I couldn't believe how everything could change in an instant. I looked at my mother and couldn't make sense of what she was trying to tell me.
I remember reading about how, after all the events that had happened, Waldo and Emily had settled in the middle of the elven forest and enjoyed nature and each other for a long time. After the happy ending, there was only one, that last scroll, written in the hand of their "Cardinal," Cartan, which I had managed not to study until today.
My mother could not answer my question as to why they had decided to attack Aden without good support. I could already surmise that apparently Waldo hadn't given up his obsession with winning an impregnable castle for his beloved.
But she told me something the scrolls never described: Shortly after their union with the nature of the elven forest, they had a son. The big-eared boy grew up well cared for, waddling through meadows with Baz and splashing in Iris Lake, not far from home. The family idyll lasted about a dozen years, while the parents continued to hatch a previously failed plan to take over the castle.
When the time came, the child was not taken to the siege, which was the only right decision in the whole story. The boy learned of their deaths from Cartan, who showed up at his house one fall evening and tried to explain everything. Since then, the young elf had sworn he would never take up arms, become a farmer, and keep himself and his future family safe.
-Do you know the name of this elf, son of Waldo and Emily? - my mother asked.
She didn't look me in the eye, and I could feel her wild excitement in my gut.
-It was my father," I whispered.
Her silence made it clear.
-"This doll," she held up the toy from my childhood, "is Emily's doll. Your father kept it in memory of her. He wanted to remember her as an ordinary loving mother, not a warrior," she paused, trying to comprehend what was going on in my head. - You are so much like her.
-I would never do such a foolish thing, don't compare notes! - I wanted to refute every word. How could they think of abandoning a child, of mutilating not only their own lives but the lives of their comrades, because they had called the others, and led them to their certain deaths. All because of their bloody pride. Yes, I do understand! I'm really the same...
-Darling, I'm so afraid! All my life we've kept you from this secret. I was against the scrolls Uncle Cain brought you, but he wouldn't listen. He was sure that you had the right to know and decide for yourself what path to take," she took my hand in her hand for the first time and looked into my eyes, trying to see if there was any doubt about my choice of profession.
-Mom, don't worry, I understand why they kept everything that happened from me. I will never repeat their fate, - I said, already beginning to think of a plan of further action.
She calmed down a little and came to her senses. Snay and I drank tea and tasted her signature pies, as if nothing had happened. They had the standard conversations about the weather and the suddenly rainy summer, and I was more silent, digging into the depths of my mind.
-Thank you, you're as hospitable as always," we said goodbye, and I gave her a hug, and as soon as the door of the father's house closed, I said, turning to my companion. -We will recreate the clan as we dreamed. Remember, 'a society in which everyone has the right of speech and choice'? It won't just be a clan, not a collection of people, but something more. We will unite them with the common goal of helping and supporting each other. Let's do what Waldo and Emily failed to do. А? What do you think?
-Give me five! - Snay raised his palm in approval.
There was an impenetrable fog around Giran, and a cold wind chilled my bones. It was a frosty autumn. All that remained now was bloody rain to chase the little company that huddled around the fire out of the area.
The fire devoured the wood, occasionally renewed by the man in the magical robe. Having a profession as an Archimage and a great attraction to the element of fire, it was easy for him to do so. Amarus - that was the man's name - put his palms to the the burning fire, and it would burst forth with renewed vigor, making the sparks
chirp and surge upward.
I'd known him for a long time. He had always been something of an authority figure to me. It took me pride that Amarus was in the same clan as me. He might well have made a career as a successful mage, participated in large-scale warfare, been part of major events, but he remained, without too much pathos, our most ordinary companion on occasional forays. Moreover, he was a friend of Snay's, and therefore automatically my friend, too.
There were four others beside me.
The light elf, with the miniature horse at his feet, was called Magilan. I didn't know him as well as I knew the others, but I had no reason to doubt him.
When you create a clan, whether it's just a name for name's sake or a promising army, it doesn't matter - word of mouth spreads throughout the Kingdom. Your clan enters the accounting system, the information is easily tracked, in any more or less decent tavern you can find a board of so-called honor, marked the most significant achievements of major leaders, the most numerous clans, but even your name can be found in these long lists. It's just the way it's supposed to be.
Not so long ago, after noticing Nirvana, even if it was at the bottom of the list, an elf sent me a carrier pigeon with a request to join our ranks. Perhaps he was looking for the right company, or perhaps he liked the name.
-It's late, it's time to go," the weary representative of the human race broke the silence.
It was Angelic'Lord, "Cardinal," a friend of Cain's, but much younger than he was. I wondered under what circumstances they had met, and why the generational difference was not a barrier to their friendship. To be honest, I initially accepted him into our circle only because Uncle Cain vouched for him. I trusted my childhood idol unconditionally. In fact, Angelic'Lord had a pretty bad temper. Too pompous, too much on his mind.
There were times when the three of us would travel the world and hunt together: me, Snay, and Lord. At those moments, I thought I could see his essence, and even try to figure out what the catch was. "Cardinal" was easy to needle and sting everyone, like a hedgehog stewing over its prey. When we were in the company of others, he could not do without his taunts. There was a reason for that, as Cain used to say when making excuses for his friend.
In time, I learned of his difficult fate. Sitting around the campfire, alone, he told me his story. And I told him part of mine. After that, I became more confident in him, no longer paying attention to silly provocations. It was at that moment I let him into our family, closing the door tightly, believing that people like him - will not betray.
-We can still sit," I objected, but then I came to my senses.
Everyone still has to go home. Soon we'll have a home together, somewhere in a prestigious part of the world, like the three-story Runa, and now... this is goodbye, because tomorrow morning is the beginning of labor, the monotonous hunting of monsters, the training and the work of clan development.
My musings were interrupted by a melodic sound reminiscent of birdsong shimmering. Snay was in the role of "Virtuoso" today, his primary profession. His fingers faintly gripped the flute, tapping rhythmically over the instrument. Everyone fell silent, enjoying the enchanting music. The elf stared ahead of him, gazing into the fire that was slowly eating the logs, and when the melody came to its logical conclusion, he put the flute away and sang a few lines in the ancient Elvish language.
-What are you thinking about? - Snay said to me when there was silence after his words.
-I wrote a letter to someone I used to know a few days ago, and I was wondering if he got it. It would be nice if he could join us. There are only six of us now. That's it! So few to accomplish our goals.
-Let's get some warriors," Cain interjected.
How he has aged during this time. The gray in his hair, though it was a symbol of wisdom, still clearly distinguished our generations. I missed him. I longed to eavesdrop on his stories under the living room door and inhale the scent of the scrolls he'd given me. You couldn't tell that age had taken its toll on his strength. He was full of enthusiasm when he heard of my desire to rebuild the clan.
After reading the last manuscript, we were able to track him down, though it was not easy. My parents had long ago lost all contact with him. The only thing they knew was that he had moved from Dion about ten years ago, then was seen by the people of Giran, and for a time he worked as head cook in one of Aden's most prestigious taverns.
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