Chương 54: Chapter 34: Finding Purpose - Part III

Merrow does not hurry me. She guides the wheelchair through the streets at the same patient pace she applies to herbs, medicines and people alike. Eventually, we return to the small square where we left Eammon and Aine. I find them immediately. The children have somehow acquired company. Several boys and girls from the district occupy the space beneath one of the trees while Eammon enthusiastically explains something involving wooden swords and imaginary monsters.

Aine sits slightly apart from the others, though not entirely alone. One of the younger girls appears determined to show her a collection of painted stones. For several moments, neither of my children notices us. They are simply children. They watched Blackthorn burn. For weeks they slept beside roads. They walked through forests and listened to adults speak quietly around campfires when they believed the children had already fallen asleep.

Somewhere along the journey I became so focused on keeping them alive that I forgot what survival was supposed to accomplish. Laughter, arguments, friendship and most importantly a future. Aine notices us first.

"Mother!" Both children immediately run toward us. Eammon nearly reaches the wheelchair before remembering at the last moment that he is no longer five years old. Aine wraps her arms around me while simultaneously trying to ask three questions at once.

"What happened? Did you find work? Did Aibell?" I look toward Merrow. The healer simply waits. Apparently, the decision belongs to me.

"Yes," I say quietly. The children's eyes widen.

"Really?" I nod.

"I'll be helping Merrow." The healer inclines her head slightly.

"She will be learning." Eammon immediately asks, "Does that make you a healer?"

"Not yet." Aine looks toward Merrow.

"And afterward?" Merrow considers the question seriously.

"Afterward, your mother will become very expensive." The answer earns laughter from all three of us. Even the healer's expression softens slightly. I look toward her.

"And the lessons?" She nods.

"I know several families in the district. Parents speak to healers. If people are interested, I will tell them." The thought still feels strange. The knowledge my parents passed to me now feels less like memory and more like inheritance and before I can stop, I find myself forming lesson plans and what I should teach them first. Garrick POV The western wall offers the best view in Fallowspire. It isn't particularly beautiful. The eastern side overlooks farmland while the southern walls face the trade road.

The western parapet simply allows a man to see trouble before trouble notices him. After twenty years in uniform, I have developed a certain appreciation for early warnings. The afternoon passes quietly. Which usually means something is wrong. I rest my arms against the stone battlements and study the fields beyond the city. Several wagons move along the distant road while workers return from the orchards farther south. The fields surrounding Fallowspire have begun recovering from the corruption beneath the river.

Life has an irritating tendency to continue whether people approve of it or not. Behind me, the city continues its usual noise. The sounds reach the walls as a distant murmur. Ordinary sounds. The sort that reminds a soldier why walls exist in the first place. My hand settles against the new scabbard. I still do not entirely understand what happened beneath the Silverwood. I instinctively called it the grove's decision. However, personally, I would have preferred a conversation.

The scabbard rests against my hip exactly as it had all morning. The wood no longer feels alive. The vines have hardened into something stronger than leather and lighter than steel. If not for the faint patterns running across its surface, I might have convinced myself the entire thing never happened. Unfortunately, I was present and that complicates matters. The problem with becoming a Grove Knight is that nobody appears willing to explain what one actually is.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Kaelen knows only slightly more than I do. Which is unfortunate because Kaelen frequently discovers important information approximately five minutes before informing everyone else. I spent years attempting to become a knight. The memory returns more often than usual lately. I learned the sword quickly enough. Most soldiers do if they survive long enough.

The difficult part was always everything that came afterward, aura, reinforcement. The ability to move mana through the body. Other men discovered it naturally while I only discovered disappointment. Eventually, reality becomes difficult to ignore. Some men become knights. Others become only soldiers. I became a Guard Captain. The position suited me. At least that is what I spent years telling myself. The afternoon wind moves across the walls.

Somewhere below, a merchant shouts at a cart driver while two guards argue about something almost certainly unimportant. The city feels alive today. It's like everyone seems determined to move forward. Perhaps it is just me. The thought still feels strange. My hand rests against the scabbard again. The wood feels warm. Not warm with heat but something else. I glance toward the district below. The Silverwood rises above the rooftops, visible even from the walls.

Its silver leaves catch the afternoon sunlight while the surrounding Heartwoods spread their branches around it. Kaelen said to feel for mana. A remarkably unhelpful instruction. I close my eyes, nothing. The wind continues, the city continues. The wall remains beneath my boots. For several moments I feel absolutely nothing. Which, admittedly, is consistent with my previous attempts during the last twenty years. I open my eyes again. Apparently becoming a Grove Knight does not immediately improve one's talents.

A shame. That would have been considerably easier. Still, the old disappointment does not arrive. That surprises me. Years ago, this failure would have frustrated me but today it merely feels unfinished. A faint sensation touches the edge of my awareness. Small and brief, like something almost imagined. I straighten up immediately and the feeling disappears. The wind continues moving through the fields beyond the city. Perhaps I imagined it.

For several moments I stand silently upon the parapet overlooking the lands beyond Fallowspire. The feeling does not return. Eventually, the bells from the eastern tower announce the change of watch. One of the younger guards begins climbing the stairs behind me while another calls something about supper from farther along the wall. The city continues moving exactly as it always has. I remain where I am for a few moments longer. Twenty years.

Twenty years wearing a sword, twenty years training, twenty years standing upon these walls. At some point, the dream of Knighthood stopped being a goal and became something I occasionally remembered while watching younger soldiers attempt the same lessons I once struggled through. There is a certain peace in accepting limitations. A man eventually learns which battles cannot be won. At least, I thought I had. The younger guard finally reaches the top of the parapet.

"Captain?" I glance toward him. His eyes drift briefly toward the new scabbard before returning to my face. Apparently, some sort of story has already begun spreading.

"I have the watch, sir." I nod once.

"Try not to lose the city." He blinks.

"I'll do my best."

"Good." The answer earns a confused look. The stairs creak beneath my boots as I descend from the walls. The streets below remain busy despite the approaching evening. Merchants close their shops while laborers return home carrying tools over their shoulders. Several children run between the buildings while one exhausted mother attempts to gather all of them simultaneously. I spent years protecting it. The thought never seemed particularly noble before. Necessary, important perhaps, but never noble.

Knights protected kingdoms, while Guard Captains protected streets. At least, that was what I told myself. As I walk through the district, I pass the bakery. Several customers still stand outside carrying fresh loaves beneath their arms. Watching the district, I realize I never stopped wanting it. Not the Knighthood itself, not the title but the possibility. The feeling that there was still something ahead. Perhaps that is why Kaelen's offer unsettled me so thoroughly. He offered something I had already buried.

The gates of the garden stand open when I finally return. The Silverwood rises above the district while evening settles beneath the Heartwoods. I remove my sword, the new scabbard rests beside me. For several moments, I simply study it. Something ancient creating something entirely new. My hand settles against the surface as I close my eyes. The sensation returns, small and distant. Yet undeniably present.

It feels less like touching mana and more like standing beside a river in darkness and realizing the water has been there all along. The current remains beyond reach. The depth impossible to measure. But it exists. I open my eyes. Nothing around me has changed. The Silverwood still sways. The grove remains quiet. The city still waits beyond the walls. I can still only sense the faintest trace of mana. Whatever the future holds remain distant and frustratingly unclear.

Yet as I sit beneath the growing branches of the grove, I find myself thinking something I have not thought for many years. Perhaps some things are not denied. They simply arrive late. And after waiting twenty years, a little longer hardly seems unreasonable.