The Burden of Ash and Blood - 2. Chapter 2

Graeme and Sam rode into Reabury later that afternoon with the six extra horses in tow. The inn’s stables offered ample space for them all. Gabrian accepted the sacks of turnips graciously, then led them both to their room, completely unfazed by Graeme’s choice to remain concealed by his helmet. Perhaps Sam’s request to not question the knight’s eccentricity had spread.

“I trust this will serve your needs for the night, gentlemen.”

At that moment, Sam realised they would be sharing the room. At least there were two beds, though Graeme’s desire for privacy left Sam unsettled.

“Thank you kindly,” the knight replied, accepting the key handed to him. He appeared wholly unbothered by the arrangement.

“Supper will be ready in an hour. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable here or in the parlour.”

Still nervous, Sam forced a smile. “It smells really good and I’m starving. Thanks, Gabrian.”

He closed the door as the innkeeper left and then turned to face Graeme, who was busying himself by stowing his belongings in the corner of the room. Unsure how to broach the subject, he sat on the bed to test its comfort. Once Graeme was done, he regarded Sam with a tilt of the head in a curious manner.

“Is everything alright?”

Sam chuckled awkwardly, surprised Graeme had caught the attempt to disguise his unease. “Um, are you okay sleeping in the same room with me?”

“Certainly. Are you comfortable with this arrangement? If not, I’m sure we can—”

Sam raised his hands. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all.” He scoffed and felt his cheeks blush. “Sleeping in the same room as a knight? I never thought I’d . . .” He stopped himself from saying something inappropriate. “I was only worried about you. You like your privacy.”

Graeme sat on the bed beside him. “That is my problem to bear, not yours.”

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“My . . . modesty can be restrictive, but as we’re travelling companions now, I must learn to trust you—”

“Listen, whatever reason you have for hiding yourself is your own business. But I hope maybe one day, yeah, you’ll trust me enough to remove your helmet. I’d . . . really like to see your true face.”

Graeme sat frozen—like a figure wrought in stone—staring at him intently. Sam found himself transfixed by the visor’s narrow eye-slit, knowing he held the gaze of Graeme’s hidden eyes. As before, he found the experience strangely exhilarating. Even seated, Graeme’s poise held such power and strength, and Sam fought against the fierce attraction it brought.

Finally, Graeme took in a deep breath, his breastplate rising and falling in tandem. His hands shifted, and for a moment, Sam thought the knight was about to remove his helmet. But instead, he clasped Sam’s hands. Despite wearing gloves, his comforting warmth radiated through the thick leather.

“I will fulfil your wish, Sam, but not today. Please allow me time. What you ask of me is more difficult than you can understand.”

Lost in the knight’s gentle touch, it took effort for Sam to register his words. Only then did he offer a timid smile. “That’s all I can ask.”

They continued holding hands, longer than Sam felt appropriate, and he found himself looking away bashfully.

“What should we do about supper?” he asked, unable to endure the tension any longer. “Mr Kent—Theron, I mean—is coming, but I’d like you to join us.”

“Certainly. I’ll don my hood.”

“So you’d be okay eating with us?”

Graeme uttered a dubious grunt. “It goes against my better judgement, but I’m willing to do it . . . for you.”

Sam’s heart fluttered, and a wide smile spread across his face. “I appreciate it. That means a lot.”

“But only this once,” the knight intoned gravely. “And only because it’s important to you.”

Graeme’s mixed signals prompted Sam to draw a nervous breath, realising the request bore more weight than he’d guessed. Not wanting to push his luck, he left Graeme to change in private and returned to the parlour, where guests took their meals as well as their leisure.

Though scarcely any time had passed since their arrival, the once vacant parlour had amassed a surprising number of villagers, certainly more than normal. Upon catching sight of Sam, they called out and gestured to sit with them. As usual, word spread quickly in Reabury, and as more people streamed in, he wondered if the whole village intended to visit. He approached the crowd, having to fight the lead ball in his stomach, knowing Graeme never agreed to this level of engagement.

Sam circled the tables, thanking each who’d come to see him off, but he desperately wished to sit at a private table to keep himself, Graeme, and Theron away from the bustle of the celebrations. That desire was terribly disrespectful to consider, though. He’d known these people all his life, cared deeply for them, but he hoped acknowledging their farewell now would grant the privacy he sought.

“Where is Ser Graeme?” one person asked eagerly. “I’d like to meet this intriguing knight who’s taking our Sam away.”

The crowd chuckled. Sam joined in the laughter self-consciously, eyeing the corridor toward the inn’s rooms.

“Uh, he’s changing out of his armour. But he’s very shy. Please, everyone, respect his distance.”

There were a few disappointed chatters in response, but luckily, everyone agreed to Sam’s plea. It proved timely, for Graeme chose that moment to make his appearance. He wore his usual cloak and hood, completely veiling his face. A few in the crowd imparted a polite hello and a wave, which Graeme returned with a nod. Sam could sense the tension in the room, knowing the group wanted to pull Graeme into the celebration in spite of his request. He excused himself and approached the knight to speak discreetly.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea this was going to happen.”

“I suppose we oughtn’t have been surprised. These are your people. It’s understandable they would bid you farewell.”

Sam eyed an empty table in the corner, and Graeme followed his gaze. “Why don’t you sit there? Let me finish saying goodbye and I’ll join you.”

“Very well. But please, don’t hurry for my benefit. This is your evening. Enjoy it.”

As much as Sam wanted Graeme to be a greater part of it, he knew that would be asking too much. He accepted Graeme’s offer and spent nearly an hour with the ever-growing crowd. With only a day having passed since burying his parents, the event could have easily fallen to a sombre atmosphere, but with the help of Gabrian’s cider, the gathering was steered into an evening of cheer and revelry.

There were a few gentle condolences whispered into Sam’s ear, but then soothed by a balm of hopeful words, saying his parents would be proud of his decision to leave Reabury. Some lamented with bittersweet goodbyes, and others praised his bravery for embarking on such an unprecedented journey.

Gabrian announced that supper was to be served, and Sam managed to escape, reaching Graeme’s table. He stumbled, nearly spilling the contents of his goblet. The brew was strong, and he was feeling its effects given his empty stomach.

It was no surprise to find Theron seated with the knight. Amongst all the villagers of Reabury, the old soldier was most apt to form a connection with Graeme. And Theron’s gruffness complemented Graeme’s aloof nature.

“How’s our most popular lad doing this evening?” the blacksmith asked.

Sam chuckled as he sat down and plopped his goblet on the table. “Tired.”

“Aye? Being the centre of attention can do that.”

A server arrived, carrying three plates of roast chicken flanked with the autumnal vegetables Gabrian had mentioned. Sam’s eyes widened as his hunger reached its peak.

“More cider?” the server asked.

All three nodded before eagerly tucking in. The meat was juicy and flavourful, the vegetables well-seasoned and tender. Sam paced himself, having not eaten a proper meal in days.

“Be sure to savour this, Sam,” Graeme said. “While we’re on the road, the food is nowhere near as superb.”

Theron barked a laugh. “Ain’t that the truth? Gabrian has spoilt us, without a doubt.”

They continued their meal in silence, the delight of it speaking for itself. Sam washed it down with more cider, and within moments yet another brimming goblet was laid before him. With his belly sated and the alcohol working its magick, Sam felt better than he had in days.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to finish the plaque before you left,” Theron said.

Sam winced at the reminder of the bronze plaque to mark his parents’ graves. “There’s nothing to apologise for. I didn’t realise I’d be leaving, certainly not so soon.”

“Aye, but snow’s bound to hit, so it’s best you two leave the Rothgoraian’s peaks before it’s too late. I’ll affix the plaque to the oak on your behalf.”

Sam wanted to stay so badly, to do it himself, but Theron was right. They were already on borrowed time. The unseasonable warmth of recent days proved a rare blessing. Squandering it would be foolish.

“So, you heading north?” Theron asked.

Sam looked to Graeme for an answer, realising they’d never discussed a direction.

“What do you recommend?” Graeme asked them both.

Sam scoffed playfully. “I assumed you had some idea where you were going.”

“The road leads the way,” Graeme replied with a shrug.

“Which way did you come from?” Theron asked Graeme.

“East.”

“That’s a long stretch. You travelled over the Rothgoraian mountains?”

“Yes, a mountain pass cut through it.”

Theron rubbed his chin in thought. “If memory serves, you came from Nordon—a port town?”

“That’s correct.”

“In that case, head north along the mountain range for a few days, then take the northeast road to Eriswell. That’ll take you beyond the foothills. The lower elevations will give you more time before the snow hits down there.”

“I appreciate your advice,” Graeme said, raising his goblet of cider in gratitude before taking a draught.

Sam recalled travelling that road to Langscott with his pa to sell turnips. He would’ve been eight or nine. Of course, as a child, the journey had dragged on endlessly, but he knew now it took just over a fortnight.

“Do you think we could reach Langscott before the snow hits?” he asked Theron.

“Can’t say for sure.”

“Do you know the way?” Graeme asked.

Sam nodded hesitantly. “I think so. We hit Eriswell, Brasbone, then northwest to Langscott.”

“That’s right, lad,” Theron said.

Graeme drank again, then said, “Once again, my squire is a valuable navigator.”

Sam’s face reddened at the given moniker of squire. They had agreed to stop the jest, but perhaps the alcohol had loosened Graeme’s tongue. Theron, mercifully, said nothing.

“Is this Langscott a town or city?” Graeme asked.

“Oh, definitely a city. It’s pretty big,” Sam said.

“That’s ideal. Then yes, let us make it our destination.”

After enjoying a dessert of warm, flaky-crusted apple pie, the evening proceeded in a blur of cheers, well-wishes, hugs, and hearty handshakes. Stories of past events that affected Reabury—mostly jovial, but some tragic—were recounted by some of the older folk. Then the conversations broke into smaller groups, producing an ambience of camaraderie that only time could forge. As much as Sam didn’t want it to end, he knew retiring to bed early was a prudent decision. He mentioned this to Graeme, who nodded in agreement.

Sam stood to address the crowd one final time, only to become lightheaded and nearly buckle to the floor. He managed to grip the sturdy wooden table as Graeme bolted from his seat to catch him. It was unnecessary, but the firm hold brought a giddy smile to Sam’s lips.

“You’ve overdone yourself,” Graeme chided.

“I’m fine,” Sam said with a chuckle, “but thanks for catching me. Give me a minute to say one last goodbye?”

“Certainly,” Graeme replied and retreated a few steps into the shadows.

Sam wanted the knight to remain at his side, though recognised he had burdened him enough. He turned to the raucous crowd at their tables, talking and laughing, enjoying the evening’s festivity. It was strange to consider that after this moment, he may never see them again. Striking a metal fork and knife together produced a clang that caught everyone’s attention.

“Ser Graeme and I plan to head out early in the morning, so I’d like to say thank you one last time. I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, especially these past few days.”

With every eye in the room locked onto him, Sam suddenly found his thoughts in disarray. Undoubtedly the cider was partially to blame. Although the gathering had been a surprise, he wished he’d written some kind of farewell speech.

“I find myself at a loss for words, wondering if I’m crazy to leave such a welcoming home, but everyone has been so supportive in my decision. I’ll admit it sort of feels like you’re trying to get rid of me or something.” This was spoken with a chuckle, and a few choice words from the crowd swiftly dismissed the notion.

A rough clearing of the throat behind Sam caused him to jump. It was Theron, who rose from his seat and shuffled beside him—appearing equally susceptible to the cider’s effects.

“Nobody wants to see you leave, lad.” More calls of agreement sprung from the others before the blacksmith continued. “But yeah, we’re supportive of your choice. There’s much more to this world beyond our tiny village. You’ve pined for it for so long through the love of those books of yours. And now, this knight . . .” Theron glanced toward Graeme standing against the wall, baulking at the attention. “This mysterious knight has come when you needed him most. But I judge him to be a trustworthy man. The world can be a dangerous place, but with him at your side, I’ll rest easy knowing you're in capable hands.”

Theron looked back to Graeme with a sly grin. “I hope you don’t see this as a trial, Ser Knight.”

Graeme apprehensively edged into the light. “I do not. And I appreciate that I am unknown to many of you. A stranger. Yet I ask that you temper your concern regarding Sam’s welfare. In our short time together, he has shown his qualities to me. I don’t wish to undermine the rapport you all hold with him, but I believe he is more capable than you realise.”

Sam’s face burnt with embarrassment, now wanting to be the one hiding in the shadows. He hoped Graeme wouldn’t bring up the oath given to his mum. Those words had seared themselves into his memory.

I will protect your son with my life.

I swear no harm will come to him.

He swooned inwardly, honoured that Graeme deemed him worthy of such a promise. But he couldn’t deny the faint whisper of loathing within. His mum was dead. Why should Graeme still be bound to such an oath? And while Sam’s skill with a blade wasn’t as competent as Graeme’s, the knight had complimented his prowess all the same. He understood Sam could fend for himself.

Cheers and applause broke Sam’s musings. The knight had said more to the group, but Sam couldn’t recall a word of it. At least the outcome was positive, and Graeme even offered a dignified nod in appreciation.

“Goodnight, everyone,” Sam said, holding a hand to his heart. “I’ll remember this night fondly, always.”

Graeme took that as his cue to leave, and entered the hallway leading to the rented rooms. Sam followed, listening to the hubbub fade away until he tripped over an unseen step. As he stood up, Graeme surprised him by tucking an arm around his shoulder, guiding him to their room.

“I’m okay,” Sam said timidly.

A rare chuckle escaped the knight’s lips. “Your actions speak otherwise.”

Sam didn’t pull away, accepting the pleasure of Graeme’s arm around him. Though it was a simple kindness, Sam struggled not to read more into it. The memory of Graeme holding his hand in a soothing manner—twice today—only fed his already overactive imagination. Viewed pragmatically, Graeme was just trying to help. Sam had to tell himself there was no ulterior motive behind Graeme’s actions, and despite the longings he felt, these inappropriate fantasies had to stop.

Graeme produced a key from his pocket and unlocked their door. The room should’ve been dark, but the blue glow of Graeme’s magickal armour stacked neatly in the corner supplied enough light for them to prepare for sleep. The knight continued to aid Sam to one of the beds, sitting him down.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Sam said as Graeme sat on the opposite bed.

“Mayhaps. Mayhap not. I suppose we’ll never know for certain.”

Sam heard the smile in Graeme’s voice, and scoffed at his cheeky manner. After kicking off his boots, he stretched out on the bed. His head swam, warmth from the alcohol flowing through him.

“Thanks for enduring all that. I know it must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Your people are a rare breed. Accepting and welcoming, which is a pleasant change. I try not to judge anyone who might stare or whisper gossip. I dislike drawing attention to myself, but aware my actions inevitably do so.”

“But you still think hiding yourself is better?”

There was a long pause before Graeme replied. “Sam, as we travel, you will learn the awful truth that most folk can be terribly cruel.”