The Astrologies

Chapter 1: Derick's Homecoming

"The Emperor demands..." the soldier was swaying in a pronounced way and had to stop talking after each phrase to choose the next one, "that you pay... for the purposes of citizenship..." he took a deep breath, "all of your gold and the use of your pretty... pretty..." he leered at Derick's mother and then pointed out the door behind him, "...horse." The second soldier giggled and leaned his head against the doorframe.

"Get out of our house." Jerad said through clenched teeth. His toes were practically touching the soldier's now. He planted his hands on the soldier's chest and shoved. The soldier staggered backwards and it looked like he would fall, but he recovered his balance with surprising speed and dealt Jerad a backhanded blow that sent him spinning into the wall. The soldier turned to Derick and wiped some spittle from his beard as Jerad crumpled to the floor.

"Are you looking for trouble, too, soldier boy?" The man spoke with alarming clarity. Derick did not want trouble, especially being unarmed and half-naked. He stood speechless for a moment, then he saw Jerad slowly stretching his arm toward the sword belt that Derick had discarded earlier. The soldier followed Derick's eyes and wheeled around, bringing his boot down hard on Jerad's hand. He grinned and shifted more and more of his weight onto Jerad's hand until Jerad screamed along with a series of sickening cracks. Derick looked over to his mother, hoping that she would say something to make the situation better, but she stood frozen in the corner.

Later, when Derick replayed the scene, he could never decide whether he lunged for the butchering knife before or after the soldier began to draw his sword. He remembered clearly the moment before-- Jerad's gritted teeth and tears of pain and anger; the soldier looking down at his brother with a cruel smile and all his weight on his broken hand; the second soldier standing in the doorway with wide eyes and an eager, almost lustful, expression; and his mother, speechless and pale, staring into the soldier's face. The next moment Derick was throwing the knife, and then blood was everywhere. His brother cried out again as the sword fell from the soldier's hands and landed on top of him, the soldier gurgled and grasped uselessly at the knife in his throat as he fell to his knees, the second soldier leaned over and vomited noisily, and his mother rushed over Jerad where he lay.

The dying man's companion drew his sword and stood in the doorway, trembling. Derick stared him down as he walked toward him. The soldier did not move. Derick picked up the fallen sword, which was cold and heavy and oddly reassuring.

"There are three of us and you're dead drunk." He told the shaking soldier, who nodded stupidly. "Drop your sword and leave." The soldier contemplated his situation for the space of one long, quavering breath, and then complied. Derick watched as the man fled past the tethered horse and into the darkness.

Hot blood pooled around Derick's bare feet. His mother was helping Jerad to his feet. The blood seemed to belong entirely to the soldier-- Jerad must have been hit by the flat of the falling sword. Jerad's hand, however, was in a grotesque position-- bent backwards nearly in half, with a few shards of bone emerging from his palm. Jerad looked at the dead soldier, the spreading pool of blood mingled with vomit, and then at his own shattered hand. His knees wobbled and he sat down quickly, looking very pale.

Derick's eyes met his mother's. She seemed unreasonably calm. They looked at each other for a long time before she spoke.

"You two have to leave immediately. Paulanus will send men as soon as he hears of this, you will be hanged."

"I... What about you? Who's Paulanus?"

Derick's head was spinning. His mother was already gathering provisions from the meagerly stocked shelves. Jerad looked like he was about to pass out. The blood under Derick's feet was quickly becoming cool and sticky.

"Paulanus is the captain of these... men. He's not the type that you want to cross. As for me, I didn't kill anybody and I'm an old woman and a town elder, besides."

Derick was not so sure. "Come with us," he said.

"On what horse?" His mother asked. "You will be slow enough with your crippled brother and weary horse." She held a large flagon in the water barrel for a moment, then capped it and wrapped it up in a cloth with some bread and cheese.

Derick protested, "I'll stay here and answer for what I've done. They were drunk and violent. I was defending my home and my family."

"You're an idiot," his mother answered bluntly. "Drag that body outside and go wash your feet."
Derick obeyed his mother and took hold of the dead man's arms. The body was easily twice as heavy as Derick and it was not a simple task to drag him out to the road. Outside, the air had grown surprisingly cool. The man's pale eyes stared up at Derick blankly. Derick shuddered and dropped the man's arms. He closed the eyes and pulled the knife from the man's throat. A fresh wave of blood washed over his hands.

Inside, his mother had bandaged Jerad's hand. Derick went to the basin of tepid water, scrubbed his hands and feet, and finished dressing. His mother handed him the pouch of gold that he had tried to leave for her. He removed two of the coins and gave the rest back to her.

"When it's safe to come home, or if you can come find us, send word to the Mason Inn in Merendir," Derick said. "Are you sure that you'll be safe here?" She nodded, too quickly Derick thought, and embraced him.

"I was looking forward to having you back so much," she said, and her stoic expression wavered for just a moment. "We'll see each other again soon."

Jerad moved to embrace his mother slowly, with a faraway expression. They left the house and their mother closed the door behind them. As he mounted the horse and pulled his brother up behind him, Derick looked back toward the house of his childhood. Lamplight still spilled cheerily out onto the walk. As he kicked the horse into motion, he saw their mother, sitting at the table, her head in her hands.

The wind was blowing hard as they travelled the same streets that Derick had taken into town. In the time it had taken the sun to set, Derick's whole world had been turned upside down. He thought once again of Eliyna.

His horse reared suddenly as the sky lit up and thunder rolled across the plains. His brother grasped him tightly with both hands and gasped in pain. As they trotted past the Harvest Temple, the heavens opened and large, cold drops of rain began to fall. The temple transformed before their eyes as the orange facade of dust melted away and the shining marble was revealed below, looming against the stormy sky. Derick pulled up his hood, bowed his head against the rain, and spurred his horse out onto the windswept prairie.

[Hey!  Here's a note from the author-- there's a lot more story coming. Please subscribe for twice-weekly updates. I won't ever ask you for money, but if you like what you're reading, put on a star on it so other people can find it. Thanks! --John]