“That my father died filled with pain and regret. He believed the words of a selfish fifteen-year-old that he was a coward and wasted his life. It’s bad enough I left him, but I had to paint that stain on him before leaving.”
“Hadrian, I don’t think this letter had anything to do with your leaving. I think it’s due to your heritage. I think your father was trying to tell you something about your past.”
“How would you know? You never met my father. You’re not making any sense.”
Royce sighed. “Last year in Avempartha, Esrahaddon was using a spell to find the heir.”
“I remember. You told me that before.”
“But I didn’t tell you everything. The spell didn’t find the heir exactly, but rather magical amulets worn by him and his guardian. Esrahaddon made the necklaces so he could locate the wearers and prevent other wizards from finding them. As I told you, I didn’t recognize the face of the heir. He was some guy with blond hair and blue eyes I’d never seen before.”
“And this is important why?”
“I didn’t know, at least not for certain, not really. I always thought Esra was using us. That’s mainly why I never told you. I wanted to be sure it was true, and that’s why I asked you to come and why I led us here.”
Royce paused a moment, then asked, “Where did you get that necklace, the amulet you wear under your shirt?”
“I told you, my father …” Hadrian paused, staring at Royce, his hand unconsciously rising to his neck to feel the necklace.
“I didn’t recognize the heir … but I did recognize the guardian. Your father had a secret, Hadrian—a big secret.”
Hadrian continued to stare at Royce. His mind flashed back to his youth, to his gray-haired father, spending day after day toiling humbly on the anvil and forge, making harrows and plowshares. He recalled Danbury growling at him to clean the shop.
“No,” Hadrian said. “My father was a blacksmith.”
“How many blacksmiths teach their sons ancient Teshlor combat skills, most of which have been lost for centuries? Where did you get that big spadone sword you’ve carried on your back since I first met you? Was that your father’s too?”
Hadrian slowly nodded and felt a chill raise the hairs on his arms. He had never told Royce about that. He had never told anyone. He had taken the sword the night he had left. He had needed his own blade. Da often had several weapons in his shop, but taking them would have cost his father money. Instead, he had taken the only weapon he felt his father would not miss. Da had kept the spadone hidden in a small compartment under the shop’s fifth floorboard. Danbury had taken it out only once, a long time ago, when Hadrian’s mother had still been alive. At the time, Hadrian was very young, and now the memory was hard to recall. His mother was asleep and Hadrian should have been as well, but something had woken him. Crawling out of bed, he had found his father in the shop. Da had been drinking Armigil’s ale and was sitting on the floor in the glow of the forge. In his hands, he cradled the huge two-handed sword, talking to it as if it were a person. He was crying. In fifteen years of living with the man, Hadrian had seen him cry only that one time.
“I want you to do me a favor. Read this again, only this time pretend you hadn’t run away. Read it as if you and your father were on great terms and he was proud of you.”
Hadrian held the parchment up to the moonlight and read it again.
Haddy,
I hope this letter will find you. It’s important that you know there is a reason why you should never use your training for money or fame. I should have told you the truth, but my pain was too great. I can admit to you now I’m ashamed of my life, ashamed of what I failed to do. I suppose you were right. I’m a coward. I let everyone down. I hope you can forgive me, but I can never forgive myself.
love, Da
Before you were born, the year ninety-two,
lost what was precious, and that what was new.
The blink of an eye, the beat of a heart,
Out went the candle, and guilt was my part.
A king and his knight went hunting a boar,
A rat and his friends were hunting for love.
Together they fought, till one was alive.
The knight sadly wept, no king had survived.
The answers to riddles, to secrets and more,
Are found in the middle of legends and love.
Seek out the answer, and learn if you can
The face of regret, the life of a man.
“You realize a spadone is a knight’s weapon?” Royce asked.
Hadrian nodded.
“And yours is a very old sword, isn’t it?”
Hadrian nodded again.
“I would venture to guess it’s about nine hundred years old. I think you’re the descendant of Jerish, the Guardian of the Heir,” Royce told him. “Although maybe not literally. The way I heard it, the heir has a direct bloodline but the guardian just needed to pass down his skills. The next in line didn’t need to be his son, although I guess it’s possible.”
Hadrian stared at Royce. He did not know how to feel about this. Part of him was excited, thrilled, vindicated, and part of him was certain Royce was insane.