robbers.” But as he said this, like so many other times when he thought about it, he somehow knew that it wasn’t right. Nobody would leave a baby in a campsite. Even the robbers would at least kill or try to sell it. He had never given too much credence to the story of how he came to be with Laura and Edis. They were his parents now, and that’s what mattered.
“No, Legon that’s not how we came to have you in our family,” she said softly. Her face was still tear-soaked, but he could see resolve cross it as well. After pausing for a moment she continued.
“Your father was hunting, that part is true. He found you and brought you home, but that’s where the truth ends.”
Trepidation began seeping into him, as she went on.
“He was in the woods when he heard a baby crying. He was with Brack and Arkin. They moved to the sound and found a cottage, or at least that’s what your father thought it was. He said it seemed more like a tree, but I’m not sure about all of that, he was upset when he got home and I don’t think that he was in his right mind. When they came to the cottage they could see that it was horribly damaged…”
At this she paused and he could see fresh tears filling her blue eyes again.
“When they entered the house they found a woman. She was dead. Your father has never said much about her. I think that what he saw frightened him. Apparently the inside had been ransacked, but it appeared that nothing had been taken. They found you in the house in a hidden space under the hearth.”
Legon interrupted. “They found me in the fire!” It was a statement, not a question.
“No, dear, there wasn’t a fire burning and I don’t think there had been in a long time. I think that your mother put you in a very safe hiding place.”
“My mother,” he thought. His birth mother hadn’t forgotten him or left in a hurry, running away from robbers. She had been murdered and had most likely spent her last few moments alive hiding him, in a place apparently prepared for just that. This also meant that she had at least planned for the possible day that she would have to hide her son from people who wanted to hurt him. The fact that the house had been searched was disturbing as well, because nothing was taken, or at least nothing obvious had been taken. That probably meant that whoever had attacked was there for reasons other than financial gain. Before Legon had time to fully comprehend what he just been told, his adopted mother pushed on, almost as if by saying this she was free of some burden.
“After they found you they took you home. You know the rest. We adopted you and now you are our son, and we love you like you are our own.” She placed her hand on his at this last statement.
Legon felt every emotion coursing through him. On the one hand he was mad that he hadn’t been told this, but on the other he knew his parents were just trying to protect him. He understood the desire to protect the ones you love; when he thought about it, he didn’t know if could have handled this news when he was younger. Still, something didn’t seem right. Where had his birth father been in this whole affair? He had to know about the hiding place and had to know that his son was missing… unless he was killed too, and Edis, Brack, and Arkin hadn’t found the body.
And what had they been looking for in the first place? A thought came to him then that bothered him: if Edis hadn’t been willing to share all the details of what he saw with his wife, then what he had seen must have been pretty bad. Also, the house had been secluded, and so his mother must have been hiding from something. She may have had or at least known something that whoever did this wanted, and it was possible that they had interrogated her before killing her. That made sense; it also explained why Edis had been unwilling to talk to his wife about it. If his birth mother was interrogated, that meant that they had probably tortured her, and Legon could understand why Edis didn’t want to relive the sight in his head. A thought bubbled up.
“Mom, it’s going to take some time for what you just said to… well, sink in, but I still don’t understand why you got so upset about my tattoo. Isn’t it possible that my birth mother did magic and that’s why it’s there?”
She paused. He could tell she was trying to figure out what to say.
“Your tattoo was put there by magic. I’m sure of that now, but the thing that has me so upset is that your tattoo is, well… I’m not sure how to explain this. Arkin knows more about this kind of thing than me. The tattoo is Elven.” She sighed deeply after saying this.
“‘Elven’? What do you mean, ‘Elven’? Does that mean that an Elf put it there? Why would they do that?” he stammered. He didn’t like the thought of magic, but to think that an Elf of all things had put the tattoo there was almost too much. The queen hated the Elves and would stop at nothing to kill any in her territory or anyone connected to them.
“It’s a crest, Legon. An Elven crest, the kind they mark all of their children with. Like I said, I don’t know much about it, but Arkin somehow does. Before I thought that maybe the tattoo was just done in the same style as the Elvin ones, but now…” Her face was blank and pallid; the color in her eyes seemed to leak out, leaving them weak and frail.
As this last statement hit home Legon felt his jaw begin to fall open. All brain function came to a screeching halt. First fear came in, then terror, then denial. Arkin was wrong, or his mother had misunderstood him. His first parents probably knew magic and liked the Elven tradition like she said. He knew that if it was an Elven mark then the people who killed his parents, or at least his mother-“Maybe my dad is still alive,” he thought- worked for the queen and may have even been Iumenta. This placed him in danger. If the tattoo was from an Elf then he could be seen as a spy and killed, or if the mark was from a human he could be seen as an Elven sympathizer and killed-two possibilities with only one outcome.
For the first time, Legon began to appreciate the sacrifice his adopted parents had made on his behalf. They had placed themselves in danger by harboring a possible enemy to the state. At the same, time he was angry with them, not because they had done anything wrong, but because they were there and he needed someone to be upset with. His mother was looking intently at him. Her face was dry, and it hit him that he had been quiet for a few minutes.
“Sorry mom… I blanked out,” he began.
“It should be me who is sorry. We should have told you sooner than this, and it’s a horrible thing to drop on someone.”
For some reason this made Legon even angrier. They knew they should have told him but they hadn’t. Was it because they didn’t care about him? He had been of use, taking care of Sasha so they didn’t have to, and working in that shop… was he nothing more than labor? No, that wasn’t right. His parents loved him and they just wanted him to be happy. What was wrong with that?
He stood suddenly. “I need to get outside and get some air. There’s so much going through my mind. I’m sorry Mom. Thank you for the tea.”
She nodded at him and seemed relieved. “Take your time dear.”
He walked out the back door and toward the forest. A walk in the woods would be good for him. It was overcast today, which matched his new mood. The gray sky made all of the bright colors of the field become more vibrant, and made the ground soft under his feet. When he got in the woods the air was thick and misty; there wasn’t a sound. The heavy air and the mist reminded him of something… a dream maybe. It felt as though his feet were carrying him of their own accord; he had no idea where he was going. He saw a deer go bounding by and snap a branch. That too seemed to remind him of something.
His mind flooded with thought; he knew that this news of his tattoo would change his life in ways he could not yet comprehend. He couldn’t go to a big city. If he did his tattoo would be seen for sure. He might have to go south to the resistance, but he didn’t like that idea. He would be too far away to help the family with their taxes. But that wasn’t his problem — it was his family’s. He had to protect himself or he wouldn’t be able to do anything for them. It felt like his emotions had been taken over, controlled by something other than himself.
“It’s not my fault if something happens. There’s no point in both Sasha and I getting hurt, or worse,” he thought. He could just leave them to their own devices. His mind and emotions jumped wildly from fear of the unknown to anger. He thought maybe they had the hardship coming anyway. It would have come sooner if not for him. They were lucky he had been around.
He stopped and looked around, trying to see if he recognized his surroundings. He thought he was on top of a hill. He couldn’t see any landmarks through the mist, but the ground in front of him looked disturbed, like there had been a struggle there not more than a few days ago. There was something else that was in a bush, something small, brown and square. Puzzled, he went to the bush and bent over. It was a book. He picked it up and thumbed through the pages. It was handwritten and looked to be a diary. He knew he shouldn’t look at it, but he couldn’t return it to the person if he didn’t know whose it was. He stopped at an entry that was dated three weeks ago and
