Location: Monthaven
Timeline: Sixth Age, 52nd Year, Late Spring and All Summer
Ah, the climax of the termite’s little drama. Emcorae sprinted out of that cottage, abandoning his “studies” and his grandmother’s cabbage stew without a second thought – it a masterclass in mortal impulsivity. He scrambled onto that mare of his, Joanne, and rode like the hounds of the Underworld were nipping at his heels.
He wasn’t riding for duty. He wasn’t riding for the Azora. He was riding for a girl with strawberry-blond hair and more baggage than Enok and the Kanites.
Along the way he didn’t notice the sun coming out. Nor the many puddles he rode through. And certainly not the blue jay flying overhead and watching him.
This Kiss
Emcorae reached the Finch estate in record time—guards be damned—and found Lynsy exactly where the Fates had placed her: on a stone bench, looking tragic, yet radiant in the spring breeze.
The boy performed a daring, acrobatic dismount of his horse—purely for show, of course—and swept his lover off her feet. There were tears. There were sobs. And finally, there was the kiss.
Alyssa had watched it all of course – in the form of blue jay perched nearby – looking upon the scene with a mix of regret and acceptance. [Oh, the melodrama – gag me with a spoon and end it!]
As for the boy? He thought the entire universe was applauding his triumph – he had no idea he was merely ascending to the highest point of a very long drop.
That Summer
The Summer of ’52 followed – it was a sickeningly sweet season of “young love.” To Emcorae, it was the pinnacle of existence. To anyone else watching it was a montage of sweaty palms, whispered secrets, and enough hormone-fueled sentimentality to make a demon gag. And though he didn’t know it at the time, these would ultimately be the best days of Emcorae’s life.
Their romance was aided by the fact that Merrill Finch and Dugan were away at the time – in fact they were in Fubar trying to re-finalize Lynsy’s arranged marriage. Unsure how to break the news to Lynsy’s father that his daughter was dumping a wealthy future king for a common villager with barely a copper to his name, they kept their affair under wraps. But they spent weeks, conspiring with Tiffania how to break the news to Merrill when he returned at summer’s end.
As it turned out, their anxiety was a waste for naught – Merrill returned from Fubar with a bruised ego. To begin with, he’d discovered that King Karl, his friend, had in reality died suddenly in the Winter of ’48. Diked had apparently been King all this time. This meant that the many letters Lynsy’s father had received from Karl were forgeries. He’d since learned they’d been written by the new King’s advisor – an obsequious man named Ramssee that Merrill didn’t like or trust. And worst of all was this – in spite of Merrill’s good faith request to proceed with the arranged marriage, King Diked had initially rebuffed him, treating the Finches like bothersome insects. It was everything Merrill could do to salvage the deal by working with Ramssee to convince the king to honor his agreement. It had taken months of meetings, and additional dowry concessions on his part, but in the end the master trader had completed the deal – and the wedding was set for that fall.
When Lynsy burst out crying, Merrill saw them as tears of anxious joy. Imagine his surprise when his daughter said.
“Father, please don’t make me marry Diked.” And Lynsy then spilled just enough of the truth to turn her father’s heart.
The girl didn’t tell about everything Diked did to mistreat her, but she told him was enough. Merrill was so distressed to realize he’d failed to look out for Lynsy’s best interests that when she then told him about her new love for Emcorae Azop – a local townsman – rather than think about things from a business perspective – he was so overjoyed to see his daughter happier than she had been in years, he let himself fully support her. Suddenly, the “poor Monthaven boy” wasn’t a social disaster; he was a sanctuary.
In the end, Merrill gave Emcorae and Lynsy his blessing – and his gold. The pair not only could be seen in public, but they didn’t have to worry about their future finances either.
The summer became an endless loop of bliss. Time stopped for the young lovers who spent their time with their friends – Curk and Kymm, Tiffania and Darril – and their families – both the Azops and The Finches – and naturally finding many an occasion to be alone despite Monthaven’s small town morals imposed by the Mannah Faith. They frolicked over the wonderful country spots that Monthaven had to offer – Rock Run, Pennal Forest, The Newberri Farms, and of course the beautiful grounds that were the Finches’ Estates.
A Father’s Blessing
Despite their happiness, there always loomed a shadow over the sunshine that was their new love – for both Emcorae and Lynsy knew they would eventually have to deal with Diked. And when Merrill showed his daughter another letter that came to him from Fubar – then it was that everyone knew they had to come up with a plan.
Merrill tried to offer them an escape to Primcitta, a job for Emcorare in one of his trading companies. “More importantly, you’ll become ‘lost’ in the largest city on the East Coast. Surely long enough for King Diked to give up and move on to other affairs. And after a couple years if you two want to return to Monthaven, or go someplace else, I can help you do that too. How does all this sound?”
But the boy—flushed with his own importance—had a better idea, which he explained as he slipped on Merrrill’s expensive wine. “I appreciate the offer, Master Finch, but Lynsy, Darril, Tiffania, and me are going to Arbola Forest.”
“Is that so?” Lynsy’s father eyed Emcorae between puffs on his pipe. On one hand he was a little miffed that he hadn’t been included in their planning process, on the other, he was happy to see his daughter’s partner was man enough to take care of things.
Emcorae explained further. “The fact is the elves will protect us. And I can finish my training. As for Diked, well, he can go to the void for all I care.”
Merrill laughed, slapping the boy’s back. He thought it was brilliant – for even a King wouldn’t be stupid enough to march an army into the elven woods, right?
They all toasted to their cleverness. The boy must felt like a god – never realizing the “blinding brilliance” of his future was actually the glare of an oncoming fire.
All Good Things Must End
Autumn arrived – far too soon – and with it, the reality of Emcorae’s departure. When he’d first returned home, he had only expected a quiet stay – enjoying time with his family and renewing his old friendship with Curk. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the new experiences he’d shared with Lynsy.
And while he was going to go back to Arbola to continue his training, he also faced a big unknown: would the elves really agree to protect Lynsy from King Diked? In truth he didn’t know for sure, but he never let anyone else think differently.
“Don’t worry,” Emcorae assured his friends earlier that summer. “The Amorosi will welcome us once they hear our story,” and he squeezed Lynsy close to him as they sat around the Finch’s fireplace chatting.
Naturally Lynsy, Tiffiania, and Darrill had been a little hesitant to leave Monthaven – the only home they had ever known – but Emcorae got them excited about what life among the elves had to offer – if could be a mini adventure for them all at least for a little while.
Tiffania and Darril didn’t have anybody to miss them and Merrill’s payment to Farmer Pryde to reimburse him for the loss of the farm hand Darril made things easier. And while Lynsy’s father wasn’t overjoyed about the prospect of Lynsy leaving his “nest,” he consoled himself with the fact that only Emcorae was going away now and that even if/when Lynsy later followed, it wasn’t going to be forever – once the specter of Diked was gone, they’d all surely return – or so the fool believed.
As for Emcorae’s family, that was a different story. While they knew their son was only returning home for a short visit and had every intention of going back to Arbola once Autumn arrived, still, as the time neared for him to leave, they became terribly sad. He’d shared a few tears with Teree, Pallina, and even Chich. And his mother, the overly dramatic Beckali, often clung to her son in those final weeks, repeatedly wailing about the twenty years of training he was leaving for this time. “I may never see you again!” she cried.
As for Alboris and Alfranco, they dealt with the situation the best way they knew – by inviting Emcorae for drinks at The Brandonale Inn. Emcorae hated the smoke, but he went. It was his farewell tour after all, and he knew, with a budding Azora’s intuition, that he was looking at a closing door.
The night before his departure, the tavern was a thick soup of tobacco smoke and the yeasty breath of the villagers peasants. His father Alboris sat at the bar – withdrawing into himself as if trying to memorize the grain of the board, too sad to speak. Emcorae and his friends were squeezed into a corner table – Curk was coping with the departure by trying to see the bottom of pint and he kept punching Emcorae’s arm, his jokes getting louder and cruder. Beside him, Kymm sat with worry, occasionally reaching out to steady Curk’s mug, her eyes lingering on Emcorae with the look of someone watching a bird fly into a gale. And then there was Lynsy – her chair close to Emcorae, her hand anchored to his thigh under the table. She didn’t belong in a place like the Brandonale – she was a silk ribbon in a room full of burlap sacks, but she’d not have missed this night for the world.
And then there was Alfranco – forever The King of the Taproom. Even in his cups, there was a gravity to him that the other mortals lacked. He had the scent of Arbola still clinging to his soul, a faint trace of elven starlight that even decades of cheap ale couldn’t wash away. He sensed the gloom and decided it wouldn’t stand.
“Look at him!” Alfranco roared to the rafters as he pointed at his grandson. “My Em’s going to The Elven forest! He’s off to adventure – something you nitwits know nuthin’ about.”
The tavern went silent – always eager for another yarn from their beloved gaffer. Alfranco did not disappoint. Aldom the barkeep was quick to fill the old man’s mug and made ready for keep the ale flowing for other patrons as Alfranco surveyed the crowd. His breath smelled of hops and history, and his eyes—once clear enough to catch the gaze of a Goddess— were now clouded with the ghosts of the Last Great War and unwanted visions of gargoyles, but he didn’t let those things keep him from his mission.
“Listen to me, lad,” Alfranco called across the bar to Emcorae. “The Amorosi… they don’t teach ya how to just survive, they teach ya how to thrive. Make your life extraordinary. Let the world hear your wild YAWP!” And he let loose a scream that shook the bar – sending the patrons into a drinking frenzy.
Although Curk and Emcorae toasted along with the rest, when Alfranco roared Lynsy jumped in mild fright – but like everyone else in the bar, she never looked away from the old man. She was mesmerized by Al-Corragio. Perhaps she was even seeing the future of her lover—the weight, the scars, and the terrifying beauty of the life he was choosing.
The old man continued. “The Elves may well turn ya’s heart into a diamond, but do you keep a bit of the mud of Monthaven in your blood. Maybe it’ll keep you safe when the world starts to scream.”
Alfranco then turned his gaze to Lynsy, a sudden, piercing softness in his weathered face. “And you, girl. Ya hold our boy tight. An Azora’s soul is a cold thing without a fire to come home to. I’ve seen the high woods, and I’ve felt the cold. Keep Em warm with your love.” The girl blushed and hid her face on Emcorae’s shoulder to hide her tears as the old turned back to the crowd and raised yet another fresh pint. “To my grandson! The first human to walk The Way since… well, since ever. And someone much better looking than me!”
The room erupted – and even Alboris managed a smile at his son. But the night was far from over – for Alfranco was in his element again.
“Give us a yard about the elves.” Jon Stapleton called out from the table with his wife Sally.
Soon enough, Al-Corragio was spinning tales of his own days among the elves, though he skipped the parts about the nightmares that made him scream in his sleep. He told them of the time he outdrank an elven scout and later about time he’d seen the Goddess Alyssa’s hair catch the light of a twin moon. He didn’t mention he’d loved her. He didn’t have to. The longing in his voice was a song everyone knew.
Candlemarks later, much to the delight of the Brandonale’s owner Aldom, the tavern was still packed – although things had quieted down a bit. Lynsy had fallen asleep on Emcorae’s shoulder, Curk was slouched against the wall, eyes glassy and red, while Kymm whispered quiet comforts to him. Emcorae (along with everyone else) was still watching Alfranco. By now the old gaffer was crying in his cups—not the quiet, pathetic sobbing of a weak man, but the grand, tectonic grief of a hero who knew he was seeing the best of his bloodline depart. He knew it was time to call an end to the night – for his grandson had a long journey in the morning.
Walking over to Emcorae, he grabbed him by the shoulder, his grip surprisingly like iron for a man of his winters. “Go on then,” Alfranco choked out, wiping his eyes with a sleeve that had seen better days. “Become a legend. Give ’em hell in Arbola.” And after a brief glance at Lynsy and with a twinkle in his eye he whispered, “And if ya see a blue jay watching ya… you tell her…Al-Corragio remembers.”
Turning back to the bar he raised his ale, his hand shaking. The entire tavern rose with him, a forest of mugs lifting in the dim light. The old man knew something no one else did – he knew the boy was walking into a storm, and this—this boisterous, drunken, beautiful chaos—was the only armor he could give him.
Although I can’t say that I liked Alfranco, I’ll admit, he was more than a storyteller; he was a weaver of spirits. And when Emcorae finally walked out into the cool night air with Lynsy at his side and Curk’s drunken farewell echoing behind him, he carried the fire of his grandfather’s heart with him – but would it be enough to protect him against my minions who he was destined to face?
The Long Goodbye
The morning of Emcorae’s depature was a feast of gluttony and grief. Curk and the Frixers were there, along with Tiffania and Darril, Merrill and Lynsy, and of course Emcorae’s family. Even that opportunistic priest, Kastelli, showed up solely for the free food. In short, eeryone who mattered to Emcorae was there to see him off.
Paullina, Beckali, and Sandi Frixer had a board prepared for the ages – fried dough with powdered sugar, fresh preserves and muffins, gnokkii’s with tomato sauce, Gulunkis, and even a turkey with all the trimmings. Not to mention a spiced apple cider (of which Alfranco spiked his).
Good times were had by all, for the union of the poor Azop’s and the wealth Finches was surprisingly turning into blessing to both families. Merrill even took a special liking to Alfranco and invited him on his next trading trip. Emcorae even played the hero a time or two – showing off his sword forms for the admiring crowd, soaking in the praise like a sponge and seeing the admiration in Lynsy’s eyes.
Finally, the horse Joanne whinnied. The party snapped.
“Well, I guess that means—?“ Beckali said cautiously, hoping that her son would fill in the blanks with news that he had instead chosen to stay.
“I know, Mama.” Emcorae replied. “It’s time for me to go.” He held Lynsy close as he whispered, “Don’t worry, love, we’ll start our new life together soon.” To the rest he added, “You’ll see me at the next moon. So fast you won’t even know I was gone!”
Curk raising his glass, “Let’ toast our great warrior, Emcorae!”
Alboris and Alfranco quickly seconded and the group all wished the boy a safe and quick journey, eager to see him return.
Before leaving Emcorae spent a few moments with each person, giving them a personal goodbye, but eventually he led Joanne by the tether away from the cottage, with Lynsy holding his hand, as the tears streamed down their faces. No words could express their anxiety – for this would be the first time in their young relationship where they would be apart — and with all the perils that could potentially harm them – Diked’s inevitable revenge once he found out about Lynsy’s betrayal, the dangers of traveling alone that awaited Emcorae, and yes, even the unspoken fears of fidelity that plague all young lovers – these and more weighed on their minds.
They reached the nearby woods – the time rushing past too fast for them – Lynsy clinging to Emcorae’s hand like a lifeline as they stopped under the canopy, out of sight of the others.
“Don’t say it.” Lynsy said, facing him, crying hard now. If it was possible, it seemed that Lynsy was even more beautiful on this day than Emcorae had ever seen her before – her skin glowing with that summer’s tan, her strawberry blond hair, her cute little nose, pouty lips, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows, and green eyes – Emcorae was drinking in every last feature on her body so he could better remember her. Lynsy’s words broke his daydream, “I love you! Oh, Em, please don’t go. Isn’t there any other way?”
I’ll admit, she looked beautiful in her desperation, but sadly for Lynsy, she couldn’t fight fate – or the gods.
“I love you too. And I’ll be back,” Emcorae whispered, a promise that has doomed a thousand men before him. “Soon we’ll be together forever.” And then he leaned in for a kiss and whispered, “And I’m not gone yet.”
What followed in those woods was a frantic, desperate goodbye that nearly crossed the line of “small-town morals” – perhaps it would have if Curk had not been sent by the families to “check on them.”
“Everybody was worried about Lynsy,” Curk explained, “thinking a bear might have gotten her. I see now itt was another kinda monster.”
“We’re fine.” Lynsy said breathlessly. “I’m coming back soon. Just give me one more…moment.”
Curk left them to their final goodbye.
Emcorae looked longingly into Lynsy’s eyes, and she into his. Neither could speak – knowing this was the end. After one last kiss, a tearful Lynsy squeezed Emcorae tightly, before she melted away and walked back to the Azop’s house.
Emcorae watched her until the shadows swallowed her. Then, he mounted Joanne and galloped off as fast as he could – hoping the speed would quell his anguish at leaving Lynsy.
It’s only for a moment. He assured himself. Then we’ll be together for a lifetime.
He thought he was riding toward his destiny as a legendary warrior and soon a happy husband. He didn’t realize that every hoofbeat was taking him further away from the boy he used to be and closer to the man I would eventually try to break.
The Summer of ’52 was over. The winter was coming, and it was going to be much colder than any of them expected.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 