Vuroth's Tear: Even the Gods Cry

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Donovan stumbled in the door, bottle in hand. He stopped just inside the door and stared at Aven and Analda before continuing up the stairs. They heard him mumbling to himself but couldn't make out the words, if they were words at all.

"He has been drinking a lot the last few days, is he alright?" Analda was worried. As vulgar as he could be, in his own way, Donovan was always nice to her.

Aven stared at the steps as if he expected Donovan to return, "Remember the story I told you, the one about how he and I met? What I left out was that his father was one of the people who died in Krenton. One of the men slit his throat and made Don watch him die."

"That's terrible," she gasped.

"What you have seen lately is how Don copes with the anniversary of that day. He does this every year," Aven sighed. He always worried about his friend this time of year, more than once he had found Donovan passed out in a street. Aven had tried everything to stop the binge drinking but nothing ever worked and the harder he pushed, the worse it seemed to get so he learned to just keep a closer eye on his friend and wait for it to pass.

Aven looked at Verik's door. Seeing Donovan in such a state, he decided it best not to venture to the fields for their usual training. Verik had been teaching him about his magic, how to control the extreme emotions that paired with the fire magic and conjuring fire itself. Aven still couldn't create fire but Verik assured him that it may take some time. His friend was more important, and he could be a handful in his current state, he couldn't leave Analda to deal with the mood swings and the mess should Donovan be sick.

"I'm gonna go check on him. If Verik comes out before I come down, tell him we aren't going out tonight," When she nodded, he thanked her and hurried up the steps.

He didn't bother knocking and wasn't surprised when he saw Donovan huddled in the far corner of the room, weeping between swigs of the bottle he brought up with him, "Don, get off the floor, brother."

He pulled Donovan up and caringly put him onto the bed. Donovan laughed, "It was my fault we were in Krenton, I wanted to see the big boats."

"I know, Don," Aven sighed while pulling the muddy boots from Donovan's feet. Donovan put the bottle to his lips again but Aven tore it from his hand, spilling some on his friend and the floor, "You've had enough for tonight."

Donovan reached for the bottle but was too drunk to make any effort to get up, "Give me the damn bottle back!"

Aven ignored him and took a sip while he walked to the window. "You are drunk enough, Don. What you need is sleep." He dropped the bottle out the window and heard the bottle shatter when it hit the ground. After a moment of mumbling to himself, Donovan passed out. Aven was glad he fell asleep so quickly, it broke his heart to hear the sobs he heard every year, the cries of a man still grieving over the loss of his father. He lifted the passed out Donovan and carried him onto the small bed and pulled off his high boots before covering him with the thin blanket.

When he got back downstairs, Verik stood with Analda, "He's asleep."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Analda asked.

"He will be fine, he just needs to sleep it off."

Verik rested his hand on the hilt of the sword on his hip, "This happens every year?"

"Yeah, it isn't always this bad but, every year," Aven sighed, "I'm just gonna turn in early tonight. If he wakes up and causes any problems, just wake me and I'll take care of him."