Path of the Stonebreaker

Chapter 43

Parting Ways

It was a miserable ride. The wind whipped the rain against Daegan’s face and he could barely see a few feet ahead through the darkness. He held onto the reins with one hand while using the other to keep the wind from pulling back his hood again.

“We could have at least waited until the rain stopped!” Daegan shouted back to Tanlor who was behind him. The other man didn’t respond, but likely he didn’t hear Daegan over the wind.

Daegan fell into almost a trance, the wet and cold had seeped in through all the cracks. It started first as a cold damp in certain parts before spreading through until he was completely soaked. He focused only on the left to right jostling of his horse. “You don’t want to be here any more than I do,” he said to the horse. It’s Tanlor’s overly cautious fears is why we’re out here. The calm spells between the downpours were a welcome change. Daegan gave a sigh of relief when the road finally led into a thicket of trees, sheltering them from the wind and most of the rain. A thin sliver of purple blue was growing on the horizon above the mountains. Dawn was approaching and by the looks of it the clouds were thankfully clearing.

Daegan took the opportunity to ride up next to Rowan,

“What was that?” He croaked, he hadn’t anticipated how rough his throat would feel after riding through the night in the rain. Rowan gave him a concerned look and leaned over placing a clammy hand on Daegan’s cheek. Warmth bled through the hand, filling Daegan with a satisfying heat—far more welcoming than a gulp of whitewhiskey and without the burning taste. Daegan gasped and staggered in his saddle, his shoulder and back tingling with gooseprickles as the warmth passed into him.

“I forget you can’t use a topaz lad… I’m sorry,” Rowan said, and then added with a measure of concern, “you let me know if you ever start to feel warm when you should be cold.”

“Sure,” Daegan breathed, revelling in finally feeling warm for the first time since they left the campfire.

“As far as I recall, there’s a village just on the other side of this wood, in a few hours we’ll get out of these wet clothes,” he glanced over his shoulder to Tanlor who was still taking up the rear.

“It’s better to stay warm than get warm,” Rowan continued, “but sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“What was all that?” Daegan asked, “Tanlor looked like he was ready to fight you.”

“I couldn’t let him kill that boy.”

“What happened to ‘doing what needs to be done’?”

“Like I’d said before Crossroads… sometimes all I have to rely on is my own judgement and it told me to let the boy go.”

“What if Tanlor’s right?” Daegan asked, “what if there’s more of them?”

“You saw that lad,” Rowan shook his head, “you could have shot him dead if you’d wanted to but you didn’t.”

Daegan couldn’t deny that. He’d had ample time to shoot the boy but he had held back.

“The lad was terrified,” Rowan continued, “he didn’t want to be there no more than we did. I don’t know how he ended up with that bunch but he wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t turn back, not yet… at least, that’s what I reckon.”

“I understand… I think. With Geral I didn’t hesitate, he was attacking Tanlor and I just… shot. But Shye, he was so apart from it… it didn’t feel right.”

“Geral was your first kill?” Rowan asked. Daegan nodded, he wasn’t ashamed of that, he’d often found it strange that some people thought that killing made you more of a man. His own father thought like that—his brothers too. Do Rowan and Tanlor think that too? Rowan with his weathered warrior's face certainly looked like a man that would. But his eyes looked concerned… not impressed.

“How do you feel?” Rowan asked.

“I’m not sure,” Daegan answered truthfully. With the hard ride, he hadn’t given much thought to it at all, “I don’t think I feel anything.” He said with an edge of uncertainty. He should feel guilty, shouldn’t he? Geral would have killed him, but he should still feel something about killing another man.

“First time can be strange. Shouldn’t ever feel good though,” Rowan replied with a sombre note, “if you ever start enjoying it, it’s time you should stop. Understand?” Daegan did, at least he felt like he did.

“What was that Tanlor said about ‘not being like him’, what was he talking about?” Daegan asked. Rowan let out a long breath, looked back over his shoulder again. Tanlor was still further back and out of earshot. After a few moments of silence, Daegan prodded further, “you already know my secrets,” he offered.

“You know the story, don’t you?” Rowan started, “Taran the Hunter.”

“Your father,” Daegan replied, nodding, “I’ve heard a telling of it.”

“You’ve heard the lie… my father was no hunter,” his eyebrows knitted, “he was a raider,” he said the word with disgust. “He didn’t save our mother from dragons and rakmen and the like… He was one of the raiders that kidnapped her.”

Daegan’s mind jumped to all the times he’d badgered Tanlor to tell him the story of his father, all the times that the man had politely—but firmly—refused to talk about him. He looked back at Tanlor now too. The man was too shadowed in the early morning light to make out his expression. He looked back at Rowan whose jaw was clenched.

“How?” was all Daegan managed to say, he wasn’t even sure where to start. Where did the false story come from? How does that even happen?! From what Daegan knew, Rowan’s father had lived in Garronforn castle and wed their mother. Rowan and Tanlor had both grown up in the castle as recognised members of the family.

How was that even allowed? Why wasn’t he executed or imprisoned? He wanted to ask these questions but opted instead to let Rowan lead the story in the way he wanted to tell it.

“Father grew sick about ten years ago,” Rowan replied, “told me and Tan the truth before he died. Tan didn’t take it very well… He never spoke to father again.”

I’m not surprised, my father is a psychopathic scumbag but at least he’s been a consistent psychopathic scumbag.

“To be told a lie your whole life, believing your father was a hero from the stories…” Rowan gaze drifted over the road.

“…And we did believe it,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s something Tan can ever forgive him for.”

“But how? How did the lie even come about?” Daegan probed.

“You remember what I told you about bears?” Rowan asked with an arched eyebrow, “Black, fight back. Brown, lay down—”

“—white, goodnight,” Daegan finished.

“Artic bears will tear through a full camp,” Rowan said. “They’re hard to take down even for a runewielder… And that’s what happened; an artic bear killed half the raiders in the camp before they managed to take it down. Father said that only the worst of the lot were left, they wanted to kill my mother—cut their losses and flee deeper into the mountains. But my father, he… he wanted to protect her. He fought and killed the other raiders—his friends—to save her life. He agreed to take her home.”

“And it’s true that they did fall in love,” Rowan continued, nodding, “that part of the story was true.” He looked over at Daegan, “I know this might be hard to believe but my mother was happy. She loved my father, I believe that… She still does.” Daegan didn’t argue against that. He’d heard stories where people became attached to their captors, and begin to identify and connect with them. It was all kinds of wrong, of course, the captive’s relief at the removal of the death threat is transposed into feelings of gratitude toward the captor for giving him or her life. But how do you explain that to someone whose parent’s love was based on that unhealthy bond? Daegan just nodded sympathetically, unsure of what to say.

“The parts about rakmen taking over a village and my grandfather coming north with his army… that part was true too. Rakmen had come down as far as Balfold, not often they do that. My grandfather—Bodh Garron—had ridden with his army to run them back to the north. My parents were living in the woods then when the army found them. My mother lied to protect the man she loved, claiming that my father was a simple hunter, that he’d saved her from the raiders and the bear… I've heard versions of the story with dragons and trolls and fairies but they’re all exaggerations, obviously.”

They were quiet for a moment longer and Daegan didn’t prod further, letting Rowan go at his own pace.

“My father was a good hunter, you know,” Rowan added after a while, “he’d just gotten himself involved with a bad sort… It’s hard to think of my father as being the same as the raiders I’ve come up against. I have to think that he was different, that he wasn’t a bad person.” The confession left Daegan feeling awkward and uncomfortable, he never had anyone confide in him before. A part of him wanted to shrink away at Rowan’s vulnerability.

What do I even say to that?

Rowan didn’t look like he was expecting a response. He looked relieved, as though saying it all out loud made it easier.

“I don’t think he’d have turned against them to save your mother if he was a bad person,” Daegan said after a few minutes of silence.

“That’s what I tell myself too,” Rowan admitted.

“So that’s why you let Shye go?”

“Aye,” he acknowledged, “there can’t be badness in everyone, right? Sometimes people need a second chance to do things right.”

Daegan thought about his own father and the night that he’d endured as a young boy, encased in the prison of spikes of his father’s making.

Not everyone deserves a second chance.

He thought about sharing the memory with Rowan. He had never told anyone about it, he didn’t think he could if he’d wanted to. Sometimes, he would wake at night coughing and spluttering in a cold sweat, the nightmare already fading… but he would know from the tightness in his throat what he had dreamed of. He opened his mouth to start but wasn’t sure even how to.

“…He was a good father to you?” Daegan managed to ask, rubbing at his throat.

“Aye,” Rowan his glazing with what Daegan assumed to be nostalgia, “some of my best memories were when he’d take us past Nortara. We’d spend whole seasons up there; hunting and fishing… just the three of us—me, Tan and father.”

“I suppose that’s all that should matter then.”

“I don’t think Tan will ever forgive him,” Rowan said sadly. “Not for lying to us for so long… for what he once was.”

“Have you?” Daegan asked, and Rowan took on a distant expression, he’d likely never considered it. When he didn’t respond, Daegan didn’t press any further and they rode on in a comfortable silence.

The sun was cresting over the hills by the time they’d made it to the village of Splitstone. The namesake of the place was clear as a large boulder that looked to somehow be clefted cleanly into two pieces sat in the middle of the village. As they rode up to the inn, Tanlor turned to Rowan, “this as far as you come with us,” Tan said with a bitter edge, “you can take the payment I’ve already given you and leave. Take the road we’ve come back to Rubastre or head south to Garronforn—I don’t care, but you’re not staying with us.”

“You’re overreacting, Tan,” Rowan replied, the offence plain in his expression.

“You’ve jeopardised this whole mission. We need to keep a low profile and you’re making that impossible. I should never have thought to bring you.”

“If you’re talking about Crossroads, I don’t recall you complaining when we took down those raiders.”

“Someone would’ve come to deal with that scum eventually,” Tanlor waved off, angrily, “but at least then we were thorough… Last night, you crossed the line.”

“You crossed it the second you raised your sword to that boy,” Rowan growled.

Both men were wet, tired and not at all in the right state of mind to be having this conversation.

“Let’s discuss this after we’ve had some rest, eh?” Daegan offered, trying his best to ease the two brothers from brawling with each other right on the porch of the inn.

“We’ll rest here for the morning, and then we’re hitting the road at midday,” Tanlor responded, and then turning back to Rowan, “like I said; I don’t care where you go but don’t follow us.” And with that, he stormed off into the inn. Rowan gave Daegan a sympathetic look. “I’ll talk to him,” Daegan said.

“It’s alright, lad,” Rowan shook his head, “… it’s alright.”

Tanlor didn’t speak with Rowan or Daegan for the rest of the morning. They slept until about noon and had hungrily accepted the innkeeper’s offer of a late cooked breakfast. Without a word, Tanlor stepped out of the inn and started packing up his and Daegan’s mounts.

Daegan and Rowan had sat uncomfortably in the silence with Tanlor and then continued the silence comfortably once he’d left, continuing their breakfast.

It was evident that Tanlor wasn’t going to be changing his mind anytime soon. Who made him the boss anyway? Daegan couldn’t exactly argue against it though, he was utterly at Tanlor’s mercy. Since leaving Rubastre, he’d been lost and guided only by Tanlor’s decisive action. Rowan had become an unexpected friend throughout their travels and he didn’t doubt the man’s ability nor his knowledge of how to survive past Nortara… But he also had never faced Ferath. Rowan himself admitted that Tanlor was the better warrior of the two of them. If it came down to a face-off with Ferath again, it would be Tanlor who had the best chance of standing against him.

“What will you do?” Daegan asked.

Rowan blew out a sigh and rested his back against his chair, “guess I’ll head home.”

“Marie’ll be happy.”

“Aye, and the boys too. I did promise them the winter after all.” Then he added with a chuckle, “I don’t know why she puts up with me. Disappearing off for months at a time.”

“You don’t like Garronforn?”

“Not much… Can’t say I like any cities though… but it’s my home, ain’t it.”

“Is it?” Daegan probed, “seems like you’re more at home out here.” Not that Dargan had ever experienced Rowan for any notable time in a city. But it didn’t take a genius to surmise that Rowan preferred the countryside.

“Suppose you might be right on that…” Rowan trailed off.

Daegan could feel the man’s disappointment as palpable as the heat from the nearby stove. Daegan wasn’t sure whether he was frustrated in not getting his full pay or at Tanlor’s actions… or having to leave Daegan. He found resentment rising up in him. Would Rowan really just abandon them without at least a fight? Would he just walk away? Daegan looked up at the man, their eyes met. He could just ask him, couldn’t he? He could ask him to stay…

“I’ll pass through Crossroads on my way back,” Rowan said after a while, “it’s not far out of the way and I’ll check in on Wolfhound… hopefully Shye takes my advice and heads there too.” That’s awful decent of you, Rowan. Daegan thought bitterly, go help the strangers instead of him. But then again, Daegan and Rowan were little more than strangers too, weren’t they? They’d barely known eachother two weeks. What right did Daegan have to claim this man’s loyalty, his protection… his friendship? Why should he care for Daegan? No one else ever did.

…His own brother even abandoned him…

Tanlor and Daegan mounted their horses.

It was a small quiet village, as featureless as most of the ones they’d passed through. Being midday, there were a good number of farmers and other workers around to trade. It was likely as busy as the village ever got and Daegan could still count the amount of people out on the street on two hands. Travellers weren’t an uncommon sight, the road being the main route to Urundock so no one paid much mind to the outsiders.

“Remember to pick up warmer gear in Urundock, it gets a lot colder up past Nortara,” Rowan advised them from the inn porch, “You can take off what you have, can't put on what you don't.”

“Goodbye, Rowan,” Tanlor replied and then turned about, riding away from them.

Daegan couldn’t bring himself to look at Rowan. He felt pressure at his throat, and tried to croak out a goodbye but he coughed instead. Rowan was running his hand through his red hair. He’d always seemed so wise to Daegan. He was only a few years older but his life experiences made him seem so much more knowledgeable but now he looked like a man-child caught doing something he shouldn’t. This would likely be the last time they’d ever see each other. It wasn’t like Daegan would ever want to visit Garronforn and he couldn’t imagine Rowan in Reldon. Why did parting make him feel so frustrated? He barely knew this man.

“Good luck, lad,” Rowan said.

Daegan clenched his teeth and rubbed at his throat, he nodded to Rowan in response and pulled on the reins to follow Tanlor. He felt silly for caring so much. It wasn’t like Rowan cared at all. Ferath hadn’t… Landryn hadn’t.

The horse wicked its head in protest, wanting to walk back towards Rowan.

Yeah, yeah I know you prefer him. Daegan kept firm on the reins in the direction Tanlor went.