Chương 48: Chapter 31: The Offer – Part II

"You've been unusually thoughtful all morning." I glance sideways. Garrick is watching me with the same expression he reserves for suspicious tracks and people attempting to lie badly, "I was not aware there were acceptable limits."

"There are. They vary depending on how many problems you're trying to adopt." A faint laugh escapes me before I can stop it, "That's unfair."

"It usually isn't." The reply arrives immediately. I should have expected that. The road bends around a rocky outcrop before opening onto higher ground. The valley below stretches outward beneath the afternoon sun. Fields, distant woodlands and the roads connecting them spread across the landscape in quiet patterns. Far beyond them, Fallowspire rises above the surrounding countryside. For a while, we simply walk. Eventually, Garrick breaks the silence. I glance toward him.

"I received a vision last night."

"Oh, about what?"

"It showed me something I wasn't expecting." Garrick waits. The man has always been unusually patient when he decides a conversation is important.

"When my master, Vael, died, I thought I understood what he was asking of me." The words emerge slowly. I, myself am only now beginning to understand them.

"I thought he wanted me to protect the Silverwood."

"You did."

"I know." My gaze drifts toward the horizon, "But that's not all." The memory returns unbidden, "I spent months treating the grove like something fragile." Garrick remains silent. Allowing me to continue, "Something that needed to be preserved."

"And now?" I find myself smiling faintly, "Now I think it was meant to grow." The answer surprises even me. It feels obvious now. The Silverwood had never been content merely surviving. Neither had the Heartwoods. Every step of the grove's existence had been defined by growth, roots spreading, branches reaching, lives gathering beneath the canopy. The realization changes the shape of everything.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" I slow my pace slightly. Searching for the right words.

"The vision showed me generations of Grovekeepers."

"It sounds important."

"It is." The breeze stirs through the grass around us, "I think I spent most of the vision paying attention to the wrong thing." That finally earns a reaction. Garrick turns toward me, "The wrong thing?" I nod, "At first I thought it was about the Keepers." The Guard Captain waits, "And?" I stop walking. The valley stretches beneath us. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then I shake my head.

"No." Garrick folds his arms, "No?"

"The Keepers weren't the important part." The words feel strange. Yet the certainty behind them remains absolute. I had spent the entire night thinking about the staff, about Vael and about the title. Only this morning had I began noticing what the vision had omitted or perhaps what I had overlooked.

"The groves survived for centuries."

"Apparently."

"They survived wars, famines, kingdoms rising and falling." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Garrick nods once, "I assume there's a point hidden somewhere in all this."

"There is." I look directly at him, "No one does that alone." For the first time, genuine understanding flickers across his face. Enough to recognize where the conversation is heading. I think back to Elarion. To the years before everything fell apart. To the people I lost. Then Blackthorn, the road, the endless struggle simply to survive another day to finally arriving in Fallowspire.

"After everything that happened since I have arrived with my group, I never questioned whether you'd be there." A muscle tightens slightly along his jaw. For perhaps the first time since we began speaking, he looks genuinely uncomfortable, good. That makes two of us.

"Kaelen." The warning is immediate. I ignore it. Mostly because I have come too far to stop now.

"The vision showed me generations of Grovekeepers." I say again as I rest one hand against Vael's staff.

"But when I think about the people who helped build those groves..." I shake my head, "No." The answer arrives with surprising certainty, "When I think about the person who helped build this one, I only think of you." Silence follows, simply honest. The sort of silence that only exists between people who have already survived more together than either of them particularly enjoys discussing. The wind moves through the grass. Far below, a wagon travels slowly along one of the distant roads. Life continues.

Unconcerned by the conversation unfolding above it. Eventually, Garrick exhales.

"You spent a lot of time thinking about this."

"More than I'd like to admit."

"I noticed." The corner of my mouth twitches. A familiar response. Exactly the point. I think I finally know how to say what I came here to say. For a few moments, Garrick says nothing. Then he shakes his head and looks back toward the valley.

"I should have known something was wrong when you asked for company."

"That's unfair."

"No, it is fair." The answer arrives immediately. This time, neither of us bothers hiding the faint amusement that follows. The moment passes quickly. Somehow, that makes what comes next easier.

"I wasn't sure how to have this conversation." Garrick glances toward me, "That would explain why you've been circling it for the better part of an hour."

"I have not."

"You absolutely have." I open my mouth to argue. Then close it again. Unfortunately, he is correct. The Guard Captain notices my surrender and looks entirely too satisfied with himself. For a moment, we stand there in comfortable silence. Then I draw a slow breath.

"The corruption beneath the city worries me." Garrick's expression grows serious once more, "It worries me too."

"The Duskrenders worried me."

"I assumed as much."

"The beaststones worry me even more." His gaze shifts toward the distant forests, "Because you don't know what caused them."

"Because nobody does." The distinction matters. A known enemy can be fought. A known danger can be prepared for. The unknown leaves too many possibilities. Too many directions from which trouble can arrive.

"The council will investigate," Garrick says.

"They will."

"Darran will keep pushing until he gets answers."

"He will." The Guard Captain nods once. Neither of us doubts either statement. Yet the unease remains. Perhaps because answers have become increasingly rare lately or because both of us sense that whatever happened in those forests is only the beginning of something larger.

"I keep thinking about the vision again and again." The admission leaves me quietly. Garrick remains silent.

"The Keepers I saw weren't stronger than everyone around them." I rest one hand against Vael's staff.

"They weren't rulers."

"No?" he asks.

"No."

"They were builders." The word feels right, righter than anything else I have found.

"They protected what mattered." Garrick studies me carefully, "And you think that's what Vael was trying to teach you."

"I think it's what he spent years trying to teach me." The difference earns a small nod. For a while, neither of us speaks. The breeze shifts. Eventually, Garrick folds his arms.

"All right." I blink, "All right?"

"You've told me about the vision, repeatedly." His expression remains perfectly neutral, "You've explained what you've been thinking about." A pause, "You've informed me that I helped build the grove." Another pause, "Which is flattering, by the way." I groan. His mouth twitches slightly.

"Now tell me why we're actually standing on a hill outside Fallowspire." There it is, the real question. The one I have been avoiding since leaving the city. The one I brought him here to answer. For a moment, I simply look at him. The memory of the vision rises once more. The realization that no grove survives through the efforts of one person alone. No matter how capable they might be, no matter how determined. People build things together. They always have.

I look toward the distant city and toward the grove hidden somewhere beyond its walls, to the family gathering beneath their canopy. Then I look back at Garrick.

"Garrick, surviving isn't enough anymore. The grove has a future now." Garrick nods once, "It does."

"And futures require more than good intentions." Something shifts in his expression, recognition. He finally sees where this is leading. The realization arrives a heartbeat before the words themselves.

"Kaelen." I shake my head. His eyes narrow.

"You're about to say something dangerous."

"Probably."

"Good." That earns a reluctant laugh. The sound fades quickly. What remains is certainty.

"The grove needs more than a keeper." The words settle between us. Neither of us looks away.

"It needs a sword." Silence follows. The wind stirs the grass around our feet. Far below, the road continues winding toward Fallowspire. I hold Garrick's gaze. Then finally say the words that brought us here.

"Steel and grit carried us this far." The wind stirs between us.

"It won't carry us through what's coming." I hold his gaze, "Be the grove's sword, Garrick." For the first time all afternoon, the Guard Captain looks genuinely caught off guard. Not because he doubts the sincerity of the offer, because he understands exactly what it means. The silence stretches, long enough for the wind to shift again, long enough for distant birds to disappear beyond the horizon. Long enough for me to begin wondering whether I should have approached the conversation differently.

Then Garrick shakes his head. In disbelief.

"You really did spend a lot of time thinking about this." Relief arrives so suddenly that I nearly laugh, "That isn't a no."

"No, it isn't." The answer is not acceptance, not yet, but it is enough.