Wychling

Chapter 16

Ulrich sat against the opposite wall of the tower, as Tal finished and dropped off into a contented sleep; apparently, he wasn't the only one who'd had a long night. He thought on the Night Stalker's story and how it fitted with his own pursuit of the Fat Monk across the Old Empire. Through Ma'Larsi and its lawless abandon, to the outskirts of the Rectory, and then here.

He hadn't dared get too close to that dread place and he had almost missed the Monk leaving again as a result, only learning of his travels North from a drunk in a tavern. If it wasn't for that delay, he and Suma might have encountered one another sooner than today as they stalked the same prey. Who could guess how that would have gone?

Luck more than skill, but he would take every advantage he could get in his pursuit. He frowned, leaning against his pack and unstrung his bow. He pulled his hip quiver out and a pot of ink from his robes, lit a candle and began melting the dried, hardened ink. This done, his hands were suddenly free, and he gazed at them for the longest time.

There were two rings on his left hand. The first of horn and wood; the middle of the band held intricate carvings of deer and snakes and crows, and at the top, raised slightly, an incredibly realistic carving of a great tree, branches reaching high and wide and stopping just shy of creating a circle with its gnarled roots. The other, worn on the third finger, was a lighter shade, made of a bright red wood, with a band of silver running down the centre, all the way round. There were words carved into the wood on both sides of the metal, which itself had two simple flowing lines drawn in a whimsical pattern, with no beginning and no end.

He stared at his wedding band reading the words in a pattern that had become a reflex for him when he sought to still his mind. His lips moved like he was praying, but Ulrich believed in no Gods. After a while, still staring at his hands, he began his own story in a slow deep voice, careful not to wake the child.

"When my Brother and I were boys my Father would take us hunting for days. He used to say it was because we needed a break from Mother's lessons; too many words and letters he'd say, but we both knew he was a learned man and never really believed him..." he started softly.

He sensed those unsettling eyes open slowly and felt the weight of them on him, checking his voice momentarily. He took a deep breath in, coming to a decision. Like all important branches on the road of his journey, it was best made with conviction, honesty and hustle. He had many questions for Suma and held no few doubts, but he owed his story in return, and that was more than just a series of events layered with justifications, it was a small part of who he was. He smiled sadly, remembering the man that had hammered this notion of integrity into him, and glanced at his rings again remembering how it had made him happy. How it had made him a better man.

"He would always make it seem like what we were doing was fun; hunting, fishing, camping, but there was always a lesson, or a skill he was teaching us. We would walk for miles and days through the mountains that are our home, but whatever lessons the day held, things would settle into an easy rhythm as we set our camp for the night. I would gather herbs for the cooking, and my older Brother would start the fire, while he made the camp, just so, and ordered us around for all the extra tasks that needed doing."

"When I was very young, I felt a resentment about never getting to start the fire. Being a fool, as all children are, I thought that building a fire was a manly job. I grew tired of fetching the herbs for supper and I asked him why it was always my Brother that lit the fire...He asked me if, in wind, or rain, Dietrich had ever failed to build us a fire, and if that fire had ever failed to burn until morning."

"I remembered us staying in exposed camps, often when we didn't need to, on windy plateaus and clearings that left us open to the rain. I didn't remember a single fire going out, or a night without one. When I thought about it, I couldn't think of another person that could achieve that. He asked me why that was, and I couldn't answer. Every night while my Brother lit the fire, he would look at me and ask 'why?' With a crooked smile."