Chapter 12 If There is a Purpose
Why did you let them die? The question pounded into Artham’s mind, joining the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Why? Why? Why? The council room, the concerned murmurs of the people around him, everything seemed to fade away as that one question consumed him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as the question echoed in his mind, asking and asking as if a magical answer would suddenly answer him out of nowhere. He realized that he had been tapping his heel nervously on the floor, and his fists were still clenched. He kept repeating his question over and over, but his only answer was silence.
“Artham…Artham, is something wrong?” The voice would have faded away like all the others had, except right after this one someone touched Artham’s shoulder. He had hardly heard the voice, so the touch startled him enough to make him jump. The person touching him jerked his hand back and Artham looked up into the concerned eyes of Bonifer. He looked around the council room and saw that everyone was either looking at him or pretending not to.
“Why is everyone looking at me like that? What happened?”
“Arth, are you okay?” Esben asked. “You looked like you were freaking out.”
I was hoping no one would notice or interrupt, Artham thought with a sideways glare at Bonifer.
“I’m fine, okay? So everybody stop worrying and let’s get back to planning or whatever you were doing before I clocked out.”
Everyone looked slightly surprised at Artham’s outburst and slowly turned back to the conversation. Esben looked entirely unconvinced. Artham looked down at his hands and was in danger of fading into his thoughts again before he felt Esben’s presence beside him.
“What is going on?” Esben half asked, half demanded of his brother in a quiet whisper.
“Look, Es. I really appreciate that you’re worried about me. To be perfectly honest, I am not okay. I just need to work some stuff out alone. Stuff that I don’t want to talk about. I will be okay, I promise. So stop worrying.” Esben answered with a very unsatisfied nod and returned to his seat. After that, Artham surprised everybody by listening attentively to everything they were saying, and even participating in the planning. Artham had two reasons. One, the faster this meeting went, the sooner he could get away and think. Two, the longer he was in that meeting, the more he realized how important the funeral was to these people, friends of his parents and aunt. It seemed especially important to Esben. If this was his brother’s way of saying goodbye, then Artham was going to do his best to make it go well. The thought entered his mind that it might even calm some of the hurt that was now becoming a more and more frequent visitor to his heart. Or not. That seemed to be the case more often of late.
Most of the planning went smoothly. At the end of the meeting, they decided that they would begin preparations and get together in a week or two to decide the final details.
The moment the large doors of the room banged shut behind the brothers, Artham had scarcely breathed a sigh of relief when he turned immediately to Esben.
“Es, I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother saying it.,” Artham talked quickly and quietly, a tone of mixed frustration and desperation rising in his voice as he talked, but Esben could tell Artham wasn’t aiming it at him.
“I’m sorry for what happened back there. I can figure things out by myself. I don’t want people to worry. So please don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, Artham,” Esben answered in a pained tone. “You said you needed time to figure it out. Just please hurry up.” Esben looked up at his older brother, his expression sad, with an almost imperceptible spark of anger glittering in his eyes.
“I’ll do my best.” Artham’s voice dropped at the end of his sentence, and he hesitated as if wondering whether or not to say something. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and hessitant.
“I just don’t want anyone…you to get more hurt. I can’t let anyone handle what’s inside me except for myself.” Esben’s face was unreadable.
“But we will talk afterward.”
“Maybe. I’m sorry, Es.”Artham turned and started walking toward his room. Esben walked beside him in silence, and didn’t look at his brother when he entered his room. Artham hesitated before going into the other door, wondering if he should go after his brother, but he didn’t know what he would say. He wondered if he should go somewhere else, but his room with the door locked was probably the most private place in the castle. He went in and locked the door tightly, closing the window as well.
Why? Without realizing he was doing it, he started pacing again. The vague impression that he was wearing a path in his carpet entered his mind, but he brushed it away.
Why? Why did you let them die? He paused his nervous walk as if expecting an answer, but none came. As the sun went down outside his window, painting the sky until it was on fire with wild beauty, he asked and asked, trying to think of a reason that the Maker would have allowed such an awful thing to happen in the world he had created. He knew that the Maker had the power to prevent what had happened, so why hadn’t he? The deeper and darker he went with his angry thoughts the harder and faster he paced, clenching and unclenching his hands. As the light outside his window faded away, he searched desperately for some reason, some mending for what had happened. He was sure there was one. He was sure of it. But no matter how many times he asked the question, he couldn’t think of an answer.
Esben and I are alone now because they died. We are both hurting. I can’t believe you would allow something like this for no reason, or just by chance. Why did you let them die? And since you did, why can’t I find a reason? Because if you do have a reason, I can’t figure it out. Artham looked out his window again. The last bright stains of sunset smeared the sky above the mountains, and the now faint shadow of the moon was rising slowly from the remnants of the sun’s glory.
Artham heaved a deep sigh and pulled his cloak out of his wardrobe and walked quietly out his door and down the hall, headed for another night of frustrated thinking below the stars, away from the suffocating shroud of memories that surrounded the stone walls of the castle.
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