Tree Of Life Part 7

The siblings exchanged glances.

"He's in the house," said Cedrik with a slight frown. He squeezed his sister's hand she had placed in his. The three of them followed Deacon up to the house.

Inside Deacon had faded feelings of familiarity that left him with the nostalgic, unsettling feeling of being almost home, all the more cruel for having been so close. Although he was welcomed warmly as one of the family, he still felt he was a stranger, misplaced.

Thaemon was as he had been in youth, handsome and dignified. He rose from his seat when he saw his sons and his daughter with their visitor enter the room. Deacon did not want any formalities or ceremony. Almost pa.s.sionless, he told of his mother's pa.s.sing.

Thaemon had half-expected this news. It did not lessen the pain. For a long interval he stood with his hand resting heavily on Deacon's shoulder, his head bowed. He was trying for composure and would not speak until he had obtained it. Deacon waited immovably. There was no shade of emotion, nothing perceptible of the grief and anger struggling in him.

"You have seen your grandmother?" Thaemon asked, at length.

"I will leave that for you."

"eomus must be struggling." Thaemon swept a hand over his eyes. "When will the ceremony take place?"

"The moment you arrive," answered Deacon, with an odd note.

"You will not be attending?"

Deacon glanced up darkly.

"That's unfortunate," said Thaemon, leaving it at that.

Cedrik stood back with his brother and sister, none of them speaking a word. From the next room Clara came in, evidently having heard. She was not perturbed in the slightest by Deacon's removed nature and put her arms about him. Deacon stiffened at the openness of affection, but he didn't mind. Slowly, he allowed himself to become enveloped in her tenderness. He hid his face against her shoulder and wrapped his arms tight about her waist. Closing his eyes he took a moment free from grief and weariness. She smelled sweetly and vaguely of perfume.

She so well supplied a mother's part it became a subst.i.tute more painful for its nearness, since it mocked Deacon with a false resemblance to his mother. Her warmth, her softness, each touch of which seemed perfect, became so unsatisfactory as to cause positive misery. He stood several moments, clinging to the cruelty of her tender sympathies.

Then, feeling overcome, he stood back, and she brushed her hand over his forehead, saying, "You look utterly spent. Let me fix you something to eat." She had such an anxious mother's voice that he felt he would fall to pieces if she kept fussing over him as she did, but he compelled himself to stay in command, looking down at her with a tight-lipped smile.

"You know you are welcomed to stay here for as long as you please," said Thaemon, laying his hand on Deacon as he spoke.

Deacon had arrived without the intention of staying even a night, but his cousins persuaded him into remaining a few days. Thaemon and Clara had taken Brielle with them to attend the burial, while Cedrik and Derek insisted on staying behind. It did not take the boys long to convince Deacon to get out of the house and go to the tavern. It had been so long since Deacon had had ale that he almost lost his taste for it, but he needed to get out.

As they entered the tavern, they were eyed with a certain amount of suspicion from the few number of patrons-their gazes lingering on Deacon. No emotion is more fixed in common minds than dislike and fear of anything unusual, and Deacon, having spent most of his life in the elven realm had acquired an indefinable otherness.

The young men stationed themselves at table in a quiet corner. Cedrik ordered three mugs of ale, which the girl brought promptly. They each put the frothy drink to their lips but after only a single sip, placed it down again. Their tankards sitting untouched on the table, they sat in heart-stricken silence, surveying the laughter and activity as though it was impossible for them to partic.i.p.ate.

"I'm travelling to Cheydon," Deacon said, as though it had been working in his mind all the while.

The brothers looked up at the unexpectedness of the statement. Something was final and determined in his tones.

"What's in Cheydon?" asked Cedrik.

"There is a mages guild there," replied Deacon.

"Why not apply for a scholarship here?" said Cedrik.

"Because it takes too much time to apply here," Deacon said with some irritation, not at Cedrik, but at the thought of going through the university's formalities and procedures.

"It will take no longer than your travel time to Cheydon," Cedrik said. "And here you can have the benefit of superior resources."

Deacon, annoyed, took a sip of his drink. The truth was he had no intention of going through any official inst.i.tution. He wanted access to scrolls and books, and unlike here, the Cheydon spell book emporium was open to the public. Cheydon had a reputation among magical inst.i.tutions as being far more lenient and observing far fewer rules and regulations than any other place. Things went on there that the university frowned at, but the city was so remote it was often overlooked.

Deacon's driving purpose was to discover the secrets of divining, quickly, and in his own manner. It was the only way he thought to find his father. He would not share his purpose with Cedrik, knowing no good would come out of it. Too many questions he was not prepared to answer would be brought up.

"I don't want to be confined to the university's rigorous schedules and formalities," he said finally. "I will be glad to just spend some time on my own, studying as I please."

"When do you mean to return to the elves?" asked Cedrik, taking a sip of ale.

"I don't mean to," said Deacon without looking up, bitterness in his voice.

Cedrik left it alone. Deacon's tone left no room for argument. His mind was made up and he wanted to leave for Cheydon as soon as possible.

In spite of himself, Deacon spent several days more at his cousins home. It did him good. He seemed able to breath more freely here. He had regained his usual clean, clear-cut look. His bronze skin was warm with a healthful glow, and his eyes were clear and alert, but not for an instant did he forget his purpose. Restless to move on, he soon informed his keepers that he would be leaving the next morning.

It was early when Deacon left the house. He was walking down toward the stables outside the city, when Cedrik caught up with him. Breathless still from running, Cedrik said, "I'm going with you."

Deacon stopped dead, and turning, was about to speak, when he spotted Derek from over Cedrik's shoulder, coming up the rear like a hopeless laggard. Slung over his shoulder was a hazardously large bag. Deacon glanced at Cedrik almost fearfully, and said, "No." Then he looked down and saw that he also carried a bag.

"We're no longer merely cousins, but brothers," said Cedrik. "Trust me to stand by you in misfortune." He slapped Deacon on the back, giving way to a masculine embrace.

Soon Derek arrived. He yawned and shook his head as if to gain some senses and said, "Can we first get some coffee?"

"You can get some when you return home. You're not coming with me," said Deacon. "Neither of you."

But neither budged.

"Sorrow such as this was never meant to be borne alone," said Cedrik stubbornly. Deacon knew that they would have their way. A bright smile broke over Derek's face, knowing they had won.

Chapter17.

Way To Cheydon -erek was more than half-disappointed when they pa.s.sed the first inn. "But think of the coffee," he protested, trying to sound persuasive. "Hot, smooth, sweet!" Glancing backward from his horse, he watched the inn get further away. Cedrik and Deacon ignored him. Both feared it was to be a long journey. They had not yet left the Imperial region, and already Derek was whining.

Cheydon was a considerable journey, and Deacon seemed determined to get there in the least amount of time possible, pushing the horses as hard as he could without killing them. He scarcely spoke along the way, his mind preoccupied with thoughts he was unwilling to share. Cedrik and Derek could not help but notice his focused intent. Almost they thought him inhuman. He had incredible endurance and wanted to keep going, even when they were near to falling off their horses from exhaustion. Besides his Riven blood, something else was driving him forward, some hidden determination that made Cedrik uneasy. He felt his cousin was not being entirely straight-forward with him.

"Say nothing to him," Cedrik said to his brother, when he saw the temptation to ask questions and involve himself.

"He's d.a.m.n-well possessed!" said Derek, as loudly as present company would permit.

"Leave it be."

"You leave it be," said Derek. "I'm going to speak, talk some sense into him."

"You haven't any to spare. Leave it."

"Fine!" So far it had not been an adventure as Derek had hoped, but proved monotonous. They had been riding relentlessly, and without any of the roguery and daredevilry that redeems the discomfort of journeying.

Finally Cedrik and Derek joined forces against Deacon and convinced him they needed rest. Just off the road, in among the trees, they stopped. It was not very cheery, the three of them so tired they did not spare a moment for speaking. Each went directly to his own bed and slept under the stars.

Sometime during the night Deacon was awoken by a faint sound. Alert in an instant, he lay covertly watching the intruder. It was a little hobgoblin. The ears were pointed, far more prominent than any elven ears, and seemed too big for its head. A mischievous snarl on its greedy lips, it rummaged through their bags, excited over the spoils. Maintaining silence, Deacon glanced over to his cousins, sound asleep, and smiled in cynical amus.e.m.e.nt; despite their keenly trained senses, they were blissfully unaware of the meddler.

Having had enough of watching the vile thing go through their bags, touching all their things, Deacon, with a whip of his hand, brought down a vine round its neck like a noose. Instantly it was strung up in the tree, feet kicking wildly. Its shrill scream had Cedrik and Derek up with a start. They saw Deacon standing before the wretch strung up by its neck. It was disorientated and lashing out at all directions with a blunt short knife, till it started to lose consciousness and just hung there, slowly dying. It twitched and squirmed.

"That's enough!" cried Cedrik, making a move to cut it down. Deacon prevented him with a firm hold, letting it suffer for just a moment longer; then he released it. The hapless creature crashed to the ground in a small bundle, and scurried wildly into the night, without any treasures, but with its life.

"What's the matter with you," Cedrik said crossly, shaking off Deacon's hand.

"I was merely teaching it a well-deserved lesson," said Deacon flatly.

Cedrik made no answer, but Deacon noticed him exchange a glance with his brother.

Cedrik was concerned for his cousin. He at times seemed to have two opposite natures within him, both extreme; one was a reserve that would have him so silent one could almost forget his existence, the other was this eruptive rage. The inflammability of his blood was alarming. Derek often joked that Deacon suffered from a maniacal illness of sorts, and now Cedrik was beginning to feel certain it was true.

Thick and gloomy clouds delayed the morning sunlight. The young men were reluctant to get up after their interrupted night. When they had finally roused themselves Cedrik approached Deacon, not without some apprehension. He waited a moment, meditating upon how to open the conversation. "Is your desire to go to Cheydon because of your mother?"

Deacon was bent down at his bags. He looked at him with a puzzled expression and deflected, "Isn't that a strange question?"

"It seems an odd thing that you would choose at random such a remote place to continue study. It is unlike you." Deacon held his gaze in silence until Cedrik was made uncomfortable and even stammered. "What I want to know is, whether your reasons to go are connected with her last wishes or something, I don't know. Is there something else? Are you holding up as well as you think yourself to be?"

Deacon's answer was tinged with the slightest suggestion of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I think you are suffering more than myself. Do you want to sit down? Why do you forever want to be discussing my feelings like a woman?"

Cedrik was too serious to enter into any banter and said, "I don't know what it is to lose one so near to the heart, but maybe you could try to explain to me? I think your mother's pa.s.sing should not be left-"

"I don't wish to speak of her," Deacon said, abruptly and fiercely, as if stung with pain. He stood and moved away.

"You won't say one word in confidence to me?" said Cedrik, half-exasperated. "Speak-you may have the most entire confidence in my sympathy and secrecy."

"Cedrik, don't mistake me," he said, turning upon his companion with an angry impatience that was wholly unaccountable. "I've told you the state of things. Conjecture, suspect, speculate as you will, but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm plagued with it."

They ate breakfast virtually in silence. As they were packing up ready to leave, Deacon eventually broke the silence, putting his hand on Cedrik's shoulder saying, "Are we at ease with one another?"

Cedrik pursed his lips, then grew resigned. "Yes," he said, knowing the futility of pursuing it further.

"Good," said Deacon. "Then let's proceed and not waste another minute on it." All this talk seemed wasted time for him.

The landscape between them and Cheydon was a bleak, treeless region, with leaden skies overhead. Along the way they pa.s.sed many scattered villages with thatched roofs, the people generally unwelcoming and suspicious. Harsh lands bred harsh people.

Sitting dead-tired on his horse, Cedrik placed the water bag to his lips and taking a long considering drink, surveyed the dismal stretch of land. Dark ma.s.ses of distant hills obstructed their view of Cheydon like a ma.s.sive wall intended to fortify it against bleak winds.

"If we push through we can make it by nightfall," said Deacon. The beautiful beast beneath him stomped its hoof impatiently and appeared more restless to move than himself.

"Fine," said Cedrik.

At last they arrived, reviving slightly with the promise of amenity and creature comforts. For the night they stopped at a large two-story inn, situated just outside the city. It had been a ridiculously long journey, and Derek was never so happy to be off a horse. His mind ran solely on thoughts of comfort: a hot meal, good bottle of wine, and a nice soft bed.

Inside was not quite as they had hoped. They entered a large, yet unaccommodating room that smelled of damp, rotting wood and humble to the point of being a place of misery for any well-bred young man. It was full of all manner of people from different lands, most of them dangerous in their appearance. Thankfully, the companions were received with no interest. There were travellers enough, at least half as mysterious as Deacon, pa.s.sing through here at all times, so that they compelled little attention.

At the counter they were attended by a robust woman, who, if she had not been wearing a dress, might have been mistaken for a stout man. Even so, Derek had to be mindful how he addressed her. They found the cost for accommodation ridiculously cheap, being accustomed to Imperial prices, but because of the state of the place, they would have been opposed to paying any more. After taking their money the woman left, and a stocky brown-faced man took her place. Over his barrel-like stomach he wore an ap.r.o.n covered in unspeakable filth, and he had dirty-brown hands, with worn and blackened nails, that spoke of a hazardous lack of personal hygiene.

"What is it that I can get you to eat?" the innkeeper said gruffly, wiping his hands on his ap.r.o.n as if he meant to clean them. Cedrik's face paled. Being an Imperial guard he had come in contact with filth before, but never was he so immediately faced with it. He was sufficiently disgusted that he could not bring himself to eat anything prepared by this man's hands. He looked fretfully over at Deacon who seemed detached and uninterested in anything being discussed, then at Derek who watched with amus.e.m.e.nt all the unusual people, (most particularly the half-pretty waiting-maids) and knew neither his cousin nor his brother would be of any a.s.sistance.

Cedrik blurted out something incoherent to the innkeeper and nearly tripped over Derek in his haste to usher him out. Deacon followed behind them in his quiet manner.

"What are we doing?" said Derek, annoyed.

Cedrik said to Deacon, "We are not staying here. Let's find something in the city." He was thinking of his younger brother, not desiring to subject him to less than ideal conditions.

"It's late," said Deacon calmly. "You'll find there aren't any rooms available."

Cedrik scoffed at the notion, and the two stood discussing it, while Derek, looking up at the stars, listened. His hands tucked under his arms, he swayed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The nights here were quite cold.

"For the love of ...can we just go, please?" he snapped at last.

"Yes, let's move," said Cedrik.

"All right," said Deacon, as if foreseeing the consequences.

Aside from the open courtyard at the entrance, Cheydon was somewhat oppressive and secretive in its design. The buildings were joint structures, huge stone blocks running parallel along narrow streets. The only signs of division between dwellings were the heavy wooden doors, and above them, small balconies.

Away from the city, almost a small village in its own right, was a collection of dank wooden cottages, scattered by a ma.s.sive lake. They didn't bother to explore that far but instead went to several inns in the city, in search of a comfortable room and uninfected meal.

When they discovered there were no rooms available anywhere and that they could not buy a hot meal because the kitchens were closed, Derek almost had a breakdown, clasping his fingers and pressing them back hard against his forehead, as if he would snap them off.

"Why do I ever listen to you?" he asked his brother.

"You don't; you wouldn't be here in the first place otherwise," said Cedrik drily, tucking his hands under his arms to keep warm. In the centre of the empty streets the young men stood huddled and shivering. It was late, dark, and cold with misty rain. Cedrik was annoyed. As limited as the city was by comparison to the Imperial, he hadn't expected it to be so unaccommodating.

"Well, we'll go back and see if those rooms are still available," said Deacon. "If not, we'll be sleeping under the stars." He spoke without any particular inflection, but Cedrik knew Deacon was thinking him a fool. Despite limited exposure, Deacon had been to enough small cities along the way to know that they were quick to close down at night, and rooms were quick to fill, especially at locations that entertained a lot of travellers.

They returned to the inn. Fortunately, two of the rooms were still available. Unfortunately, they had to pay for them a second time. The Inn keeper had feigned forgetfulness. Cedrik didn't bother to try to reason with the brute, but paid the extra.

As though expecting an attack from all four corners, Cedrik and Derek stepped cautiously into the room they were to share. Standing side by side they stared blankly round the bleak accommodation. It was meagerly furnished and small. "Not much larger than a rathole," thought Cedrik. There weren't even any chairs around the old table in the corner. And there was a horrid smell.

"What is that?" said Derek, almost fearfully, his voice m.u.f.fled through his forearm.

"You'll become accustomed to it soon enough," said Cedrik, deliberately not returning Derek's incredulous stare. "Don't concern yourself. We'll find another place in the morning."

Tossing their bags unceremoniously to the floor, each went directly to his own bed. Cedrik stripped the bed of its sheets and remade it before climbing in. He wanted to make certain it wasn't crawling with any unfavourable nighttime companions.

Derek's thoughts were filled entirely on things edible. He thought of his mother's steak pies-tender steak with plenty of rich, thick gravy-and felt suddenly sick for home.