Lingering Shadows-Chapter 13

Notes:

• ✨ New character ✨

• This is him

• Previous Chapter

Chapter 13- Sailing Away

Three days after what happened at the bridge, the assailant had still not been found. Artham grew more anxious and tense each day, waiting and waiting for news that the assassin had been found, wishing he could go search himself. The hunt continued in Anniera, but the High King and Throne Warden were still going to the Hollows. 

The morning that they were leaving, Artham trudged to the castle stables, muttering to himself in frustration and occasionally tugging on his bandage to see if it was loose yet, ignoring the burning that erupted every time he stretched his arm or tugged too hard on that imprisoning bandage.

Despite not wanting to leave Anniera, Artham was excited to go. But it turned out that after he had packed, no one would let him carry anything. So proceeded the incredibly annoying conspiracy against him. 

Multiple times he had walked out the door after having painstakingly lifted a trunk or a bag to his shoulder, when somebody (a different somebody almost every time) whisked his baggage away and told him to rest. It was getting very frustrating. Artham was also appalled at the fact that Esben proceeded to carry most of his own baggage, and no one stopped him.

Incapable of sitting still and watching other people work, including his brother, Artham had slipped away to get his and Esben’s horses from the stables. Thankfully, they would be able to bring their horses, as it was a relatively short trip and a largish ship. He stopped muttering with a sigh and pushed the thick stable door open, wincing at the creak and stepping quietly inside. 

“Yeah yeah, I know! Look, I’ve almost got everything, okay?” Artham raised his eyebrows in surprise at the outburst that had welcomed him in, also because he didn’t think anyone else would be in the stable. A thin boy about Esben’s age was standing with his back to Artham, digging in a satchel. He was wearing clothes that were very similar, if a little nicer, to the clothes of every squire outside. All Artham could see of him was his back and his shock of scruffy black hair. Artham laughed.

“Uh, I’m sorry but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he stepped into Shasta’s stall, patting and rubbing his warm neck with his right hand, smiling when Shasta sent a welcome puff of warm, horsey air over his face. The young man turned around quickly, his eyes widening when he saw Artham. 

“Oh! Oh no, I’m sorry, uh, sorry, your Majesty? No, I mean…ohh…” the young man stuttered for a few seconds and sighed in despair. 

“I’m sorry, your Highness. I didn’t know that was you.” he finally managed to say with a wince. Artham turned and smiled at the boy as he led Shasta out of her stall. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, except maybe for calling me ‘Your Highness. You can just call me Artham. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before on castle grounds. Are you a new squire or something?” He asked skeptically, looking at the boy’s clothes. 

“Uh…” the young man trailed off nervously. “Well Your Highness-”

“Please just call me Artham,” the Throne Warden interrupted, feeling a flicker of annoyance as he stepped into Esben’s horse’s stall. 

“Um, okay. Well, I’m actually supposed to be your scribe.” Artham stopped, his eyes widening, remembering the meeting he hadn’t attended, and the multiple instances in the past couple of days when he had purposefully avoided his new scribe, who turned out to be the awkward kid in front of him. 

Or maybe I’m just making him awkward…

“Oh.” He said shortly, feeling suddenly at a very uncomfortable loss for words, pulling his brother’s horse out of its stall. The boy was suddenly at Artham’s elbow.

“Are you sure you should be doing that? Didn’t you get hurt the other day or something?” The young man asked, glancing up at Artham anxiously.  Artham sighed in exasperation. 

“Yes, I’m fine, and yes, I can handle doing a bit of work, okay? And-wait, you don’t know what happened?” The boy kicked the stall door in frustration. 

“Well, I know a little bit of what happened.. No one is really talking to me, they always expect me to be somewhere with you. But I do know that you got shot in the shoulder, saving the King’s life the other day.” The young man turned awe-filled eyes on Artham, glancing between his bandaged shoulder, the sword dangling at his hip, and Artham’s face. Artham felt a tiny twinge of guilt. He had fully intended to give whoever his scribe was the runaround as often as possible, but when he wasn’t staring at Artham with annoying concern or awe, the kid looked like someone he would like to be friends with. 

Maybe if I just tell him he doesn’t have to follow me everywhere, or write anything I say, for that matter…

“Sorry about that,” Artham said quickly. “Look, what did Bonifer tell you your job was?”

“He told me I was supposed to follow you around, do things for you when you need something and write down anything exceptional that you say,” the boy answered promptly. Artham laughed and shook his head.

“Well, I have a question. Who do you take orders from, the council, or me?”

“You I guess,” the boy answered, kicking the stall door again. 

“Well, you don’t need to follow me around, or write down everything I say, alright? Just when there’s an important meeting or something.”

“Really?” the boy asked, looking a little disappointed. 

“Are you coming out with me? We need to head to the boat soon.”

“Okay,” said the boy, grabbing the reins of Esben’s horse before Artham could protest, leaving Artham with only his own horse to lead. Artham rolled his eyes, but was secretly a little bit grateful. Esben’s horse had a habit of tugging at anyone who tried to lead him, and that could wind up being rather painful. Artham walked out and caught up to the boy. 

“You already know my name,” he said. “What’s yours?” The boy looked up in surprise and grinned, then ducked his head to hide his smile.

“Most people call me Aro.” 

“Alright, Aro, we need to get to the main courtyard. By now Bonifer will be going nuts because he doesn’t know where I am.” The boy snickered, and Artham smiled wryly. They walked in silence to the front courtyard leading the horses just as Esben roughly slammed the last trunk down onto the back of the wagon that was taking their things to the boat. A bustle of activity continued around the wagon and two carriages. Esben turned and smiled at his brother, taking the reins from Aro as he mounted his horse. 

“We’ll be riding, but we’ll stay with the wagon, don’t worry,” Esben called over his shoulder to one of the servants who was climbing to the front of the wagon to drive. The sentence was also partially directed at the small company of guards who would be escorting them to their ship. 

Aro climbed into the back of the wagon while Artham mounted his horse with a wince. The chief steward, who was in charge of moving everyone to the dock, did a final person count and gave the servant driving the wagon the signal to head out. 

        * * *

The group reached the dock shortly, and as Artham and Esben dismounted, they heard a happy whining behind them. They turned around and saw Connolin trotting down the road behind them. He picked up his pace to a run when the brothers turned and looked at him, and jumped at Artham, putting his paws on Artham’s chest, panting and sniffing happily. Artham staggered backward but grinned, flopping Connolin’s ears and scratching his head. 

“I thought you sent him ahead of us,” he said in surprise to Esben. He had thought the dog had already gone to the boat, accompanying one of the many wagons full of supplies that had gone before them. 

“I forgot,” Esben admitted sheepishly. “But it looks like he knew we were leaving and didn’t want to be left behind.” 

“Alright lads, are you ready to board the ship?” Bonifer came up behind them, smiling at the brothers as Artham stepped back so that Connolin’s paws were firmly on solid ground again. 

“Yes we are, Bonifer,” Esben said as they walked across the dock toward the boat. “Thank you so much for coming with us, I can’t imagine what we’d do without you. I’m really grateful that you're coming, since you were there when the last couple of alliances were established, you know what we have to do. I, on the other hand, haven’t been to a single one.” Esben paused thoughtfully. “For that matter, I didn’t know we had to renew the alliance until a few weeks ago.” Bonifer chuckled warmly, putting a hand on Esben’s arm. 

“It is my pleasure, High King. As your father is not here and hadn’t yet taught you of these things, I shall do my best to fill that role for you, as far as the teaching goes.” Esben smiled gratefully at Bonifer, and Artham was very relieved and also grateful, because with Bonifer to help them, he wouldn’t have to put in quite so much time researching law and protocol. They mounted the ship in silence, and when they got to the deck, a cold, salty wave of air washed over them. Artham grinned as the wild wind tossed his hair and found it’s way under his coat. He looked over to Esben. His little brother had already rushed to the railing on the other side, tossing his head and relishing the wind. Artham knew that his brother’s heart was soaring right now, as it always did when they sailed, and when Esben turned to look at the sailors climbing the rigging to let down the mainsail, Artham’s heart was happy because his brother was smiling from ear to ear, every trace of worry wiped from his face. 

A few minutes later, they had hoisted the sail and pulled up the anchor, and were speeding into the cold, salty breeze. Esben jumped and let out a long, glad whoop. He hadn’t been sailing in a long time. His joy was contagious. Artham ran over the deck from where he had been watching his brother, letting out a happy shout that was even louder than his brother’s, just because his anxious, burdened heart needed to be glad. Connolin ran beside him, barking wildly at the seabirds that squawked overhead. Artham nearly tumbled into Esben but grabbed his brother by the shoulders instead, almost forgetting about the throbbing that erupted in his shoulder and arm, protesting the abrupt motion. Esben turned around quickly and grinned, shoving his brother a little, and laughing. 

“This is amazing, Arth,” he said when he calmed down, his voice changed by the smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Artham answered as he leaned out over the rail. “It’s amazing,” he repeated as a thousand poems about the sea scrolled across his mind and he decided to write another of his own, just to capture this strange and rare happiness that came from being with his brother on the open sea, the wonderful salty wind softly blowing his worries away.