Page 44 of The Final Life


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  Glint and his companions spent much of that day in his father’s simple cabin, repeating the half lies that Azrael had spun for Vladimir’s sake a few months earlier (although by then the bard knew Glint had run away, rather than the earlier fib about Horst buying him training). He added to that Glint’s “heroic battle against Urek the Thorn,” causing Glint’s mother to gasp in fear many times as they gather around a delicious meal of mutton and tomatoes that she’d prepared for them. All the while Glint thought about how good Azrael was at lying when the need arose, for the necromancer had practically made an art out of it. “And then he was smashed away with a mighty blow, but our hero-“ the crow was saying, waving his hands to mimic the struggle. The warrior marvelled at how Azrael had even managed to remember what he’d told Vladimir so accurately. The whole point here was to play off Azrael’s own role in that battle, for the necromancer still hadn’t told anyone other than Glint the specifics of his ability.

  Glint ate his mother’s cooking gratefully, stopping himself from laughing at the way she gave him frightened looks over and over again as Azrael got to more daring parts of the tale. It was as if the woman was worried he might die in the story and disappear into thin air right then and there.

  “And so we made our way to your village, in high spirits and with many achievements under our belt.” The Necromancer looked from husband to wife with his trademark grin on his face. “How about that for a son, eh?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Well, you know, it’s all very difficult to believe. My baby, getting a chance a chance to join such a big guild? Fighting with its master? And beating the animal guardian in the forest to the east?” at the peculiar title she gave Urek, Glint remembered hearing about “Animal guardians” before. Monstrous things they were, as the tales went. They lived in places deemed holy by druids, and protected the wildlife there. To think those were the same stories about a monster he’d actually fight filled Glint with a strange feeling, like he was part of a legend much greater than himself.

  Next to him, Azrael was saying, “All true, my lady!”

  Glint added, “I don’t have to join the guild if I don’t want to.” At that, Azrael gave him one of his raised eyebrow looks, and Glint realized it had sounded as if he was hinting at staying here with his parents. The warrior thought Azrael angry with him, which would be understandable. Staying here indefinitely was impossible after all that he’d gone through, he understood. He still had the desire confided in Azrael back in the tavern three months ago, the burning sensation that he wanted to help people and do good in the world. Perhaps it was simply a misplaced sense of justice, he reflected, but perhaps not. The youth relaxed back into his chair, savouring the sensation of being home for the first time in five years. In his mind he grasped the possibility of remaining here permanently, then let it go gently. Glint told himself this isn’t where he belonged. Not really.