Chapter 29: The Archer

Whatever there was to be said about Jalvyn Kaldoun, Miro’s father, the world’s first magus; whichever way you wanted to look at him and his abilities and accomplishments, what he didn’t have standing in his way was that vile debuff message at the end of his stats sheet, which rendered Miro without much use, no matter what label could have been applied to him. Would Peteri have made the trip here if he knew how pointless it was?

“Why’d you come here?” Miro crossed his arms and slumped into himself, “Why didn’t you just let me be a blacksmith’s apprentice or something?”

“That was going well, was it?”

“Better than being a magus ever could.”

Why was this so difficult to get out? It wasn’t his fault whether or not he was a magus. Why did he feel more shame in being rendered ordinary than just starting off ordinary in the first place?

“I know what it’s like, Miro, to face a decision you’d sooner run from.” This felt odd coming from the old archer, about whom everything seemed calm, controlled and precise. “I spent decades in the service to my Kingdom, and a few years ago I moved back to my village.” Miro’s general sense of geography didn’t allow him to be sure, but it looked like Peteri had stared off in the general direction of where that would have been. “Sgobor was right, it is a beautiful country. Our house was built directly over a steam, two feet deep and full of fish. I watched my nephews play in it every day. Then a message came from my King, whom I had served, as well as his father before him, telling me that Jalvyn Kaldoun’s son needed my help.” Guilt rose like bile at the back of Miro’s throat.

He needed to end this so they could all go home, and maybe let a nice battalion roll through these parts and finish the job that Miro didn’t know how to do.

“I –” the words caught in Miro’s mouth like the business end of a hedgehog, “I – I can’t.” This was the first step, a gateway to establishing the truth, and now, for the reason. “I can’t do this … I have a debuff.”

There, for what it was worth, the words were out there, and there was no cramming them back inside his mouth. In the silence that followed between the two of them, Miro could all too well hear the sound of kids laughing as they ran up the street.

“I see …” was all that the old archer managed to say.

“I take it you heard of them?” Miro asked sullenly.

“Heard? Yes. That they can be nasty things. But beyond that, I’m afraid I don’t know much.”

Miro watched two young men pass by, a couple of years older than he was, looking sturdy and determined and much more suited to be blacksmith’s apprentices.

“Hima, on the other hand.” Peteri spoke slowly, as if expecting that his words would spook Miro.

“Hima?” Miro forced out a laugh. “I don’t think she’ll look too kindly on my failings, being the ‘master of her domain’ and all.”

“Miro.” The archer’s whisper turned into more of a growl that signaled to Miro that he better listen. “You can’ take that personally. Hima. Hima would put me in a block of ice and send me off that waterfall if she found out I told you. She’d been raised by the Akademiya.”

Peteri paused and steadied himself, and Miro stole a look at his face, the creases around his eyes, forehead and the corners of his mouth and he suspected that he knew why the archer had come – that it was genuine care and concern that brought him here.

“Hima was dropped off at the doorstep of the Akademiya when she was a baby,” Peteri continued, rubbing one of his hands with the other. “There was a note, and all it said was that she was an ice mage. She was something, that much they could tell, but an ice mage? No one had ever heard of there being one before. And unlike regular mages, she had shown no signs of her powers as she grew older. The masters questioned whether there was any point in continuing to keep her at the Akademiya, and they had no shame about letting her know as much. Hima hadn’t told us any of this, but Nydra spoke to the masters after Hima was assigned to this mission. Can you imagine what that’s like? The one family you ever knew willing to put you out? She’d proven herself in the end, but she knows what it’s like to overcome great odds. If you come back, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I feel like the difference between Hima understanding what I’m going through and actually being able to help me overcome this so that I could follow in my father’s footsteps is the difference between a foot and a mile.”

“I hadn’t known your parents long,” the archer said, “Your mother I only met a few times. And with your father, between training and then fighting with him, less than a year.” Peteri had taken out an arrow, and was worrying the fletching between his fingers. “But in the little time that I knew them, I’ve seen enough to know it’s not your father’s path you need to dwell on, but your mother’s.”

“Sorry, what?” It occurred to Miro that he hadn’t slept all night, and was now probably just hearing things.

“Your father may have worried about whether he belonged, but it was clear that ‘belonging’ was what he wanted. Your mother, on the other hand, could not stand the capital, its sights, smells or people and never stopped yearning for her quiet village on the shores of the Boundless Sea. She endured though, for the Kingdom and your father and later for you, in ways that were not fair for anyone to ask of her. Remember in all of this that you are as much your mother as you are your father. When I see my great nephews grow up, I can see my sister in them, and their father, but also myself and many others. You are the sum of all these separate journeys, but the path you take is uniquely yours.”

Miro wondered where all the other journeys fit within him – the ones that were not familial. What roles did Sierra and Bondook play and, dare he consider, what were the parts of Nydra, Peteri and Hima? Somehow, he felt that he needed to allow himself to pursue this question further.

“Now what do you think? Should we get back to the others?” Peteri asked.

All Miro could do was nod, but it was the lightest nod of his life.

As it turned out, Peteri had exhausted his well of conversation and the walk back from East Bolot to Silver Crag was a quiet one, all the more room for Miro to imagine every possible unpleasant scenario that could come from the impending reunion. Despite the archer’s overall persuasiveness, it still wasn’t too late to bolt for it – live on the road and eat roasted rat – all just to avoid facing Nydra and Hima again, each for their own reasons.

When Miro and Peteri finally arrived, the two women were sitting in the common room of the inn as it prepared itself for the lunchtime rush. Nydra, in full armour, again amazing Miro with how fluidly she moved with all that weight, got up from her seat quickly, a look of general concern dissolving into a smile, and approached him with open arms, smothering him into a hug that he suspected was intentionally slightly painful.

“Miro, you had us worried sick, lad,” Nydra said, and Miro noted the generous use of the word ‘us’.

“You should have been more worried about the city rats.” Miro could feel the cooked rodent pressed between the two of them and wiggled out of the embrace to pull out the culprit.

“That is grotesque,” Nydra said, her smile unwavering, “Glad you didn’t have to resort to actually eating it.” There was a short pause, during which the swordswoman glanced back and cleared her throat.

Hima, who had still been sitting, let out one of her growly sighs and got up, taking a few steps towards Miro but keeping a respectable distance. “Yes, Miro, it’s good to see you back in one piece,” she said and then, for a moment so brief Miro thought that he may have imagined it, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. In the next moment though, Nydra’s gauntleted hands clasped Miro on the shoulders and gave him a slight shake. “But what in the cracking earth and sky possessed you to do something like that?” she asked.

Miro steadied himself. Surely putting it into words a second time would be easier than the first. He felt the reassuring light touch of Peteri on his back.

“I think Miro has something to tell you, but,” Peteri looked around the room, still mostly empty but filling with patrons, “maybe this is better discussed on the road.”

“I have a debuff!” Miro blurted out before anyone else had to dodge and dance on his behalf. A few of the other patrons turned around with raised eyebrows, likely not knowing what that was but assuming something far worse judging by their concerned and somewhat frightened expressions. Nydra, meanwhile, turned to look at Hima, who stood with her arms at her sides, a look of gradual understanding spreading over her face.

“This certainly complicates things,” the icewinder said.