Chapter 35: The Miller’s Son

Miro walked around to the back of the miller’s house, to where her son had disappeared, and found him on the bank of the river, tossing stones into the water under a bright green health bar that was pleasantly full. Still, from his experience with the first health bar he’d ever seen, the one above Sierra’s head, Miro had a fear that whenever he first sighted one, it would soon invariably start its journey to complete depletion.

Miro got halfway to him before the miller’s son turned around, looking startled at first but seeming to find some relief in finding that it was only Miro there.

“Hey,” Miro said and was answered with the same kind of uncertain “hey” as the boy worried a smooth flat stone between his fingers. Was this really how Miro himself looked a short three or four years ago? So baby-faced and innocent? And is this how Hima saw Miro, looking down at him from the couple of years that separated them?

Realizing that he’d not spoken for so long that he wouldn’t blame the boy for being uncomfortable, Miro finally said, “How are you holding up, lad?” ‘Lad’? When did he start turning into Nydra, Miro wondered?

“Been better”, the miller’s son answered, with just the amount of surliness Miro would expect from someone that age, even though the boy’s upper lip and eyes were strongly implying that he was trying to keep himself from crying. In any case, it seemed that Miro was deemed harmless enough as the boy turned back to the river and tossed another rock that skipped twice along the water before sinking. The river was narrow enough here that a good throw should have been able to send a stone to the other bank and Miro was going to give it a try. He picked one up, a little bit bigger than a King’s Copper in size, and in one swift motion sent it bouncing off the river, falling just shy of the sandy bank on the other side, and then he did the same thing with the next one, also failing, though coming even closer. At least it solicited a response from the youth.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he said, though he didn’t sound all that impressed.

“Let’s just say I spent a big part of my life standing bored on the banks of a river. Here, if you really want to see something fun, watch this.” Miro threw another stone, but this time when it made its first hop off the water, he sent a fireball chasing after it. Predictably, it missed by more than a foot, and came to a hissing death in the river. “Well it would have been far more impressive if I actually hit it,” Miro said, annoyed. He turned to face the miller’s son, and found the boy staring at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“You’re a mage, too?” he asked breathlessly, and then regret seemed to contort his face. So it was not a default mage power to be able to identify other mages by their health bars. That didn’t explain though why the boy reacted so strongly, and then Miro realized.

“Nobody else knows you’re a mage,” Miro said.

“Please don’t tell my mom,” the miller’s son said, panic suddenly entering his eyes.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Miro said putting up his hands, “Though I have to say when it comes to your mom, if she wanted to beat it out of me, she probably could.” The concern didn’t leave the boy’s face, though he did let out a short laugh. At least with kids, Miro’s 4 Charisma points seemed to be sufficient. “What’s your name again, lad?” Miro asked, and cringed internally at the use of that ‘lad’ word again.

“Yanik.”

“Okay Yanik, you uh …” Miro turned away from Yanik and tossed another stone into the river, and then bent down to pick up another one, figuring it would be easier for the boy to talk without eye contact. “You want to tell me why you don’t want your mom or anyone else knowing you’re a mage?”

“My mom tells me my father was a mage, a lightning one just like … just like me.” Yanik opened his hand as if he was about to show the lightning crackling between his fingers but thought better of it and lowered his arm. “I didn’t know him though. He died when I was little. Mom says he got it in his head that he could be a big hero, go on a great adventure, maybe find some treasure so we didn’t need the mill anymore. Mom says the mill’s been in her family for generations but dad wouldn’t listen. So he went out there, and he never came back.”

Miro thought of Ludvik, from the next village over, who went on his own adventure and never returned. Did something make lightning mages more prone to these actions specifically – the flashiness of their power that made them believe themselves to be impervious, leaving behind grieving mothers, wives, and children?

“I’m so sorry,” Miro whispered.

“It’s fine, like I said, it’s fine, I didn’t know him.” Yanik closed his fist over a rock and looked like he wanted to grind it into dust. “Mom thinks all mages are selfish fools that are only interested in fairy tales and not the real world we have to live in, like there’s anything wrong with being a miller. And now we don’t even have that.” He opened his hand again and in his palm sat the stone, but now it was glowing orange, and when Yanik saw it, he dropped it into the water where it disappeared in a puff of steam. “Sorry, I try to hide my powers so my mom doesn’t think I’m one of them, but I can’t control them when I’m angry.”

It were those quick darting eyes that glanced passed Miro’s shoulder and towards the burnt-out mill that convinced Miro.

“Yanik? Did you … did you accidentally burn down the mill?” Miro asked in the least judgemental tone he could muster.

For the second time that afternoon, Miro heard a pleading “Please don’t tell my mom”, though this one was barely audible.

“Lad, you wouldn’t be the first person to use their powers to accidentally burn down something important to your family.”

Yanik’s eyes seemed to light up at this. “You’ve done it too?”

“Yeah, except all I was doing was goofing around in the worst possible place, rather than trying to save my family’s livelihood from a bunch of thugs.”

“Fat good that did,” the miller’s son sulked, “Still lost our mill, and who knows if they’ll be back again anyway.”

“Well if we do manage to track down those bastards, Nydra will make sure there’ll be no more burnt-out mills or unexpected tax collectors in these parts. And if they do come back, this village will always have someone to protect them.” Miro hoped that would cheer Yanik up but instead he looked up at Miro with tired shimmering eyes.

“No, I won’t do that. Nothing good ever comes out of me using my powers.” Without a hint of embarrassment, he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I wish I just didn’t have them anymore.”

Miro understood then that before him stood someone who, despite his true age, was more mature than Miro had ever been. Someone who, when faced with the real dangers they represented, wanted nothing more to do with his powers; instead of practicing his abilities in secret, all for reasons Miro couldn’t even articulate, though he now realized far more closely resembled Bondook’s accusations of “delusions of grandeur” than Miro had ever wanted to admit.

Putting one hand on Yanik’s shoulder, Miro spoke more to the younger version of himself than to the miller’s son, “Lad, if I could’ve helped free you of them somehow, I would.”

“Thank you, Gvel, this was greatly helpful.” It was Nydra’s voice that sounded behind them. She was coming out of the house with Peteri and Hima, as well as Gvel, the miller. “Hopefully that gives us enough to chase these rebels down and make sure no one else suffers like you.”

Miro noticed a change in Yanik when his mother appeared, the boy seeming to shrink away from her presence, as if he was busy stuffing any evidence of his powers deep into his pockets so that she might not notice. Gvel’s face though was nothing but bottomless kindness for her son.

“Thank you,” Gvel said, “We have a good community here full of good people, they’ll have our back.”

It was certainly hard to tell when that community wasn’t showing them their best face, Miro thought; not their fault, of course, and certainly not the fault of Yanik who’d secretly carried the main burden of the whole incident, and in that moment, Miro felt a renewed commitment to make sure those responsible were made to pay.

“I don’t doubt it,” Nydra said, placing her helm back on her head, lending further credence to her promise to dispense justice, “These bullies always underestimate the strength of the common people.”

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in anything for the road?” Gvel asked, walking up to her son and putting one arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

Hima looked up at the sky and pulled her cloak’s hood over her head. “Thank you, Gvel, but your generosity has already been more than enough.”

“Thank you,” Gvel said. “Luck follow you.”

“And stay with you,” Nydra answered and headed in the direction of the road leading out of the village, leaving Miro to grab Yanik’s hand, giving it a hearty squeeze, which was followed by a nod before he left to catch up with the rest of his group.

“How’s the kid?” Nydra asked.

“His name’s Yanik and he’s uh …” Miro thought of those pleading eyes, the fear and the tears and finished, “He’s brave. He’ll be alright.”

“Good, as far as we can tell, this lot has been moving steadily northeast. If we can keep a good pace, hopefully we can catch up to them in the next couple of days. We should be careful though – the villagers told Gvel that they heard a crack of thunder when the mill burned down. So one of them might be a lightning mage.”

Miro said nothing to this and nodded along instead of throwing one last glance back at Yanik, worried that it might compromise the boy’s secret. Had he done this though, he would have seen the change that had taken place after their exchange, both the label and the health bar looking dangerously different.