Darkspur

Chapter 38 - Kelmar

Sam buried his head into the pillow, enjoying the simple pleasure as the soft plump down enveloped his face. He drifted just at the edge of sleep, warm and content, snuggled into the safe cushioned embrace of bed. He dreamt of the farm, of old Aidrean and of the Story Tree; the sun dancing through it's leaves as they whispered to him in the warm breeze. His father appeared smiling, Cass at his side, then Milly, climbing from the coach; feeling safe in the love of the people most important to him. But then the mood darkened as Mother Kell's face leapt to the fore, the memories becoming soured, the unwanted images coming in waves as faces and places flashed like lightning in his mind's eye. The Darnach dying under the Story Tree; Hedera's anguished face as the sword erupting from his chest; a blood splattered Tari pinned to Erwethwen's Tree and the red grotesque eyes of the sneering Gorothan stooped over him, curved blade raised.

His eyes snapped open and he frantically fought with the tight bed covers as the anxiety and fear sprung back into his chest. His heart raced as the swimming images faded as the sharp reality eventually came into focus. He was no longer in Milly's room but now lay on the same bed he remembered so well from Erwethwen's dream. The room was identical; furnishings, ornaments, all exactly the same. His head swam, mind struggling to grasp whether this was still a dream or genuine reality.

Sam looked towards the archway expecting to see the same long fractured shadow cast across the stone floor, but there was none, no sun at all shone into the deeply shaded room. This time though, he could hear voices, talking in hushed murmured whispers that gently floated in from the balcony. Sam slipped from the bed and silently on bare feet, tiptoed to the door.

"...and has Keria calmed down any?" he heard his father ask.

"Yes, a bit," a woman's voice answered. "She's still mad at Nadred though, which I think is a bit unfair. It was all Dramaban's idea to use the Masking Stone, Nadred tried to talk him out of it but Dramaban had it in his head he wasn't powerful enough to fight the curse. Which I have to say is complete nonsense."

"But why then fake his death?" Hanian asked.

"Well, his thinking, which again may make perfect sense in my brother's head but totally eludes everyone else, was that he was actually in hiding and in some way this would help in his search for those responsible for the curse," the woman went on. "You know what he's like, Hanian, once he gets his teeth into something it's very hard to make him let go."

Sam stepped back from the archway, his back to the cold stone wall, heart thumping, hands shaking with excitement and apprehension. The woman on the balcony was Damabran's sister, she had just said so, and it hadn't taken much for Sam to realise what the significance of this was; this was his mother. He didn't know why he felt such trepidation, he should be elated, but he just couldn't bring himself to step from his hiding place.

"Not very polite to eavesdrop, little man. I think I remember telling you that once before," a voice said. Sam had been so fixated on the voices and archway he hadn't even noticed the open door at the far side of the room. With his arms cross and leaning on the door frame, Cass stood with a huge, toothy grin on his face.

"Cass," Sam shouted, running towards his uncle and throwing his arms around the tall man's waist.

"And it's good to see you to," Cass said, laughing as he ruffled the boys straggly hair. "I think someone could do with a bath though."

Sam giggled, shaking his head with feigned defiance.

"Oh, and I think this belongs to you," Cass said, holding up a small, dirty back pack. "Your mother found it back in Quellarin Valley."

"Sam," a woman said from behind.

He turned slowly, head hung, still not completely ready to see his mother's face for the first time.