Twenty-one – 02

Posted on June 7, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

“It’s weird,” David said, fidgeting a little.  “Dad didn’t know much about her family, so I just kind of put away all of those questions and assumed I’d never get to ask them.  But the…the need to know never quite went away.”

“Uncle Phelan can tell you a lot of stories,” Lin said.

“Maybe even too many,” Tory added with a wry smile and a shake of his head.  “He’s filled our heads with one or two that I’m pretty sure pissed off our parents.”

“If I didn’t make them angry sometimes, I wouldn’t be doing my job,” Phelan said, slanting a smile at the pair.  Of course, their anger was only rarely directed at me.  The stories were expected—in some ways, I think even a relief.  They knew what I was keeping from the kids.  His gaze lingered on Lin for a moment longer than Tory and his smile shrank ever-so-slightly.  Except Thom and Marin never had a chance to object to the stories I told Lin after they were gone, did they?

They wouldn’t have gainsaid him any of it—he was sure of that, especially in Marin’s case—but it still ached sometimes that he never even got to ask.

They would understand.  They would understand.

He tore his gaze from Lin, though not fast enough that none of the others in the room noticed how his gaze had lingered there for longer than he’d intended.  He focused on David again, taking a deep breath.  “What would you like to know?”

David blinked.  “What?”

“About the family.  What would you like to know?”

“I don’t think—”

“I imagine that it would be as illuminating for Lin and Tory as it would be for you,” Phelan said slowly.  “Especially considering why you’re all here.”

David’s eyes widened.  “Then you—”

“Whose lips do you think she got that prophecy from?”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 21, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty-one – 01

Posted on June 4, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

“Uncle Phelan,” Tory said, brows knitting.  “What are you doing here?”

“Meeting my nephew.”  Phelan smiled wryly and closed the door gently behind him.  He stared across the room at the pale young man propped up in bed, leaning against a girl with dark hair pulled into an artfully messy braid—though the art to it was likely careless, the messiness more born of haste than artifice.  He could see a reflection of himself in the young man’s features, a reflection of his sister and their long-dead parents, but he could see Gray Miller’s features there, too, despite only having met the man briefly so many years ago.  “Jac said that she checked in on him earlier and he was awake, so I thought that perhaps it was time I met him.  It’s only been…what, seventeen, eighteen years?”

“Eighteen,” his nephew murmured.  “I—I’ve only heard stories.”

“Probably unflattering ones.”  Phelan shrugged and moved away from the door, offering a reassuring smile to Bryant as he started to cross the room.  He leveled a censuring look at Lin as he passed him.  “You should be in bed.”

“I wasn’t going to let Tory come alone,” Lin said.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, but thank you for reminding me of another Thomas Ambrose I’ve known.”

Lin winced and Phelan patted his arm gently, mindful of where the camazotzi had gotten pieces of the teenager.

He’s more like his father sometimes than he knows—and not just in looks.  It was all he could do not to shake his head as he moved on, gently punching Tory in the shoulder as he passed him, too.

“It is my fault,” Tory murmured, seeming at least mildly contrite.  “I showed up like some kind of barbarian and demanded answers that he didn’t necessarily have.”

“Answers that I have,” his nephew said, looking down at his hands.  “Ones I haven’t—haven’t quite given them yet, either.”

“It’s all right,” Phelan said.  “They’re patient enough to wait a few minutes more, I think.”  He stopped next to the bed, studying both his nephew and the girl—Isabelle, if he was remembering right.  “So.”

“So you’re my Uncle Phelan.”

“And you’re my nephew.”

He nodded slowly.  “David.”

Phelan laughed.  “An easy name.”

David smiled faintly.  “The way my father tells it, he wanted to make sure I had a first name that was easy for everyone to pronounce.  And, you know, normal.”

“Growing up with a name like Gray, I’m sure he could appreciate that.”

“I think so, too.”

“The middle name is worse, isn’t it?”

David choked on a laugh and just nodded.  “How did you know?”

“Because I know my sister.”  Phelan smiled.  “What is it?”

“You can’t guess?”

Knowing her, it could be any number of things.  Phelan shrugged slightly, waiting.

David shook his head.  “My full name as my mother gave it to me is actually David Cíar Dubhshláine O’Credne Miller.”

Phelan’s throat tightened.  “She named you after our cousins.”

“I guess,” David said.  “I never—I never had the chance to ask.”

“It’s all right,” Phelan said around the lump in his throat, blinking back sudden, stinging tears.  “I can tell you their stories if you want.  There will be time.”

I will make sure that there’s time.

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 21, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 08

Posted on June 2, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

 

“Then you believe him?” Bryant asked quietly, drifting away from the door.  Tory startled and twisted toward him, as if he hadn’t realized that Bryant was still there.  For a few seconds, he held his gaze, then finally nodded slowly.

“To some degree or another,” Tory said.  “Even if I don’t believe the whole thing, usually prophecy doesn’t care.  Does it, Lin?”

Lin winced and stared at the floor.  He shook his head.  “No.  It usually doesn’t.”

There’s history there—something there that I’m not sure I want to know the whole of.  Bryant’s lips thinned and he nodded.  “You’re right about that, I think.  I remember Aoife saying it a few times when I was growing up, before she left.”

“How long ago did she leave?”  Tory asked, looking between Bryant, David, and Isabelle.  “How old were you?”

“I don’t really remember her,” Isabelle said.  “Never really had much chance to know her.”

“David and Isabelle were still really little,” Bryant said.

“I only have a few scattered memories I can string together,” David admitted.  “Her face, her voice, fragments of stories and the feel of her touch—gentle, soft, but usually cold fingers even when they probably should’ve been warm.  That could be a trick of my memory, though.”  He rubbed at his temple.  “My dad raised me.  I remember him being sad a lot, especially when I was younger, but that seemed to either fade as I got older or I just stopped noticing.”

I’m not sure which one it was, really.  I don’t know that he got over her or if he just stopped letting the rest of us see as we got older.  Probably the latter.

“I have most of the stories from him,” David continued.  “Though a lot of them were things my mother wrote down and gave to him for me—like she knew.”

“Being the Taliesin’s sister and a princess of the Aes Dana in her own right, it wouldn’t surprise me if she did,” Lin said quietly, leaning back and tilting his face toward the ceiling.  “I don’t know what made her leave you, but I’m sorry that she did.  That couldn’t have been easy, especially not knowing where she went or if she’d ever come back.”

“I…” David’s voice trailed away and he stared off into nothing for a few seconds.  Isabelle squeezed his hand and he looked at her then, smiling faintly.  “I don’t know.  I think I asked maybe twice growing up if she was ever going to come back before I asked my father one last time before we left to come on this journey, to come on this quest.  I don’t think even he ever expected her to come home.”  David took a slow, deep breath.  “Hell.  There are moments when I wonder if she loved us at all.”

“I’m sure that she did,” a voice said from the doorway.  “But Aoife was always more duty-bound than the rest of us.  If my sister thought that there was something she had to do and it meant leaving her husband and her child, she would.  Much to her eternal pain, she would.”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Posted on May 31, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

Happy Memorial Day to my American readers.

No update today. Expect one Wednesday!

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Twenty – 07

Posted on May 28, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

Tory stood there for a few seconds, just blinking at David.  Lin sighed and waved a hand slightly.

“Sit back down, Tory.  Let him tell it the whole way through.”  He looked back at David and smiled a slight smile.  “The story—it was a prophecy more than a story, wasn’t it?”

David nodded slowly.  “It was, yeah.  It was one that I heard a couple of different versions of over the years, usually told as a story.  Once my gift finally cropped up it all started to make more sense.”  He rubbed at the spot on his forehead between his eyes.  “I’m sure you’ve both heard variants on the theme.  The once and future king, the king destined to return in a time of need, the king betrayed—it depends on what version you’re listening to or reading.  I know that we had a few books back home that had versions of the same legends but my dad told me that they weren’t exactly accurate retellings of the tale—that if people back then had told the actual story, a lot of folks wouldn’t have believed it.”

“I could see that,” Tory said slowly.  “I know my dad didn’t believe the true story until later on even though he believed most of what my mom told him.  That still doesn’t explain, though.”

“I know,” David said.  “How much do you actually know about…about that?”

“The stories about the once and future king?  King Arthur, the Round Table, all of that?”  Tory glanced sidelong to Lin.  “A whole hell of a lot between the two of us.  This used to be a school before the end of everything.  There was a decent collection in the university library and our parents rescued most of the books from said library when everything came crashing down, catalogued it, preserved it.  I can show you later if you want.”

David smiled faintly.  “That’d be cool, once they let me out of bed again.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”  Tory leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  “So the legends and stories were inspired by someone real—that much I know and believe.  But a prophecy about his return?”

“Why would you think that’s so far-fetched?” Lin murmured, closing his eyes.  “You know that he was real, Tory.  You know who you’re descended from.  Why is it so hard to believe?”

Tory made an unhappy sound and focused on David again.  “So this prophecy you’re talking about is about the legend of his return in a time of need—of a king reborn?”

“Something like that.  It’s not…” he paused, then started again.  “It’s more complicated than that.”

Tory heaved a sigh.  “It always is, isn’t it?  Always is.”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 06

Posted on May 26, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

Tory’s head whipped around and he squinted at Lin.  “I thought you didn’t know anything.”

“I don’t,” he said.  “Not for sure.  Just—Tory.  Just listen to him.  We’ve heard these bedtime stories, too, just probably in different ways.”

Tory’s expression slackened.  “Between you and my mother, I don’t know which direction to go in with any of this.”

“Just listen,” Lin said quietly.  “I’m as interested in this as you are—and connected to this as you are.”

Bryant watched them both for a few seconds, the knots in his stomach growing ever tighter as the fear of how they might react increased steadily.  While Lin’s quiet was reassuring, he wasn’t entirely certain that Tory was going to react well to what David was going to tell them, especially if what Bryant was starting to guess at might be true.

He’s the once and future that David’s been looking for.  And Lin is another piece of that puzzle—the Taliesin That Will Be, I think, unless I miss my guess.  He swallowed against a dry throat, sagging against the door’s frame.  What if they reject this, though?  What if they walk away?

It was back to the quandary that was making him queasy in the first place in that scenario, because in these scenarios, destiny didn’t take no for an answer.  He wasn’t sure of the history of any of the people here trying to cram what was ‘meant to be’ back down destiny’s throat and that was another factor that worried him.

If anyone’s tried, succeeded, and not paid any kind of visible consequences…well, first I’d like to meet them.  Then I’d like them to help us out here.

It was all he could do not to shake his head at himself.

“Fine,” Tory sighed.  “What stories, then?”

“Legends of a warrior king and his sword,” David said quietly, wincing slightly as if he realized what he must sound like.  “One destined to return.”

Tory stared at him for a few seconds.  “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish,” David said, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.  “You have any idea how long we’ve been away from home looking for this?  For—for maybe you?”

“I think you’re looking for my dad, not me,” Tory said, shaking his head slowly.  “The sword you’re talking about is his, not mine.  He’s carried it since before I was born—since he met my mother.”

“The lady of Avalon is your mother.”

“Neve Vaughan, princess of the Aes Dana is my mother.  Maybe in some long ago yesterday she was the lady of Avalon.  If she was, she never told me that story.  She’s just tried to raise my sister and I the best she and my dad can.”  Tory stood up, the chair creaking softly as he did.  “You’re not looking for me.  You’re looking for Cameron Mackenzie, the Dragon.”

“No,” David said quietly.  “We’re searching for his son and heir.  The Dragon helps make ready.  The son is the one who makes it real.”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 05

Posted on May 24, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

The knots in Bryant’s stomach tightened.  He hadn’t quite admitted to himself how nervous he was about this part, about David opening up to people that they were probably looking for about what they were out here doing and why.

Their reaction is going to make or break this.

The stories he’d grown up on came with dozens of examples of heroes rejecting their role at first, and if there was one thing that he knew, it was that David was looking for people that were supposed to end up being heroes—being legends.

Most of those people tended to say no and walk away before circumstances forced them into doing something else.  That always meant when heroes walked away, things got worse.

The world out there’s bad enough already.  I’d hate to see what would come with the “worse”—especially if it means something happening to the people here.  It seems like they went through a lot before now, judging from their defenses and their paranoia about strangers, especially armed ones.  I don’t want to see anything happen to them here, even having just met these people.

He became abruptly aware of Lin watching him even as David cleared his throat in preparation to speak.  The young man’s gaze remained intent for a few seconds more, only moving on once David had said the first few words.

“We grew up on a lot of stories,” David began.  “I’m sure that you guys did, too, for better or worse, maybe even some of the same ones.  I don’t know where all of them came from, but I know at least a few my dad had from my mother—I never really knew Aoife, since she left when I was still really little.  Bryant remembers her better than any of the rest of us.  Most of the stories were older than old and some of them didn’t make a lot of sense, at least not the first half dozen or so times I heard them.”

“But they started to,” Lin murmured.  “The older you got, the more sense they started to make.  The more meaning they started to have.”

David nodded.  “Yes, exactly.”

“Because that’s when your gift started to manifest.”

“Yes,” David said as he nodded again.  “Exactly.”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 04

Posted on May 21, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

“What do you mean, David?” Isabelle asked softly.  “You’re not—”

“Making sense?” he shook his head, smiling weakly.  “I guess not, but then do I ever?”

“More often than you don’t,” Bryant said.  He was still watching Lin and Tory, watching their expressions, trying to gauge their reaction to David’s murmured words.  The fact that Lin was smiling was something he couldn’t quite sort out—he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or something that should worry him even more than he already was.

Take it as a good sign.  You don’t need to borrow more trouble than you’re already trying to deal with—no more problems than what you’re already facing.  He barely managed to suppress the urge to rub his temple as if a headache was coming on—one wasn’t, not yet, but it was quite possibly only a matter of time.

Maybe it won’t be this time.

“I’m going to pretend that either makes sense or isn’t important,” Tory said slowly, relinquishing David’s hand but not moving away.  “But I’m guessing it’s part of why you’re here.”

“Perceptive,” David said, reaching to rub his eyes.  “It’s something like that.  There’s—it’s complicated.  That’s the short version.”

“And the long one?”

David gave him a watery smile.  “You might want to sit down for that.”

Tory glanced at Lin, who shrugged slightly.  Then he smiled faintly and pulled up a chair.

“Okay,” Tory said.  “Let’s go.”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 03

Posted on May 19, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

“Me,” David said quietly.  “At least—at least, that’s my guess.”  He swallowed hard, then cleared his throat.  “I’m—never mind.  I’m Aoife O’Credne’s son.”

“Grey Miller’s your dad,” Lin said, his gaze bouncing between David and his companion.  “Right?”

“Yeah.”

Bryant leaned against the doorframe, watching as Isabelle’s fingers tangled in David’s and squeezed.  His throat tightened momentarily and he wondered what was going through David’s head right now this second.  He hadn’t met anyone he was related to by blood—not yet, anyway—since they’d left home.

I don’t know what I’d do if I was him.  I wouldn’t know how to feel, what to think.

David smiled wryly.  “I’d ask how you knew who my dad was, but I’m guessing—I’m guessing there were at least a couple stories.”

Lin nodded.  “A couple.  Our parents only met him that one time when he and Aoife came looking for Uncle Phelan.”

“They never came back for good reason,” his companion murmured, then shook himself and took a breath.  He crossed toward David’s bed and held out his hand.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t be like that.  I’m Tory.  Neve’s my mom.”

David took his hand and shook it, watching Tory’s face.  Bryant watched them both, trying to ignore the tension that coiled his own muscles like a spring.

There was something in the look the two young men shared that put him on edge and it seemed that it was for no good reason at all.

“Of course it would be here,” David murmured into the sudden silence as he continued to stare up at his cousin.  “Why didn’t I realize that sooner?”

The only person in the room that didn’t look surprised by the words was Lin, who just stared on with a distance in his eyes but a sad, knowing smile curving his lips.

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Twenty – 02

Posted on May 17, 2021 by Erin M. Klitzke

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

Two young men who couldn’t have been any older than his friends stopped dead in their tracks, only steps from the door.  Bryant choked on a laugh, barely preventing himself from shaking his head.

Of course he’d know.  If I’d waited any longer, they’d have been lifting a hand to knock and wouldn’t that have been creepy beyond all reason.

One of the men was familiar—Bryant thought his name was Lin—and had been one of the two to escort them to the cottage.  The other was someone he was sure he’d never seen before, but somehow felt familiar anyway.  That second man cleared his throat, glancing back at Lin before his gaze returned to Bryant.

“We’re not interrupting, are we?”

“No,” Bryant said, stepping clear of the doorway.  “Come in.  We—” he broke off with a quiet snort.  “I shouldn’t say we were all expecting you.”

“I was,” David said from the bed.  This time, Bryant did shake his head, holding the door as their guests came inside.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Lin murmured, collapsing into a chair and scrubbing a hand over his eyes.  His companion cut a look in his direction, then took a deep breath.

“So which one of you is my cousin?”

Posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 20, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment