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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Other · #1492178
Men have lost there dreams, centuries later they do not know what they have lost.
Chapter 3



Singer Vale was one of the smaller communities, yet held the widest variety of vendors. From the blacksmiths to woodsmen, and even treasure hunters like Raphael, they all were gathered in Singer Vale.

The town had been in that place longer than anyone could remember. The remnants of a stone wall encircled the main plaza while an old water system ran the precious liquid along mini aqueducts that supplied all of the inhabitants with clean water.

People paid little attention to Raphael as he moved through the populated streets. Many of the ancient cobblestones were either cracked or gone, making it a bumpy ride in any cart. Several blocks before he came to the Trader’s Square, Raphael entered the alleyway. Even the dirtier alleys had a number of people in them, but nowhere near as many as the brighter, more used road.

The young man adjusted several switches and the swiftrider went from the largest turbine to the two outer, yet slightly smaller ones. With the increased power the tow turbines the swiftrider’s speed increased and it’s reaction time to Raphael’s commands shrank noticeably.

These streets had been his home all his life, and he could maneuver the swiftrider through them with his eyes closed. In the closeness between buildings, the turbines’ somewhat soft pulsating became a loud roar.

Gutter urchins scurried back into their shadowy holes as the swiftrider neared them. Glinting eyes watched Raphael from cracks and hollows with little favor.

If Raphael returned the looks, he did not how it. He could not help these waifs, and though it hurt to watch them, he was resigned to this fact. He cast his regrets aside, instead focusing on what awaited him.

Two children sat on the front steps of the small house. They were watched by a young woman with brown, sandy hair and deep, intense eyes.

The swiftrider’s nose emerged first from the alley, the rest of it following suddenly. Raphael turned the vehicle sideways, slowing it to a stop barely two yards from the lowest step.

“Raphael!” the two kids cried as he dismounted the swiftrider. The boy was younger, with brown hair, while the girl had reddish hair kept in two ponytails.

“Drew, Susan! How are you?” Raphael asked, but he wasn’t answered, instead, the two children collided into him. “Ow! Easy there!”

“You’re back!” Drew, the little boy, said.

“Of course he’s back,” Susan said knowingly, “he always comes back!”

“Your faith is very reassuring,” Raphael muttered, but the dryness of the comment was lost in the children’s excitement. The embrace lasted a second or two, then they were gone as suddenly as they’d come.

“You’re late,” the girl said. Her gaze was cold, yet it till held some warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Raphael opened the hatch farthest from the swiftrider’s seat and removed a crudely drawn map. It had several ruins drawn on it and had pieces of the same tan paper pinned over several of the drawings. “The Seles and Tibeo ruins were buried and I couldn’t find anything in the Allanx, Keld or Ve’na ruins.”

“Where did you go?”

“The Shelhai ruins, and even they’re half-buried.”

The young woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Raphael, “I was worried, there’ve been more attacks.”

“Attacks?” Raphael asked, alarm in his voice.

“Shannon’s little girl lost her left arm and she can’t hardly sleep for the nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

Amber looked into Raphael’s eyes, “Nightmares.” She affirmed.

“I wish there was a way to help.”

“You still have Percy’s sword, don’t you?”

“Yes, what of it?” Raphael asked cautiously. There was a slight edge to his voice.

“Join the guard, keep more attacks from happening.”

A cold dagger pierced Raphael’s heart. His blood chilled and pushed Amber away from him, “I can’t!”

“Very well,” she said coldly. That she did not argue the point made Raphael feel worse.

The remaining two inhabitants of the house were almost as happy to see Raphael as the children had been. Both women were older than Raphael by many years, but there was a mutual respect between them.

The oldest, Janet, was a thin woman who wove baskets. She had a hawk like face that hid the compassionate heart inside her. Janet’s friend, Carla, was a portly woman who cooked most of the meals in the household, though Amber sometimes cooked in her place. While Janet had no skill with plants, Carla’s presence alone seemed to account for the healthy green growth that surrounded the house.

As he entered the main room, the women began to fuss over him. From his dusty clothes to his slightly burned face, no detail was overlooked.

“Hey, it’s just me!” Raphael said finally.

“How was it?” Carla asked.

“Later,” Janet said sharply, “he won’t at to tell us twice.”

“Don’t worry,” Raphael set his bag down, “You’ll hear soon enough, besides,” he added, “I have food to carry in.”

Raphael was not the mass of man that Carl was. Even among his peers he was not the strongest. Despite this, he managed to carry the sack of potatoes to the back of the house and lift it into a bin that, although older, offered much better protection against the elements than the ones in Jake’s ship.

After the sheer weight of the potatoes, the smaller sack of tomatoes was no easier to carry. The effort of the labor left him exhausted and panting, but he did not mind, at least they would eat.

I would have helped,” Amber said, as she sat next to Raphael and leaned on her arms.

“I know, but I got it.”

Amber snorted, “You think that hurting yourself carrying food will make up for not being here?”

“I said I was sorry!”

Her face softened, “I know, but you’re never here! Susan and Drew look up more to you than they do me, and I don’t mind, but how do you think they feel when you don’t come back when you say?”

“I’m sorry,” Raphael said dully.

Amber hugged, him, “We’ll finish this later, we are going, right?”

“Of course!”

“Fine. I have to go help Carla with the soup.” She rose and walked towards the kitchen.

Dinner must have been closer to finished than Amber had let on, for the soup and roasted potatoes were waiting to be served before the sun had set. There was no bread, for which Amber apologized, but Raphael promised that they would buy some at the trader’s square tomorrow as he sat down.

“Now, before we eat, we give thanks,” Carla said, mostly to Drew.

“Aww! But I’m starving!” He looked hopefully at Raphael, “Raphael’s starving, too!”

“Drew, you won’t waste away to nothing.” Amber was smiling.

“But”

Raphael silenced the boy, “I’m waiting, see? Besides,” he said with a wink, “we should always give thanks, that way God will smile on us.”

“Okay,” the boy said, defeated.

“It’s my turn,” Susan said proudly and she placed her hands together. The others followed suit.

“God, thank you for bringing Raphael home safe, but next time could you help him come home sooner?”

Raphael looked elsewhere as Amber smirked at him, Susan, unaware of the byplay that had gone on, continued.

“”And thank you for the yummy potatoes, and tomatoes, buy maybe can you help give food to the mean kids in the alley?”

The pain returned to Raphael’s heart, he hadn’t even considered praying for the urchins. Like so many others, he’d just left them to whatever miserable existence they had.

‘Finally, can you help Kelsy, make her arm feel better? Thank you, God, Amen.”

“Amen.” The rest said, almost in unison.

“Let’s eat!” Drew cried.

The thin soup was delicious, Raphael admitted, but Amber jokingly pointed out that any decent meal would after a week of travel supplies. Even the tight-lipped Janet smiled and Raphael could only shrug.

“It’s good to be back,” he finally managed to say.

When all had eaten their fill, they sat in moderate silence. The two youngsters eyed Raphael expectantly and he cold not keep the grin from his face.

“What?” asked he.

Drew frowned, “Where is it?”

“What? Where is what?” Raphael was childley innocent.

“You always have a gift!” Susan said knowingly.

“Oh, so you want me home just because I bring a gift!” Raphael spoke as if this was a sudden, world-changing realization.

“Nuh-uh!” Susan cried defensively while Drew shot her a look that said, Thanks for blowing it! Now we don’t get anything!

Letting them fret, Raphael leaned back. He could see a smile on the three women’s faces.

After a minute, Raphael sighed submissively, “Go look in the rear bin.”

With laughter and boundless energy the children ran from the table and out the door. Raphael could imagine them crawling up the swiftrider’s side, Drew first, and looking in the bin behind his seat.

The shouts came just as expected. Seconds later, Drew and Susan were charging down the hall, soaking the glory of their treasures.

“Sweet rolls, Amber!” Susan was laughing and Raphael mused that she probably didn’t know why. She was so caught up in the energy that she could barely control herself.

“Wow,” Amber’s voice almost convinced Raphael, and completely fooled the children. He did not miss the edge buried in her tone, though.

Like so many before them, the two found it impossible to wait while the package was opened. Raphael eased the small knife into the binding and it snapped before the blade. The brown paper parted to reveal a dozen and a half of the sticky honey-flavored sweet rolls.

A roll was passed to each member of the house and the remaining were rewrapped for later. The sweetness was a rare luxury and even the children slowed their consumption to match a hungry dog, rather than a ravenous bear.

As they ate, Raphael told of his adventure. Wide eyes and knowing smiles filled the room as he spoke.

“That stinks!” Drew declared, “It was just a tumble weed! I wish it’s been a monster!”

“I don’t,” Raphael said heartily, “but, now that I think about it, the tumble weed wasn’t as loud as the noise I heard, so yo never know.”

The he’d seen no monster, or animal, was lost as the possibility that there might have been something was admitted.

Still wondering over the possibilities, Drew allowed himself to be marched to bed. Susan followed soon after.

“We’ll take care of this,” Carla picked p the bowls around her. “You two run off.”

“Thank you,” Raphael bowed slightly. As soon as he was outside he ran to his swiftrider and undid the bolts to the rear bin. When the bolts were removed, the bin turned over and slid downward creating a second seat.

”It’s already getting cool,” Amber was holding a wadded blanket. Se sat in the passenger seat while Raphael closed the hatches.

“Let the engine cool too much,” Raphael started the turbines. They sputtered, but stabilized as they warmed.

Out of Singer Vale Raphael took the swift rider. He was heading towards the mountains, specifically, the rocky hill.

Ten minutes later, he had pulled off the road asn sitting at Amber’s side, looking at the twinkling starts. The last remnants of the sunset peered over the horizon, leaving an orange strip of light.

“I was going to get you that locket in Jake’s shop, but someone aready bought it.”

“I know,” Amber’s voice was soft, like flower, but even a flower could be dangerous, Raphael found himself thinking.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he’d know Amber since they had both been children, but something was bothering her.

“Wait…..What?”

“I need to apologize, Raphael, I haven’t been completely fair with you,” she was a whisper in the quiet of the cool night. “You do much for us, and I’m too busy being angry at you to see it, but even if you don’t find anything, come back when you say you will.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Raphael promised.

Amber took his hand, “Maybe this will help.”

A round object was pressed against his palm, he did not move for several seconds as he felt the cool metal.

A light sparked in his mind, quickly growing into a fire. He looked down, as if he was afraid that the object would harm him.

The “locket”, as the object was called, resembled a medallion. Made of brass, it had a small spring-loaded lever on its right side. Raphael slid it down and the locket’s center slid away in little squares, disappearing completely. It its place was a picture of Amber, protected by glass.

“Bt…Why..How?” Raphael was speechless. He let the lever snap back and the brass retrned.

“Look at it, so you can always remember me.” Amber undid the chain and connected the ends behind Raphael’s neck.

“I meant for you to have this with a picture of me! I mean, well… Something could happen to me and wanted… I wanted… Well, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Shh.” Amber silenced him, “I’ve been working with glass, and I’ve been saving up, just like you, but you never know what will happen.”

Raphael shivered, but not from the air. “Should I get the blanket?”

“Sure.”

While he lifted the warm cover, he spoke slowly, “Have I made you angry?”

“Susan turns nine in six days, have you done anything about it?” Her voice was cold.

“No… I’ll ask Carol to bake her a cake.”

“She’d like that, let’s go home.” Her last suggestion made him stop halfway.

“But – “

“I’m tired, besides, we both have things to do tomorrow.” Amber pulled the blanket from Raphael’s hands on her way to the swiftrider.

She wrapped it around herself, hoping to gain some protection against the chill.

Carla had long since hone to bed, but Janet still sat over her weaving loom, working by candlelight. She looked up briefly as Raphael and Amber came through he door, but her hands never quit their tedious task.

“Go to bed soon, Janet. “ Amber kissed the older woman gently on the forehead. The young woman lit a candle from the taper and headed for bed.

“Why is there another bed in my room?” Raphael was standing just inside the door, his eyes affixed on the small bed on the other side of the room.

“because Ssan is approaching womanhood and needs her own room,” Amber ran a soft hand along Raphael’s back. She slid pat him with a graceful ease and fluffed her pillow.

“But why my room?” He couldn’t sound any more lost.

“Because you wouldn’t like my old room and I don’t want to share a room with Susan.”

Raphael opened his mouth so speak, but nothing came. He closed it then opened it again. Like before, he could find nothing to say. He had lost before it had even started.

He didn’t remember hitting the bed.

© Copyright 2008 Pet Roc (chaosonex at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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