Ezril’s last day in the Elken forest found him training under Felvan. His final test involved sparring against three other boys with only the bow, while hitting moving targets. He found himself feeling free each time he evaded an attack with a spin or a flip. He had failed to evade all the attacks and the test left him bruised, but the aim was not for him to win. It was for him to last and hit all his targets till Felvan ordered them to stop.
It was the morning of their departure and Ezril and Ellenel stood before Lady Ilena, leader of the tribe. Apart from the first day of his stay in the Elken forest, Ezril had seen nothing of the woman.
“How was it?” Lady Ilena asked.
Ezril gave her a genuine smile. “It was like riding the wind.”
Walking up to him Ilena held him by both cheeks. “You have the eyes of an archer, child. They will help you,” she said. “And your gift with the bow is a gift even amongst gifts.” It was the first time Ezril ever felt truly proud that his eyes were the color of the blue sea.
“Remember, child,” Ilena told him softly, “you will always have a home here.”
Somehow Ezril felt it wasn’t just an offer to him but a reminder to Ellenel. He wondered if she would ever take it up.
“It would seem you, too, now have two families,” Ellenel said, a happiness in her tone as they rode away from the village.
Ezril’s bows was wrapped in a sack and fastened to the horse as they rode off.
Unlike their journey from the seminary, their journey back was eventful. It was filled with conversations and laughter, something Ezril knew would end the moment they arrived at the seminary.
From the moment they walked through the portcullis Ezril found himself looking around for any sign of his mates. He and Ellenel made their way to the Monsignor’s chambers to present themselves. The meeting was brief and Ezril was made to leave behind his metal bow. The last words of the Monsignor to him as he left were: “You are not a First Bow till the day you become a priest of the seminary. And speak what you have seen to no one.”
…Maybe because you look like you have a lot of secrets, Divine’s words replayed in Ezril’s head as he added the Elken forest to another secret he was privy to. The secrets were amassing: Alric’s death, Divine’s childhood. Now the Elken forest.
He couldn’t help but think secrets would make up the most of his life
Ezril’s mates welcomed him with a flurry of back claps and cheers. Olufemi saved him a full and complete hug, Darvi, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found as Ezril made his way to his bed to find two Alduin longswords, black as night from point to hilt lying on his bed.
“Hey, what’s this?” Olbi asked as he snatched Ezril’s sack from his shoulder, pulling out the bow.
“Be careful with that.”
Ezril’s warning was cast to the wind as the others huddled around Olbi to see what had caught the boy’s attention. Somehow they seemed more like a family than they had before Ezril had left for the Elken forest. He couldn’t help but feel like Divine’s death had played a major role in it. Even Salem smiled more and laughed with them. Still, Ezril still saw the pain behind every smile, and so did the others.
I guess a lot can happen in two months.
Raising his head from the inspection of the blades on his laps Ezril’s eyes were met with the sight of Darvi standing at the door. His blonde hair was wet and water dripped from it. This was new to him. Darvi always dried off his hair, treating it with extreme care and he never took his bath so late in the night.
“You’re back,” Darvi said.
Ezril nodded. “I’m back.”
“Where did you get this, brother?” Olufemi interrupted from his place apart from the others. Somehow he’d managed to extricate the bow from their possession and was left standing alone with it.
“Actually, I made it…” it was a response that was deigned to serve as a herald to a tale, one which he delved into.
He told them a story of how Sister Ellenel had taken him into the woods and made him carve out his own bow from a piece of wood. He told them how she had done the patterns herself. While he told his tale, he noted the scars each of his brothers bore. They were close reminders of the many Tandal bore. Each scar served as a reminder of the two months he’d lost with his brothers and proof of the blacksmith Ezril was not.
“Takan melded the metals, I sharpened the blade and Darvi polished it,” Unkuti informed him later that night as the others slowly drifted into sleep. It didn’t take Ezril long to realize his brother was talking about the two longswords that had been on his bed when he returned.
“Don’t you think that’s two hands too many?” Ezril joked.
“Maybe…” Unkuti smiled in thought. He was likely thinking of their time forging the swords. It seemed the memory was one he was fond of. “Olufemi demanded he fix the hilt but squirmed all through.” He laughed. “You should’ve seen him. The wild is definitely the only place for him.”
“It wasn’t all fun and games. There were bad times,” Unkuti added solemnly, catching Ezril staring at the massive burn mark that now marred the back of his hand. “But it was worth it.”
I hope so, Ezril thought, sparing Olufemi’s sleeping form a glance. After a while, he rose to leave.
“Father Nemael asked us to forge whatever type of sword we wanted for you,” Unkuti added after him. “But we made the Alduin longsword. He said if you want a different weapon made, you should report to him when you get back.”
“Sure,” Ezril replied with a smile, making his way out of the room. “I’ll think about it.”
The stairs down the tower left him with a sense of nostalgia. He noted every chip and blemish in the stones as he came down. It felt as if he’d been gone forever. The stones and bricks were a sharp contrast to the tent flaps and the trees of the Elken forest. His eye sight had also gotten better in the dark since the Elken forest. Somehow he didn’t just see better, he saw more. It was as though he didn’t just see what was in front of him, he saw the things that existed within his periphery almost too clearly. The real difference was that he noticed them as if he was staring directly at them. He wondered if it had anything to do with how hard he had worked his eyes during his training. After all, he had needed to pay attention to a lot of things at once to perform a lot of the tasks Felvan had set him to.
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Ezril was almost at the foot of the stairs when he paused at an odd sight.
Did he leave a part of himself in him? Ezril sighed in worry as he came upon Salem at the foot of the stairs.
“That’s the best place to be, brother,” he drew Salem’s attention as he walked past him, stopping to stand in front of the boy. “If you find yourself missing Father Talod’s flogging, that is.”
Salem gave him a fleeting smile.
“He loved this place,” he said without preamble. “He loved it a lot. Even with all the violence.”
“Yeah.” Ezril sat beside him. “Maybe because you were in it.”
Salem sighed. “Maybe.”
Ezril waited quietly for a while. He knew Salem had something he wanted to say. Like every other child in the seminary, the boy had his own secrets: why he was here and what pasts haunted him. Ezril had learned that with or without persuasion everyone eventually spoke. All he had to do was simply be there. Secrets, it seemed, simply came to him.
“Before I came here,” Salem began. “I had a sister. Her name was Nirilai…”
“You know you don’t have to tell me.” Ezril cut Salem short. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want his brother unburdening himself or if he simply didn’t want to have more secrets.
“Yes,” Salem agreed, “but I want to. Do you know what he said to me before he…?”
…He passed, Ezril completed, knowing Salem would not be able to.
“He asked me to tell someone,” Salem continued, skipping the word. “So I want to—for him. I just didn’t think I’d have to share it with someone who wasn’t him.”
Ezril, understanding a thing or two about giving a word and upholding it, kept quiet in hopes that his brother would continue.
“She was younger than me by two years,” Salem continued after a moment of silence. “Of all my siblings we were closest. We did everything together; played with her dolls, even slept together at night. In the time we spent together we isolated ourselves from our other siblings. Once, we were playing in the garden and I sprained my ankle, ‘Salem, look, look. See what I can do,’ she said. She was overjoyed to show me.” He smiled fondly. “She placed her hand over my ankle and in no time I felt better…”
“You are from Alifat,” Ezril recalled, solemn.
“Yes,” Salem replied with a weak smile. “And they don’t take too kindly to the Tainted no matter how young. And that’s what my sister was: Tainted. So I made her promise not to show anybody. It was a promise she made in sadness. I should have been happier. Even if I couldn’t have been, I should’ve made her believe I was. That was all she wanted; for me to be proud of her.”
Ezril gave Salem a reassuring pat on the shoulder as a sob escaped the boy. He waited patiently for when his brother was ready to continue.
“One day she went to the market with my mother,” Salem continued, the herald of tragedy in his voice unable to be concealed. “Something went wrong, and my mother was seriously wounded. Nirilai… she… she did what she had to do…” He looked at Ezril with pleading eyes. “It was her mother. A promise can only limit you for so much… Right?”
There was so much sadness in his words as he stumbled over them. It was almost as if he was begging to be understood, begging that his sister’s action be understood.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Ezril told him. “You were just a boy.”
“Maybe,” Salem mused. “But if I had followed them… if I had not been asleep when they went out… I slept peacefully while my sister saved my mother’s life in front of countless Alifats, brother. I slept peacefully while my sister was attacked on her way back home, and had her head bashed in by those bastards.” Salem’s face bore an evident anger towards his own people. “Monsters, all of them. Terrified of a child who could heal the wounded.” He sniffled and cleaned his nose. The action seemed to comport him. “The next day my father had us gather wood for a pyre in secret and had her body burned… I set the fire…” he turned to Ezril, eyes pleading for forgiveness. “I burned my own sister.”
“It was all you could do for her,” Ezril consoled his brother. “She went to Vayla in peace.”
“But I was her brother!” There was no doubt Salem had spoken in anger, but in his sorrow it had come out as a bare whisper—the anger drowned in sorrow. “… her elder brother,” he sobbed, “It was my job to protect her... she didn’t have to go to Vayla; I didn’t want her to… for Arnesh’s sake she was only eight years old.” He scratched at his face, cleaning away his tears, bracing himself for the rest of the tale. “I isolated my family more and more with each passing day. I hated them for not avenging her. For accepting her death and just… moving on.”
“Do you think that’s what they did?” Ezril asked. “Just moved on, so easily?”
“Maybe not,” Salem conceded. “But at that point that was how it seemed. I became empty; doing what was required of me with no true motivation. It was two years before my father brought me to the seminary. I can’t remember ever being so happy to be rid of them. I didn’t even know I was a Hallowed. He said they would help me find my purpose in life again.” He scoffed in derision before it was replaced with a smile of equal disgust. “They did. And it was beautiful. I had one job, brother. One job. And I failed at it. Twice.”
He looked at the stars in the night sky, no doubt able to name each constellation. He had always been intelligent, even if he had only used his intelligence for Divine.
It was not obvious to everyone, but Ezril had often heard him teaching Divine a few things. Once, he had heard Salem teaching him about Canopus. He’d called it the false star. Ezril never understood why. It was a star in the night sky with a name. How could it still be false?
“Why am I still here, brother?” Salem asked him suddenly. “I have no reason to be.”
Ezril found he felt a chill, it was not from the night air but one he had felt when Divine had put on his false smile on his last day.
“Because your brother would want it,” he answered.
“He was more than a brother to me,” Salem choked out the words.
The tears in his eyes as they looked at Ezril told him what he had just heard was a secret that could have his brother burnt at the stake.
I will not send a brother to his death, Ezril scolded his conscience. Not one who has sinned against no man.
“I may not have known much about Divine,” Ezril continued, saying the name his brother had not been able to bring himself to say. “But I know a thing or two about what it feels like to care about someone, and I can’t bring myself to believe that he would want you to join him anytime soon.”
Salem looked at him with questioning eyes and Ezril knew what he sought.
“Stay with us, brother,” Ezril told him, hoping to prevent a repeat of tragedy. “We will give you a purpose, one you cannot fail. And if we cannot, then I will. And if I cannot, then I will send you to Divine in a glory that will be the envy of every Hallowed to have ever walked the kingdom. But for tonight, brother, go to bed. The night is not for you to be awake.”
It was a while before Salem responded.
Standing up, he climbed up the stairs with a solemn smile, turning momentarily to say, “I am to kill the people who share something with my sister—something that I do not.”
As Ezril watched Salem rise he thought he saw the darkness shimmer around the boy like wisps clinging to him at every edge, if only briefly.
Ezril remained on the steps for a while longer. He watched and counted the stars in the dark sky. He wondered which one was Canopus. Sadly, he found no comfort in the night except the sad knowledge of what awaited them all as priests.
If they lived long enough.
Climbing up the stairs, Ezril made his way into the room. He retired to his bed for whatever brief period of sleep was left to him before beginning a new day in the seminary.
A boy who failed to protect, Ezril thought as sleep claimed him. And a boy who failed to be protected. Twice.