And Chapter 9 before bed.  I am ready to sleep, but I am still a bit uneasy.  Parts of this story are attaching to me.  Or, perhaps it is the steroids.  They said I would have some emotional effects.

It has been a long time since I wrote the short story that spawned this story, and now I am going back to fill in the origin.  I wish I could add that story into this one, as it would fit quite well.   I have to decide how much I want to adhere to the rules of NaNoWriMo, or just finish the book as I want to be be.

And, as promised, the quote from Felicia Day. I am very excited about this, as this quote truly drove the chapter.  I held back tears as I wrote.  The next chapter starts getting exciting again, as we will deal with Damon’s preparation for Vengeance and all the lessons that come with it.

Chapter 9:  The Long Road

“‎Past the idea of right and wrong there is a field. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is in balance. I will meet you there.”

–          Tallis, Dragon Age Redemption (Felicia Day)

This was the only time I can remember not wanting to come home.  The gates were open and the guards were quiet as we passed through.  They courtyard was shortly filled with servants and villagers, all come to see what was happening.  And as they realized what it was they began weeping and wailing.  The sight was almost too much for me to bear.

No.  It was too much for me to bear.  I left Balor to the task of securing the body of my father until the funeral, while I went to find Mother.  She would not handle the news well, but it had to be done.  She would already be hearing that we had returned and likely the news of her husband’s death would be reaching her ears soon as well.  I needed to be there.

As I turned the corner to her sitting room and met her coming to me in a dead run.  She stopped as she go to me and just looked at me, then to Pathfinder on my hip.  She needed nothing more and fell to the floor, crying in the way only a lover can when she loses the one.

I stood there for a moment, not sure what to do next, when Vic shoved me forward.

“Go.  I will go arrange things with Balor.  Go.”

I embraced my friend in the warrior’s fashion, hands clasped at the elbows, the other arm around the back.  As I released him, he smiled a little and turned to tend to my father.  I began to weep as I turned around and walked to my mother.  She was just a mess.  As I reached her, I kneeled down and began to lift her up.  As I did, Pathfinder began to vibrate again, but this time it was soothing and I felt myself calming down, able to stand up straight without nearly the fear.

Was this how father did it, remaining calm in the face of everything?  I would need to explore this later, when…when we were done.  I looked into the eyes of my mother.

“It is true, then.  He is dead?  Ambrosias is…dead?”

“Yes, mother.  He died trying to save Marcos from some Dark Creature in the woods.  He has Marcos still, but I he seems to want him alive, as Marcos was taken away.  He wanted to kill Father and used capturing Marcos for that.”

I hated lying to my mother.  It was mostly true, as Marcos was taken away by the enchantment making him kill father, then leaving in the aftermath.  But I couldn’t tell her that her son killed her husband.  There was no way I could do that without her misunderstanding.  Or so I thought.

Pathfinder did not like my lie at all, as he began to vibrate violently on my hip, nearly knocking me over.  My mother noticed and looked at the sword and almost smiled.

“That was what he did when your father tried to lie to me.  It seems you think me weaker than I am, as he did.”

Her voice was strong and firm, the way she talked to me when I had made an error as child, although there was less of an edge to it right now.  She was struggling to hold on, but she needed to know.  She stared at me with that look that said she would stand there all day to get the truth.

And, it appeared Pathfinder demanded honestly.  Amazing, this blade.  So much about Father made sense now.  He never lied, always pursued the right thing.  He was driven by the weapon, as it was now driving me.  I was really looking forward to learning more about it.

And she was still staring at me.  I cleared my throat.

“Right.  The truth, then.  It…was Marcos. He was under some sort of spell and it made him kill Father.  I was wounded in the fight, and did not get to him in time to stop it.”

She was silent for a minute, absorbing it for a moment.  Then, with a twist of her head to move her hair back on her head, she drew herself up tall and caught my eyes one more time.  She had a resolute look on her face, the kind you see when someone has made a decision.

“I want to see him.  Take me.”

“Mother, you don’t want to see him.”

“Take me to my husband, child.”

I looked at her for a long moment, and then extended my arm.  She clasped it and we walked in silence to the room where they would be cleaning up my father, her husband.

It was the longest walk of my life.

*****

She stared at him, and I looked in through the doorway.  She had made us all leave, and was spending a private moment with him.  Sometimes, she would stroke his beard ever so softly and then begin weeping.  Then, she would go back to just staring at him.

I was about to go in, as the preparation would need to start soon or the smell would set in.  Invictus’ preservation spell was not as strong as our master’s.  Annathon would need to start soon, so that the few days we needed to prepare the funeral would not see the body start to decay.

And then, as though frozen in place, I stopped at the door way.  Mother had started to sing.

“My love, my love, where have you gone?

Our time together had to wane.

My love, my love, you won’t be gone long.

Before I meet you again.”

I remembered this song, from my grandfather’s funeral.  His wife had sung it to him.  There was more, but mother stopped singing after this one line. I waited another moment before finally entering the room.  She turned on me suddenly, and I halted my steps.

When she saw it was me, she relaxed a bit and turned back.

“It is time, isn’t it?  He must be prepared.”

“Yes, mother.  The master is waiting in the hall when you are ready.”

“Send him in, then.”

I half-turned, then stopped to look back at my mother.

“I will find the creature that did this and punish him.  I have sworn and oath.”

She looked at me, concerned.

“On the sword?”

“Yes.”

Her face grew white and sunken, and she turned back to Father.

“Then it has begun.  Send in the wizard.”

*****

The courtyard was filled with people, perhaps a thousand or more.  The sword master Oren was next to me, with the Balor, Jom and the rest of the Red Guard spread about the pyre where we had placed Father to be burned.  Jaron, the Captain, held the torch.

Mother was next to me, and Vic was next to her.  We stood with heavy hearts as the ceremony was conducted.  I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that there was great praise and love expressed for our Father, Ambrosias Numen, Lord of the Realm.

And it was sincere praise, as we had a long peace while he ruled, even though there was great evil in the world.  Father’s forces had driven it back a long way from the main cities for many years and it had lied dormant.  Many thought it was this same evil that killed him, and I couldn’t disagree.

I needed to know more about this enemy, but I could not think about it now.  It was time to send off Father and have a proper mourning period.  There were ceremonies, like this one, and then rituals to perform, and the official, “Damon is the new Lord” ceremony.  I was not ready for that one.

I hated ceremony and ritual, as I had always preferred to act when I was upset.  But, the country needed this; needed to see me mourn and then act.  So, I would mope about the castle, train with this new sword, and try to determine who the hell charmed my brother into killing my father.  How long had the spell been on him?  Since we were boys?

Vic nudged me in the ribs and I realized everyone was staring at me.  I was supposed to do something.  Ah, yes.  The ritual.  Did I mention I hate ritual?

I stepped forward and drew Pathfinder over my head.  I spoke the words I had been taught over the last few days.

“Gather people, lords and ladies, friends and family.  I present to you to shell of my Father, Ambrosias Numen, slain in battle.  A great man, and a great father; he will be sorely missed.

As his eldest son, I will take up the task of Lord of the Realm, although I am barely worthy if this great man’s shadow.  I swear to do my best to protect this peace and prosperity that he brought you, as long as I so live.”

The pulse from Pathfinder told me he would hold me to that Oath, as he apparently did my father.

“Captain, please put my departed Father to the torch. “

As he walked to the pyre, and lit it, I said these final words.

“Let the fire commit our Lord to the Realms beyond, that he may be with the Creator and see everlasting glory until we can be with him again.”

The fire caught quickly and spread over the body with a flash that could only have been accomplished by magic.  I suspected Invictus, as that was his thing.  He smiled slightly at the pyre with pride, until he caught my eye, and then it was gone.

I stared at the blaze, and at the appropriate time, I sheathed Pathfinder.  We stood there together until the blaze subsided, an hour later. Everyone had gone, leaving me alone there.  I vaguely remember people coming to talk to me, but I had ignored them.  The fire held me, as though I expected something to happen.

Eventually, even Vic and my mother left and I was alone in the courtyard, the last embers fading from the pyre.  Under my breath, I had one last thing to say.

“Goodbye Father.  I will miss you.”

A slight warming and a pulse from Pathfinder said he agreed.