Yet as Caspian crashed to the stony ground, he felt nothing at all.
Keira
Keira roused stiffly to the smell of a warm breakfast. Having slipped into an awkward position during the night, her muscles were tight and painful as she straightened in the chair. She stretched the discomfort from her body as a list already began to form in her mind. The tally that would somehow get her back on her feet for another day.
On the table there was a plate of sausages set beside a bowl of porridge topped with strawberries, looking every bit as delicious as it smelled.
“I’m going into the village first thing,” Keira said aloud as she stood. She hadn’t entirely decided on this yesterday, but warm sunlight was already streaming through the windows, coaxing her to be out in it. A bittersweet nostalgia longed to walk through the tall grasses, naming the bird calls and spotting burrowing creatures. But more than that, she wanted to learn more about Ignatius’s passing, where he’d been buried. She’d never seen a headstone laid for Caspian. In fact, she realized she wasn’t even sure if his body had been returned for burial, or if he had been put to rest in a battlefield memorial. But there was a chance she would see them both today in the village graveyard, maybe even work up the courage to say her goodbyes.
She wasn’t entirely ready to be around others, the fatigue of grief coaxing her to languish for several more hours in bed. But,Keira feared if she didn’t begin to move soon that she might find herself buried alone in this tower for far too long.
The fixed table disappeared and was replaced with a basket, which appeared with an unceremonious thud. Keira’s brows tightened as she took it. Ignatius’s Domus charm had behaved quite differently than this one. The one she had laid was more attentive, but also more opinionated it seemed. She wondered if the Domus didn’t take on a bit of the personality of its creator. The idea of writing a paper on the subject crossed her mind. She had little desire to return to the Arcanum to complete her education. There was entirely too much academic posturing and politics for her liking, all for a title that seemed superficial to her now. Yet, Ignatius had made a fair amount of money from his submissions to the Royal Mages Guild. Perhaps she could dig up his old contacts, maybe even register as a member if the terms were agreeable.
The idea mulled in her head absently as she left the tower behind and went down the lane toward the village. The basket was packed with warm buttered toast, sausage, and strawberries. Keira finished every bit of it.
After an hour’s walk along the country roads, passing grain fields and vineyards, the small settlement of Fairborough came into view. The village was made up of the tavern, a meeting house, the old smithy, and the farmer’s market that sprung up once a week at the crack of dawn only to dissipate by evening.
Instead, Keira broke from the road up the ill kept path to the village graveyard. A short stone fence enclosed the yard, watched over by a single bare oak tree. She passed through the gate, shutting it quietly behind her. The regimented rows of headstones rose and fell with the hillside. There were so many she hesitated a moment, wondering where to begin. Taking in a fortifying breath, Keira wandered to the far end of the yard where the stones looked newer.
So many of the graves were marked with rusted swords or weathered staves driven into the earth. Soldiers. She wondered if one of them was for Caspian. If it was… would it be the weapon he had carried in his final moments, or were they merely for decoration? She did not know. Either way, it would be disrespectful to remove it, even if she considered it for a moment, just to have a piece of him.
Another shuddering breath in. She was here for a purpose, to find Ignatius’s resting place. Afterward she would search for Caspian as well, even if she knew it would only mean opening up an old wound.
Ignatius’s grave was easier to find than she had feared. It was larger than the common markers around it. On its surface it read:
Ignatius the Red
Accomplished Wizard
Beloved Guardian
Keira stood staring at the words for an immeasurable time. The first time she read them, icy hot guilt spilled over her.Beloved Guardian. Had he even known she loved him in spite of everything? Or had he died reviled and alone…
Alone.
Another thought came, one of reason. Who had commissioned this stone? Ignatius may have set aside a sum for his burial and certainly had the funds to afford something grander than the common farmer. She could even imagine him describing himself as anAccomplished Wizard, butBeloved Guardian?
She straightened, foolishly looking about the empty hillside for the culprit. Who would have known to mark his grave with these words? A colleague of his? Certainly not. Perhaps the village had taken pity on him in death and chosen such wordingso that he wouldn’t seem so alone, unmourned. Though that would be exceedingly charitable of people who had met him only on spare occasion.
The mystery of it troubled her until she turned for the gate. There would be other days to seek out Caspian’s grave… days where she might have the strength to walk that path again. But only after this matter had been put to rest.
Keira set a quick pace down the hill toward the town. As it was early morning, and not a market day, the common room of the Golden Sheaf was basically empty. She had come to the tavern on brief occasions in the past. On one daring night when Ignatius had been away, she had come here with Caspian and shared an evening full of ale and laughter. She sighed the memory away as she went up to the bar where the innkeeper was setting up for the day.
He looked up at her as she approached, and soon a glimmer of recognition came to his eye. It was unsurprising, even though years had passed. People tend to remember the local mages well. Keira dug through the depths of her memory for his name.
“Wondered if we’d ever see you around these parts again,” he said before ducking below the bar to grab a glass and setting it before her.
“No thank you, Angus,” Keira recalled. “I just came to ask some questions.”
“Alright,” he said, taking it back slowly.
Keira struggled over where to begin. “Ignatius is dead,” was all she could think of to say.
Angus nodded sympathetically. “Must be more than a year gone now.”
Her breath hitched.
His bushy brows pinched together. “You only just heard?”
