Secrets
By Lindsay R. Honosky
Chapter Eleven: Journey's End
And so we come to the story's end. I hope this chapter is satisfactory; I'm still not to certain about it. However all things must come to an end, and I'll leave it up to you all to decide if it's worthy, lol. I just want to say thank you, sincerely, to all of you for reading this. It really meant a lot to know you all enjoyed it, and I only hope I don't end up disappointing you. Well, I'll stop talking now; please enjoy and tell me what you think!
P.S. Hey Fluffy09, is it alright if I sing your favorite song? :3
There was a bag of gold on the table, followed by two pieces of paper. One he knew to be the deed to his old manor, and the other...well, the other he had been reading since he'd awoken. Ah, and such a depressing way to awake this fine evening. It seems his little Sparrow had flown the coop, or so the saying goes, leaving him all that she owed. One would think he should feel elation; utter joy at being reunited with his previously taken belongings. Yet, there was a strange hollowness to him now, a presence he could not put a finger on. In this void there needed something; something he knew not how to obtain. Reaver's eyes glanced over the letter once more, the peculiar feeling growing with each word:
Reaver,
How do I put into words what just happened? I guess one really can't, well, I'm sure you could, but I was never one for waxing such trivialities. Instead, I wanted to wish you well; and tell you I'm sorry. I think I misjudged you, but not in the sense you think. I still despise Reaver, the man you think you are. I believe he is the weaker of the two, though when has what I thought ever mattered to Reaver? I hope that, one day, perhaps Reaver might disappear, and then the real you, the strong you, can come and talk to me. Until that time, I've left you a sum of fifteen thousand gold pieces, along with the deed to Bloodstone Manor. I don't carry any delusions that you love me, so please don't think this is a desperate plea for you to come and sweep me off my feet. Anyway, I guess what I really want to say is take care of yourself; why not give something a little less daring a go? You might live longer that way.
I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to face you,
Sparrow
"Take care of myself, is it?" Reaver scoffed at the tiny brown parchment, as if it could understand his words, "What would she know about strength? She never met that fool, never knew his weakness! What an idiotic, uneducated, childish thing to think-!" The previous night began flashing before his eyes, the way she danced like fire, the way she laughed as he twirled her to the music, the way her eyes shone with unfallen tears as he told his tale, and the breathless, loving look she had shared with him in passion. Reaver frowned, crushing the letter in his hand, "A weaker man might just run after you, little Sparrow. But I, am not he..." Reaver turned, gathering up his things, and rolled up the deed to the manor. It was going to be a long trip, possibly dangerous, but now that he no longer had to worry about loosing a valuable asset, he could hastily dispose of anyone or thing that walked into his path.
It was cloudy overhead, the sun hidden behind great gray puffs, leaving the world all the dimmer for it. Normally Reaver wouldn't mind this little change in the weather, but he also knew it could mean rain, or snow, and he'd rather not go marching through bogs and such whilst being assaulted from above. Most, if not all the gypsies had retreated into their caravans, save those who ran the tiny shops here and there. Reaver shrugged, made sure the buckle on his holster was unfastened, and went to talk to a man selling garments.
There was an ominous crack of thunder as he approached the man, never-the-less he gave him a warm (if not entirely fake) smile, "Good day, sir! I was wondering if there might be a faster way of getting to Bloodstone than a miles long trek?"
The man, far to old to be considered attractive, looked him up and down while stroking white whiskers, "Oh, yeah, there is. In Bowerstone; but it'll cost you a pretty penny." The old man leaned down, the cracking of his knees disturbingly audible, "Seems you got that covered. Well then, I guess that means you'll be leaving us, eh?"
"That's a rather forward question," Reaver smirked, "do I bother you with my presence?"
"Not me, necessarily, but a few of the men here would like you gone. That pretty face of your's is starting to cause trouble, so I suggest you leave."
Reaver imagined how easy it would be just to wipe this tiny hovel from all the maps in Albion, but instead turned anyway, "Very well; as you wish. I'm in no mood for such sport anyway." If the old man said anything else, it was lost in the sudden downpour that drenched him to his bones. Cursing under his breath, Reaver began a fury-fueled sprint, hoping Bowerstone had indeed turned more hospitable than his last visit.
Rain. It seemed appropriate, given her mood. Sparrow watched as husbands hurried home from work, wives standing at doorways with worried looks, and happy, laughing children splashing around in newly formed puddles. There in the center of the town was the old Clock Tower, where a few of Bowerstone's citizens took cover from the downpour. Curious, she walked up to a rather portly man with the most grand mustache she had ever seen, and smiled, "Why are you people under the tower? Wouldn't it be warmer inside the pub?"
"Eh? Don't you know?" He gave her a squinted look, as if their closeness made no difference.
She laughed slightly, scratching the back of her ear with a finger, "I've been gone...for a while."
A wiry man standing next to him jabbed his elbow into the man's big belly, scowling, "You idiot! Don't you know who you're talking to?" Shoving the fat man aside, the wiry man took his hat off and bowed, "My Lady Sparrow, it is good to see you are well."
"I..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "I'd rather you not call me that, please."
The portly man laughed, "Now I've heard everything! A noble claiming they don't want to be nobility! Ain't you supposed to be Queen by now?"
Sparrow shot the man a look that sent many bandits running, "Hold your tongue, fool, or I'll take it."
"I'm sorry, my lady, he gets this way when...intoxicated." Said the smaller man, bowing once more.
Sparrow sighed, "No, no, I'm sorry. Rain...is terrible for my moods." Along with her head; she could feel the pressure building even as she spoke. Rubbing her eyes, she asked the men once more, "Why are you not in the pub?"
"It's full up with farmers from Oakfield. They came in just yesterday, what with their harvest being over and all."
"Oh?" Sparrow saw the chance to lighten up the conversation, "Was it good for them?"
"Oh aye, bloody great! Those farmers are leeches, if you ask me," the fat man went on ranting, "did you know they want two gold piece for a cold meat pie? I understand they had a long walk, but still; two gold!?"
She gave him a bemused smile, "Yes, those thieves. What's such a long walk, through monster infested forests and bandit run cliffs? It's not as if they're risking their lives to feed this city."
"Well I..." The fat man removed his hat, wringing it in his hands, "I didn't think about it that way, m'lady. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," she said with a smile, "just keep that in mind the next time you visit one of their stalls."
The wiry man stood straight, "We will, Your Majes-"
Sparrow held up her hand, face tired, "Sparrow will do, please."
She was turning to walk away when she heard the fat man ask, "Aren't you a bit old to be calling yourself 'Sparrow'?"
"I wasn't aware one could out-grow their name." She didn't look back, instead she headed down to the docks, hoping to find the sands beneath the Bowerstone Bridge were less drenched as she was.
The sounds of her boots were muffled by the rain, though the throbbing in her ears seemed to grow ever louder. She looked up at the sky in annoyance, wondering if it were possible to change the weather with her Will. Then those thoughts would leave her feeling more drained than the rain, so she put her eyes back to earth, and what she saw almost stopped her heart. It was that same man that had sold her that cursed snow globe, the same man that...had sold them the music box. Memories of that seemingly ordinary day came flashing before her eyes; laughing breathlessly as she and Rose chased down runaway fliers, the two of them posing for Barnum's wonder machine, almost being caught by that silly drunk who'd stolen from another silly drunk, shooting the beetles in the warehouse, and finding Jack after beating up some punk who'd punched Rose for trying to stop him from hurting the dog. Then she would remember the hope in her sister's voice, how happy her face was while walking through Fairfax Castle, her final scream before the gunshot, and then pain. Searing, unbearable pain; both physical and emotional.
Sparrow prayed the rain would hide her tears. Jack, who was previously digging in the mud, now came to his mistress's side and began whining. She let go of the breath she was holding, ashamed at how shaky it rattled from her lips. Patting the dog's head, she asked, "Well boy, want to see what old Murgo has in store for us now?" He gave her an encouraging bark, and Sparrow arched an eyebrow, "I swear you act more human than I do sometimes." Her only answer was a cocked head, and she sighed, stepping carefully along the rain-soaked docks that were shadowed by Bowerstone's buildings.
She was amazed at how Murgo seemed never to age. Then again, she told herself she'd rather not think of men who don't age, and instead walked up to the caravan with a wary smile, "Murgo."
The orange hair and gotee looked red in the tiny lantern light, his purple suit taking on a more blackish mood. Never-the-less, the man turned and gave her a warm smile, clapping his hands together, "Ah, if it isn't my favowite customewr! I've got something that might intewrest you!"
She arched an eyebrow, "It's not another cursed snow globe, is it? No golden skull with a necromancer hidden away inside?"
There was a nervous look in his brown eyes, "Uh, no, nothing of the sort! Hewer, take a look!" Before Sparrow could even tell what he was doing the man had pulled out a tiny figure of black metal, the small blue highlights hauntingly accurate to its model.
"Murgo...where did you get this?"
"Let's just say a friend left it fowr me," he said with a wink.
"Why would any friend of mine leave me a model of the Spire, Murgo?" She asked, her words sounding less heated and more tired as her headache only worsened.
The man practically shoved the object into her hands, "Look, and you'll find out."
"But I don't-!" Before her words could even reach him, she was surrounded by a blinding, searing light that hurt her eyes. She might have screamed, she might have not; in this moment she couldn't tell. Whatever was happening felt very different to her travels through the other cursed objects, yet still familiar. It took her a moment to realize where she had felt such sensations, and when came her clarity so came her vision.
She stood along the stone walkway high atop the Spire, a figure robed in red standing in the center. The very center where Lucien once stood. Even from where she stood, she could see a smile spread across the eternal woman's face, her arms outstretched, "Sparrow."
"Thereasa? H-how?" She stumbled, lost in her disbelief.
"I would have thought you would have learned by now not to question me, little Sparrow." Her smile only grew wider.
"Am I...I'm in the Spire again, aren't I?"
"Yes, though you have nothing to fear. I have brought you here for a reason, for there is something you must see."
Sparrow, finally regaining herself, crossed her arms and smiled, "I guess the reason is never going to be just a quick hello, is it?"
Thereasa tilted her head, "Know that I am never far from you, my precious Sparrow..." The old fortune teller rose her arms, the air around her shimmering with an ancient power. Lines of all colors began to swirl around her, until a vortex of white light consumed her. It spread further, and soon Sparrow once again flew through the neitherworld, her body seeming to be separate from her soul.
Once she regained consciousness she found herself in a black room, a single spotlight upon what looked to be a lavish throne adorned with red velvet and gold inlay. After looking over her person she found herself garbed in the finest of clothes; a white fur-lined blouse with a gold chest piece around it, a lavish skirt that looked to her like a cloud. Most of the gown was blue, save for the white highlights, and she felt utterly ridiculous. She frowned at the chair before her, as if it could sense her disapproval, "Thereasa, I do not wish for this..."
It is not for you to decide what you wish for or not. This is your fate, and it has already begun.
The room began to grow, and from the throne she could see line after line of soldiers, all saluting her as she walked past them. Sparrow looked each one in the face, "Thereasa, enough of this."
These are your soldiers. Loyal men who will gladly fight for you, and proudly die for you. Do not insult them by selfish want of freedom. This is your destiny.
She ended her journey through the ghost army to be met by a crowd of cheering people, all of home either bowed or curtsied to her. A blush grew on her face; she knew not if it were from embarrassment or anger. She sprinted down the aisle, trying to escape this vision but to no avail. She could hear Thereasa's haunting words as she ran, These are your adoring subjects, whom love you. Do not flee from them, for they will need you; all of you, in time. You are the one who will unite them and lead them to a glorious revolution.
"Leave me be, Thereasa!" Sparrow ran and ran until breathless, surrounded by darkness once more. Sure that she would soon wake from this nightmare, Sparrow stopped to catch her breath. There she found Thereasa, who stood next to a tiny crib. Sparrow's hand involuntarily went to her stomach, "You don't mean..."
Thereasa shook her head, "No, this child will not come of your...encounter with Reaver." The distaste in her voice stung Sparrow, and shame filled her. However if the old seeress wished to say more, she refrained, instead she motioned towards the crib, "This is the reason why I have shown you this; the reason why you needed to see this. In time, the fate of Albion will rest in this child's hands, along with that of Aurora."
"Aurora? What is Aurora?" Sparrow crossed her arms, anger rising, "And why are you telling this to me now?"
"If I had told you any sooner you would not have gone through all the trouble of buying those houses, nor running those businesses." There was an annoying hint of smugness to her words, and Sparrow bit back a few choice words of her own. Thereasa turned fully to the babe that was there and not, a smile crossing her face, "Do not fear the future, little Sparrow; your life will be a happy one, of that I can assure you."
"I don't suppose you'll tell me who this child's father is, will you?"
"I cannot, for fate has a funny way of hiding such things. I can say, however, boy you and the babe's father will long have perished by the time this child will be needed. You must do all you can now to assist it in this fight, for it will be grave. And before you ask, no, I cannot tell you the outcome either, for it is in the hands of one yet to be born."
"What would you have me do, then?"
"Build, prosper, and prepare. You shall do these things, of that have no doubt, and do not worry, dear Sparrow," the world began to fade, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep, "I am always here, watching you." Her warm farewell was the last thing Sparrow heard before fully drifting off to sleep, a smile gracing her lips as a single tear ran down her cheek.
The back of her neck was warm, and she could tell that her back was lifted off the ground, yet the rain still pelted her face, cool against the throbbing heat inside her head. Sparrow groaned, her legs feeling weak and useless. There was what felt like an arm wrapped around her waist, and she could only guess that was what also kept the back of her neck warm. She was content with keeping her eyes closed until she heard a familiar chuckle, "We really must stop meeting like this."
Despite the pain Sparrow's eyes shot open, and she found herself staring into the eyes of a man she hoped not to see for a long time, "Reaver...?"
"Of course," his smile seemed muted, his words distant, "I can't help but wonder what on earth you're doing laying around, in the rain, by the docks of all places."
Sparrow closed her eyes, sighing, "I...had a visit with an old friend."
"I see." His face grew more grave, "If I'm not mistaken, I believe you're being afflicted by one of your migraines, no?" He frowned as she shook her head weakly, "Well then, I believe we should get you to your castle, post haste."
She began to struggle, "No, Reaver, please..."
"If you are feeling some sort of shame or embarrassment about what happened last night, by all means forget it ever happened. In fact, I would rather prefer you did, what with my slight moment of weakness." He lifted her from the ground, no longer looking at her face.
Sparrow grumbled, her head buried in his chest, "Are you talking about your performance? Or what you told me to get into my pants?"
He laughed, however it seemed strained, "I know you're lying about the first, my dear. I've had more years than you've lived to practice that art. And I do not need your pity to 'get into your pants', as you put it." She could see his face darkening, "I had rather hoped you would have forgotten what I divulged to you last night."
"Sorry I wasn't drunk enough, then."
"No, no, the fault is mine. I should have just shot you."
She laughed weakly, "Sorry I'm still alive."
His smile returned, "As am I."
They were silent as he carried her up the cobblestone hill, few people taking notice of them as they fled from the rain. Mud ran down the streets along the storm drains, tiny waterfalls falling form the roofs of houses as mothers gathered their children and locked up their doors for the night. Soon all of Bowerstone looked like a shimmering night sky, reflected upon a serene river. The air grew colder, and Reaver quickened his pace, finally passing the metal gates that would lead into Fairfax Gardens.
The place was virtually empty, save the few guards that patrolled even in such horrid weather. One shot him a strange look, then continued on his march, ignoring the two newcomers. He looked to his left to see yet another statue of Sparrow, standing in the middle of a simple fountain. He laughed to himself, wondering what in the world possessed the woman in his arms to pose in such a silly dance. Reaver continued down the paved walkway, frowning as his boots began to grow damp.
It wasn't long before he reached the main door of the castle, the title standing on a post next to him. He looked down at Sparrow, her eyes clenched shut in pain. He shrugged, then lifted his foot and kicked in the door; she could fix the damage tomorrow, when he was well away. The noise echoed down the stone halls, his foosteps muffled by the red carpet that lay beneath him. He was amazed at how dusty and deserted this place looked; he had heard Lucien had all but abandoned his humble abode, however he would have thought at least a few servants would have stayed behind in case he returned. Scanning the rooms he found next to no one, save a few scurrying mice from a larder yet to be cleaned out. There was little to no light as Reaver fought to find his way about the empty castle, cursing as he stumbled on a small lump along the carpet.
It seemed to take hours for him to find the main bed room, and with a relieved sigh he placed a sleeping Sparrow upon a rather dusty mattress. She began to toss and turn, a nightmare apparently playing out behind closed eyes. Reaver sat beside her, watching her for a moment. After a while he took her hand in his, stroking it lightly with his thumb, "My mind is telling me it is no longer safe for you to remain living, but I can not bring myself to end you. I...I can't do what it is you ask of me...I'm sorry. To do so would mean the end of me, and I am not yet ready to face that. I'm not," he rubbed his eyes, feeling all those years that had caught up around him, "I'm not strong enough yet. Perhaps one day, another time? But for now, I think it best if I leave..." He looked at her once more, gently stroking her forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain she must feel, "However, know I will return. And with it, you have my friendship, my dear, dear Sparrow." For a moment her brows became unfurrowed, and a smile came to her lips. Reaver stood, tearing his eyes from her as he headed for the door, closing it gently behind him.
The months that passed seemed like years to her; there was so much to do. The castle was still in the midst of being remodeled, and there was always someone who wanted to break in and see what they could steal. Of course, Sparrow was quick to dispatch of any would-be intruders, though she rarely ended up killing them anymore. Most were just beggars who'd gone over the edge, and only needed an honest job. She had given them that, what with the construction of the castle being needed, along with a few renovations for the entirety of Bowerstone. Truthfully, she was amazed at the progress she had made thus far, meeting with the leaders of different towns, coming up with treaties for waring tribes, setting up a gigantic library a ways by Oakfield. In truth, she held no delusion that it would come to fruition, seeing as the common folk would rather work for a penny than invest precious time reading and learning, but she hoped soon their children might utilize the facility.
It surprised her how naturally the role of ruler came to her, even though she never wished for it. However, the task was much simpler thanks to a young man named Jasper. The sweet lad was barely out of his teens, but he insisted on becoming her butler, even after all her arguing that she need not a care-taker. He would handle all her less important affairs while keeping her room clean and bringing her meals if she wished not to dine with company. She rarely did, spending the time alone reading her small, worn letter from Rose over and over again. She didn't want to admit to herself that she would never be able to find her sister, and even if she did she probably wouldn't do that to her. Rose had come back as Sparrow remembered her; a fifteen-year-old girl with dreams of living in a castle with her little sister, who was no more a little girl. The shock of the truth might harm her more than forever living in a lie.
The prophecy Thereasa foretold never ventured far from her mind, and she worried if she would ever find the father to her destined child. She did so now, sitting along the banister of her balcony, grateful for the warm summer breeze. She was holding a party to celebrate the joining of Brightwood with Oakfield, something she thought would never happen. However she was surprised to see the enterprising town leaders join for the chance to create a single farming community; and with the joining came an abundance of food for all. It also did wonders for her mood that Hammer had written and come for said party, and as she withdrew from her thoughts she noticed the giant red-headed woman coming out to join her.
She looked rather ridiculous in the gown Sparrow had tailored for her, the gentle green silks doing nothing to hide both her girth and muscle. But the way she carried herself with confidence, along with a beaming smile, made her a hit with a few of the gentlemen attending the ball. Hammer smiled as she found her, coming to rest her arms upon the banister next to Sparrow, "I was wondering where you ran off to."
"I never did like crowds."
"That explains all that bragging after the Crucible, doesn't it?"
Sparrow shrugged, "Are you still angry that you couldn't do it? I told you to let me do all the talking."
"Right, because it's always my big mouth that gets us into trouble."
"Exactly." The women shared a laugh, the happy sound echoing down into the gardens.
The two were silent for a while, the sounds of the music flowing from behind the stained glass windows. Stars lit up a pristine sky, tiny wisps of clouds gracefully wrapping themselves around a full moon. Sparrow smiled, taking in a deep breath, "It's a wonderful night."
"Aye, you got that right." A smile brightened her friend's face, and she was nearly jumping on her toes, "Oh! You'll never guess who I bumped into along Bandit Coast?"
Sparrow raised an eyebrow, "I can guess by the way you're bouncing."
"Well if you know already, I guess I don't have to tell you."
Sparrow laughed, "No no! Please, by all means."
Hammer returned her laughed, though she did stop her bouncing, "Well, as you may have guessed, it was our old friend Garth. He's back from Samarkand, and apparently overjoyed that you managed to rid him of that dreadful Chesty fellow." She looked slightly confused, crossing big arms, "Might I ask who that is?"
"Don't worry about it; it involves magic and all sorts of difficult things to understand." She wore a taunting smirk on her face, and received quite a strong punch to the leg for it, "Ow! Watch it! For a monk you've got an awfully bad temper."
"And for a queen you've got an awfully rude mouth!"
Sparrow's smile seemed more spiteful than warm, "Hmph, if only I had a gold coin for ever time I heard that. Why, the treasury would be overflowing with gold!"
"I heard about what happened with the chief of Silverpines. You were in the right, there; you can't send out soldiers to fight a seemingly endless wave of abominations."
"If only I knew where they were coming from...You know, I hate to admit it, but their seems to be an abundance of monsters lately, don't you think? Shadow creatures have been seen coming out of the swamps in Wraith's Marsh, Hollow Men have practically taken over the graveyards, and Hobbes..." she paused, frowning, "there are so many of them. I can't imagine where those damned Sprites are getting all those children."
"You can't save them all, Sparrow."
"But I have to try! I'm their Queen, Hammer, not just their Hero. If I don't protect them, who will?"
Hammer frowned, twirling a strand of red hair around a finger, "Well, if you ask me, I believe all this trouble is coming from that Shadow Court. It wouldn't take that much to just destroy that dreadful place. And there's even an added bonus to getting rid of it!" There was a dangerous smile on her friend's face as she said this.
Sparrow shook her head, her eyes growing distant, "I...I can't. Not that place."
Hammer sighed, "What is it with you? If I so much as mention anything related to that...thing, you go all silent and moody. What happened between you two?"
"Nothing!" Sparrow shot straight as an arrow, "Nothing at all. In fact, so little happened that I don't feel like continuing this conversation." She jumped from the banister, her heels clicking on the stone walkway.
Hammer grabbed her arm, the appendage looking like a child's in the big woman's hand, "Please, Sparrow; you can trust me. What did he do to you."
"He didn't...! Damn it!" Her eyes grew misty, and with her free hand she wiped away the tears before they could fall. Unable to meet her friend's eyes, Sparrow simply looked to her feet for answers. When none came, she sighed in defeat, "He isn't as bad as you think, Hammer. Well, maybe he is, but there is more to him than he wants people to see. The fact that I'm still breathing is a testament."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Hammer raised an eyebrow, releasing her friend's arm.
Sparrow simply shook her head, "It means nothing." She rose a finger to her lips and winked, "I'm sworn to secrecy, I'm afraid."
The two women began walking back towards the ballroom, passing a few nobles who were far to drunk for their own good. Before they entered back into the noisy, heated room, Hammer asked, "So, do you love him?"
The corner of her mouth rose slighly, a sad look in her eye, "Honestly, I don't know. I care for him, and I constantly worry if he yet still breathes. But it's rather difficult to love a man buried in secrets." Sparrow looked to her friend, smiling sweetly, and then entered the ballroom, dancing and twirling 'til the morning came.
And so this story ends. There will be an epilogue after this chapter for my next story, based in Fable 3. I want to thank all the wonderful people who stayed with me through the entirety of my little tale, and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.
Until we meet again~
Lindsay R. Honosky