinn
Chapter 42
Faylinn
I stood as still as the trees in the forest that surrounded my house as I gazed at the multitude of freshly dug graves that peppered the field and hill just outside the village.
There were dozens, no, hundreds of graves.
How could we even rebuild after this? Who was even left?
I suddenly felt very small next to the incredible number of dead, I was not the only one who had lost someone over the past week. Mothers, fathers, children, lovers, friends. There was not one family left in Isrun who was untouched by this war.
I wasn’t a stupid person by any stretch of the word. Even though we were a little town in the Borderlands, this would provoke war, or at least cause the Warlord to double his efforts to quell the rebellion and bring the Keepers to heel. My stomach turned sour at the thought.
More death, more lives irrevocably changed. There will be thousands more graves like these before this is over .
Tal left long ago, quickly finding his mother’s and siblings’ graves and paying his respects before leaving me to contemplate in silence.
I walked slowly through the rows of graves, noticing some whole families were laid to rest together. Tears tracked down my face as I gazed at the hundreds of names burned into wood markers, vowing to commit each to memory. I found names of people I had known my whole life, people whom I loved, whom I helped, babies I had helped bring into this world, adults I healed from sickness. My tears quickened and I did nothing to stop them as I gazed at each and every burial site.
Some, especially those closest to the hill, were unmarked—either those left alive couldn’t identify them, their bodies decayed or burned beyond identification, or they were part of the rebel army. Anger lit in my chest at the thought of those who attacked our village and tortured our people being laid to rest in the same place as their victims.
I turned from the unmarked graves, pushing my anger down to a simmer. There were two graves I was inadvertently searching for but had not yet found. As I trekked up the hill, I found two lone graves, both marked, and I dared to hope.
The first was simply marked “A Keeper.” There were no adornments upon his grave, and it was clear the earth was recently disturbed—the General’s Mages ensuring that the Librarian was, in fact, a Keeper. My anger boiled a bit again, thinking of them desecrating his eternal rest.
At least they reburied him .
The action was so at odds with what I knew their beliefs to be, and I took a small amount of comfort in their odd respect for the dead.
I bent down and ran my fingers over the rough wood.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t know how you knew, but you saved me. I promise...” I didn’t know what to promise someone who was dead. “You seemed to love knowledge and books, almost as much as me. So, I promise to keep learning, keep searching for truth. I think you would’ve liked that.” The wind picked up at that moment, blowing the curls that fell loose from my bun across my face and into my eyes. I inhaled deeply, the smell of spring rain and growth heavy on the breeze. It felt . . . hopeful.
I supposed spring was the season of rebirth, but it was oddly calming to feel that small kernel of hope after so much loss and strife.
My heart pattered wildly in my chest and my hands started to sweat as I approached the last grave, the one directly at the top of the hill. From here I could see for what felt like miles, especially on a clear day like today. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the landscape from this vantage point—from my cottage and the woods to the west, to the small speck of the next village over to the east, and endless pastures to the north and south, it was a beautiful spot. The grass was just starting to poke through the hard earth, random wildflowers sprouting through to reach the sun.
I took a few more minutes to look around, delaying the inevitable, before I turned my eyes to the marker.
“Holt” was burned into the wood stake, the lettering more careful and neat than the others I had seen. Under the first inscription, I saw a second, which caused tears to fall from my eyes in earnest.
“A Father.”
My tears clouded my vision as I shakily traced the words with my hand. As soon as I reached the last letter, it was like something inside me broke, and my body shook with noisy gut-wrenching sobs. I collapsed to my hands and knees over Holt’s grave, letting the grief, rage, and love pour through me.
He was gone .
I sobbed for what I lost, for the time we lost together, for the future he would never see, the grandkids he would never get to hold and love.
I sobbed until I had no tears left and my body was sore and achy from the torrent of grief that wrenched through it.
After what felt like years, I pushed myself up until I was sitting on my heels and dashed the tears away from my eyes with the sleeves of my tunic. Snot was running down my face, and I used the hem of my tunic to blow it away.
It was disgusting, but this tunic was already destined for the burn pile once I could get new clothes from my house.
“Who was he?” a deep voice sounded from behind me, causing me to scream and scramble from my spot on the ground. I whirled to face the intruder, only to be met with the unsettling green eyes of the General. He looked as tired as I felt, worn out from the last few days of work and battle. I wondered if he had lost anyone.
Of course he did, idiot. Some of the Mages he brought with him died, you saw their graves .
The General gazed at me expectantly, and I realized I hadn’t yet answered his question.
“My . . .” I paused, hesitant on what to say. “My father,” I whispered, catching the brief expression of pain that flitted across the General’s face.
“I’m sorry, Faylinn. It’s not enough, but I don’t know what else to say. ”
I nodded my head. “Yeah. Death is weird that way.”
We were silent for a moment before he awkwardly patted my shoulder before shoving his hands back in his pockets, like he didn’t know what to do with them, or me.
I tucked a wayward curl behind my ear, noting again how greasy and dirty I felt.
Gods what a sight and smell I must be .
I casually sniffed myself and nearly retched. I shuffled back a few feet so my stench wouldn’t draft down wind and hit the poor man straight in the nostrils. The General, ever observant, caught the action and gave me a brief smile. “There’s no need for that. We all smell the same right now.”
“Like death warmed over?” The words were out before I could help it and my eyes widened before I slapped my dirt-covered hands to my mouth.
The General let out a bark of a laugh before schooling his expression again, though this time it was much more open and relaxed.
“Yes, Faylinn, I would imagine exactly like that.”
I nervously dropped my hands from my mouth and crossed my arms over my chest. We were silent again, both of us relishing the breeze and lost to our thoughts.
“We are leaving tonight,” he said, suddenly. I blinked over at him. “Your people are ready to start their lives again, and we’ve done all we could. Some homes have been rebuilt, enough for your people to live together until others are completed. Some of the fields are replanted, and we’ve traded for a few crystals and other items they’ll need to get back on their feet. They seem...anxious to get back to living, without us here,” he added at the end.
“Why?”
“Why, what?” he countered.
“Why would you help us like this? Use your magic stores, trade for crystals and animals and things. We’re just a small village, in a border territory. Inconsequential to the Warlord. Plus, we harbored a Keeper, enemy number one to your leader.” I wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but I was worried he was going to want something in return when we had nothing left to give.
The General smiled softly at me. “Someone told me that the world doesn’t exist in black and white, and I would like to see it more that way. Even if just for a little bit, in a small, inconsequential village.”
I frowned slightly as I regarded him. “You’re an enigma, General. ”
“And you’re way too intelligent to be stuck here your whole life,” he countered.
I reared my head back. “Excuse me? This is my home . These people are my home. I’m not stuck here.”
“Aren’t you?” He turned his body to face mine, his eyes boring into my own, searching my soul. “What are you going to do for the rest of your life here? Heal people? It’s admirable, sure, but don’t you think you’re destined for more, Faylinn?”
I chewed my lip absently. Of course I’d thought about it. But I meant what I said, my home was here. “These people need me, now more than ever,” I finally said, though I wasn’t sure I fully believed it.
The General only grunted in response before turning away from me, his expression guarded again.
“What are you not saying, General?” I was getting frustrated with his inability to be forthcoming.
“You’re a Rune Master, Faylinn. A damn powerful one at that. You are incredibly intelligent, rivaling that of even some of the scholars in Lord d’Refan’s personal employment.”
I scoffed. “You barely know me. You can’t know that.”
He turned to face me again, his presence and body crowding my own, but I refused to step back, choosing to hold my ground, even as his innate scent of smoke and sweetgrass enveloped me.
How did he still smell like that?
I craned my head slightly to see into his eyes.
“I looked in your house. Your journals were open on the table, your theories? Your scribblings and equations, your tonics and salves. That is astounding work. And you did it all with access to very little. Imagine what you could do with access to everything , any information you wanted at your fingertips.”
My blood sang at the thought, goosebumps peppering my skin and my breath caught in my throat.
Any information I wanted?
“What are you saying, General?” I asked again, my voice barely a whisper.
“Come with us. To Vespera.”
Now I did take a step back, my lungs filling with blissfully clean spring air.
“And do what?”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “We, Lord d’Refan and I, are in need of someone like you. Someone smart, who can help organize the capital and keep up with the administrative duties while also deciphering some . . . ancient texts we’ve acquired.”
Ancient texts?
That part was inherently interesting, but the other part had me wrinkling my nose.
“So, I’d be some sort of secretary? That seems like a colossal waste of my ‘talent’ as you so called it,” I said derisively.
“Not a secretary, per se, but someone to help me with administrative duties.” My expression didn’t change, and he ran a hand over his face in frustration. “I’m explaining this all wrong. Just come with us and see. If you hate it, you can leave, no questions asked.”
When I didn’t say anything, he blew out his breath and took a step back. “Just think about it. We’re leaving the town at dusk and will camp just outside the woods for the night. If you want to come with, meet us at the edge of the woods at sunrise.”
I tightened my lips and gave a curt nod. He watched me for a moment more before swearing under his breath and striding quickly through the field and back to the village. I watched him go before turning back to Holt’s grave.
“Well that was interesting, wasn’t it?” I sat down, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them while I absently picked the grass that surrounded Holt’s grave.
“Who buried you, I wonder? I doubt I’ll ever find out. Not that it matters. At least you have a place to rest. And a view to boot,” I trailed off, lost in thought. “What do I do, Holt? What would you have me do?”
I could practically see his smile and hear his booming voice telling me to go, that I was always made for something bigger than this place. He’d told me that countless times over the years, but I always wanted to be here with him.
“You’ll never leave here, Holt. And how can I leave you, knowing that?”
I’ll always be here, little Fay. You can always come and see me. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never have to worry about me leaving, I’ll always be here .
Tears trickled down my face again as I imagined his calming words and presence.
“Yeah,” I said thickly. “You’re probably right. But they need me here, too, you know?”
Holt would’ve crossed his large arms and grunted at me while raising an eyebrow.
I sighed, mentally turning away from the conversation and my eyes caught on a large rock just behind Holt’s grave. At first glance, it looked like just a rock. But the closer I got to examine it, the more I felt the magic that coated it. I reached out to touch it, scrambling from my spot sitting on Holt’s grave, and the rock practically vibrated when I made contact.
As soon as my hand grazed the top, a rune appeared.
Sharol .
The rune meant “conceal.”
What are you hiding, Sharol?
I picked up the rock, the rune disappearing from its surface, its purpose fulfilled. Inside the hole was a small bag. I picked it up and quickly opened the drawstrings. When I pulled out the two objects inside, my eyes filled with tears again.
Holt’s necklace .
The stunning clear crystal was burned out, but it was his , and the only remnant I had of him. I quickly slipped it over my head and tucked it into the collar of my shirt before looking at the second object in my hand. It was a letter addressed to me.
I opened it, but it was completely blank aside from two runes at the top. A rune for “time” and one for “place.” I grumbled as I refolded the note, tucking it into the bag and into my pocket. Leave it to Sharol to write a note that would only appear when I was in the right place at the right time.
I replaced the rock before getting to my feet. The sun was high in the sky, and I had a few other things to accomplish today before I could make my way back to my house for a nice bath and clean clothes. Plus, I had to feed Cotton. Poor kitty was probably half-starved and scared to death, if he was even still hanging around.
I sighed and looked at Holt’s grave one last time before making my way back to the village.
“I love you, Dad. Always have, always will.”