Jay - Ahern's Burden
Bitter Sweet

“I’ll get the bucket,” Nuvi said, going back into the house. “Do you have everything else?”

“Yes,” Arina answered.

She watched her mother step over the threshold and turned to look out beyond the porch. The morning was calm. The crisp, still air chilled the skin under her thin sleeves, but she knew it would be a beautiful day once the sun cleared the tress.

In front of her laid their garden. A small piece of flat land she and her mother had meticulously tended over the winter months. She thought about her frozen extremities when they worked between snowfalls. Today they would begin planting. In a few short weeks, she would start to see why they worked so hard throughout the winter.

Arina could hear her mother inside, walking from room to room, and decided she had waited long enough. She took a few steps off the porch when she heard a large twig snap from the surrounding tree line. She held her breath and stopped moving. A second snap, followed by a third, was enough for her to run back onto the porch.

“Mother!” Arina yelled towards the house. “Mother!”

Nuvi quickly joined her outside. “What is it?”

“Someone’s coming,” she said, pointing to the trees beyond the garden. “Look.”

Visitors were not uncommon to their household, but never before sunrise.

Nuvi squinted against the horizon and saw a large figure in the trees. The more she looked she noticed the figure staggering towards them. Instinctively, she grabbed her daughter’s shoulder and moved in front of her while taking a step towards the door.

When the figure cleared the trees, it stopped. Nuvi couldn’t tell who or what was in the trees, but she knew it was staring at them.

“Nuvi?” called a young familiar voice.

Nuvi watched the figure slowly bend down and split in two. She took a step forward, recognizing the voice but still not sure what was going on.

“Barclay needs you.”

Before Barclay’s full name came off Jay’s lips, Nuvi had jumped off the porch. She hit the ground running and continued through the perfect soil of their unplanted garden.

Arina tried to keep up but quickly fell behind.

Jay had rolled Barclay onto his back when she arrived.

Barclay went unconscious again after they teleported, and his frame was too much for Jay to carry further.

When Nuvi saw him, she put her hands to her face, covering her nose and mouth. “No, no,” she said over and over and began to sob.

Jay watched her reaction and didn’t know what to say or do.

Arina arrived and Nuvi fell to Barclay’s side.

“Mommy?”

Nuvi either didn’t hear her or didn’t know how to answer. Either way, Jay got to his feet and put his arm around her.

“We were taken by surprise,” Jay started after a few minutes. “The men used some type of sorcery to keep us from teleporting.” He felt like he was talking to himself.

Nuvi brought Barclay’s limp hand up to her cheek.

Jay replayed the events in his head and still didn’t understand how he did what he did. He felt the need to explain how they got here.

“I was able to move the men away from Barclay and he had enough strength to teleport us here,” he continued. “When we arrived, he fell over.”

Jay looked down at Arina. He at least had her attention.

“At first I didn’t know where we were,” he went on, not looking away. “I thought we were going to...” Jay stopped, not knowing if he should say Taq. “I thought we were going someplace else and it took me a moment to recognize where we were.”

Jay looked to Nuvi and saw her head tilted so she could keep Barclay’s hand on her cheek and look at Jay. Her eyes surprised him. She didn’t look angry but pulled a slight smile instead.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to bring him to the house,” Jay said. “Can you help him?”

Nuvi nodded and smiled. She looked back to Barclay and bathed his hand in her tears. “Yes,” she said, gently placing Barclay’s hand over his chest. She took a deep breath and looked at her daughter. “Arina, go inside and boil some water. Jay, go with Arina and return with the cart.”

Jay nodded and the two walked off together with his arm around her shoulder. When they returned, Arina held the cart still while Jay and Nuvi muscled Barclay on to the flat boards. They pulled him up to the house. They exerted all their strength to bring him inside and lay him in front of the fireplace.

Arina placed a small log on the fire to aid the boiling water.

Jay sat at the table and rubbed his eyes while Nuvi and Arina began tending to Barclay’s swollen, bloody face.

“Have you slept?” Nuvi asked, after a while.

“No,” Jay answered, blinking heavily. “I didn’t feel tired until I sat down.”

“Arina, bring two blankets.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“No,” Jay protested, not wanting them to take attention away from Barclay. “I’m fine.”

Arina paused and looked at her mother.

“Get the blankets,” Nuvi said without looking up.

Jay began to protest again but Nuvi shut him up.

“Young master Plough,” she said, locking eyes. “I will do everything I can for Barclay. The best place for you to be is on that couch resting. I have many questions to ask after you have cleared your mind.”

Arina came back in to the room with two large, neatly folded blankets.

“There,” Nuvi said pointing with her chin to the couch. “The bed you normally use is not ready. You’ll have to sleep here.”

Arina spread the first blanket down and waited with the other folded in her arms.

Jay stood and pulled his arms behind his back as he walked to the couch. His legs felt tied to the floor. He rubbed his eyes again, unable to keep the drowsiness at bay. He stripped off his cloak and removed his shoes before falling horizontal.

Arina spread the blanket across Jay. When she looked at his face, he was already asleep.

“One of your wolves is dead.”

“Yes,” Atticus answered. “I know.”

“Why are you helping him?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did he threaten you again?”

Atticus didn’t answer. He shifted in his seat and turned to face Demetri in the doorway. “What can I do?”

“Resist!”

Atticus closed his eyes and sighed. “You know we can’t.”

“You are not powerless,” Demetri affirmed.

Atticus turned his head but said nothing.

“Out of all of us,” Demetri said, sincerely trying to explain his frustration, “I always thought you to be the strongest, and not because of your age. You still govern the wolves, do you not?”

Atticus didn’t respond to his rhetorical question.

“Seneca could never do what you do,” Demetri continued. “Why do you listen to him?”

Atticus still looked away.

Demetri walked across the room and looked out the window.

With Demetri’s back to him, Atticus quickly rose from his chair and walked across the room towards the door.

Believing the conversation to be over, Demetri thought he was alone when he heard the door shut. When he turned around he saw Atticus standing silent, his eyes lowered. He had his arms hanging low with his hands together.

Demetri looked closely at his aged friend. They had grown close during their extended life. “I’m sorry,” he said in all sincerity, “I do not mean to control your actions.”

Atticus nodded.

“I feel a tremendous exhaustion these days,” Demetri continued, turning back to the window. “I desire this all to end.”

“I share a similar desire,” Atticus said, “but I fear it will not.”

Demetri grabbed the back of a nearby chair and dragged it to the window. He exhaled years of sleepless nights and frustration as he rested his frame.

Atticus walked back to his desk and took his seat.

“I do not have the strength to do this much longer,” Demetri admitted. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t recall my mind ever feeling this weak.”

“Our lives should have ending,” Atticus said bluntly. “We should not be here.”

“Seneca would disagree,” Demetri said.

“He would disagree with anyone,” Atticus retorted.

Demetri nodded and looked away. “Why did he need your wolves?”

“He strongly believes Ahern gave this boy direction, and he wants to know what he knows.”

“And your wolves tracked him down?”

“Seneca suggested that I make them available to the Grood,” he explained. “He was alerted of movement at Cedar and my wolves took him to investigate. I don’t know if they found the boy, but one of them didn’t survive. They could have run into a band of thieves. I won’t know until I speak with him.”

“Where is your wolf?” Demetri asked. “And the Grood?”

“The Grood is traveling home. Seneca has my wolf.”

“He’s interrogating him.”

Atticus nodded. “I believe he will survive, but if he doesn’t, Seneca won’t have wolves to do his work.”

“You sound like you want him to die,” Demetri stated.

“I don’t want anyone to die,” he said lowering his head. “I want it to end.”

Demetri was surprised at Atticus’ bluntness. Although deep down he felt the same, this was not the first time their conversation turned hard in that direction.

“I’ve seen too much destruction,” Atticus said. “That’s why I agreed to send the wolves. If the boy is what Seneca believes him to be, then my last two wolves would be gone, and Seneca would have fewer resources at his disposal. But if by chance they went too far and killed the boy, then Ahern’s secrets die with him and Seneca will never succeed.”

Demetri looked at his old friend and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Atticus looked at him and raised his thick eyebrows.

“I assumed incorrectly when I heard of your wolf. I should have known better, and I should have never spoken to you in that tone.”

“No matter,” Atticus replied. “I know your heart. I’ve grown too old to take anything personally.”

Demetri leaned back in his chair and rested his head on the top rail. “None of us have much time.”

Atticus knew he would die first if they didn’t find Ahern’s secret. The other Idols wouldn’t last more than a decade after he left. He looked at it as an honor and couldn’t wait for the day to come.

“Do you think I could sit here until my time is up?”

Demetri watched Atticus close his eyes and slouch into his chair.

“You could,” Demetri agreed, “but what good would that do?”

“One less quiver for the archer.”

“Yes, but why not be your own archer?”

Atticus opened his eyes but continued his slouch.

“You’re never too old, my friend,” Demetri said, rising from his chair and knocking on his desk. “Your potential is still without measure.”

Atticus and Demetri locked eyes and the later smiled.

“Whether you have a day or a decade, it’s never too late.”

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