Chapter 8: Chapter 8 – My Only Family Left

 

Mia looked around but was too late to stop himself from making a serious mistake. Rodan's anger flared at the same time that Ta'rak opened his eyes.

A man's honor was what he carried with him to his Final Rest. He could not take the love of his wife, the satisfaction of a job well done, or anything that would give him comfort in his final few seconds of life.

It was believed that someone who died only had his honor, and that honor gave him comfort. To blame a man for his own death when he was not there to defend himself, there could be no greater insult. Such an attack usually ended in someone dying.

“What did you say?” Ta'rak wasn't asking a question. He didn't need confirmation as he rose to his feet. His eyes were filled with murderous rage. He picked up his well worn ax from beside his chair. He barely saw the smaller man shrink back in fear. Instead he saw someone who just attacked his fallen friend.

Without the anger that Mia kept stoked within Rodan, and if he didn't already have a moderate charge built up just in case Mia pissed him off, Rodan would not have been able to cast so quickly. He didn't even see Ta'rak cross the room, his focus was solely on Mia, and that was where he aimed his charge.

He discharged the energy and it arced across the room. Instead of striking Mia and possibly throwing him clear of Ta'rak's ax, the charge veered off course, and slammed into Ta'rak's side.

“Oh crap.” Rodan whispered as Ta'rak was thrown across the room, and slammed into the stone wall. The speed of the blast that struck took him by surprise, the lightning bolt sizzled through the air before he could swing his ax.

The councilors didn't know what frightened them more; to see their Elder strike with such power, or to watch Ta'rak climb to his feet in only a few seconds. Most men would not have been able to walk away from the assault of a Raaka, let alone the impact of hitting a wall. Ta'rak was not most men though.

The blast did take him by surprise, but it was the impact of the wall that turned his insides to jelly. He struggled to get the air back into his lungs after the impact drove it out. He moved around to make sure that his bones were not broken, and shook his head as if to clear it.

Rodan saw something in his eyes momentarily, in spite of the tension. His light gray orbs turned completely black as though there was nothing behind them but a void.

He picked up his ax from where it had fallen, glared, took one last look at Mia, and returned to his seat. He managed to control his anger while the blackness in his eyes bled away.

Rodan wiped the surprise of his face.

“I will not have blood spilled in my own home!” He kept his voice firm, all the while he swore silently.

'It wasn't supposed to hit him! It was supposed to hit Mia!' Rodan was thanking the Ancient that his mistake didn't result in trying to find out just how much Ta'rak could take before falling.

Mia kept himself quiet for the rest of the meeting, his cowardice right out front while he tried to keep his head on his shoulders. The other councilors stepped into the void he left, voiced their objections to anything that cost the village some of their tax income. They preferred to believe that there would not be another crossing for some years to come. They argued about it for over an hour with no progress.

Rodan grumbled under his breath, and since he wouldn't force the issue, he decided to drop the subject.

“Since we can't seem to come to any agreement, we should move on.” Rodan held up a hand as the assembled men started to get up to leave.

“Not so fast! We have something else we have to deal with. Furlon's widow, Akeena, is due our respects, and our support until she can afford to live without his income.” There was a very vocal groan around the room as they considered the implications of taking care of a young widow. She would not be likely to pass away in the near future from old age and end their commitment.

“It is our duty!” He wondered if he would have to remind them that if something ever happened to one of them, their own families would require assistance.

“Aye, it is our duty, and my pleasure to provide for his widow. Come Ta'rak, let's go see Furlon's wife!” Nongul got up from his chair, clapped him on the back and walked out the door. It was common knowledge that the two men were not related, but Furlon and Ta'rak were like brothers.

Several councilors walked behind them as Ta'rak and Nongul left the room, although not as happy to spend their silver. Rodan left the chamber last and was not surprised to find that Ta'rak had waited outside for him.

“I'm sorry about that. I wasn't aiming for you. I don't know how I missed that bastard when he was sitting right there!” To hear his Elder growl, and apologize took the wind out of Ta'rak's sails. He was all set to warn the small man to not interfere in a matter of honor when the Elder had been set to respond to it himself.

“In that case, aim better next time.” Rodan looked up and saw amusement in his eyes. Thank the Ancient that Ta'rak wasn't injured as most men would have needed the care of a healer for a couple of days at least.

“Come, Akeena awaits.”

They walked across the courtyard, Ta'rak shortened his lengthy stride so the shorter Elder could keep up with his pace, and arrived just as the rest of the councilors gathered outside Furlon's house.

It wasn't a hard place to find. The humble house was brightly lit, inside and out. She had expected to see the council at some time that night so it was no surprise when they came over in a group.

Nongul's deep voice called to her from the door.

“Akeena? My dear, come out. We must speak with you.” The small delicate looking woman emerged from the wooden shop, her tear stained face had an expression of absolute misery upon it. In spite of her appearance, it could be easily seen just how beautiful the woman really was.

Rodan's heart ached at the burden placed on such frail shoulders. She had really loved her husband and his death looked like it might break her. With Furlon dead, the tanner's shop stood empty, and if another tanner came into their village, she would have to vacate it to make room for him.

“Yes?” She asked, lower lip trembling. Her grief was so severe that she couldn't lift her head and meet the councilors eye to eye. If she had, she would have seen Rodan's and Nongul's gentle smiles.

“Akeena, my dear, don't worry so. We have just come to say how sorry we are for the loss of your husband and to offer our support. I will take care of you one moon to the next, for every year that you remain a widow. I consider it an honor to do so.” Rodan was a small man, but he folded his arms around her slender body and hugged her as though he were her father comforting his daughter. One would never know to look at them that they were the same age.

Nongul roughly shouldered the smaller man out of the way.

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“Furlon was my friend and as such think it to be an honor to care for your needs from one moon to the next each year, until such time as you are cared for by another.” Nongul stepped forward and hugged the small woman, his thick arms offering Akeena, who was an orphan and now a widow, some of the comfort she so desperately needed.

As their traditions guided them, so did their conscience. Each councilor had an amount already fixed in their minds that they could provide. They grieved for her loss, and they themselves would want the others to help their families should they meet an untimely end. They had difficulty in foreseeing such a time anywhere in their future. A week here, a couple of days there, and in the end it still did not add up to enough to help her all year long.

Ta'rak stood aside while the other councilors did their part to look important, to try to make it seem like their support was the most anyone could give in their position. The numbers were just too low to help her much, even though both Nongul and Rodan had given a lunar cycle each. After everyone else had made their offers, the one Akeena dreaded to see stepped in front of her.

 

* * * * *

 

Her diminutive size only served to highlight just how big Ta'rak appeared. His eyes looked so cold and unfeeling that she wasn't sure this was the same man whom her husband called his brother. He took care not to hurt her while she tried to push him physically from her house every other night. His eyes didn't seem to betray any emotion even though she knew they could light up with amusement at the drop of a hat.

“I'm sorry, Ta'rak! I know you didn't want him to go! He should never have gone!” She rushed to fill the silence, fearful that her husband's friend would cast her aside and she would have nobody in the world to help. As often as she had to push Ta'rak out the door at night, she had to search for her husband at his place. He would always laugh while she attempted to push him out the door, never saying a harsh word while he was in her presence.

He lifted his hand to silence her. She bit her lip. He might blame her, that maybe she had something to do with Furlon's pride being so wounded. She watched his face and saw his lips quiver.

 

* * * * *

 

There she was. Small, miserable, and completely mired in the grief over the loss of her husband. He hoped his friend would approve of what he was about to do.

“My friend, your husband, Furlon...” He couldn't keep the treacherous quaver out of his voice. He wanted to appear strong, to protect her, but he was losing it. He could feel his throat close up with the thought that his friend had died alone.

“My brother...” He closed his eyes briefly, and cleared his throat. He opened his eyes and as she stared back up at him.

“Its my fault. He would still be alive if I hadn't....” His head lowered and the tears rolled freely down his face. Ta'rak's shoulders slumped and he found himself falling to his knees in front of his friend's widow. He looked up.

“He was the only family I had left. That means you are the only family I have left.” His throat threatened to close up again. “As I considered Furlon my brother, I offer you Avio'Lanko.” Many jaws dropped open, including Akeena's, when he offered to marry her.

Avio'Lanko was an old custom that was seldom practiced, but when a widow was young, the dead man's brother could marry his widow and provide for her.

There were two versions to be considered. The first was Avio'Lanko Valmiina, which allowed the widow to be taken care of until she found another to love. The bond would be released and she would be free to marry.

The second was Avio'Lanko Kihlaus, and it was the same as Kihlaus, a bonding. The brother would bond with the widow, and she had a year to decide on whether or not she wanted to make it permanent. After the year was complete, if they didn't bond formally, the brother was released from his obligation. This was a custom that only blood relations would undertake though.

“But he's not Furlon's brother!” was called out from the crowd. They were shocked that he would offer something like this when he wasn't obligated to.

“Furlon and Ta'rak are Veriside. It is his right.” Nongul responded to the accusation. Furlon and Ta'rak were blood-bonded years before and they took their bond seriously. They were brothers of blood, and it is his right.

“If you mean it, don't make me sleep here tonight! Please!” She begged. Her sadness drove right through him, like a spear through armor. Ta'rak rose to his feet, lifted the small woman in his arms as she cried into his chest. He walked slowly in the direction of his home, cradling her like she was a child asleep in his arms.

 

* * * * *

 

“Brothers of blood? Now I know why he said Furlon was his brother. But did that just happen?” Nongul, along with the rest of the council and some mourners, were still surprised. Rodan took over quickly, seeing the way through the event.

“Please people, remember, this is Furlon's night! Grab a mug, some food, and remember the man we all knew! He has left this life all too soon, and his friends and family will miss him dearly!” Rodan raised his mug of wine high in the air. Nongul smiled, grabbed a mug and raised it high above his head.

“I remember Furlon, and will miss him dearly!”

Many hands took up the mugs provided and raised them high. Breads, fruits, meats, and whatever fresh foods could be provided were heaped up on wooden trays on tables in front of the tanner's house.

Stories were told and retold all night long, fueled by lots of food, and lots of wine.

 

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