Mourned Alive

Gravel crunched under Ealdian’s boots as he walked along the road, carts rattling as they passed him and hooves clopping as horses went by. Spring was at hand, and the air was warming in the lands where winter had less of a hold. A few birds were returning from the southeast of the continent, and the days were more gold than gray when it was not drizzling with vernal rains.

Since his brief visit to Tolmacht, and subsequent death there, new horizons were what Ealdian had longed for. A place where no one knew his name, face, or curse.

A chance to start over.

As he crested a hill the road traversed, Ealdian shielded his eyes from the sun and gazed down into the plains to the west. A few patches of woodland dotted the countryside, and the frozen ground had thawed in recent days. Grass of a bright, light green could be seen between the puddles and stones, and a small castle rose to the north, banners flying in the wind.

“Ardûnn,” Ealdian whispered, a frail smile coming to his lips.

He’d made it.

Ardûnn was much like Tolmacht had been in the days Ealdian had received his curse, but also quite different. The town layout was less compact than the woodland kingdom he hailed from, sprawling out with wide streets and open plazas, making use of the space the plains offered. The day was bright and the markets brimming with customers from the various provinces and towns that claimed those in the castle as their lord.

Best of all, no one gave him a second glance. In their eyes, he was just another traveler. There were no shouts saying the Everwander had come among them, nor any ‘tests’ of his immortality. Here, his lilac eyes meant nothing, and he was, to them, Ealdian only.

Drawing in a deep breath, savoring the air carrying the rich perfume of blooming flowers and the tantalizing scents of fresh baked goods, Ealdian let relief flood him.

Spring was the season of new beginnings, and his timing of coming here was no accident.

Letting the breath out and casting his gaze around the square. A statue rose up in the center, a grand creature of some sort, and children played hopscotch and chased each other with wooden swords and ribbon wands as their parents laughed and chatted with each other. While Ealdian knew that there was no such thing as a utopia, he would have argued that this first impression would have challenged that wisdom.

He paused and looked around, realizing he had wandered a bit too far. None of this place looked familiar.

Should he pick a direction at random?

“Are you lost?”

Ealdian turned to the voice behind him, finding a woman there that looked to be around his physical age, mid-twenties. Her brown hair was piled in a messy bun and her dimples made her smile merry.

“A little,” Ealdian admitted with a chuckle. “It’s my first time in Ardûnn.”

“Traveler eh? Ardûnn is the kingdom. This here town is Éardéwall.”

“A lovely name. It means ‘Truespoken’ if I am not mistaken.”

The woman laughed. “You’d know more than me there, but it does fit with our values. Are you in need of a place to stay?”

Ealdian nodded. “I saw an inn, but lost my way, and there were no vacancies besides.”

“It’s a time of festival,” the woman said. “People from across the kingdom are visiting for tomorrow morning’s sunrise.”

“I don’t mind camping. Is there a place I can pitch my tent?”

The woman smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “No need for that. I have an outbuilding on my property used as a guest apartment. I’d be glad to rent it to you.”

“I don’t know,” Ealdian said. He did not see any deceit, but he was cautious after a few centuries on the road. Kind people were out there, but dangerous ones hiding among them were too common. “I don’t even know your name, nor you mine.”

“That’s an easy fix,” she said. “I’m Sudie. And you?”

“Ealdian. Well met.”

“Mind if I call you Dian?”

“Go ahead.”

Sudie smiled again. “It’s nice to meet you, Dian. This is your first time here, you said?”

“Aye.”

“Then allow me to give you the grand tour,” Sudie insisted. Her joy was a sunflower swaying on a summer day. Ealdian couldn’t help but accept the offer.

Ealdian smiled as Sudie led him through the town. Her cheerful descriptions of each building, its history, and the occasional funny event that once happened there kept him engaged and intrigued. He was eager to hear more. From the community garden where Sudie received many waves and him many welcomes to the pastures of brown spotted cattle and curious sheep, Éardéwall -and Ardûnn by extension- had won Ealdian’s heart within hours.

This was his fresh start and new beginning.

As the day waned and night approached, the square grew quiet and lamps were lit in hues of gold, pink, and green to last through the night. Sudie had given a pink one to Ealdian telling him that each lamp was a beacon to summon good fortune to the town. As they walked to her home, Sudie talked about it at greater length.

“It’s a tradition started by the founders of Ardûnn,” she said, opening a low gate in a stout stone wall rising waist-high around her property. “In those days, this was little more than a small village trying to survive a war waged between great foes. The faelings did not discern between us and their enemies beyond our lands to the south, and though they understood we were neutral, they hardly spared us when they could not know us from the other humans. I suppose we all look alike to them.”

“I remember that war,” Ealdian said. He closed his eyes, the memory still coming to him at times, even a century after he stood there, hands dripping scarlet as lightning illuminated the dead faces in pale flashes.

“It was vicious, and in hindsight, the human kingdom was in the wrong. But war is hard to justify regardless of fault. The land was painted red…”

“Didn’t matter to us who was right or wrong,” Sudie said. “Our forebears wanted no part of it. One night, as the story goes, our town saw the fae coming, and their folk were enraged beyond reason. Yet a wise one came before them and said to ‘light our homes with the colors of spring, and the fae would know to us, their wrath they must not bring.’ The exact words I forget, it is now a rhyme of lore. Our town put out the lanterns you see now; pink for the newly bloomed flowers, green for the revitalized earth, and gold for the return of the lengthening days of the sun. The fae saw them, and they went around the town, sparing us. Whenever the fae marched to battle everafter, the lamps would be lit, and the fae would not only give us peace, but would even help mend our homes and renew our land with their magic. That tradition continues annually, and tonight they will come and enchant the land again, so we may have another year of prosperity and peace with our northern neighbors.”

“I never knew that story,” Ealdian said. “Ardûnn is fortunate.”

“We are lucky, yes,” Sudie said, “but friendship is the strength of our people in the end. It overcomes all differences, if one trusts to friends rather than fear.”

Ealdian nodded, his mind exploring possibilities.

At the home were two others, and Sudie smiled and hugged them both before bringing them to meet Ealdian.

“This is Lochlan and Calder,” Sudie said. “Good friends of mine from down the way. Lads, this is Dian. I hope you don’t mind an extra at our table.”

“If he’s a friend of yers Sudie,” Lochlan said, “he’s a friend of ours. Nice to meet ye, Dian.”

“Likewise,” Ealdian said.

“Where are ye from?” asked Calder.

“Tolmacht,” Ealdian said, “up away north past the faewood.”

Lochlan let out a low whistle. “That’s some distance, ye walked a long way.”

“I had time. I’ve traveled for most of my life.”

“No family?” Calder asked.

Ealdian’s smile faded some and he shook his head. “They died a long time ago. I’m the scion of my house.”

“I’m sorry,” Sudie said.

“It’s alright, I’ve come to terms with it. I don’t want to linger on the past.”

“Just like Calder when ye bring up the incident with Barkha,” Lochlan said with a chuckle as Calder went red.

“Ye swore ye’d never speak of it again!”

“Come on, it was hilarious.”

“Who or what is Barkha?” Ealdian asked, letting his past be forgotten by the others.

Sudie chuckled. “Barkha is a rather ill-tempered horse Calder had to do his plowing. She took offense at being ridden, as Calder found out.”

“Yea,” Calder said, still a bit red but smiling now. “Problem was I only found out after I was on her back.”

“That would be quite inopportune,” Ealdian said, allowing himself a smile once he saw the teasing was in good nature.

“Yea, not a great time to learn I can’t fly neither!”

They laughed, and Ealdian with them, his fears eased.

“So,” Sudie said, clapping her hands and clasping them in front of her, “who’s ready for dinner? I’ll add a place setting for you Dian.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ealdian said.

“I know.” Sudie smiled and invited him inside. “But I want to.”

They set out the lamps after, and when dawn came, the celebration was bright indeed. The last hints of winter had faded, and laughter filled Éardéwell.

As the final lamp went out the night after and the wind blew melodies across the fields, Ealdian lay in his bed, gazing up at the ceiling with a smile. This place was all he could hope for.

He could stay for a while. A lifetime.

~

“Watch your left!”

Ealdian slashed at Lochlan, his blade glancing off of the man’s parry. Despite the years that had passed since they met during the Dawnlight Festival, both were still in good shape even in their forties.

Another slash, another parry, and Ealdian smiled. “That’s good!”

“Thank ye,” Lochlan said, his brown eyes alight with determined fire. “You teach well.”

“Thank you.” Ealdian slashed an undercut at Lochlan, delighted as he was once again parried. For a few more minutes the spar continued, then blades were sheathed and water fetched.

“What made you take up the sword so late in life?” Ealdian asked, leaning on the well and watching his friend. The summer sun blazed gold above them, and the rich green countryside was full of growing crops around the town. It was a day of beauty.

“I’ve wanted to since I was a lad,” Lochlan said. “My folks come from the northlands, like Calder’s, where battle is seen as a noble and worthy skill. While I got no use for it here, I’d have asked if ye said something sooner about yer own skill, so I could honor my heritage.”

Ealdian shrugged, glancing aside. “I never had a reason to bring it up. My past is in the past.”

“I’ve wondered about that,” Lochlan admitted, drawing up another bucket of water to take back home for his wife. “Ye don’t talk much about it. How did ye even learn to master the blade before coming to Ardûnn? Not even our most experienced soldiers could have matched ye if ye didn’t hold back.”

“I just studied and trained hard.”

The mild lie bothered Ealdian, not least because he considered Lochlan one of his best friends along with Calder and Sudie. Even knowing them for more than a decade, he carried secrets.

“Right,” Lochlan said, a bit suspicious of the answer but unable to refute it. “I suppose ye trained all yer childhood?”

“Something like that.” Another lie, but telling Lochlan how he learned over the course of centuries was not something Ealdian was ready to do.

“Alright,” Lochlan said. “Ye know ye can talk to me about anything, right?”

Ealdian nodded, but that too left a bitter aftertaste of dishonesty.

He’d tell them someday.

~

Stomping his boots with a shiver, Ealdian knocked on Calder’s door before stooping and picking up the pot of soup he’d brought with him. The handles were still warm even as the autumn air chilled with winter’s approach. His once dark hair was now gray and wrinkles lined his face. Old age was not his most pleasant experience, but at least it was a new one. Death usually found him sooner.

Sudie opened the door and ushered Ealdian inside. Her hair still had some color, but it was fading each day, and her dimples were sometimes obscured by wrinkles.

“Thank you for coming Dian,” she said, leading him to the back room.

“Of course,” Ealdian said, his voice rasping slightly from a lifetime of wear and tear. “How is he?”

“Stronger today,” Sudie said. “I’ve tended to him a few days now and he’s improving.”

“You are unparalleled in healing, my friend,” Ealdian said.

“Bah, it’s just experience. My old bones have plenty of that. Here, scoop some of that into a bowl, and you can leave the rest on the stove.”

Ealdian did as she said and they both went to Calder’s room.

“Dian,” Calder said, sitting up in bed. The man had a wheeze to his voice, but it was far from a death rattle.

“Well met Cal,” Ealdian said with a smile. “You look better. I brought some soup for you. It isn’t much but my mother always made some for me when I was sick. This is her special recipe.”

“Your mother created your famous recipe?” Calder said, accepting the bowl and spoon.

Ealdian nodded.

“You don’t speak of her much,” Sudie said, folding some linens she was putting away for Calder. “What was she like?”

“It’s been so long, I’m not sure I remember,” Ealdian said, his smile fading. Had it been two hundred years? Three? He wished he had the forethought to bring pictures of his family with him into exile. Many were faded, distant blurs to him now, only shapes of faces he once knew.

“Are ye alright Dian?” Calder asked. “Ye went quiet again.”

“Hm? I’m fine, sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“What were ye thinking about?” Calder asked, taking a quick bite of soup.

“I’d rather not say.”

“Ye always say that. What’s eating at ye?”

Ealdian hesitated. Hiding his curse had taken its toll, but if he revealed it now, over fifty years since he first came to Éardéwell, would it be too late? Late could be worse than never. He had time to figure out the right way to tell them.

“Nothing important, Calder. I’m fine.”

“Ye sure?”

Ealdian nodded.

“Alright,” Calder said, continuing to eat carefully. “I trust ye on that.”

Ealdian nodded, not trusting his voice. This was necessary. He had too much to lose to that curse to make a blunder now. His home, his friends, his new life free of his past; they were too precious to let go now. Let the years pass. A solution would present itself.

~

Ealdian looked down at his hands, young and unwrinkled. Yet now, he almost wished he were back in that courtroom in Tolmacht, being sentenced to exile. At least then he wasn’t close to the witnesses of his death.

“Look, I can explain—”

“Explain?!” Lochlan shouted, louder than he probably meant to as he was half deaf with age. “We watched you die, and now, yer a strappin’ teenager!”

“Lochlan, I’m still me, I’m just- look, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Oh, you didn’t?” Sudie chipped in, leaning on her cane, her usually welcoming brown eyes now glacial walls, “It’s not like you had sixty-three years to tell us. It wasn’t like you had days of being on your deathbed to ease our hearts while we stayed by you.”

Ealdian winced. He could have said something, but it had been so long since anyone had mourned him, seeing his death as nothing notable and recoiling when he revived. Then he’d be cast out. So, he put off telling them. Telling himself to wait ‘just one more day.’

Had he waited one too long?

“Aye,” Calder said, his face still wet with wept tears, but now bereft of all sorrow as fury simmered. “Ye had every chance to tell us Dian, and ye instead put us through grief.”

“I know, I just…” Ealdian sighed. Weariness still pulled at him, though after centuries he had started to grow used to the lingering side effect. “I just didn’t want you to shun me, or despise me. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“We were your friends,” Sudie said, “Do you honestly think so poorly of us?”

“Well, given how you’re reacting, was I wrong to worry?”

“We don’t care that ye can’t die,” Calder said. “Ye lied to us! Let us suffer!”

“But—”

“I’ve had enough,” Lochlan said, his scowl emphasized by the lines on his face. He walked out of Ealdian’s home, leaning on his cane, and both Sudie and Calder stood to leave as well.

“Wait, please—"

Calder shook his head and left. Sudie paused at the door. She turned to say one last thing.

“Your shame will cost you more than your honesty will. Farewell Ealdian.”

Then she too was gone.

~

A few months later, Ealdian left flowers at each of their graves before turning away. Winter had been cruel.

“Farewell,” he said, words snatched by the wind. His heart ached, unresolved, as his boots crunched into the snow. The headstones faded into the distant gray.

Ealdian departed. He would not be seen in Ardûnn again until those yet to be born had passed away.