Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 20 - A Fool's Errand

Landow

Mikkin took his wife Mardra into his arms, burying his face in her red hair. With his eyes closed, he could outline her features in his mind. He saw every freckle upon her skin. He saw the way her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and the way her gaze danced with mischief. She smelled of lavender and charred wood, evidence of many hours spent before their hearth. That simple thought—knowing how hard she worked—drove him to tighten his grip. He couldn't let her go.

"But you must," she whispered, gently stroking his hair. "My time has come."

No! Curse the gods, he would deny their wishes. She was not theirs. "Take me instead," he begged. "Let her live." The void beyond their entangled bodies gave no answer.

"Mikkin, my love, you must let me go."

"I can't. Please, Mardra. I cannot lose you. I cannot lose Devden and Thomas." Hearing their names, their sons materialized, running to him, clinging to his legs.

"Don't go, Da-da," Thomas said before Devden burst into tears. Two sets of brown eyes gazed up at him in earnest, glistening.

"Please don't cry, children." Mardra patted their heads. "We go to a better place now. We go to the gods."

"But...I want to stay with Paaaa." Devden tightened his grip. Mikkin's heart constricted, strangled by ropes of despair. How could the gods be so cruel?

Mist crept towards them, tendrils outstretched like eager arms, lapping about his ankles like lake water. His heart quickened. "Don't leave me..." His words—his prayer—died on his lips. The world around him was nothing more than blackness. His arms flailed, grasping at the emptiness where Mardra disappeared, where the boys ceased to exist. There was nothing but the void, and tears left behind upon his cheeks. He fell to his knees. The emptiness engulfed his mind until he remembered—he remembered everything.

The sting of physical pain returned to Mikkin's body. He felt it like an afterthought, dwarfed by his torment. He refused to open his eyes. If he did, his torture would be real. Tears leaked from beneath closed lids. A sob escaped his chest as reality manifested. "Mardra..." he whispered her name like a prayer, clenching his fists. "Mardra..." It was all gone, everything he ever knew, everything he ever loved. It was taken from him.

Taken by beasts.

In a sudden jolt, his eyelids flew open. Taken...everything was taken. The fragments of his memory reoriented, until consciousness returned in full. His mind roved over the killers stalking his memory, billowing flames of death. He gasped. His body felt like a hollow shell.

His gaze darted about, unseeing, until settling upon the ceiling above, wooden and aged. His raw fingers twitched, grasping, clawing at the bedding beneath him. The linen was soft against his burns. Where was he?

He thought he'd died, but this was not the wilderness he tried to die in. This was not his grave.

"Mary!" A woman's voice cried out. "Mary, he's waken' up. Go and get Tynen. Hurry, quick-like!" He struggled to turn his head, his movements slow and stiff, his eyes still wide. He found a dark-haired lass sitting at his bedside.

She smiled kindly. "All will be well, mister. You're in Tynen's house—good hands to be sure." Her words swept through him faster than a river, in and then out, with no meaning. "Gods above though," she cried, "If I might be sayin', sur, you gave us a fright, you did! We wasn't sure you'd wake."

I never intended to. Curse these people for trying to save him, from trying to take him from his family.

"Here, drink this." The woman held a cup to his lips, reaching her hand under his head. He turned away just as the water rushed out, spilling all around him. The woman swore, "Gods above!" Once more she tried to set the cup at his lips. Again he turned. "Come now, sur. Cooperate."