Hi! I'm really sorry I didn't do this sooner, like I'd promised. I hope you enjoy!
Stolen Money
Melancholic. Bittersweet. And, in some strange way, serene.
The Dark Knight sat in a hard wooden chair, fostering a half-empty mug of ale in both hands. Alone, he watched and listened as the musicians played together. Guitarist and cellist, smiling as their fingers danced on the strings. Lost in their own enchanting world, unaware of the audience.
Unaware that their son sat just to their left at a small table, hanging on their every note and phrase.
Lou and Aika. Both hardly into their forties. Lou's hair had gotten grayer since his son left. Aika's sweet, bright face bore deeper wrinkles.
I did this, Cole thought, shivering beneath his heavy cloak. I've hurt them. They don't deserve what I've put them through these past nine months.
The song ended, and scattered applause rippled throughout the tavern. Cole shifted uncomfortably and turned his body away so they wouldn't recognize him. He had his hood up, but he did not want to take any chances: his father had a keen eye.
Those keen, emerald green eyes scrutinized the tavern in a single sweep. Lou smiled, though it didn't take an expert to see that something was bothering him.
Not something. Someone.
Cole kept his head low, guilt riddling his chest full of holes. He wanted to stand and speak to them. To apologize, and to tell them that he still loved them. To beg for their forgiveness.
But he didn't. Couldn't. Not yet, anyways.
At last, Lou's attention went back to his guitar, and Cole looked up. Lou fiddled with the B-string, looked to his wife, and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and positioned her bow perpendicular to the cello's strings. Lou tapped his foot on the floor once. Twice. On the third beat, he and Aika began loud and hard on a traditional ballad.
Cole watched his father's fingers flit on the frets, so fast that most would have a hard time following. But Cole had no trouble: not to brag, but his own fingers were just as fast- if not faster- than his father's. The guitar was not one of Cole's favorite instruments, but Lou had spent hard hours making Cole learn. Practice, practice, practice, until his fingertips were raw and bleeding.
Lou had been a harsh teacher. But Cole loved him still: he knew everything he had ever been taught was intended to help him later on in life.
Your mother and I won't be around forever, Lou had told him once, many winters ago. You must learn, son. So that when your mother and I leave, you will have a part of us with you.
Ever the cynic, young Cole had retorted, And so I can, you know, make money for food and stuff.
Chuckling, Lou had patted Cole's head. Minor details, he said. Mark my words, Cole. Your talent is one of a kind. Keep at it, and one day you'll be playing for the King. And he pays in gold, not copper. He slapped a leaflet of staff paper with his palm. Now get back to it. I want these exercises memorized before lunch. Yes sir?
Cole sighed deeply, swirling his ale in his mug. He had no appetite. Not after what he'd done earlier that day.
I had to, he repeated the mantra, as he did every time these thoughts threatened to consume him. I had no choice. I just have to do what I'm told until my year is up. He glanced up, watching his mother sway with the cello's lively rhythm. And then I can come home. Excitement buzzed in his chest. He couldn't wait for them to meet Hagar and Varasach. They would be coming with him, of course. He would make sure of it. He couldn't leave them on the Dark Island. They were as much his family as Lou and Aika. He loved them too dearly to leave them behind.
I wonder if Father will accept them, he thought. Vara seems like she'd have a good ear for music. I'll bet she'd love the piano. And maybe Sage could sing.
Then a more uneasy thought: I wonder…will Father accept me? It was the question that had plagued him every day for the past nine months. I was stupid, and I hurt them deeply. Now, I can't even talk to them. They think I'm dead. Or worse, that I've abandoned them.
Finally, he took a swig of his drink. Golden like honey, bitter like poison. Its scent burned his nostrils.
I wish I could erase the past, Cole thought as Lou and Aika's song came to a close. They accepted more applause, then began putting their instruments away in old, worn travel cases. Some people stood and dropped coins- most copper, a few silver- into their hands. Thanked them for sharing their talent. Lou and Aika accepted the praise with smiles, though Cole could see the sadness in his mother's expression. The vacant, forlorn tremble in his father's eyes.
Are they angry at me? Cole wondered. Or are they sad? Do they want me back, or are they happy that their wayward son is finally gone from their lives?
It was a question he'd have answered when Overlord released him from his service. Just three more months. Then I can come home. He sighed. I wish Overlord would allow me to speak with them. Just once…
At last the crowd dispersed. Cole stood, leaving his drink at the table. He drew two coppers from his pocket and left them at the table to pay for his drink. Then he fished out a small purse. He weighed it in his hands, torn by indecision and shame.
Fifteen gold coins, taken from the pockets of his two latest victims: a young couple suspected of working with Cyrus Borg. They were masquerading as servants in the Julien keep, spying on the Northern Lord. Overlord had recently become very interested in Cyrus and wanted a few prisoners to interrogate. Why? It was none of Cole's business. He was just the middleman. Or at least, that's what he told himself to ease his conscience.
Taking a deep breath, heart pounding wildly in his chest, Cole approached his parents. My hood is up. They won't recognize me. Not that it mattered. After what he was about to do, they would at least have a small suspicion of his identity. I'm not speaking to them, though. So Overlord can't punish me, even if he does find out.
Lou and Aika noticed him, a small stranger hidden beneath a bleak gray cloak, and they smiled that halfhearted smile in his direction.
Not saying a word, Cole took his mother's hands in his. He held them for a moment. Small, warm, and soft. Hands that had held his own as she taught him the cello so, so many winters ago. Hands that had loved and cared for him for all of his life.
Overcome by emotion, he swallowed and quickly dropped the substantial sack of gold coins into her hands. Aika, surprised by this stranger's behavior, gripped the bag tight to keep it from slipping. Doubtless she expected it to be filled with smaller coins.
She would be surprised when she opened it. Fifteen gold coins would feed and house them comfortably for several months. Perhaps, if they were careful- which he knew they were- then the money would last until Cole returned.
Cole ran away before they could thank him.
Stolen coins, he thought bitterly as he opened the tavern door and ran into the dark street. From a couple of spies who will likely be dead soon, thanks to me. That's really the best that I could do?
He fled the town of Sheshin as fast as he could, the blackness of the sky above him reflecting the dark pit of loneliness in his soul.
Well then! Even when I'm celebrating 1000 reviews, I can't manage to write happy! :P
There'll be one more after this, probably coming your way next Saturday. It's my favorite. It'll be almost 9,000 words long, and it will have some actual plot stuff in it: tying up some loose ends in True Grit, looking behind the scenes, so to speak...it's great. I've had so much fun writing it. I really hope you guys will enjoy it.
Please leave a review, and have a great rest of your weekend! God bless! :D
