For Whom the Bell Tolls

[Deleted]

After Dawn, 17 Ausoris, 200ATD
Mardok Duchy, near the Southern border.

     It had been three days since Alexander had lost everything.

     He had found probably the only kind farmer in the Kingdom, who had allowed he and his little brother to sleep in their barn without asking anything in return. But Alexander could tell they were overstaying their welcome, and it was only a matter of time before they found themselves working for a pile of hay in a smelly barn. Alexander had paced himself in outrunning their pursuers, even when he was carrying his surprisingly heavy little brother. But the boy was far too worked up and grieving and afraid and had run himself ragged when he had the wits to wiggle from Alexander's straining arms. He needed to sleep far past dawn, though Alexander had woken hours before, frightened by the sounds of night.

Now, he was sitting beside his snoring brother and holding loosely his ritual dagger; the air alive with the crackling of magic. He would get fifteen more minutes, then it was time to move and make a plan on the road. He heard the doors to the barn sliding open. Five minutes, then. He slipped the dagger away, then stood and stretched as sunlight streamed in, only to be blocked by the tall form of the farmer’s son. He was burly and dark-haired like his father, but he’d missed the charitable nature and easy smile. Alexander smiled, anyway, and stepped forward to meet him. The young man stopped short, and glared around the room.

      “Where the boy?” he said, his voice low and thick.
      “Packing, John. Good morning. We--” Alexander began.

      John cut him off. He should’ve been used to his rudeness, but he was more used to the respect given to those who commanded secret powers and the sons of a Count. But he was just a poor beggar, fleeing war with his brother. Nonetheless, the smile slid from Alexander’s face.

      “Mum says she got your breakfiss, then Da got some work for you and the boy.”

      That was quicker than Alexander expected. It was time to go. Alexander turned away from him and leaned to tip a few things into the makeshift pack he’d made from a discarded cloak. He looked to see his brother sleeping in peace, a little smile on his face. He wished he could let him rest--he needed and deserved it.

      “You’ll have to give madam our apologies. We’re nearly packed to go. We’ve gotten work south of here. I’m sorry we can’t stay, John.”

      John grumbled and crossed his big arms. Alexander wondered if they should just stay and help--they’d been kind so far. But Alexander had his own family to think of, and right now all he could focus on was his uncle face as he slid his sword into his eldest brother’s chest. He was smiling, ecstatic about his new power. He gasped at the recollection. John frowned.

      “S-Sorry. Bad memories.”
      “Can’t go.”
      Alexander blinked up at John, sure he’d misheard. He could feel the magic beginning to crackle within him
      “Excuse me?”
      “I said you not goin’. Da and me need you here. Got a lot of work before Winter.”
      Alexander stepped forward. “Are you going to force us to stay here? Chain us to a plow?”
      John looked uncomfortable. It was obvious he was growing more agitated.
      “Not what I meant. You just… you--?”
      “Did your father send you to say this to us?” Alexander said, cutting across him.
      John stepped forward this time. “He ain’t gonna say it. I will. I am! You owe us.”
      “For a corner of a dirty barn for three days and the scraps from your table? I told your mother how much we appreciate it, but we take no space from you and not more than a bite from the hogs who usually get those scraps. We’d barely owe you half a day’s work, much less the summer and harvest.”

      John loomed over Alexander, and for a moment he was sure he could see lightning dance in his eyes. Alexander struggled to maintain control over his growing frustration.
      “Sounds like a not grateful bastard--”
      “You really, really don’t want to use that word with me.”

      He was on the edge.

     He heard a shuffling behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see his brother coming into view. He was almost taller than Alexander and already more broad, with a boy’s face and a shock of thick black hair. He had their few things slung over his shoulder. He sounded tired--resigned.

      “Are you going to kill us if we refuse, John? Little Johnny? Cut us open and bleed us like your pigs? Cut off our head and stick them on spike so the next weary travelers will know not to undervalue a shit-covered stretch of floor and half chewed pork bits? That’s what they’ve already done to our father and brothers and my oldest sister. Bled them, cut ‘em up and hung the pieces everywhere. Why not add another two?”

      Alexander was by his side in a second, and put his arm around him. But he couldn’t shield him from what he’d seen and heard and smelled already. No one could protect either of them from the dreams. John looked shocked and disgusted. The barn door banged open again and John’s mother, Greta, came inside, balancing a large plate on one hand and holding a water skin in the other.

      “Gods on earth, boys! I asked for you a--what’s going on?”
      She’d been laughing as she scolded them, but stopped when she saw the tense scene. She glared at her son.
      “What in the bleeding hells are you doing to these poor boys, Johnny?”
      Alexander smiled at her, to allow his anger to dissipate.
      “It’s alright. We told John that we were leaving this morning. He’ll miss us, is all.”
      Greta looked surprised. “Oh, so soon?”
      “Work in the south.” Alexander said.
      She nodded. “Ah. Well. Come on inside, I’ll make you boys something special. Tip this to the hogs, instead, eh? Plus, Reg’ll want to say goodbye.”
      Alexander looked over at his brother, Alistair, who was staring at nothing.
      “Thank you, Madam. We’d be happy to join you.”

[Deleted]

    Greta took their order when the two brothers sat down at the rickety dining table. John, the farmer’s boy, had already eaten and he sat to glare across at the pair and make grunts of disapproval when they asked for near-burnt bacon, bread fried in the leftover fat, eggs and whatever else she had to make. But the boys were hungry, and as neither were skilled hunters or foragers they may not eat again until they reached more settled lands. When they made some money, Alexander thought as Greta winked and hurried into the kitchen, they should hire a guide or scout to teach them some things--there would be no telling when they could afford more regular accommodations, or when they could raise an army to march further south into their homeland. It was a daunting prospect, but Alexander was committed. He looked at his little brother’s frown and wondered how long it would take. Part of him thought he should hire a caravan to take him Southeast into Sorath where his mother and sister were living comfortably.

    “Oi.” He heard a coarse whisper.
    He looked up to see John frowning at him.
    “What?”
    “Da’s comin’. See what he says ‘bout you leavin’.”

    Alexander looked towards the kitchen, and indeed heard the rough voice of Jeb the farmer and his wife. He’d usually been able to hear people coming from outside stone walls, but he’d been caught by surprise more times than he liked since the attack three days ago. He needed to hone his senses, especially with he and Alistair on the road. He tilted his head a little to one side.

    “...did the boys say?” Came Reg’s gravelly voice, a little muffled by the sticks assembled into a wall Alexander heard them through.

    “Well, the little one, Astor wasn’t it, didn’t say anything at all. Poor thing’s still in shock, I think. But, Alex, he said they’re going to head south--they got a job down there.” Greta replied.
    “Hmph. Job down south. You see any messengers yesterday?”
    “No, Reg. Nobody round these parts for a month but these boys.” she said, distracted by her cooking.
    “How’d they get the call to head south?”
    “Well, that’s a point, Reg, but why’d the boys wanna lie to us?”
    “Scared, probably. Poor sods. Could use the help, but, best to let them go."

    Alex snapped back into the little dining room when he felt his brother’s nudge.
    “Wha’s goin’ on?” John grumbled.
    “Are you okay?” Alistair said.
    Alexander nodded. Not even Alistair knew of his superhuman hearing.
    “Sorry, I was thinking.”
    “Make your head pop, thinkin’ that much…” John said.

    Greta and Reg must have finished because they stepped into the room together. Though Reg was a reasonably large man, the way he collapsed into his seat and spread out made him look as though he were filling the room. Alexander nearly cried at the sight and smell of the food as it was set before him. Alistair mumbled his thanks and dove in. Alexander took his time. He’d been savoring a bite of fried bread, soaked with yolk when Reg cleared his throat.

    “So. I hear you boys are heading south.”
    “North actually, I think.” Alexander said before another bite.
    Alistair coughed and looked up.
    “Norf? Oo’ said souf--” He spluttered, firing bits of bread and egg at Alexander.
    He wiped them away with a sigh.

    “Yes. North. I don’t think the southern work suits us, really. You know, I was training for priesthood, back home. And my brother was on his way to becoming a fine shoemaker. We’d be a burden as fishermen or farmers. Maybe I can get work teaching a lord’s son his letters and maybe one day Alistair can get an apprenticeship.”

    Reg eyed him over a mug of soup. “Sounds like a good enough plan. Heard you were doing some good teaching John to read a little.”
    Alexander looked at John.
    “Yes. What is it, seven words so far? He can read and spell just about every animal on the farm and both your names. He’s smart."
    John had the decency to look ashamed of his crass behaviour. Alexander smiled in spite of his nagging anger.
    “Well that’s good to hear. Next thing my boy’ll be writing stories of shoveling pig shit and picking apples.”
    Alexander took a few more bites while the others laughed. When Reg’s booming laugh finally subsided, Alexander hurried to swallow his last bite and take advantage of the lightness of tone.
    “It was my pleasure to teach. I’ll be doing a lot more north. Good pay, too, from what I’ve heard. I’d love to send a gift or two, for your kindness.”

    The two men looked stern as usual, but Greta looked surprised and pleased enough for the three of them.
    “A gift, eh? What sort? Or is it a surprise?” Reg said.
    Alexander swallowed the last of the bacon. He wondered if Alistair had nicked a piece when he wasn’t looking.
    “Well. I wouldn’t know where to begin finding what bauble would amuse you. And you’ve finer animals than I’m likely to find in any city. I think Ritz the best gift.”
    Greta beamed, but Reg’s expression didn’t change much. Alexander smiled at his brother.
    “Don’t you, dear brother?”
    Alistair had been staring with a mouthful of food. He swallowed noisily and nodded.
    “Um. Yes!” He looked at Reg. “It would be our pleasure to, um, repay the favour.”
    “Indeed it would. Perhaps with a new book, for John, as well.”
    Reg was quiet for a while. “Well. We appreciate the gesture.”
    Alexander smiled. It was good enough.
    “We should prepare for our journey.”