Alrid's body had been brought to the infirmary alongside O'Leander. They had been laid beside each other on two separate beds. Evander was cleaning the wound on his son's throat of dried blood and snow. He did his best to remain stoic but losing his son was far too much for him.
He hadn't stopped crying entirely, a few tears would fall every now and again. "I did not think this day would come. That I should be the one to part from my son," he said with his gaze resting on Alrid's ever-growing pale face.
Den and the king had stayed with him throughout all of this, "He was a brave young man." The king said proudly, "And far more brilliant than his years."
"Aye," Den agreed, keeping his words short at the risk of breaking down.
Evander stayed silent as he reached for the cloth wrappings. The king attempted to stop him and say to let the nurses handle the preparation but Evander's gaze held such intensity of the words, Let me do this.
The king relented and he continued to wrap the wound around his son's neck. The wound that stole away his life. Alrid had likely died only a few seconds after hitting the snow, unable to call for help. Evander now wondered what his last thoughts had been. He wondered what he had been feeling during his last seconds. Was it fear? Regret? Emptiness? or did it happen all too fast for the luxury of emotion?
Evander hated the thought of Alrid dying with no one to see him off. No one there to wish him well wherever he was going. Most of all, he hated himself for failing to defend his son. A self-hatred that burned deep and fueled his sorrow further.
He placed all of the blame on himself. If he had just done any one thing different, he could have saved him. It had come down to the very last second. If he had only been one second faster and had been on Melganoth in time, Alrid would be standing here with him and devising the next course of action and not laying on the infirmary bed.
Den seemed to be able to sense the self-blame as he watched his friend stare at Alrid's body. Evander had placed both fists on the bed and had not moved in a long while.
"It's not your fault, lad," Den gently said. "There was nothin’ to be done." He laid a gentle hand on Evander's shoulder.
Evander took a long time to even acknowledge that Den had even said anything but when he did, the words he said were almost predictable. "Might I have the room with my family?"
Den had almost forgotten that O'Leander was there too, with Alrid being the most important. But with the other Drayton brother there, the entire bloodline was in that infirmary and only one of them remained alive.
The king nodded and Den walked from the room. As King John moved past him he placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder, Evander didn't look up.
After the door to the infirmary shut quietly, Evander collapsed into the seat beside the bed that carried the weight of his son. And silently, he broke down for the second time that day. Only this time, there was no one around to see him let go if it all.
The king and Den sat in the Grand Hall, quietly sipping on mugs of ale. No words transferred between them since they had both been caught up in the throws of sorrow. They allowed themselves to feel the grief rather than speak and have the words spoil it. They both shed silent tears and it mixed with the ale as they held the mugs to their mouths with each swig.
Evander finally came to meet them.
He stepped through the door, his eyes were still slightly puffy and red from the last hour he had spent letting go. Den raised his mug in greeting, "Come, laddie. Have a drink with us," his voice was soft and held back an immeasurable amount of sorrow.
Evander relented a half-hearted smile and sat down. The king poured him a fresh mug and the three of them raised their drinks in wordless remembrance.
They each had a couple more drinks before Evander had said anything, "I'm ready." He admitted this more to Den and the king than to himself. In truth, he wasn't ready, far from it. He wanted to get the hardest part over with so he could be alone again.
It was time to go against all tradition and cremate his son and brother.
Two pyres had been constructed by the king's knights under the instruction of King John. They had been built just outside the keep to the north. Side by side they sat, each one carrying two of the three remaining Drayton sons. The last Drayton to breathe free air watched on with a heart of stone as wood bundles were placed all around their bodies.
This was it. This was the moment where Evander had truly accepted that his son was gone. His chest tightened again and his heart threatened tears but he remained composed.
A large portion of the townsfolk was in attendance as they all knew Alrid well. He was loved by many more than he may have realized. He had touched many lives and they were there to see him off on his final journey.
Evander held a lit torch in his hand and he approached the wood bundles of his son. With a deep breath taken in a heavy chest, he lit the pyre. Secondly, he lit the pyre of his brother in turn. He continued his way around both pyres, lighting more spots as he went.
The wood crackled and popped as the water trapped inside was forced out. The Hunter returned to his spot between his last two friends left in the world as he watched the bodies of his family catch flame.
The populace of the Kingdom of the Flag all watched on in silent reverence as the next King's Hunter faded away. Even though they were all outside, the air was dense with sorrow. Snow had begun to lightly fall on the onlookers and the surrounding landscape. No words were muttered as there was nothing that could be said to lift the weight from Evander's heart.
After some time, the pyres died down and ashes were collected from the remains of Alrid and O'Leander. There was no going back now; What's done is done.
Evander was packing the ceramic urns into the saddlebags on Onyx when Henry Cobblestone regarded him, "What will become of Tolish?" He patted the beautiful chestnut brown horse, "I know the practice of Hunter horses only ever taking one rider."
"He will never be ridden again," Evander exhaled slowly. "He will be allowed to live out the rest of his life in the way he wishes." He knelt beside Tolish and undid the straps of the saddle.
An intrusive thought forced its way to the front of his mind. The last person to touch this saddle was Alrid. He grew somber again but stood all the same, "You may take the saddle. He won't be needing it any longer."
Henry was hesitant at first, "Are you sure? This is a Hunter's saddle."
Evander nodded that he knew what kind of saddle it was and the he was sure that it was alright. "Keep it safe and allow no other rider to use it. It should remain as the last rider that rode in it was a true Hunter."
"And so it shall," Henry said as he easily lifted off the saddle as it was much lighter than any knight's. "Quite light it is," Henry noted on its weightless construction. He set it on one of the less-used saddle racks inside of the large wooden structure that served as the stables. He would make a permanent place for it later when he had the time.
Evander had not taken his eyes off of his son's saddle as Henry returned to him. The stablemaster noticed this and offered his condolences with heavy shoulders, "I am deeply sorry. I hadn't known the boy personally but he seemed like he had a kind heart."
The Hunter's sharp eyes slowly fell onto Henry, "Thank you, Henry. You've always been a good man to him and I know he appreciated it." Henry offered a genuine smile as Evander mounted Onyx and prepared to leave.
Tolish was reluctant for a moment as his eyes remained on the keep where he had seen his rider disappear into. He didn't understand where he had gone but he could feel it in his heart that he would not see Alrid again. Slowly, his head fell below his shoulders as he followed Onyx out of the castle.
It was a long and slow walk as the sounds of crunching snow accompanied them across the windy tundra. Tolish had yet to lift his head any higher as his steps were slow and exaggerated. Onyx walked by his companion's side as he tried to comfort his broken heart. Evander leaned forward on the horn of his saddle and lost himself within his emotions.
He was losing sight of his responsibilities to the Realm. He had lost his drive to continue on with his fight against Varamont. After all, what was there left for him even after they came out alive from this war? The main driving factor in his life was to ensure the safety of his family. But he had no family left to protect, no family left to turn to at the end of all this.
The wind was more aggressive here across the vast landscape, the barren tundra lay vacant of trees. His hood slapped against his face as he huddled from the wind and his cloak pulled at his shoulders. But the frigid wind that threatened him could not compare to the coldness he felt in his heart.
Eventually, the trio made it back home. It looked the same as he had left it when O'Leander had met with him those few days ago. Although it had been less than a week, it felt like an eternity as so much had happened since then. Melganoth had turned. Alrid had been slain. O'Leander now dead by Evander's own hand.
The Hunter dismounted Onyx near the small stable at the edge of the tree line and loosened the saddle on Onyx. The horse looked into his eyes with sympathy. Onyx had never experienced the death of a loved one so he didn't fully understand what was going on, only that his master was in great pain. Evander gave him a weak smile as he claimed the two urns from the saddle bags.
He brought them over to the grave of his wife which sat at the side of the hut and tucked away. He set them down against the wall of his home and went inside to claim a shovel.
Upon entering the hut it now had a much different feeling. A much more dreadful feeling. It was that of something removed. Something that should be there but wasn't and shall never be again.
Alrid.
Holding himself together long enough to bury the urns, he grabbed the shovel from the inside wall, sat by the door and swiftly returned to Endira's grave. Without a moment of thought, he began digging through the accumulated snow before he made it to the dirt.
Not long did it take to dig two holes large enough to encompass the urns, side by side they sat next to his wife's grave. The urns had been sealed with melted wax so they could never be opened and tainted. He lifted O'Leander's urn first and placed it inside the small grave, there wasn't much to say to his brother as he had already said what he could when he still breathed.
But Alrid was quite a different story. Even before Evander lifted his urn, the tears began. Not heavily but enough to be seen. He held his son with one hand and ran a finger along the design engraved in the ceramic, it was the seal of the main kingdom; two flags at a cross with a sword and shield crested between.
"I'm sorry..." Evander choked, "I wasn't there for you...when I should have been." A long pause filled the space between them, "I never got to say goodbye." It was not lost on him the reality that Alrid had died alone and in fear, he would carry that burden for the rest of his days.
He stared at the urn for a long while before gently placing it into the earth, in a slow and patient manner, and replaced the dirt over the top of his family. He stood back, shovel in hand, as the last of the Drayton bloodline. They now all rested together, save Desmond who rested down the trail at his oak tree.
They needed grave markers.
Evander fashioned crosses out of flat pieces of wood that he carved out of some firewood, he etched his son's name in one and his brother's name in the other. With the graves now marked, it was set in stone. His family was now all gone and he was left to carry on. Alone.
Onyx nudged him on the back with his nose, he had snuck up on his master as he was placing the markers. This startled Evander a bit as it pulled him out of himself. He wasn't completely alone. He still had Onyx and Tolish and that was better than nothing at all. In a way, he still had some semblance of a family.
"Let's get you and Tolish something to eat," he said with an almost-real smile.
Tolish had not moved from the spot where he had stopped, head still hung low to the ground, eyes staring straight ahead. When Evander approached with a restock of hay in his arms and offered some to Tolish, he remained still. Onyx however was happily eating the hay out of his master's arms from over his shoulder.
"Tolish?" Evander grew worried. "It's alright, won't you eat something?" He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Tolish's shoulder.
The massive shire horse remained quiet for a few moments, not noticing Evander's presence in the slightest. Eventually, he solemnly walked away and toward his stall. Evander's hand stayed on him as it grazed over the rest of Tolish's body. Tolish only stopped once he was right up against the back wall. He stared intently at the thick insulated wood that kept him warm from the snow that fell gently outside.
"I'll leave some here for you," Evander said as he had followed the horse carefully and stocked Tolish's feeding trough full of hay. Onyx continued to eat the hay that his master held until there was nothing left.
He felt for Tolish and knew exactly where his heart was, so he left him be to grieve. He turned from the stables and Onyx went inside and stood with his friend, nudging up beside him. "Take good care of him," Evander said with a look back and he shut the stable doors.
Evander stared out into the isolated snow-covered landscape, his heart weighing more than he had ever thought possible. There was only one thing in the world that could help him now. Archery.
Evander stood sixty yards away from the target, a small bale of hay with a cloth strapped to the front of it. Drawn on the cloth was a large central dot encased by ever-growing circles until it reached the edges. It was riddled with holes from previous sessions of practice.
He held his bow in front of him with an arrow nocked to it and his piercing brown eyes gazed over the distance between them. His movements were rehearsed and mechanical, lift the bow, pull the string, release. The arrow flew at full speed of the heavy draw weight of his longbow.
Miss.
The arrow missed the target by a sizeable margin and not within the acceptable for a Hunter with his skill. He lifted his bow for a second time and loosed another arrow.
He missed again.
He gazed in the direction of the arrows that now lay somewhere in the trees and out of his sight. What was happening to him? He hadn't missed a shot in many years and now he was exhibiting the skills of a novice. At any rate, he steeled himself and tried again. The bow raised and the string was drawn back, he took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he realized that he was shaking intensely, he could not hold the bow steady regardless of how much he tried to.
Memories of training Alrid flooded his mind and pulled all of his focus away as he released the bowstring. Not from his own will was it released but because his hand could no longer hold the string back as his resolve shattered once again.
The arrow flew off to the side and into the trees without direction as the grieving father dropped his bow arm and let it slide from his grip. He felt his strength seep from his core and into the snow and for a time, he let his sorrow consume him. His mind was empty of thoughts as he allowed himself to just feel everything he needed to.
After a time that Evander could not track, whispers began to come from off to his right. The whispers sounded like Alrid and they pulled him out of his emotion when he searched the direction the whispers had come.
Father. This one was clear and it was certainly from his son.
An apparition of a young man began to take shape before his eyes. He couldn't believe what he had been seeing, his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. There was no other explanation. He rubbed his eyes aggressively and looked intently again at the spot.
The shape was gone.
He was alone once again outside his home as the snow continued to drift to the earth. "Alrid..." he said weakly as his heart had been hopeful that he would be able to speak with his son and say goodbye as he so deeply yearned to. And now it felt heavy and empty again.
He eventually decided that he would take this hallucination as a sign that his son was watching over him and that he should not give up. He would not let his son down. Not again. There was still a war to be fought after all.
He turned his attention again to his target. He fired arrow after arrow into the night and into the next morning as his resolve slowly rebuilt over the next twelve hours. His arms, hands, and shoulders ached fiercely from the lack of rest.
With nothing else on his mind but to warm his aching body, he stepped through the threshold of his empty home. Although it no longer felt homely, it felt foreign and removed.
The life had been stolen from it and it now only held memories of days long past. The eyes of the grieving father scanned the room from the fireplace to where Alrid's room sat tucked away in the back of the hut.
Evander's heart filled with a new emotion; anger. Slow and steadily, his anger consumed him. All of the grief he had harbored had developed into a rage and a lust for blood. He moved across the room in a trance and ripped a chair from the ground and hurled it into the nearest wall. It was a sturdy chair and did nothing more than bounce off the stone and clatter to the ground.
Evander didn't stop there, he began hurling anything he could get his rage around. Candles, other chairs, dishes and cutlery went flying in all directions. For a time he allowed his anger to fuel him until a gentle voice entered his mind.
Father.
It was Alrid's voice again but this time it went unaccompanied by the apparition of his son. The voice stopped him dead in his tracks of a mid-thrown object. Evander released his death-grip on the shovel that his hands had found and let it clatter to the wood.
Evander's heart once again felt heavy with sorrow but this time he held it in and let it gain no ground on him. He was calmed of his anger but not his bloodlust. He had snapped and would not let anything stand in his way from killing Varamont. He was a man with nothing left to lose.
He stormed outside to find his steed and make way for the keep, but instead he found a worried Onyx trot up to him. He whinnied at his master and looked back to the stable. Evander looked round the horse to find that Tolish had gone.
The chestnut brown shire horse had vanished without a trace. "Oh no.." Evander said with a trailing breath. He ran through the fresh snow and came upon the stable entrance, peering inside, it lay empty.
Onyx now stood beside his master with worried steps. Evander spoke without taking his eyes off of the stable interior, "We must find him. He cannot survive long out in this cold."
Evander returned to the hut and began packing some essentials for this trip, he knew not how long it would take to find Tolish and he couldn't waste time as the snow covered the tracks of the wandering horse. He made ready and headed outside to Onyx once more and soon they were off in search of their grieving friend42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHIMJJH2E2u
