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Venator, Page 4

James Bubela


  Lorin's eyes stayed low.

  "If you’d talk to me… let me know what I can do, maybe I can help somehow. Give you some money and food if you need to travel, get you a different job or anything. I just need to know what I can do."

  A faint whistle from the vent at the top of the mill started, like an exhale of breath, building till the whistle became ear splitting. Yet the silence blanketing the two was louder. Lorin's gaze never lifted, and the whistle faded. Shane looked away from Lorin, nodding with pursed lips, and let out a heavy sigh while reaching for the lever.

  "Thank you for your hospitality, Shane," Lorin said.

  Shane jerked in surprise and almost slammed his head into one of the stone rollers. "I was starting to really think you couldn't speak, you know that?" Shane's jolly smile came back.

  "I don't plan to stay here forever—I think I'll be gone soon. Before the addition is done." He looked to Shane, but then lowered his eyes again. "I have had a lot of time to think, and you have been kind enough to let me stay silent and work through what I needed to. Thank you for that."

  "If you don't mind me asking, what has been troubling you?"

  "I don't mind, so long as you don't mind my silence. It's not easy to say, and I don't want to say it."

  "Here, sit with me. I finally got you talkin', so we need to get comfortable at least. Now, I know you don't want to talk about it. Something tragic struck you mute. But if you keep that all inside yourself without letting it out, it's sure to kill you, no doubt. As sure as that saw can."

  Shane lowered his head to meet Lorin's eyes. "I have seen it with my sister, may she rest. She lost her daughter."

  Lorin looked away from Shane.

  "A few days after she was born. Was alive just long enough for her to make that bond, you know? Though, I suppose that bond is started in the belly. It was devastating for all of us. But she stayed quiet for a long time, wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak—I don't think she even blinked. The second week to the day after the little one died, we found her lying in her bed, arms slit to the bone. No note, just the knife she used."

  A long silence passed.

  "It's tragic," Shane continued, "what happened to her and her child. If she’d told us she felt that way, maybe we could've helped her. She would be holdin' my boy with my wife right now. Enjoying life. She couldn't see through the pain she never let escape."

  Shane stood and walked in front of Lorin. Tears had welled in both men's eyes. "You got the same look that she had."

  Lorin flinched. His mouth opened to reply, but no words came.

  "Don't want to be the one to bury you, or for my wife to see."

  Lorin stayed silent.

  "I can't make you speak, and I don't plan to. If you’re set on something, there is little I can do to stop that. You have had your mind all to yourself for quite some time. But I helped you and fed you, after you showed up on my land without an invitation. I ask you to repay that debt by accepting some gifts and for you to go into town. Once you’re there, do what you will. But not on my land, please. That's all I ask if you won't change your mind."

  Lorin stood, avoiding Shane's eyes. "Let's finish the boards, and then I'll leave."

  "Bah!” Shane scoffed, and reached up to pat Lorin’s shoulder. “Not until after you eat what my wife has cooked up for us. Then you give her a kiss on the cheek, thanking her for what she's done for you. You can leave in the morning fresh. Alright?"

  "I don't think I have a choice."

  "You’re damn right you don't."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "That was yesterday," Lorin said, leaning forward on the table, eyes down at the amber drink between his hands. "I left in the night in a much worse state of mind. Everything felt like I was wading through a fog thick as tar."

  Arthur stared at Lorin for a while, then waved his hand high above his head. Catherine appeared a second later with a refill. "Lorin needs a shot of Burnt Night," Arthur said, a mix of pity and excitement in his voice.

  "You boys have eaten enough to be safe for one, but if you throw up in here I'll make you clean the tavern for the rest of the week." Catherine then spun on her heel off to behind the bar.

  "Thanks for listening, Arthur," Lorin said, looking up. "You’re easy to talk to."

  "It's not all me. Your story is so… Can I tell you a secret?" Arthur's boyish grin faded, and he didn't wait for an answer. "Catherine feels bad for me—she's the only one that talks to me. Everyone else is mean… so mean. I don't know why."

  Lorin reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Arthur sniffed and smiled.

  "You are very nice to me. Not since Harrison died has someone wanted to talk with me."

  Lorin said nothing. He couldn't think of anything to say.

  Catherine approached and Arthur wiped his face as quickly as he could and smiled. Both men sat straight in their chairs as she placed a shot glass in front of each of them. In the glasses was a liquid thin as water but so dark it looked like a void eating up the light around it.

  "What is it?" Lorin asked, examining the drink.

  "Special formula," Catherine said in a voice that silenced any further questions.

  Lorin shrugged and downed the shot. It didn't burn, but cooled, numbing his mouth and throat on the way down. When he couldn't feel it creep down anymore, his whole body tingled and warmed. The room spun a few times, but finally settled and he sat staring out with a wide smile.

  "Wow," Lorin said, relaxed and calm. "That was wonderful."

  "You took it well," Catherine said, one hand resting on a tilted hip. "Most pass out, or at least cough. I'm impressed."

  Lorin lolled his head around. "I feel so good right now, everything is… loose."

  "Do you feel good enough to tell another story?" Arthur was still holding the full shot glass.

  "Yeah, maybe. What did you want me to tell you?"

  "Where did you get all your scars from?"

  Lorin felt his brain try to tense his muscles, to knot his stomach and block the memories away. Instead, he felt more warmth and another pulse of tingles all over.

  "It's a longer story, and I said before I don't want to tell it."

  "What if I give you my shot for the story?" Arthur held out the glass.

  Lorin wanted another taste. Wanted this feeling to never end. He hadn't felt this relaxed in any recent memory. Catherine reached out to grab the shot, but Lorin was faster.

  "No! He will just pass out," Catherine said, trying her best to stop him. Lorin had the glass emptied and tipped upside down on the table before she finished speaking. The same numbing flushed through his body, and the room spun, and spun. He didn't feel nauseous, or sick. He just felt good, out of body, but cognizant. The room slowed, and he put his hands flat on the table. Catherine lifted his eyelids and examined his eyes.

  "You still with us, Lorin?" she asked.

  "Yes, I feel very good." His words weren't slurred or unclear. "You wanted a story, Arthur?"

  Arthur nodded in excitement and leaned close.

  Satisfied, Catherine took a step back and stared in amazement. "Only known a dwarf to be able to handle two shots."

  Lorin didn't seem to hear her and started to speak. "It was a cool morning, I had been up early to get some firewood…" As he spoke, Lorin noticed that the Thornguard group was still in the tavern and had moved a few tables closer to them. The woman who had won the drinking game was attentive and hanging on Lorin's words. He paused for a bit, then repeated himself. "It was a cool morning, I had been up early to get some firewood, and I found a deer."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Lorin! It's time for breakfast," Jessica called out to the tree line. She was standing in the doorway of a log cabin centered in the clearing of a forest. The light of morning brightened the side of her face and burned away a low mist above the grass. The cabin was a simple square building with a shallow peaked roof. Two small windows looked out over a well-tended garden beside the doorway she stood in. She was wearing a long d
ress with her hair wrapped by a green cloth—though a few red hairs escaped the wrap. One particularly rebellious lock fell in front of her eye and she tried to blow it out of sight, with mixed success. It failed to move the hairs, but it did inspire a gleeful laugh from the little boy she held on her hip. The boy had red hair, a shade brighter than hers, and pudgy cheeks that quivered with his laugh. His wide smile proudly showed off his two teeth. "Oh? You like that?" she said and touched her nose to his. "Come on, call for Papa, alright? Call for Papa."

  The boy smiled wide, and his shrill voice squeaked out, "Pah-Pah!"

  "Good job," she said, squeezing the boy in a hug. She cherished the moment as they embraced and rustling came from farther in the woods as Lorin appeared. He had a thick rope over his shoulder, and he was hunched forward with sweat pouring down his face. Behind him, attached to the rope, a carcass of a deer was wrapped up in a makeshift sled. "I'll just drop this off and come in to eat," Lorin said with the last of his breath.

  "Check for any more eggs, we are almost out," she said, turning inside the cabin. The boy's eyes never left Lorin and he waved his small hand.

  Lorin smiled back and continued to drag his spoils toward the half-built barn. Letting the rope drop, he slid the carcass under a lean-to and stretched his back as a few audible pops escaped. While rubbing his shoulder he made his way around the barn, then grabbed a basket placed outside the entrance. The smell of warm hay and chicken shit was familiar and somehow welcoming. He reached into the warm straw nests in search of any new eggs. A few disturbed fowl later, Lorin emerged into the sunlight that was peeking through the trees. With an inhale and exhale of the cool air he took a moment to look over his homestead, a satisfied smile etched on his features.

  Setting his bow and arrows against the side of the cabin, he opened the door. Smoke-scented air wafted over Lorin as he was greeted by his son's two wide green eyes. The boy’s mouth was agape with a fist of scrambled eggs mashed against his cheek. The little guy sat at a table in the center of the home and let out a gleeful squeal while pointing straight at Lorin. "Pah-Pah!"

  "Here, they are still warm from the hens," Lorin said, holding the basket out toward his wife and daughter. His eyes, however, stayed locked onto the young diner at the table. "Samuel, I think you have something on your face." He let the basket transfer to his wife without a glance and moved to the boy. Arms extended, he picked the young one out of the chair. The boy's little feet kicked in excitement while he still held a fistful of eggs in hand. A squeal, cute enough to melt Lorin's heart, came from the boy as he was lifted. "I'm glad you saved some for me," Lorin said, picking a few chunks of scrambled eggs from the boy's shirt. The boy grew quiet, and there was a slight pause as a thought washed across the boy's face, culminating in a devilish smile. Realizing too late, Lorin only managed to close his eyes and mouth as an egg-filled slap stuck to the top of his forehead.

  "He wants to share," Jessica said, her voice cracking with a smile.

  "Jess…" Lorin said, one eye closed and a chunk of egg stuck to his eyelash. She was lost to laughter already and didn't hear him.

  Sarah was standing at the cast iron pan sizzling on the stove, but she paused her cooking and walked to Lorin. "I'll take him to the well and clean him up, Dad."

  "Sure, but maybe you should eat first?"

  Before he finished his sentence, she was holding her brother and had started walking toward the door. "I pecked as I cooked, I'm fine." Then she was out the door and closed it behind her with a kick. It wasn't a slam, but it wasn't gentle. He let her footsteps fade before Lorin turned to Jessica. "Have I been too busy to notice, or is this a new development?"

  "You have been working hard," she said, handing him a plate and motioning for him to sit. "But I think she's scared to open up to you."

  Lorin's face scrunched up. "What? Why? When did this happen? I thought we talked about everything."

  "We do, but… this one is about a boy." She tilted her head with a sly grin, eyeing him for a reaction.

  Lorin kept his eyes down at his plate of scrambled breakfast, but he scrunched up his face when his bite of food crunched.

  "Lorin, you knew this would happen eventually—we joked about it when she was born."

  Holding his index finger up toward her, Lorin lifted the corner of his shirt to his mouth. "Eggshell," Lorin said, smiling through the pain. "It went sideways between my teeth."

  Jessica gave a look.

  Lorin sighed and said, "I am a little upset she doesn't think she can talk to me."

  "Can you blame her?"

  "What did I do?"

  "Remember before we moved here, at the last winter fair we went to? That boy? He gave her a flower and sat next to her."

  "Yeah sure, but I didn't do anything," Lorin said, as he lifted his next forkful to check for eggshells.

  "You sat between them and scared that poor boy so bad he cried."

  "I think you exaggerate a little bit."

  "You got a crazed look in your eye, and I remember thinking I’d have to pull you away."

  "I did not. I was only giving the kid a bit of a hard time, I thought it was kinda funny."

  "You remember how nervous you were when you gave a girl a flower? Now add on top of that her dad acting like you did. That little guy is scarred for life now."

  "Well if he can't withstand a few little pokes, then Sarah is too good for him."

  "Doesn't matter, you scared away a boy that liked her. Are you still wondering why she doesn't think she can confide in you about relationships?"

  "She's only twelve, relationships should be too big of a word for her."

  Jessica leaned in close and watched Lorin with an uncomfortable amount of focus. "You’re actually scared, I can see it."

  Lorin stopped chewing and looked at her. Her eyes darted to points on his face. "Yeah." He paused to swallow his last bit of food. "I'm scared. I can't keep up with how fast she is growing."

  Reaching her arm around him, Jessica laid her head just under his chin and took a moment to feel his breathing and warmth. Then with a sigh, her voice reverberated through his chest. "I know, it is scary. I remember hating my parents when I was her age. They would yell at me if I spent time with boys, they treated a harmless little kiss like murder. They were harsh… but now I can see where they were coming from." She turned her head up to look at Lorin.

  A half-cocked smile was etched on Lorin's face. He kissed her forehead, then said, "I think they may have been more scared that I was the one you were kissing, not so much that you were growing up." Lorin began to laugh, but was stifled by a sturdier-than-expected slap to his chest as Jessica pushed off him.

  "Lorin, that's not the point…" she said, her face serious, but after a moment her sly smile peeked out. "Even though you're right about that."

  "I know," Lorin said. "But I am a little lost for what to do. Can I even fix it, should I try to?"

  Jessica leaned back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "Just go talk to her. Let her vent a bit if she wants to, but just listen to what she has to say. If you want to interject and correct her, bite your tongue or you will do more harm than good. It's not about teaching her the best way, because she won't trust her father's advice, not right now." Jessica stood and placed her hand on Lorin's shoulder. "Just remind her that you are there when she needs you—and she will need you, but maybe not right now." Jessica then left Lorin sitting at the table lost in thought. When she got to the iron stove, she took the pan and scraped the few chunks of leftover egg onto another plate. "I have to clean up in here, then we need to work on the deer you brought. Go see Sarah now. It's better if you talk soon."

  With that Lorin stood, his muscles tight from his small bit of rest. He walked behind Jessica and put his arms around her waist as she worked. "I love you," he said with a kiss just under her jaw, then he turned to walk away.

  Jessica stopped him with a hug from behind. She stood a little taller on her feet and in a whisper said, "After your
talk"—she pressed her fingertips into his chest—"send the kids to pick berries for lunch." Then she let him go and walked over to pick up the dirty dishes on the table.

  Lorin continued to the door and looked at Jessica before he opened it. She gave him a sly smile and kept working. Lorin smirked, winked, and exited the cabin.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The door shut behind him and he took a deep breath. Sarah and Sam were both by the water pump; Sarah was looking out to the tree line, lost in thought, while her little brother giggled and swatted at the water. Lorin slung his bow over his shoulder along with his quiver. It was a force of habit. The Wilds were dangerous this far out, and he felt naked without any weapons. Lorin began the short walk to his children; the pump was between the barn and the house, so water wasn't hard to carry to either building. As Lorin walked he thought about what to say. If he said the wrong thing… when he said the wrong thing, would she hate him for it? What if she was excited that he cared about how she felt? That would be nice. Maybe there was no boy and she was just dreaming about them in general. That would be understandable—after all, they lived on the last property before the Wilds. The nearest homestead was a day’s walk; no boy would walk that far to meet a girl. Lorin stopped a little over halfway to the pair. He remembered walking all night to sneak out with Jessica, then, he would spend the rest of the day hunting only to meet her again the next night. Losing sleep had been an easy price to pay. He would make the trek for her, but would another boy? Lorin looked at Sarah again. She was still watching out at the tree line that marked the end of the clearing.

  Lorin followed her gaze with all the honed senses of an overprotective father. He didn't see anything where Sarah was looking, but continued to scan. There wasn't a breeze, the clearing was quiet. No, it was silent. Birds should have been singing, squirrels chasing each other, anything should have been making some sound. Yet the clearing was quiet.