The Southern Trail (Book 4) (48 page)

BOOK: The Southern Trail (Book 4)
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They rode their horses for a week until they got to Tabora.  They lived by stealing and by catching wild game in the countryside, and when they got to the river port city, Marco sold the horses.  They spent a day living in the slums of the people descended from Prester John’s kingdom, where Marco confirmed much of the story that had already reached the city, that the king and his sorcerer were dead, and the palace was in turmoil.

“Was the prophecy true?” Dale’s mother Gwen asked.  Mitment had stared at the woman, unsettled by the resemblance she bore to Iasco.

“One of us lived, one of us died, and one of us did neither,” Marco agreed softly.  “I wouldn’t have known to interpret it like that, but it fits,” he agreed, as he thought of Iasco, Ellersbine, Mitment, and himself.

After a day of rest, Marco and Mitment went to the docks, and found that Petran and the ship he now ran were in the city.  Marco negotiated for Mitment and he to ride the vessel up the river to Bunda, a slow trip that depended on oars and winds to sail against the river’s current.  Marco made a batch of powder that assisted them considerably, and two weeks later he and Mitment were in the frontier town where their ship was the first to arrive and spread the news of the shocking death of the king.

“We’ve got a long walk ahead of us,” Marco told Mitment when the two of them said farewell to the crew and disembarked from the ship.  They accepted coins from the ship and purchased the packs and supplies Marco thought they would need, then started out walking up the river.

They camped and they talked, every night, talking about all that had happened since they had been separated at Athens.  Marco often looked at Mitment and cried, seeing Ellersbine before him, and explaining why he cried.  Mitment was gentler than he expected, accepted his pain, held him and comforted him and listened, and they doggedly left a trail of his tears in their wake as they walked north, away from Docleatae.

They stopped one night to visit the spring spirit Quonna, who delighted in their company, and then they began the long journey straight north across the savannah, and into the mountains. 

On the fourth night that they camped in the mountains, as Marco took a turn keeping watch, an old man calmly walked up to the campfire and sat down with him.  It was Theophilus, the wizened old man who had reattached his left hand to him in his nightmarish vision.

“You carried out your mission I see,” the sorcerer told him.  “I wish you joy when the time comes that you can overcome the sorrow.  It was a great victory – a very great victory.  Your children and theirs and a hundred generations more will live better lives because of what you did.”

“But Ellersbine, and Lady Iasco,” Marco felt tears welling again.

“Iasco did what she wanted to do.  She only agreed to come back to life because she had an objective, and you made it possible for her to reach it,” the old man said.  “And as for your pretty princess, you gave her months of life she would not have had, and you made her happier and more joyful than she had ever been before.  You gave her the best life possible with your love and devotion, Marco.

“They did not suffer, not the way you do now, and I’m here to tell you that you have to move on.  Life is waiting for you.  Spring time is coming to the lands up north again, and you need to go up there and see life return to the world.  Let life return to your heart.  Mirra still loves you, and she waiting for you.  The two of you can live happily ever after now, if you’re ready,” he said.

“Here, let me do you a favor,” Theophilus unexpectedly reached forward and touched the torq around Marco’s neck; Marco heard a hissing sound, and a change in the feeling of the torq.  The old man moved his hand away, and he held a simple leather collar, the original wedding piece that had been placed around Marco’s neck so long ago, in Fortburg, when he had succumbed to marriage to Pesino.

“This is yours, and the spell of three loves is broken now.  You can hold one true love in your heart, and fond memories of the others,” the man said as he dropped the leather strap into Marco’s open hand.  “Now get some rest, and go forward in peace,” he told Marco, who instantly fell asleep beside the camp fire.

Mitment shook him awake after sunrise.  “What happened here?” she asked.  She placed a finger against his throat, where the golden torq was no longer prominently displayed.

“I had a visitor,” Marco answered.  He looked at the loop of leather in his hand, and looped it around his left wrist.  They proceeded to start their day, and walked on through the forested mountains.  Along the way, he began to pick plants again, specimens that were rarely seen by northern alchemists.

Not many days later they reached the village of Rurita, and spent the night with Nestor and Corrine, then traveled on the next day, a few extra supplies in their packs, and all the children treated back to good health once again.  Even Massey, who had been allergic to sunlight, was playing outside when he walked into the village.

They crossed the dry lands to the north, and the day finally came when they reached the port of Tripool.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 38

 

“I’m ready to go back to the Isle,” Mitment said wistfully as she stared out across the waters of the harbor.  After Theophilus’s visit with Marco, he had finally gotten over the losses of the past, and the two traveling companions had begun to talk about their futures.  Mitment had a single goal in mind: to return to the Isle and become a Guard once again.

“Your princess has a pretty good body, strong and fast,” she spoke absent-mindedly to Marco one night as they sat by their small campfire.

“I know that body well,” Marco said with a gentle grin, able to begin to joke a little.  “There is a pair of moles in the middle of your back that I used to stroke with my finger.”

“Stop it!” she told him that night as she slapped his shoulder forcefully.

“You’ll be able to fight just as well as before,” Marco agreed, as they looked at the harbor.  “We just need to get to the isle.”

They didn’t have enough money to pay for passage on ships.

“If you don’t mind being wet for several days, there is an alternative,” Marco proposed, making Mitment look at him curiously.

“I can call dolphins, and they’ll carry us all the way to the isle, but it’ll take at least ten days in the water I’d guess, and all you’ll get to eat will be raw fish,” he warned.

“Is it the fastest way?” Mitment asked simply.

“The fastest I know,” Marco agreed.

And so they went into the water and Marco revived his rusty memory of the language of the dolphins.  He called a whole pod that came to see them and agreed to carry them to an exchange with other dolphins.  The two humans stripped their clothes off as unnecessary weight, though both retained their swords, and then the journey began.

Marco and the dolphins conversed, and he slowly came to understand that the dolphins had felt when a great evil had been lifted from the world, and the dolphins came to understand that Marco and Mitment had played a part in it.  Their journey across the sea became a grand event, accompanied by multiple dolphins who wanted to see and thank the heroes of the distant battle, as they were handed by relay from one pod to another.

After nearly two long, waterlogged weeks, Marco and Mitment were set ashore at midday, on a sandy beach near the shepherdess cottage where Marco had stayed with Albany.  Their legs were extremely weak, and it took them all day to walk into the village, so that they arrived at sunset.

Folence was in charge of the island.  Marco was recognized, though Mitment was not, and because of his past history, Marco was sullenly but safely escorted to Folence’s residence, once a blanket had been wrapped around him to shield his body from the women.

He and Mitment told their astounding tale to the acting head of the Isle of Ophiuchus, a marathon visit that lasted until midnight.   Folence wept several times, and marveled at the unbelievable stories she heard.

They eventually went to sleep in Folence’s residence, and Marco had one memorable dream.  “Come to my temple and spend the night Marco.  Come see me, please,” Ophiuchus visited him in his bedroom and requested.

When he woke up the next morning, he immediately asked Folence.  “I want to go spend the night in the temple at the top of the Isle.  The Spirit has called me,” he said.

“You do like to stir the pot, don’t you?” Folence sighed.  “Let me send the orders up in advance of your trip, and you can go up after breakfast.”  She arranged for clothing and food for Marco, then sent him on his way, walking alone.

Marco took his time climbing the mountainside, ignoring the snubs he received from the women who passed him along the way.  He’d traveled the same path before, and he thought of those experiences – the first time when he’d come down with Porenn, and the times he’d gone up with Iasco.  He deeply missed the lady; he’d not said goodbye, he’d not understood what was happening when it happened.  She’d been the greatest leader he’d ever known, one of the best people he’d ever known, and he wished he could sit and talk with her, and rely on her to explain what had happened, and why.

Traveling at his slow, thoughtful pace, Marco reached the top of the mountain as the sun set.  The temple was open and empty; Folence had sent a messenger up to prepare the women at the top for Marco’s arrival, and he was able to enter unimpeded.   He closed the door behind him, feeling calm and patient, sad and wise in a fashion.  There was nothing for him to do but wait, he knew, wait for the spirit of Ophiuchus to touch him in whatever manner she desired.  He sat down with his back against the wall, and thought of Mitment; the guard would not have an easy adjustment to her new life, convincing her former companions that her new, pretty body contained the same spirit that had been such a fearsome fighter.  Mitment would prevail though, he was sure.  And so Ellersbine’s body would live a long and active life, though her spirit would not.

He hoped that Theophilus had told him the truth, that Ellersbine had been happy with him.  He hoped he was ready to return to Mirra, to love her the way she deserved to be loved.  She had been kind and gentle, brave and bright and loyal to him.  She loved him with all her heart, he felt the certainty of her love suddenly assert itself in his heart.  He wanted her to be happy.  He knew that she would make him happy, and she would fill the hole in his heart – fill it nearly completely.  But he doubted, due to the heavy weight he carried on his heart, that he would be able to do her justice, to show her the devotion that she deserved.

He looked up, and realized that his neck felt stiff.  He looked up, still in his sitting position, and saw that the moon was overhead, visible through the oculus.  He’d fallen asleep, he realized.

There was a very slight noise, and he looked across the temple to see Ophiuchus standing, studying him as he looked back at her.  He pushed himself upright, and by the time he was standing, she was standing next to him.  They looked at one another without speaking, the two companions, one mortal, one immortal, the two who had traveled so far and done so much together for a short time, and each saw that the cheeks of the other were wet with tears.

They embraced with love for one another and sorrow for one another.  “I wish I could have been there for you and her,” the spirit whispered in Marco’s ear after they each sobbed their pain into the open.

“I wish I could have saved her for you,” Marco answered.  “I was so torn, so confused.  I miss her so much; I miss them both so much,” he whispered to the spirit.

They pulled apart to stare at each other, then both sat down on the floor of the temple, Marco with his arm around the shoulder of the spirit.

“You made us all so proud, Marco.  You did everything we hoped, more than we hoped.  You passed every test, even the ones we didn’t foresee, and you were there when Iasco needed you.  She was so, so proud of you – you are the son she never had, and you gave meaning to her life in more ways than one,” Ophiuchus comforted him.

“Now you have to go on.  Life goes on.  You are strong, and experienced, and now wise beyond your years.  You have earned the right to go to your home, to your loving wife, to your infant son, and to a happy future,” the spirit said softly.

“Iasco lived most of her life waiting for the chance to do what she did.  Her death gave meaning to her life, and she truly feels that way.  And you – only you – gave her the means to destroy the incarnation of evil, Marco.  She is so thankful to you, and I am so thankful to you.

“Now, my young hero, you must – you absolutely must –get on with your life.  Don’t drown in despair and sorrow Marco,” Ophiuchus told him.  “It’s spring time; it’s the season to celebrate the return of life and growth, and I want you to do the same. Do you hear me?” she asked in a firm voice, and she seized his chin in her hand, turning his face to look directly at her.  “Will you do it?”

“I’ll try, I promise I’ll really try,” he answered his eyes looking into her brilliant blue eyes.

“Don’t try; succeed,” she said firmly.  “Oh Marco,” she spoke to him in a motherly voice once again, and she embraced him in a comforting hug, her arm around his shoulders now, him resting his head on her shoulder, making him feel relaxed.

“I love you Marco.  I always will.  Please know that I will do whatever I can for you,” he heard her say.  “There is love all around you, love for you, and love coming from you.  You have a big heart, and love is available in an endless supply.  Turn it free and go home to love the ones who have waited and worried for so long.  Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” Marco mumbled.

“That’s my boy.  Promise you’ll come back and visit me someday too.  Bring your family to the Isle, and let me meet all the children too,” she smiled as she spoke, and Marco smiled back.

“Now go to sleep.  Sleep and rest and heal your heart, for tomorrow you start the last part of your journey home, and I want you to reach there with a smile on your face,” she comforted him.  “I’ll be right here with you, so just sleep and find peace.”

BOOK: The Southern Trail (Book 4)
8.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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