Title: Destiny’s Refuge, Part 3
Characters: Elden/Misham
Series: Another Life
Elden gave one last tug on the satchel’s strap when Carrick’s deep voice reverberated throughout the room. Glancing over to the imposing man standing by Sander, he couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by the massive warrior. He towered over his father. As Elden stood eye to eye to Sander, that meant Carrick was taller than his own six and a half feet.
Carrick held out a leather drawstring bag towards Sander. Elden couldn’t see what it was but heard him say, “We would give you a gift of payment for your kindness in taking in one of ours.”
Elden saw the gentle smile his father gave the other man. The warriors had come to Gliese over a generation ago, but they still struggled to understand the ways of life here. He listened as Sander kindly refused Carrick’s payment.
“Kindness can only grow when shared. Payment stunts the growth.” At Carrick’s confused look, Sander explained further, “We do not require payment. Helping another is our destiny.”
Nodding, Carrick finally understood. “You cannot deny what destiny demands.”
Trying to practice patience while the two men talked of the culture of kindness, Elden double checked all the bags. He knew that his father, Rastus, had checked his own and Sander’s satchels, but Elden couldn’t stand still. Something was pulling at him. Urging him to go. Go collect...Elden didn’t know what the force was driving him to collect. He just knew it was building inside him. A call that was so strong he felt it deep in his soul. So urgent he could almost hear it echo in the room.
“Misham.” Sander’s deep voice broke through the urgent summoning. “We are ready to depart.”
Startled to see everyone looking at him, Elden’s face reddened. He couldn’t stop the blush from rising, but he refused to shuffle his feet like a naughty child. He wanted the warriors of this nation to think highly of him. They were in part trusting him to care for one of their own. Quickly, he lifted the bags onto his shoulder. He held his head high as he strode to the men waiting at the door.
Rastus leaned closer to him as he pulled on his gloves. “Are you having a vision?”
“No. Not a vision.” Or at least Elden didn’t think it was a message from the stars. Colored mist typically accompanied the prophecies. No mist only the persistent summoning. Something he’d never experienced before. At the worrying look his father gave him, Elden mustered a reassuring smile.
Carrick shrugged into a heavy fur coat. “They live beyond the village in the first mountain.”
The icy wind took Elden’s breath away. He knew the history of the Warriors. That they’d come from a frozen planet, but he couldn’t imagine living where snow blanketed the ground every day of the year. Winter hadn’t even arrived, yet the path they walked through the village was only a trench through the snowpack.
Elden wished he’d followed Rastus’s lead and put on gloves. He couldn’t even keep them in his pockets. The men and women of the village waved to them as they passed. Elden couldn’t ignore them. Courtesy dictated he smile and wave back.
They wound their way through the village, heading toward the mountain range to the north. The first peak had a rock cliff front that glittered in the weak sunlight. The range was rich in metals and minerals. With the town behind them, the wind was no longer blocked by the cottages and building. Elden ducked his head against the wind and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“There. That is where he lives.”
Elden looked to where Carrick was pointing but didn’t see anything but the large mountain. The small group kept going toward the rock cliff of the mountain. A heavy wooden door built into the came into view as they walked closer.
Once they were standing in front of the door, Carrick pulled on the rope hanging by the door. A loud bang came from inside.
At Sander’s questioning gaze, Carrick explained, “The rope is connected to a mallet. When pulled it bangs on the inner door, announcing any guests waiting outside.
The door opened to reveal a tall, weathered man. “Come in, come in. Thank you for coming. I’m Timon.”
As the men stepped inside, Elden could feel the warmth of the room on his face. Wanting to feel to feel it all over his body, he pushed back the hood of his cloak. He saw his fathers do the same. There was nothing inside except a tall shelf with winter wear on it, but the heat of the room was a welcomed relief from the icy wind outside.
“Hang your cloaks on the hooks.” Timon pointed toward the side wall.
Elden saw the metal hooks that had been attached to the wall. He struggled to unbutton his coat with frozen fingers. Once they were all undone, he shrugged out of the wool cloak and hung it up. Then he leaned over to unlatch his snowshoes.
“This is our cold room. The main rooms are through here.” The man pointed toward another door. “Follow me.”
Sander stepped through the doorway first. Always protecting his mate and son. They entered a large room that held an imposing fireplace against the stone back wall. Elden couldn’t help but be in awe of how they’d chiseled away part of the mountain to build their home. They were protected from the harsh wind, snow, and ice.
A woman closed an adjacent door. She looked toward Timon. “He’s nervous. He needed a moment and then he’ll be out.”
Worry etched Timon’s face, but he nodded. “This is my mate, Keena. Misham’s mother. Misham will join us shortly.”
A sad smile graced her lips. “Thank you. The stars sent you as a savior. They know our Misham will not last the winter here. Thank you for coming to take him to a warmer climate. Oh, where are my manners? Sit, please. We’ve hot drink and food for you.”
“Your offering is hard to refuse, but refuse I must,” Carrick said. He turned to Sander. “We are in your debt. From this day forward, you are our treasured friend and family.
Sander nodded. “We are honored, Carrick. But remember, family does not keep score of debts. We will stay in touch.”
“Timon. Keena. Your son is courageous and will survive due to the generosity of Sander, Rastus, and Elden.
Timon ladled out a thick stew as Keena poured a hot drink into earthenware cups. “Please, sit and rest. Your journey must have been exhausting.”
The table was small, built for a tiny family, but there were plenty of chairs. As soon as the bowls of soup and the cups of drink were placed on the table, Keena and Timon joined them.
“Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but your home is quite extraordinary. The way it is built into the mountain is very unique.” Elden couldn’t help but admire the structure.
Keena smiled sadly. “It was the only way we could protect Misham.”
“Protect him?” Elden asked.
“Yes. He feels things very deep inside him. The stone seems to give him some protection,” Keena said. She bowed her head and then looked up. “See, Timon is a Historian. I am a Warrior from Tarvos. Our son was born with some of each of us. But none of our gifts fully developed.”
Elden could see the pain the woman felt for her son. She had done all she could to protect him. Even now, sending him away was an act of love and protection.
“It is time you met him.” Timon went to the door closest to the fireplace. He opened it and called to his son. “Come, agape. Come meet our guests.”
Elden stood as the frail, thin, young man came into the great room. It was him. The boy, the man of his visions. The young man with dark haunted eyes. Heat burst throughout his body. Coursing through his veins. A weight he’d carried deep in his soul from his first vision was lifted from his shoulders. He knew Misham felt it too. Something flickered in his haunted eyes. Hope.
TBC
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