Turning back briefly, I surveyed the desperate ministrations of the townsfolk. The gate was already almost fully repaired, and that act alone meant more than anything. This would never be a dreamy nowhere town again. No, Taelman’s Pond would turn its attention to fortification first. After they cleared away the ash and broken tinder, they’d have as much opportunity as they could stomach.
A few dozen additional citizens had already swollen the depleted town. Soldiers from Bridgerun, craftsmen who had been called for repairs, and the few who’d lived in the woods around that knew safety was something they needed, all choosing to throw their lots in here, to be a part of something fresh and hopeful.
I found Torven near the barn, fletching a pile of arrows. His face was drawn, but the boy went about his task with quiet resolve. Yes, this was the right decision.
“Torven!” I shouted, and the boy jumped, eyes flashing up to me. I saw fear and anger there in equal parts. Good. “Fetch your father. Tell him I need to speak with him, and do not delay.”
He dropped the shaft he’d been working on and sprinted off into the house. I chuckled softly to myself, not wanting to upset the boy unduly. Then I stole his seat, resting once more before I wouldn’t be able to do so for far longer than I cared.
I picked up the fallen arrow and inspected the boy’s work. Each shaft was more or less straight and had been carved quickly but evenly. It was well done. The arrows would be hardened and straightened further over a flame, then whittled and sanded smooth.
The front door flapped open again and I heard the heavy steps of Corell followed by his son. Torven was squat and solid like his mother. Some would call the lack of height a disadvantage, but it wasn’t. The size and shape of a man only changed his style of fighting, not his capability.
“What is it? Is everything okay?” Corell said, his voice strained by lack of sleep and weeks of stress.
I looked up into his eyes, and my expression frightened him even more. “I have a favor to ask of you, Corell, and I am sorry for it. If there was any other way, I promise I would have taken it.”
He exchanged looks with his son and they both stood there, looking nervous as a virgin groom.
I stood and walked to stand between them, then pulled out Corbrae’s revolvers. “Corell, son of Matthias Amredor, I choose your son Torven Amredor to answer the call of the First Song. Will you honor your debt or refuse?”
All color drained from the huge hunter’s face and he staggered as if struck by a hammer. Only confusion registered on Torven’s face. “What is it, dad? What does he mean?”
Instead of answering, Corell’s face hardened into a look of rage and resolve that I’d only ever seen on him a few times. He stared at me until Torven made to speak again. He held up his hand and the boy stilled once more.
“Aye. I’ll honor my debt, gunsinger. But you’d better keep him as you would your own. If not, I will kill you, Alysand Deschaney.”
I nodded, then pressed the pistols into his hands. “From fallen to father. And from father to son,” I said in a hoarse whisper. Though this task was something all of us might be called to do, it was not one I had expected. It was more grueling than being kissed by fire or scored by lead.
Corell took the pistols in his great, shaking hands, and he blessed them with a few fallen tears. It was a fitting gesture, and I felt more certain than ever my choice had been wise. Then the hunter placed the pistols in Torven’s hands, and the boy stared down at them like he’d been handed a dragonling.
I bore the wrath of Torven’s mother as well, then watched Corell’s substantial family make their goodbyes. Then I took the pistols back from the boy, who had not yet earned them, and we walked back down to town.
We went to the horses I’d prepared, tethered to a post near Quinn’s shop. I helped the boy, who had gone numb with shock, saddle himself. His eyes stared into the endless ether before him and saw nothing of his surroundings. And he couldn’t be blamed for it. None are brave when answering the call.
So I held his horse’s tether as we rode out the gate, turning down a road of immeasurable length, the promise of deeds to come playing through our minds as we both listened hard and well to the song of silence.
7: “What is there so fearful as the expectation of evil tidings delayed?”
— Progenitor of the Man and His Monster
HANA
It was nice being logged out for once. We’d been grinding away in EO, and my body was telling me exactly how pissed off it was. After a few hours of light training and my second hot shower, though, I was feeling almost human again. My second cup of coffee was hard at work as well.
With his voice still flummoxed at my description of the battle, Elendil asked, “And it was all over the life of a single man?”
I took another sip and answered, “Yep. Quinn is a super magical dude, apparently. He used his magic to amplify my attacks, too. It was awesome. Poor guy is still asleep, though. The last couple of days nearly killed him.”
The AI hummed a bit before adding, “That would have added insult to injury, if my usage is correct. So many deaths to protect a single person.”
“Nailed it. And yeah, even though we won, the cost was high. Think it was like fifty-four deaths in all. Half were soldiers and mercenaries from Bridgerun, but the rest were the people of Taelman’s Pond. Corell and his family are grieving. They lost a boy in the mess but were luckier than most. Even the dang cook
