Brothers

The shrill blast cut through a mist-enshrouded evening, and Valmar felt his stomach tighten in an instant. Ever since the Chancellor had disbanded the Rangers, all those families who lived within sight of the Haian Forest had taken to carrying battle horns, to summon help in the event of danger. The terrible sound that even now roused Valmar from a fitful doze was that of his brother, and if Agenor needed help then the peril must be dire indeed.

Racing for the stables, snatching up his longsword without a pause, Valmar's mind was abuzz with fear and trepidation. Adrenalin coursing through his body had already driven out all signs of drowsiness, and all he could think of was how to reach his brother's side before it was too late.

Mounting up on the run, one of the servants having also heard the horn's dreadful bellow and prepared his mount, Valmar sped out of the gates as fast as the great grey stallion could bear him. Anxiety drove him on in a frenzy, and a growing impatience at his lack of progress along the muddy road.

Then the horn sounded again, allowing him to get a clearer fix on it's source. But it was cut short this time, and Valmar's heart was chilled. 'Come on!' he urged his steed, over and over, though the horse was already galloping at a dangerous pace across uneven ground.

As he crested a steep rise, Valmar saw with despair the reason for his summons. His brother's wagon was overturned, and the driver, a stout man named Tanis, lay dead beside it. A black-shafted arrow stuck out malevolently from his chest. There was no sign of Elladris, his brother's wife, or the child. But Agenor was there, and he still stood, though he was surrounded on all sides by his assailants, and sorely outnumbered.

Orcs! For years the Rangers had held their kind in check, restricting them to their dark quarters of the great Forest. Their cowardly raids on innocent travellers had become a thing of the past, until a decade of peace and prosperity had given a city-dwelling politician cause to disband the honourable men and women who had brought about that peace in the first place. Valmar had already lost his parents to the black-hearted creatures, and now they had come for what remained of his family. They would have to kill him first!

'Agenor! Agenor!'

Hollering his brother's name, along with a string of unintelligible curses, Valmar hurtled down the slop towards the scene of the battle. Agenor was putting up a tremendous fight, and already a half dozen of the simian monstrosities lay dead or dying at his feet, their putrid blood staining the ground a foul green. Time and again Valmar saw his heavy sword strike out and bring another orc to it's knees, no mean feat given their advantage in weight and their brutal, animal strength and endurance.

It was difficult to see through the mist, and he was sweating profusely, which further clouded his vision, but even so it was clear from Agenor's posture that fighting so many opponents was taking its toll. He was undoubtedly an excellent swordsman, and more than a match for any ham-fisted orc bandit. Their sword-strokes were laboured and rustic, their tactics crude and predictable, but their assault was relentless. And Agenor would have travelled all day, and even the greatest warrior must succumb to weariness eventually, when faced with such impossible odds.

Why was it taking so long to reach his brother's side? It seemed to Valmar that he had been frozen in time, a witness to this grisly scene when he should have been involved. And with alarming suddenness he was upon them, hesitating for the merest fraction before lunging all about him in a violent fury. His long slim blade was more accustomed to graceful, elegant fencing, but now it was employed in a more agricultural manner. Repeatedly he hacked to either side of his horse, drawing torrents of blood and severing limbs from any foul-smelling orc unlucky

enough to stray within his arc. Normally the most stylish and accomplished of swords, Valmar was overtaken by a terrible anger the like of which he had never known before, and the simple-minded orcs with their rusty scimitars were as helpless lambs before his ferocious onslaught.

Gasping in great lungfuls of air as he dismounted, watching wide-eyed and alert as the remaining orcs fled in to the gathering gloom, and the sanctuary of the dense wood, Valmar drew up alongside his brother and embraced him fiercely. Agenor, two years the younger and of a sturdy build and handsome features, returned the embrace, though with a more restrained enthusiasm. Agenor was clearly wounded.

'Ah, 'tis nothing brother,' said Agenor, seeing the worried look that crossed Valmar's slender features, as he took half a step back.

The fire of battle still burned eagerly in Valmar's green eyes, and the two remained, hands gripping forearms, eyes stern and level, for some time before his heart would slow enough so he could utter the fear that threatened to consume him.

'Elladris? Kellana … Where?'

'Easy, brother. They are safe and well. When the orcs attacked, and poor Tanis was shot, the wagon overturned. Elladris and the baby were shaken up, but not injured. They are hiding still on the other side of the wagon, waiting for my sign that it is safe.'

'And do you think it is safe yet? It is unlike orcs to give up so easily, and they have become increasingly bold of late.'

'The Gods but its good to see you, though you worry too much.' Agenor clapped his brother firmly across the back, in an obvious attempt to ease the tension. 'It'll be your undoing, you mark my words. And don't look at me like that, you know it only too well. And as for the orcs, they would have to be fools indeed to chance their arm against the might of two such valiant swords, would they not?'

'I suppose so.'

'That's the spirit. Now, lets get ourselves home. A warm fire and a tankard of ale are awaiting us, and we don't want to disappoint them.'

That last word was cut short, just as Agenor turned his back on the road to signal to his wife. Startled by the briefest exclamation, Valmar could only stare in horror at the black shaft that now protruded from his brother's back, having struck square between his broad shoulders.

Managing to catch the body as it slumped forward, already the life essence draining away, Valmar knew that his brother was dead. The orcs tipped their ebon arrows with fast-acting poison, and there was nothing he could do for him except gain vengeance.

Strangely silent, his rage having intensified beyond measure, become something altogether more terrifying and all-consuming, Valmar strode out with a measured calm to meet his enemies, and bring death to them. Still arrows assailed him, some missing by the slimmest of margins, but he did not care. He could see them now, their ragged, scarred features full of hate and malice, their cowardly red eyes that knew neither love nor honour. As he grew nearer, the first orcs stepped out to meet him, and as he scythed down the first with a single diagonal stroke of almost inhuman power, he knew that he would kill them all for what they'd done.

The battle was short, and he took no pleasure in the killing. At the end Valmar stood, forlornly, uncounted orcish corpses piled all around him and swimming in a sea of their vile blood. He felt as if the light had gone out in his world, and he was just waiting for the darkness to take him.

And then he heard the muffled sound of a woman crying.

Elladris was kneeling, her dead husband's body held in one arm and her baby in the other. The black arrow lay broken on the ground, it's work done. For a few minutes Valmar could only stand and stare at this tragic vignette, feeling the sorrow and guilt grow and grow until they threatened to engulf him.

'I'm so, so sorry,' he sobbed eventually, sinking to the ground and reaching out to Elladris. She looked up at him, her soft grey eyes usually so alive and sparkling with ready wit and compassion, now reddened and overflowing with tears, and welcomed him into her arms.

'You have nothing to be sorry for, dearest Valmar,' she managed. Her voice was impressively calm, and tender. 'No-one could have done more. It was meant to be.'

Valmar pulled himself free, and stood, albeit a little shakily. Tears ran freely down his sallow cheeks, chilled by the cold evening air.

'No, I refuse to accept that. This is not how it should be. He had so much to live for, so much to give. It cannot be this way. There are people who need him, who love him. While I …' He turned and walked away, the words catching in his throat, unable to look upon the sight of his fallen brother and grieving Elladris any longer.

Looking up to the charcoal sky, searching for the Gods amidst the gathering twilight, silently he cursed them for their cruelty. Why? Why did you cause this to be? He was such a good man, with a dear sweet wife and an adorable child just starting out on the road of life. Such great things ahead of him, and you've taken all that away, and for what? Elladris does not deserve to be a widow. Kellana should have a father.

Why take Agenor, when you could have taken me?

'You should have taken me! Do you hear, you should have taken me!' He was shouting at the top of his voice, echoing through the low hills in the thick fog. The sudden outburst startled Elladris, and for the first time caused the baby to cry.

'We should get home,' said Elladris, wiping her eyes while still clutching the two most important people in her life. She knew it was right, but it wasn't easy. 'I need your help Valmar,' she implored. 'I can't do this alone.'

When he turned to face her, there was a strange cast to Valmar's eyes. Steel had replaced grief, and he approached her as if with a purpose.

'You'll not be alone Elladris. I swear it, on my life.' The way he paused before uttering those last three words gave them a dreadful quality that caused Elladris to shudder. She was afraid of him, but couldn't say why. She had never seen him like this. But then, neither of them had ever faced grief of this magnitude, and you never know how you will react until it happens to you. Valmar was closer to his brother than to anyone, and though they rarely displayed their affection for each other openly, it was clear to anyone who knew them how deeply they cared for each other.

'What do you mean?' she asked tremulously.

But Valmar didn't answer. He knelt down once more, this time taking his brother's head firmly in his slender hands, raising the body up until their eyes met. Then he closed his own eyes, and fell deathly silent. All that could be heard was the sound of his breathing, sharp and erratic.

Something was happening that was beyond Elladris understanding, and it scared her. She tried to reach Valmar, calling out to him, begging him to stop whatever he was doing, but he would not respond. Then a change began to creep over him. His eyelids flickered alarmingly, and it seemed that the colour was draining from his skin. Even more remarkably, the wounds that covered her husband's body seemed to be healing themselves, and she could feel the strength returning to his lifeless body.

'How, how are you doing this?' she whispered, desperately straining to keep he excitement under control, not daring to believe what she was seeing. They had all heard of those rare individuals blessed with the healing touch, but that was ancient history. No-one in Jalcara had demonstrated that gift for generations, and even then no tales mentioned anyone with the power to revive the dead. Until now.

Incredibly, Agenor opened his eyes. Valmar did likewise, though slowly, his expression betraying signs of great pain. Struggling for words, Agenor could only look upon his valiant brother with love unbound.

'Live well, brother,' breathed Valmar, his frail voice a mere rasp. 'Know that I love you, always.' With that he slumped forward into Agenor's arms, and Agenor wept.

'It is a year, dear brother, and still not a day goes by when I do not think of you.' Agenor was standing by his brother's simple gravestone in the early morning rain, his free-flowing tears mingling with the freezing shower that soaked him.

'I know why you did it, though I have no idea how. I doubt even you know that, though it would be hell getting you to admit it. But you had no right, damn it!' His voice, now risen to a grief-wracked cry, was directed to the heavens. 'Who are you to decide who should live and who should die? You think I am the only one with something to live for, is that it? You think I am the only one with responsibilities? But you had people who needed you. I need you.

'The only thing that keeps me going, that gets me through each painful day, is the fear that I might be letting you down. You were always the strong one, though you may not have known it. After mother and father died, you were the one who got us through, kept us alive.

'You were always a fighter, and I lost count of the number of times I relied on your strength in the most difficult of times. I know I didn't always show it, and I know things weren't always easy for you. But things would have turned around for you, I just know they would. If only you could have given it time.

'I was always looking up to you, trying to emulate you, hoping that one day I might be as brave and as strong as my big brother. Don't you see, I owed you everything, brother, everything; and you owed me nothing.

'And now every time I look into my daughter's eyes, I know I should be grateful for the gift you're given me, given us. But, the Gods help me, that's not now I feel. I feel like I don't belong here, like I'm living a lie. Living someone else's life, your life.

'But she's so beautiful, Valmar. So beautiful. Ella says she has your eyes. You'd have loved her so much, I know you would. And she'd have loved you, with all her heart.'

Slowly kneeling, he laid a single chrysanthemum on the grave.

'I'll try to be strong. I hope I don't disappoint you, dear brother.'