Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Forty-Five: Ailill

Ailill

The tale had exhausted him, as usually happened, and he stayed quiet for most of the morning. Kuraĝon and Aura stayed behind him a little, letting him have the peace he needed, and he caught half-murmured snatches of phrases as his sister spoke. It warmed him, that she was trying to get to know the girl better, and not push her away as she had before.

He just hoped she would recognise where he was taking them.

As they had the whole trip, the two young beastkins gambolled in front of his horse, while Åska stayed by his side. They had been apart too long for the old male to leave his side just yet, despite knowing their surroundings.

"Ali?"

She'd noticed where they were then. He sighed, and turned his head to look at her.

"Yes?"

"Why are we here?" Her face was pale, but he didn't blame her. There were many memories for the both of them, and he wasn't sure how he himself would be coping. Maybe it was wrong to be here, after all.

"I don't know," he said quietly, honestly.

She blinked, studying him, and then nodded slowly. "You're not alone, Ali. And you won't be leaving alone. You remember that."

A ghostly smile crossed his face. But he didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. It had been too long since he'd walked the paths of this part of the forest, since he'd seen the landscape of his home.

Sometimes, he wasn't even sure it had ever existed.

For the next hour or so, they were silent. Both Hunaja and Vakt had ceased their play, and returned to their companions, being good for once. Ailill's eyes were sharp, taking in the changes in the many years since he'd been forced out of his home by his own brothers. He knew that Kuraĝon had never forgiven them. It had only distanced her further from her family.

He nudged his stallion on faster, seeking to outpace the others. He wanted to be alone when he saw their old home again.

He didn't really know how he would react, or what he would do.

Behind him, he could feel Kuraĝon's eyes burning holes in his back. He knew that she was worried about him, and worried about what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to see his only home for the last time.

The trees suddenly cleared, and he pulled his horse to a stop, just looking at the fields beyond. The greenery was just as he remembered. Waving grass that reached to his knees surrounded the remains of a long forgotten farmhouse, now only piles of stone and rubble. Any wood that might have once been a part of the structure had long been lost or destroyed.

He swung off his stallion, leaving the reins trailing so that the animal could graze easily, and made his way through the grass, Åska close behind him. The beastkin pushed his head into the elf's hand, offering the small amount of comfort that he could.

It had been a long time.

Stepping around the pile of stones that he knew had once marked the edge of the front door, Ailill moved into the clear space that had once been their kitchen.

Nothing was left.

The stones were blackened and charred, the earth bare of grass and leaves. Nothing had grown since the fire had been through the house, and he knelt, taking a hand of the earth. He let it fall through his fingers again, taking with it his thankfulness, and just a little bit of his power. He knew that Kuraĝon didn't know much of what he could do, and the child knew nothing. He wasn't going to alarm them now.

The earth seemed to tremble under his feet, and then settled again. He smiled, rising, and left the room, moving through every other room of the ruins. Åska followed him loyally, just watching him without blinking.

His old room was the last he came to, and by that time, Aura and Kuraĝon had come to the edge of the walls. They stayed there, watching him, but no one spoke. There was nothing anyone could say.

When he'd just stood there for a long time, staring into the trees, he heard footsteps behind him, and a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, carefully.

"Ali."

He took a deep breath, and let his scarred hand rest on Åska's long, thick fur, his fingers twining around the strands.

"Ali, there's nothing here. Let's keep going." However, she made no move to leave herself, and he stayed motionless. There were too many memories for him to leave hastily.

"Where did they fall?"

She swallowed, her face paling, but she led him out of the house. "I buried them all," she said softly. "Koti, too."

He followed her, Vakt and Åska following them, to where six stones were rising out of the ground. He knelt in front of them, reaching out to trace the roughly carved names in each one.

His parents, his brothers, and Koti.

The only family he could remember.

He knew that he hadn't been born to them. He could remember flashes of his life before that. He knew who he was. But his family had always been the elves, his sister had always been Kuraĝon.

But his companion had always been Åska.

Lowering his gaze to the ground, he buried his hands in the soft earth, feeling the power of it surge through him.

"Kiitos," he whispered. "For everything."

As he pulled away, standing up, the ground shook slightly, and parted. Homeflower bushes appeared in the gaps, their roots growing rapidly to close the hole, and burst into bloom on top of every grave, each plant sporting a different coloured flower.

He knew that now, since he'd visited and thanked the earth, the ruins would be covered, and soon lost forever.

With one last look at the stones, he turned away, returning to his horse. His sister followed him, her eyes shadowed, as his were.

Kiitos - thank you