Location: Monthaven.
Timeline: Sixth Age, Year 52, Early Spring.
We are now forced to suffer through more about Emcorae Azop—that tiresome little bastard. These next few chapters are the toughest to endure. They are the sound of a universe grinding to a halt for the sake of a boy’s heartbeat. If you like love stories, wallow in the filth; if not, read fast and wait for the carnage.
Seized by a new, magically compelled obsession, and now back in Monthaven, Emcorae had his sights set on a new prize: Love.
“But what do you know about her, Curk?” Emcorae asked his friend, a Curk Frixer, as they sat on the Frixer’s front porch sipping lemon water.
Curk, the cobbler’s apprentice and now a married man, savored his sour drink as he teased, “You just got back yesterday and already you’re trying to sow your oats with some girl you’ve only seen from afar? What happened to the scaredy cat I last saw around here?”
Emcorae blushed, unable to reply as he look at Curk and his wife Kymm. The young matron had wavy brown hair, a button nose, and a perpetually contented expression as he laid her head upon her husband’s shoulder. Emcorae noted Kymm’s blissful adoration, concluding with the simple envy of the inexperienced: She’s exactly what he needs in a woman. Someone to stroke his ego and validate his over-confidence!
The friends spent a tedious interval sharing the mundane news of their lives. Curk said that business was good for the Frixer’s – whose house was part workshop for his father Rik and Curk – and while Emcorae knew the Frixers were not rich, it was clear the family trade provided for their needs well enough. That Curk planned to become a cobbler came as no surprise to Emcorae – for his friend had told him many times that it was a trade that traced back to his great-great-grandfather.
For his part, Emcorae, never spoke of the gargoyles or the spectral horrors of his nightmares, instead trying to impress his friend with boastful tales of his Azora accomplishments. Curk, who still only saw Em as the scared boy of their youths, believed none of it. He thinks he could best me at The Glade, Emcorae surmised – a conclusion confirmed by Curk’s self-serving smirk.
But the pursuit of this “heroic destiny” was now secondary to the compulsion in Emcorae’s heart. Ever since his encounter at Rock Run two days ago, Azop could only think of one thing: his vision of compelled love. As a result, he asked again for information about the mysterious girl he saw at Rock Run.
His bigger friend laughed. “From the way you’ve described her all morning, there can only be one person who fits: Lynsy Finch.”
Kymm nodded in silent agreement, as Curk continued, “But, I know this too, Emcorae Azop—YOU have no business messing around with HER. She’s only the richest girl in town AND she’s engaged to be married to the heir to the Orkney throne!”
Emcorae was stunned. The possibility that his divinely-chosen “dream girl” could already be spoken for had not entered his self-centered thoughts. His heart beat like that of a frantic, trapped bird.
“Orkney? Where in the world is that?” he squeaked.
Curk, with the easy arrogance of the man who already had everything he wanted in life, waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a good for nothing kingdom up there around the Akka mountains, way up north. Why they call themselves a ‘royal’ province is anyone’s guess… What I think is that all that snow must go to their heads—you know, freezes their brains or something. Makes ’em think they’re all better than the rest of us.”
The conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Curk’s mother, Sandi. She was a friendly matron who had always treated Emcorae well—even during the time when most of Monthaven thought the boy was cursed. Sandi embraced him and joked about beating him at a card game called Settbakk. Emcorae, welcoming the delay in his personal tragedy, soon played along with the mock rivalry, but his mind was already racing back to the subject of his pain.
As soon as he sat down, he was back asking questions: “So what do you guys know about this Orkney guy?”
Curk admitted the man hadn’t been around often. “His name is Diked—or something like that. Lynsy’s father arranged the marriage a couple years ago, I think. I’ve seen him in Monthaven… once. He seemed like a bit of a jackass, if you ask me.”
Emcorae sputtered his lemon water, trying to force a laugh. “Wha?…what do you mean?”
“Oh, you know, always walking around with his nose up, giving off airs that he’s better than the rest of us,” Curk elaborated, indulging in the satisfying contempt of the lower class for the failed upper crust. “Plus, the fella ain’t no bigger than you are, Em, so let me tell you if he acted that way around me, I’d show him a thing or two!”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Emcorae said, mockingly rubbing his chest in remembered pain. “But keep going, what else do you know – does she really like him?”
“First of all, it don’t matter none whether or not she likes him. This ain’t one of your fairy tale stories here, bucco. Listen up: Lynsy Finch is the only daughter of Merrill Finch—the richest guy in town, and since his wife is dead, that makes Lynsy the richest girl in town. And you know what that means, right? It means Lynsy Finch is too good a prize for any of us poor fellas here in little Monthaven!”
Emcorae, by now completely confused by the practical failure of his divinely-mandated love, shook his head.
Curk’s next dose of reality hurt even worse: “This is about money and power, buddy. Merrill wants to set his daughter up with some other powerful family so that they can form an alliance and Finch can make his name stronger. That’s the way it works. It is not Lynsy’s choice and there is nothing you can do about it. Heck, there is nothing SHE can do about it. Her and that guy are gonna get married. End of story.”
Emcorae sulked, his divine destiny dashed by the simple, brutal realities of human real estate.
Trying the lighten the mood, Curk said: “Funny thing is, when I saw Diked I got the impression that he’s up to something, or else that he has something to hide. I don’t know which it is, but I don’t trust him one—nope, not one bit. It’s too bad for your cute little Lynsy because her future husband is a dope. Plus, from what I heard his breath stinks—I pity her if she has to kiss him!”
Despite his friend’s jokes, Emcorae didn’t laugh. None of this was good news to him. His heart hammered with the terrible reality that his longed-for lover was going to be possessed by some undeserving, unappreciative nitwit. The treasures that only Emcorae’s devotion could unlock would remain untapped for eternity. Such a tragic waste, he thought to himself sadly.
Curk, ever the simple pragmatist, tried to finish the conversation on this topic as he said, “Let her go, Em. There’s plenty of other crawfish in the crick.” Seeing his friend still sullen, he continued. “Partner… come on, you don’t have the money to buy her all the things she would want. Plus, Lynsy’s probably a spoiled brat anyway. Trust me. Em, there will be other girls. OK, so this just happens to be the first one that has come along and knocked your brains to jelly; but that’s good! Now you know IT’s out there!” Curk winked knowingly, an act of coarse friendship which only made Emcorae blush again.
When Sandi got up from the card table to get some snacks for the group, Curk slyly suggested to Emcore that the conspire to cheat his mother at cards like they did so often in days gone by.
“Actually, Curk, I think I’m just gonna go home tonight,” Emcorae sighed. “Tell your mama I’ll be back tomorrow. I don’t really feel like any games tonight.”
After some quick good byes, Emcorae departed around the back of the Frixer’s house, then cut through the woods towards his house. He was walking into the shadows, his heart full of despair – and primed to accept the desperate paths which Fate might throw him.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 