The Talesfast Inn, Aelorean’s Crossing
Winter 212, just after the retaking of the town
“Hello, Arlo…”
The words hang in the dense, tavern air, like the smoke from a freshly extinguished flame, making it hard to breathe, or even think. He should be dead. I should have found his alcohol-soaked corpse curled in a ball in the house where I was born. Stepped over it on the way to retrieve something of my mother’s; something he no doubt selfishly squirreled away after she’d gone all those years ago. But there was no body and no trinkets. Just a burnt out shell of anger and bad memories.
Why is he alive? Why is he here? I fight back the questions flooding my mind because I don’t want to know the answers. I don’t want to know who he sold out, or where he cowered while his town was being ransacked and burned. Arlo’s wretched smile says it all anyways. Only he can muster a smile whilst surrounded by so much death and destruction.
“They said you had gone,” a vapor trail of liquor carries his words across the room and to the doorway I still darken. He speaks slowly and with a slight slur. “Ran away into the woods… …Dead, most likely.”
It reminds me of the words he would say when I would ask where Mom went. My anger grows.
“I went looking for ya.”
Bullshit.
“‘fore all dem Swans came.”
There’s blood dripping from my left hand, but my fist only tightens.
“Knew they wouldn’t get ya tho… you’re wily. Just like a Faux! HEAH HEAH HEAH Ha Ha ha ha!”
The sudden outburst of laughter startles me out of my rage, and I look at him like he’s finally lost his mind. He doesn’t notice me, and his laughing fit continues until he rediscovers the drink in his hand. He downs what’s left in the flagon and deftly swoops up a nearby bottle from among the many, checking its contents with a little shake. The sloshing makes him smile eagerly as he goes to refill his cup. Only then does he notice I’m still there, and he looks at me like I just walked in.
“Oooohhhhh.” He squints across the room and looks me up and down, nodding.
Does he even recognize me?
He tilts the bottle towards me with a grin, and cocks his head to the side.
“Want some?”
My anger returns. Familiar.
“We are leaving,” I say with as little emotion as possible, ignoring his question. “Not coming back.”
The air is so heavy; weighed down by the silence.
“Goodbye, Arlo.”
I can feel the tension in my jaw lessen as I turn to leave. I never wanted to see him again. Let alone say goodbye. It’s better than he deserves. But at least it’s done…
“Your Mother, Gods rest her soul…”
Nope. Too much.
I see red and close the distance quickly, throwing a table out of the way, shattering both dishes and table alike. I smack the flagon from his hand as he casually lifts it to his lips, like nothing’s happening. Like he didn’t just pierce that vein. Wrenching him up by his collar, I punch him square, and expect him to smile, like he always does when we fight. But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes darken. I’m already mid-swing again when the change registers, but it’s too late. He swiftly ducks and lowers his left shoulder into my chest just as my fist misses its mark, then uses my momentum to flip me over his back and through an adjacent table. By the time I realize what’s happened, he’s lifting me by my collar. Eyes still dark, he punches me twice in the stomach, before I finally block and counter. Still too slow. He’s around behind me before I know it. His back against mine as he flips me yet again into scattered chairs. I’m stunned. He’s never moved this fast before. Countered me so deftly. He usually just smiles as we exchange punches, until we are both too tired to continue. But not today.
Today is different. Today is the last day we will ever fight.
We go back and forth. Exchanging blows. Transitioning between brawling and finesse, then back to brawling. But he is always one step ahead. Always absorbing my strikes and countering with his own. Isn’t he drunk?? I’m losing stamina, and he’s not slowing down. Eyes still dark, his fists rain down upon me mercilessly as I drop to one knee. My counterblows are weak and easily deflected. As my vision dims, I muster the last of my strength and trace a sign in the air and speak a melodic Elvish phrase that I do not fully understand. A deafening boom explodes out from me, throwing Arlo, myself, and everything not nailed down to the edges of the tavern. It takes a moment for the ringing in my ears to subside. Then another to clear the debris off of me.
Bruised and exhausted, I slowly stand, dust cascading off of my tunic. I look in the direction Arlo flew, but there is no sign. Have I killed him? I’m unsure what I feel at the thought. Sadness? Relief? Remorse? Suddenly, the debris shifts, and a fist with bloody knuckles clutching a bottle emerges. As Arlo sits up out of the wreckage, he begins to laugh.
“Hot damn. Heh heh. You sure do take after your mother.”
“Arlo.” My jaw tightens again, but all my strength has left me. I can barely stand. My vision blurs, and I wobble.
Arlo nods knowingly, takes a swig from the miraculously unbroken bottle, then reaches into his shirt. He pulls out a necklace with a small, golden medallion on it and yanks it from his neck.
“Your mothe…” He catches himself. “T’aliavera…” I haven’t heard him say her name since she left. Have I even said it myself? “…T’alia… saved my life with this when we first met. Heh. Afterwards, she gave it to me and said, ‘Here, Moron. You need this more than I do.’ Hahaha, in that moment, I knew I loved her.” He takes a swig and starts to meander through the debris towards me.
I stand dazed in a devastated landscape. My mind spinning. The words ringing in my head. Barely staying afloat.
“It’s good you’re leavin’” His words sound so far away. “Town’s dead. You will be too iffin you stay here…” Drifting.
“Stick with your friends…” Farther away.
“S’olenroux…” So far.
Years away.
“Here, Moron. You need this more than I do.” Eons.
In a fog, I barely hold out my palm and immediately collapse onto a half broken stool. Staring at the floor for an immeasurable amount of time. Fading in and out of consciousness. All is quiet. Until I finally notice the weight. My eyes slowly focus in and out on the golden medallion in my hand. A horse with a single horn adorns one side. On the other? A dragon. “Dad?” It’s almost subsonic. I try hard to focus and look up, but he’s not there. I close my fingers around the medallion and hold it close to me. Then all goes dark.
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