Aramora

Chapter 14: The Heart

Naomi has to stifle her excitement at finally having this callous, mysterious old man finally opening up to her. "Your friend... what was he like?" she asks.

Malachi cracks a small smile to himself. He looks away from the book and stares at the fire. She thinks that this is the first time since meeting him that she has ever seen him smile. It's a strangely heartwarming sight, despite knowing that he can be a real asshole at times.

"He was... an infuriatingly perfect bastard." He chuckles and shakes his head. "He was a master with a lute. His voice could charm any dame who heard it. He was the gem of Ecrin, growing up. Always doing good and helping people, never asking for anything in return. He was smart. He could read all day and never grow tired. And then there was me, living in his shadow." He sighs.

Naomi eyes him quizzically. "How so?" she asks.

Malachi shrugs and keeps his smile. "Everyone just assumed he was friends with me out of pity for the 'poor orphan boy', but that wasn't true. We were inseparable. And even though he was the star of the story, I didn't mind one bit being his best friend. I was never cut out for being in the spotlight anyway," he explains. Naomi smiles and relaxes back against the wooden post she's tied to.

"You really like talking about him, don't you?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Malachi looks over at her.

She shrugs. "You're smiling. I've never seen you do that before."

Malachi chuckles again and nods, returning his gaze to the fire. "Yeah... I guess I do. The memories of him... they're what keep me going. And knowing that I may see him again one day... that's something to smile about."

Naomi's smile grows as she stares at him. "Your friend... what was his name? I don't think you've ever said," she asks curiously.

Malachi closes his eyes for a brief moment and takes a refreshing deep breath, smiling as though he can see his friend's face behind his closed eyelids. He slowly opens his eyes again and meets hers.

"His name was Colin. Colin Lee."

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Many years ago.

Fifteen-year-old Malachi looked around the dark streets of Ecrin while the moon shone brightly in the night sky overhead. With a smile of mischief worn across his face, he strolled down the cobblestone road with one hand in his pocket and the other swaying carelessly at his side, snapping his fingers to the beat of the latest song he heard the bard play from the window of the tavern.

Being mindful of the guards on patrol who would annoyingly ask him where his parents are if they catch him alone at this time, he ducked behind the wall of the city bakery and carried on in the direction of his goal.

He finally reached the house. It was humble, made from stone bricks and wooden boards, shutters over the windows, and lively green vines crept up along the side of the building. Lucky for him, the vines latched on and extended up to the window on the second floor he aimed to reach.

With a crack of his knuckles and a spit in his hands, he rubbed them together and latched onto the vines, and began hauling himself up towards the window. Carefully minding his foot placement, he stepped only in the groves in the stone wall and the occasional sturdy vine loop.

He pulled himself up until he made it to the closed window, giving one final haul to sit on the edge of the windowsill while still holding onto the vines. He cracked a grin at his masterful climbing and gave a soft but firm knock on the window. He sat as he waited, hearing frantic shuffling from inside.