Sixteen – 05

Posted on January 29, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]

He glanced at the rest of his friends—still sleeping—then crept closer to her, keeping his voice low.  “I guess not,” he murmured, looking from her to David.  “How bad do you think it is, really?”

“It’s a bit premature to ask that question,” she admitted, mustering a smile as she glanced at him.  “I haven’t had much of a look since I was a bit busy with some other problems yesterday.  I’m sorry to come so early, though…” she paused, glancing at the sleeping forms all around them.  “It doesn’t seem like I’m disturbing anyone except for maybe you.”

Bryant smiled weakly.  “I couldn’t sleep.  And the others…I guess we feel safe enough here to get some extra rest.  It’s been a long ride.”

“You didn’t get to rest when you spoke to Lara down in New Hope?”

“Who’s Lara?”  He frowned.  “New Hope?”

“South of here,” she said.  “Closer to the water.”

“Closer to the lake than here?  That’s impressive.  But no.  No, we didn’t cross through anywhere in weeks.  Came from the southeast along the old highways.  Those…” Bryant paused, staring at the floorboards.  “I mean, I remember what they used to be like when I was a kid.”

“Not many do.”

“Not many people younger than you guys, you mean,” he murmured, looking past her to David.  “Of course, that’s a weird spot to be in.”

“I can only imagine,” she said softly, glancing at him.  “You’ve been looking out for all of them for a long time, haven’t you?”

He just nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.

It feels like forever

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Sixteen – 04

Posted on January 27, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]

The woman glanced around as she slipped past him and into the cottage, as if taking in the sight of his companions sleeping on various cots, clothing washed as best they’d been able to in the washbasin in the corner, strung up to dry.  She cast a faint, wry smile over her shoulder at him, barely visible in the dim light.

“We have boards and tubs for that,” she said.  “All you have to do is ask.”

“We’re—we’re not used to it,” Bryant murmured, watching as she carefully picked her way through dropped gear and hanging clothes toward the bed in the corner.  David was still out like a light, Issy curled up on a cot pulled up adjacent to it, also still fast asleep.  “Usually we just do what we can when we can get some shelter for a night or two, then we move on.”

“But not this time.”

“No,” he said slowly, quietly.  Why were the others still asleep?  Weren’t they hearing this?  Or were his friends just that exhausted?

Maybe that was it.  He was just too restless, and they were just too wiped out.

If not for David, they probably wouldn’t have pushed onward or as hard.

He watched her slowly turn up the lamp perched on a table at the head of David’s bed, watched as she checked for fever with the back of her hand.  Bryant swallowed hard while watching her, uneasy but at the same time comforted by the combination of briskness and tenderness in her movements.

“You’re a healer,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, glancing back at him.  “I could send the other one, but his bedside manner has always left a great deal to be desired.”

Bryant swallowed against a dry throat and shook his head.  “No.  No, it’s fine.  But—it’s early and they’re all still—”

“Our days have always started early here,” she said.  “Ever since everything came crashing down.  If something isn’t broken, you don’t fix it, right?”

He frowned, but nodded.  In that, at least, she was right.

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Posted on January 26, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

Apparently I’m really good at forgetting what day it is, which is why we missed an update on Monday.

Stay tuned 🙂

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Sixteen – 03

Posted on January 22, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]

Sleep came as soon as his head hit the pillow, in fact, and he didn’t stir until someone knocked on the cottage door.  It was a quiet sound, though the cadence was brisk, just enough to wake him.  None of the others stirred as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and crossing from the cot he’d been sleeping on toward the door.  It looked like it was still dark beyond the curtains, and Bryant frowned to himself, scrubbing his hand over his face again.

What the hell is going on?

He opened the door before whoever was on the other side could knock again, blinking slightly at the sight of the woman on the other side of the door.  She came with a basket of what he could only guess were supplies of some kind, her smile gentle and her eyes bright despite what Bryant knew must be an early hour—the sky was barely any lighter now than it had been when he’d gone to bed.

“Can I help you?” he asked, squinting at her.

She smiled and shook her head.  “I came to help you.  They’re starting to get breakfast going if you’re hungry, but I came to check on your friend.”

“This—this early in the morning?”   I must still be dreaming.  It’s way too early for this.  And breakfast, now?  Even back home we didn’t eat this early.

“Mm,” she said with a nod, then gestured to the shadows behind him.  “Can I come in?”

“I guess?”  He stepped aside so she could get past him, his brow furrowing.  None of the others were awake.

This has to be a dream.  It must be.

               Isn’t it?

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Sixteen – 02

Posted on January 20, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]

“You have the look of someone that’s carrying the weight of a few worlds on your shoulders.”

Bryant smothered his surprise, barely managing to keep himself from startling at the sound of the voice.  He hadn’t even heard any approaching footsteps.  Had he dozed off for a moment?  Anything was possible—and the sleep, brief as it was, would have been more than welcome.

He opened his eyes, tilting his head enough to see the woman that stood a few feet away, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders against nonexistent breeze and chill.  He recognized her from their meeting with what he’d assumed was the village council, though he didn’t remember her name.

“I guess,” he murmured, glancing up and back again, checking to see if there was any light beyond the windows—there wasn’t—before he looked to her again.  Her hair was pulled back into a braid down her back, though there were whisps flying free, framing her face in the dim light.  “Maybe just a little.  Sorry…was I supposed to stay inside?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head.  “I just was on my way to go check on something and I saw you out here.  Are you all right?”

“That’s a relative term,” Bryant said, watching her.  There was something familiar about her—beyond having seen her earlier that day—and it tugged at him, though he tried to put that out of his mind.  “Just getting some time to myself, I guess, and trying not to disturb the others.”

“They’re asleep?”

“Should be.”  He scrubbed a hand over his eyes.  “Probably are.”

“You’re worried.”

“Is it that obvious?”

One corner of her mouth quirked upward in a smile.  “Just a little.”

He sighed and looked away, stared off into the darkness.  “That’s just the way of it, I guess.  David might be the one with insights, but I’m the one that keeps us going in useful directions.  Or something like that.”

“A noble enough task.”

“Is it?”

“I think so.”  She shifted her shawl around her shoulders, shaking her head slightly.  “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he murmured.  “Sometimes, I just want to go home.”

“We all want that, sometimes,” she said softly, gently.  “But sometimes it’s not where we actually need to go.”

“How do you know?”

“With age comes wisdom,” she said with a faint smile.  “You’ll understand eventually.”

“You think so?”

“I know it,” she said.  “You should try to get some sleep, too.  Dawn will be coming soon enough, and with it I’m sure there will be more questions and more talking and who knows what else.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

“No maybe about it.”  She shook her head again.  “Go on.  At least try.  Trust me, you’ll be better for it.”

He wasn’t sure why he listened, but the next he knew, he was back inside, taking off his boots.  His eyelids were heavy.

Maybe she was right.  Maybe he would be able to sleep tonight.

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Sixteen – 01

Posted on January 18, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Bryant Tapping’s point of view.]

It wasn’t yet dawn, the village still quiet.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting outside the door of their guest cottage, his back pressed against the painted wood.  Bryant’s gaze remained unfocused as he stared blankly out into the unfamiliar darkness, unable to sleep.  Behind him, the cottage was dark, his friends long since gone to sleep—or so he hoped.  It wouldn’t have surprised him at all if Issy was laying awake, or worse, curled in a chair next to David’s bed.

He’d hoped making it to relative safety would mean that his friend slept.  He was starting to suspect that it was a vain hope.

Nice of me to hope she’d sleep, though, when I can’t even find rest myself.

He suppressed the urge to shake his head at himself there in the darkness.  He’d barely seen a hint of movement since coming out here.  It was, he guessed, maybe an hour or so before dawn.  Torches flickered out closer to the gates and the wall, though the sentries on duty were as silent as a tomb.  Even the wind had died away, leaving trees still in the night air.  Even as peaceful as it was, something had him on edge—and that something had nothing to do with the fact that they were among strangers.

They did seem to believe us, though.  That must account for something.  Bryant closed his eyes, tilting his head back.  I wonder if any of them thought this day would come eventually.  Maybe the Taleisin did.  That part wouldn’t have surprised him.  The stories that Aoife had told—the stories that Gray had remembered and repeated time and again—suggested a much deeper history and deeper meaning.  While he wasn’t sure exactly how much he believed them, he believed in the conviction behind the words.

And he believed in the prophecy embedded in those tales, just like they all did.  It was what had set them on this road into the unknown in the first place, hoping that they’d find the key to a promised better tomorrow.

He just hoped they were right about all of it.

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Fifteen – 06

Posted on January 15, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

The sound of Matt’s hammer against the anvil was muted, the door mostly shut.  Smoke curled into the night sky from its chimney, and Neve paused in her ascent up the hill path to the forge to watch it drift away on the night breeze.  Again, she hitched her shawl a little bit higher, a little bit tighter, the chill creeping through her having nothing to do with the weather.

Something had changed and she suspected that it wasn’t just due to the arrival of their visitors.

The muffled sound of voices reached her—voices deep in murmured conversation, though almost overshadowed by the sound of the hammer.

If there was one thing she’d learned about many of her friends, it was that it was through work that they found the time to order their thoughts.  There had been more than a few nails and blades made in the times when Matt or Thordin needed to think—and in another time, many trenches dug and walls built when Thom Ambrose had needed to think.

The door whispered on its hinges as she eased it open, finding not only Matt—who she’d expected—but both Phelan and Thordin as well.  Matt’s hammer stilled and the three fell silent as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” she said softly.  “Go on.  I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Too much on your mind?” Thordin asked.

She smiled crookedly.  “All three of you heard what I heard.  Could you sleep after that?”

Thordin spread his hands, as if his presence was an answer.  Neve shook her head slightly.

“Exactly.”  She drifted to the bench next to Phelan, who sat with a whetstone, sharpening some newly-crafted knives destined for trade.  “So.  Do we have a plan, or are we still figuring it all out?”

“What do you think?” Matt asked, his gaze straying back to the metal laid against the anvil.  It was a sword, something he’d crafted only rarely the past few years.

Neve stared at it for a few seconds, then said, “I think it’s going to be a long night.”

He nodded and his hammer rose and fell, rose and fell.

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Posted on January 11, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

Hey guys, no Monday or Wednesday updates this week – I’m on overnights for a few days at work which make it hard to get anything quality accomplished!

Thanks for understanding.

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Fifteen – 05

Posted on January 8, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how long she lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling—and it seemed like it was forever.  Eventually, Neve got up and put on her shoes, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders before she ventured out into the night’s quiet.

From the position of the moon, she guessed it was perhaps two or three in the morning, deep into the graveyard watch already.  They still kept those watches, even after so many years of relative quiet and peace.  It felt strange to do any differently, she reflected as she walked along the well-trodden path from her door toward the center of the village, where they still cooked communal meals—though the fireside had changed a great deal over the last decade and more.

There were two stone ovens there, now, and a cooktop.  The old ring of stones had been replaced, built up into a proper pit.  A small shed held proper cabinets for the crockery and glassware and utensils, for the cooking vessels and pans and sheet trays, washbasins and drying racks set just outside its door.  Tala still kept her smokers further away, though, and the food storage was likewise a little ways away, though not so far that it was inconvenient.  Nor had the communal meals ever started to feel inconvenient—on the contrary, it seemed to Neve that it helped keep them together.

A distant sound drew her attention and she turned on the path, squinting up through the darkness toward the forge on the hill—one of the few structures little changed over the span of years.  There was a faint glow from its doorway and she frowned, drawing her shawl a little tighter despite the night’s warmth.

Seems someone else is restless tonight.

Silently, Neve started up the hill toward the forge, suspecting she already knew at least one of the people she’d find there—though she wondered if there would be more.

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Fifteen – 04

Posted on January 6, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

“Do you think I should?”  Tory’s hand covered hers, his calloused fingers flexing to squeeze hers.  He was so like his father, she reflected as she stared at his hand for a moment before she met his gaze.

“I think you should follow your heart,” she said softly, reaching with her free hand to cup his cheek in her palm.  “Isn’t that what your dad and I taught you?”

“Well, that and a bunch of survival skills.”  Tory smiled wryly, squeezing her hand again.  “I don’t understand any of this, Mum.  I mean—you were important a long time ago.  Still important now.  People think Dad’s a hero because he carries messages the way he does between—well, it seems like everywhere.  That’s not me.”  His brow furrowed.  “Lin’s more important than I am.  More special.  I guess them coming looking for him makes more sense to me.  Them looking for me just doesn’t.  I don’t have any powers or anything, just your bloodline.”

“And that’s important,” she said softly, her thumb brushing against his cheek.  “I know it doesn’t make sense—not entirely.  That’s my fault and it’s—oh, Tory.  We could stay up all night and I could try to explain, but I don’t know that it would help.”

“So you’re telling me to get some sleep and I’ll get answers from the source in the morning.”

“Kind of.”

He smiled, nodding slightly.  “Okay.  Okay, Mum.”  He let go of her hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek before he stood.  “I take it I shouldn’t go out fishing tomorrow morning, huh?”

Neve laughed and shook her head.  “Not if you want answers, no.  Find your uncle in the morning.  Phelan will tell you as much as you can before you meet with our visitors.”

“Visitors,” he echoed softly as he drifted toward the door.  “You say that like they’re not going to stay.”

“They’re not,” Neve said gently.  “They’re on a quest, and they’ve found what they’re looking for—at least part of it—but that’s only the beginning.”

Tory’s brows knit.  “Mum—”

“In the morning,” she said.  “Good-night, Tory.”

“Night, Mum.”

He slipped out and she stayed seated on the edge of the bed, staring at the space where he’d been, for a long, long time.

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