A Path of Oak and Ash (21 page)

29

Carrick paced for hours, his mind replaying Selene's words in constant accompaniment to his thoughts. First he was furious, how dare she accuse him of being self-centered? Did she not understand the weight of the burden he bore? How could she anyway? With the passing of time so did his anger face to inquiry, her words intermixing with his memories of another life. He paused, staring the at the simple dining table.

"What are you doing Mom?" Richard stood on his tip toes so he could see what she was putting into the basket on the table. It wasn't lunch time, it wasn't dinner time, and the boxes didn't look like snacks.

"Making a Thanksgiving basket."

"Why?"

"Because there are people who don't have food for the holiday." She paused to pat him on the head before continuing to arrange the colored boxes in the basket.

"But that's our food Mom. We don't have much." Richard frowned, if they were giving food away why was he always told no when he wanted another cookie.

"I know, but there are those who have alot less than we do honey. It's important to realize the world is larger than just you and I. We are defined not by what we do for ourselves, but what we do for others. This basket is for the Vets home on 3rd street. Those men and women served us, now we are doing our part."

That made sense. He smiled, jumping up and down. "Can I help?"

"Always sweetie. Can you grab a can of yams from the pantry?"

Carrick closed his eyes with a curse. As much as he wanted-needed-to save his mother's life, he had to honor the way she lived. The way she taught him to live. A scene flashed through his mind straight from an old war movie he had caught on cable on rainy night, a charismatic general pounding his fist on the table shouting that negotiation was not an option. So preoccupied was he with what he wanted, he didn't consider the ramifications of what that deal could mean to others. In honesty, he didn't even understand what he was bartering with nor was he in a position to figure it out on his own. To do the right thing, he had to breach the conditions of this deal. If he could even count on the conditions Lorcan laid out. After Selene's story he wasn't so sure. No, that was a lie. He never trusted Lorcan really, he knew he would get screwed over. Carrick just didn't want to admit it to himself. He just wanted his mother to be okay so he was willing to overlook the circumstances surrounding her conditional release.

Are you truly capable of such selflessness Carrick?
Selene's words rattled around in his mind. The answer bringing a sad smile to his lips as his feet carried him from the Elderwood.

In Mewling Glenn he found three druids sprawled across the grass under the roofless marble structure that reminded him of a miniature greek parthenon. Butterfly bushes were planted around the base of the columns, their blue, white and purple blossoms attracting their namesake in large quantities. Song birds flittered about, hopping along the top edge of the white carved structure before diving across the meadow in aerial avant. It was clear that the male druid had sat up shop first, centered under the parthenon with his head bowed. The two girls were off to the right a good ten paces, their faces equally buried in literature, however their eyes lifted every few minutes to sneak a peek at the boy. He recognized them instantly, both fair of hair in flowing dresses of pale blue and orange. Their long tresses intricately woven across the crown of their head then down the back in a singular braid. Each beautiful for entirely different reasons. Eliana with her angular almost elvish features, her eyes as pale as her gown. Her frame was equally thin with very little curves. Brienne on the other hand was more of a Grecian beauty with her square jaw and large almond shaped eyes, her body was thicker than her friends. Not fat, she just held a layer of defined muscle over her bones that Eliana lacked.

Carrick waved awkwardly as he walked past them, causing both to blush and giggle. It was a strange effect for him to have on the opposite sex. He was used to going unnoticed or worse, avoided. Had he not saved Liz from being crushed from all those pipes...odds are she would have never given him the time of day either. Here though, here he was treated like the QB of the football team. It was more than he was accustomed, more than he probably deserved.

"Aodhan!"

His head snapped up from his book. "Where have you been?"

Carrick groaned.  Last night had been Conall’s celebration.  He'd been so taxed after the fight with the fell he had completely forgotten.  What a good friend he was.

"It’s a long story." 
Here it goes...
"I need your help Aodhan."

"Well it's about bloody time!" His friend leapt to his feet.  He didn't ask with what or why.  He just took him at his word.

Aodhan tipped his head towards the two beauties as he walked past. "Ladies." That brought on a fresh round of giggles. Carrick couldn't get past how different women were here. It wasn't that they were subservient, far from it, it was the grace in which they conducted themselves. There was none of the petty bickering, fat jokes or general mean girls syndrome from back home. They acted as sisters united in both beauty and poise. Intelligent and outspoken yet somehow still demure and innocent. A perfect pairing of imperfection and contradiction. Carrick shook his head as they walked away from Mewling glen, his thoughts were starting to read like bloody poetry. He hated poetry.

"Do you know where Tadhg is?" Carrick asked when they reached the path.

"Home, prolly gettin’ worked over like a mule by his mum." Aodhan pointed down the road, the bend north partially obscured by thick branches.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Aye, I think she likes you."

"Huh?"

"Eliana."

"No." Carrick shook his head with a laugh. "No, it’s about Selene."

Aodhan’s brows about jumped off his forehead.  "Whoa...no no. Do not go there lad."

"Not like that!" Carrick blushed, brushing the hair from his eyes. "I wanted to ask you about her and my Dad. Figured if anyone knew you might..."

"I don't know much for sure, just some rumors from my folks." Aodhan looked around, making sure there were no extra listeners to the conversation. It seemed a bit ridiculous, the stone path was vacant aside from an older man feeding birds from a bench at the top of the hill. "As you may know Selene's father was an important man, elder on the council. Her family has been top of the chain since the Greek days."

"I didn't know that."

"No fooling. Your grandfather Osin Slaine was a dear friend of her father Zeno Lilevyn. I guess there was talks of a marriage between Brannon and Selene at one point." Aodhan smirked. "Then your dad ran off human side and met your mum. Completely buggared the whole thing."

"Oh..." That explained a lot.

"Not one to be thwarted, I heard Osin shifted the arrangement to his second son Erik, but then everything went to the hells when Lorcan lit the sky."

"So Erik and Selene never..."

"Never wed, yeah. Though most ladies will tell you she's willing and waiting. Dunno why they never followed it up. Most think with Osin and Zeno dead, no one's beating Erik 'bout the head to hold the arrangement."

Carrick frowned, he couldn't think of a reason why Erik would shy from Selene. She was a wonderful cook, kind, beautiful, intelligent, a kick ass fighter. "He's stupid not to marry her." Carrick thought out loud.

"Mum says he's too lost, can't see the moon from the clouds."

"What's that mean?"

"Hell if I know. Look." Aodhan pointed at the home to the right of the stone path, down a steep incline was a clearing with a large hill at the center. A berm house carved into the ground itself. Two windows and a wide door jutted out of the hillside. Blackberry bushes planted on either side of the purple stained wooden door, a garden on the left side of the walkway. To the right was a creek where the Ros siblings currently toiled under the watchful eyes of their mother and grandmother. The redhead was in the center, scrubbing clothes for the line alongside the others with the same grim look of boredom.

"Tadhg!"

"Aye?" The moment his hands stopped rubbing those shirts over the wash bin Tadhg's mother came barreling down the line. Her shrill voice scolding him at a hundred words a minute in the same barely intelligible accent her son had.

"Need you my brother." Aodhan called from the road, stifling a laugh.

He smiled. "Aye!" Dropping the wash back into the soapy water, he bounded up the hill at record pace. Leaving his flailing mother shouting in the valley while his younger sisters ran about by her feet.

"Sah plan then?" Tadhg asked, jogging quickly down the path while looking over his shoulder. Carrick didn't blame him, his mother seemed like just the sort of hellcat to follow him screaming and yelling for miles.
What a picture that would have made
. Carrick thought.

"Gotta get Conall. And Quin." Carrick tacked on the last bit begrudgingly.

"Saw 'em earlier round tha market." Tadhg said.

"Then to market we shall go!" Aodhan announced. It was starting to warm up for the day, the sun's rays penetrating the high canopy in gentle spotlights. Butterflies, rabbits and other small mammals were drawn to the light. They could be seen in the soft circles, curled up in respite lulled by the song birds above. A group of children ran past them in a far greater hurry to get to the shops. Laughing and fighting with sticks, much as kids do. Carrick could picture a younger version of himself doing the same, it would have been nice to grow up in Dre'ien.

The scents of the market told them they were close. Salted meats, herbs and oils created an intricate aroma that was always oscillating. Depending on the combination, Carrick found his senses were either delighted or he fought the urge to gag. Not always from stench, although sometimes, but mostly from the sheer potency of the scent. Didn't help that he was walking past the tonic stalls.

The Drann was busy this morning, it appeared a fresh batch of oils and scents had been brewed.  Ladies of all disciplines clamored over one and another for first pick.  Carrick had to hold his breath from the overwhelming mixture of jasmine, lavender and vanilla.

Aodhan had to push him past the butcher.  The smoking meats still had him drooling when they spotted Conall over by the leather workers.  His blond hair pulled back from his face, thumb under his chin as he nodded along to whatever the shop keep was saying about the pelt in front of him.  The merchant seemed overly eager to have Conall browsing his wears.  Millie's restful sprawl in the grass outside his sign had drawn quite a crowd.

"Conall. Quin."

"What's doing?" Quin asked, not turning his attention from the row of leather pouches he'd been browsing.

"I really need your help." It was easier to say to him that he wished to admit.

"What can we do to be of aid?" Conall asked with endearing sincerity.

Carrick frowned as he looked around. The marketplace was getting very crowded, typical for late morning. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Quin stood. "My place." With that he walked away from them, never looking back to see if they had followed. Of course they did. Carrick, for all his loathing of Quin, was eager to see where he rested his brooding head at night.

The row of homesteads north of the market terminated in a cul-de-sac stone walkway around a series of ancient looking redwoods.  The one left of center was unique in its twisted branches, the trunk itself looked as though someone had bent the tree about like clay when it was a sapling, wide groove marks spiraled around its base.  Aside from its unique physical properties, the twisted tree seemed fairly neglected.  The walkway had not been swept in sometime.  Several of the branches did not appear very healthy, leaves partially wilted.  The other homes at this dead end were above reproach, their landings decorated with stone statues, decorated lanterns and chimes.

Carrick found himself smirking as they walked into the cul-de-sac.  He bet these other 'homeowners' harbored some serious resentment for their lazy neighbor.  Carrick figured the place was home to one of those ancient relics he'd seen wandering about Dre'ien leaning on their cane.  Hard to do yard work when one could barely take a step forward.

Quin walked forward, towards the most opulent house at dead center.  Made perfect sense that someone with as much attitude as he had come from a wealthy haughty family.  His father was probably some big wig elder on the council, probably had one hell of a pampered childhood.

When he reached the end of the path, Quin turned to his left.  The vine's over the front door fell away, welcoming him graciously.

The name plate outside the wide twisted tree declared the homestead to be Ash End. Carrick touched a flaking piece of the dark bark with his fingertips.  Although it was the last on the block before the wood, it felt far older than the surrounding homes.  Not just older but...sadder.  Carrick pulled his hand back, immediately feeling like an ass for his assumptions about Quin.

While the Elderwood provided a graceful entrance to the high rise, Ash End was a ground level entry. A thin carved twist of a staircase led them up a dank corridor to the common room.