Chapter 59
(Radclyff's House)
At Radclyff’s house, he, Aila, and Barion are in the middle of cleaning the house; today is the day the younger family members return from Skye’s domicile from a response to Aila’s letter several days ago, unaware of the event at Meybury. Radclyff and Barion set up decorations around the front half while Aila is in the kitchen to celebrate. She’s preparing two of the most favorite dishes in the entire household, honey-glazed chicken salad in a wrap with a spicy dipping sauce for dinner and maple, pecan pie with ice cream, and toppings for dessert.
The aroma from the marinade, dipping sauce, and chocolate quickly envelopes every inch within the structure. The spice that starts to tingle the eyes, noses, and other warm, earthy scents are not far behind the sweet redolence. Still, with time to spare, Aila, Barion, and Radclyff wash and change into a cleaner attire.
An hour before the typical dinnertime at the homestead, Cordea and her siblings arrive, reuniting with their parents and their oldest brother. The triplets, Garnet, and Thyrius charge Radclyff, swarming him after he falls over while Cordea embraces her mother and Barion. All Deryn does is greet them with a simple handshake. The youngest five flock over to Aila and Barion, leaving Radclyff’s fur in a mess as the oldest twins switch places with them. Finally, the ordeal is over after what seems to last an eternity without suffering any casualties until Aila issues a question.
“Where’s Skye?”
Cordea’s wolf-ears fold downward as she struggles to not bawl. “She couldn’t make it. A group of criminals tried kidnapping us, and she died fending them off. Took all but two with her.”
“Then who escorted you back here?” Radclyff inquires.
Cordea points over to Narsica. “Her.”
The parents look over to where Cordea is pointing at, noticing Narsica. They stare at each other in silence, then at the newcomer, repeating the cycle. All three converse with each other in a highly subtle body language that the offspring don’t realize they’re engaging in pseudo telepathy. Radclyff decides to break the silence.
“Thank you for bringing our children back.”
“Don’t mention it,” Narsica responds.
“She also rescued Deryn,” Cordea adds.
“What happened to Deryn?” Aila asks with disquietude. She proceeds to inspect her son, overwhelming his resistance.
“Mooom, I’m fine,” Deryn utters.
“The gang’s leader managed to escape after murdering Skye and kidnapped Deryn in the process,” Cordea narrates. “Fortunately for him, Narsica came and rescued him, or else the leader would’ve sold him as a slave in Kraz, according to what I heard about him. The boss is dead now.”
“You have my gratitude,” Aila says to Narsica.
“No problem,” she replies. “Skye and I didn’t see eye to eye for a long time, but we advanced our relationship to friends. She entrusted me to keep the children safe if she suffered any misfortune. The killing of the man responsible for her murder was a cherry on top when I rescued Deryn.”
“Who’s the Human?”
Narsica looks over at Leonan. “Him? He’s with the same group after your children, the only survivor from it. We weren’t sure what to do with him, so we brought him here. Currently, he can’t speak because of an adhesive substance on his mouth.” The Gerridan mumbles frantically.
“Should I kill him?” Radclyff asked his kids, except Barion, mainly Cordea and Deryn.
“Do it,” Deryn answers without any sign of commiseration to the captive.
Watching Leonan on his knees begging and crying for his life while unable to speak, Cordea has a tenderer response. “If you were to ask me the exact question earlier, I would agree with Deryn. Now that I stare into his eyes, I believe he’s repentant. I say let him go.”
“At least hear what he has to say, Radclyff,” Aila speaks.
Radclyff nods his head before staring at Narsica. “There has to be a way to let him communicate. He had to eat and drink somehow while traveling with you.”
“There is a way.” Narsica reveals a flask full of water, and she pours the liquid on Leonan’s mouth. It erases the sticky substance from his lips.
“Talk,” Radclyff commands Leonan in an unsympathetic tone. Leonan obeys, but he stops him when he starts rambling quickly at the start of his explanation. “Slowly.”
Leonan gulps. He knows that if he runs, at least the devil of a woman will catch up and kill him or worse. He suspects that the burly Direfenri can catch up and do just the same to him as Narsica. “Yes, I’m a terrible Human. Yes, I was at the house. Yes, I was trying to capture the Beastboys and Beastgirls for the person who hired Callek, the group leader. I don’t deny any of those statements. “Easiest pay ever,” he said. “You won’t have to worry about money for a while.” Turned out the place was filled with booby traps that were horrible to the victim. I witnessed thorny vines erupting from the ground and strangle a man and a horse, puncturing them multiple times with the thorns, and that was the least horrific trap.” Aila and Radclyff glance at each other at the mention of the traps. “I decided that the job wasn’t worth succumbing to that psycho bitch’s devices, so I attempted to flee, but Callek shot me, leaving me for dead when he ran off with the young Beastman over his shoulders. The youthful Beastwoman was gracious enough to spare me when I knew she wanted me dead. As punishment, she and this psycho bitch-“ Leonan indicates Narsica- “tortured me. I realize that the life I lived isn’t worth it anymore, so I swear that I turned a new leaf. I beg you, sir, to please spare me. I promise I won’t resort to despicable actions ever again. Please, sir!” He starts to break down.
“Get the triplets and the youngest twins into the house,” Radclyff orders Aila in the exact, pachydermatous tone as earlier. He draws out Blazefury, walking towards Leonan and causing the tension to increase from the presentiment.
“Radclyff, don’t,” Aila responds with a shout as she escorts the terrified kids inside.
“Stop, dad,” Cordea yells. Radclyff doesn’t cease his walk, his expression emotionless. Leonan begins to panic, pleading urgently to the force of his demise to spare him as the Fenri utters the command to ignite his greatsword, now close enough that he can feel its heat. “Don’t do it, dad!” Deryn is relishing the event before him, grinning evilly.
Radclyff stares at his oldest daughter. “I must do this, pumpkin.” He swings his weapon as she shouts some more in vain.
The fiery blade freezes in place before it decapitates Leonan as he closes his watery eyes, surmising the Fenri is benignant and he's in the clear. However, he senses his flesh on the right half of his face ignite as Radclyff shoves the weapon’s flat side on him. Now half of his face is charred, blistered, and scarred for the rest of his life as he stares into Radclyff’s wintery eyes, still as cold of emotions as the dead of winter.
“I want you to know this,” Radclyff speaks. His voice is guttural and threatening. “I am not sparing your life out of my own heart. You don’t deserve any emotions from me except for the ardent rage that matches my greatsword or the arctic contempt that matches my eyes for endangering my precious children. It is my love for my daughter that spared your life. I want you off of my property this instant and as you do, turn left at the first intersection you come across, and you’ll arrive at a place you can turn over a new leaf if you’re absolutely sincere about redeeming yourself in the eyes of Faer.
“Every time you stare at your fresh scar from a reflection, I want you to think of me. Every time your new mark burns, I want you to feel my rage. I want you to thank whatever deity you worship -if any- every day you wake up, knowing that you could be rotting in Hell right now, and every single sense would only detect the vilest stimulus imaginable instead of life’s pleasurable moments. If word ever reaches me of a man matching your descriptions is responsible for any nefarious acts, I swear to Faer that I’ll escort you to Avernus personally, and don’t you doubt my ability to locate you. If you spread lies, if anybody in society would believe you, that my family or I kidnapped you, tortured you, massacred your former companions, or any other despicable act, I’ll find you, shove a truth potion down your throat in front of the crowd, and send you to witness Salföðgrí, or Azathamalon, in the flesh. Suppose you threaten my family again, either by yourself or another group you organize in the future. In that case, I swear to Faer that I’ll be your worst nightmare that you’ll breathe a huge sigh of relief and rejoice in being Azathamalon’s bitch. Do you understand me?” Leonan nods, evacuating his bladder.
“Now get out of my sight.” Radclyff observes Leonan flee as fast as possible from his house, breaking concentration by Cordea and Deryn touching him, and he embraces them, starting with her. His demeanor changes to congenial. “Hey there, pumpkin. Sorry, you had to witness that.”
“It’s alright, dad,” Cordea responds. “You matched my emotions towards him exactly.”
“The scar is fine enough,” Deryn replies. He has an awkward expression on his face as his father hugs him.
“Let’s go inside for dinner," Radclyff suggests. It’s your mother’s honey chicken wrap tonight and maple pecan pie for dessert in celebration of you and your siblings' return.”
“Fuck yeah,” the twins exclaim, giving each other a high-five.
“Watch your language.”
“Sorry, dad.”
“You’re more than welcome in joining, Narsica,” the bipedal wolf offers
“That sounds a better alternative than my dinner plans,” Narsica replies. “Hopefully, Aila can keep my chicken rarer than the rest.”
The family and Narsica enjoy the sweet, sticky, and sometimes spicy chicken wraps. Aila is correct at her prediction of the comestibles as they ravage the pile down to nothing. After finishing their plates, Barion, Deryn, and Radclyff belch one at a time.
“At the table,” Aila gainsays at the improper suavities.
“I’m just making room in my stomach for pie in the near future,” Radclyff responds, patting his belly.
“Same here,” Barion utters. “I loathe for all that hard work go to waste.”
“In Skarthian culture, burping is the greatest compliment you can give to the cook,” Deryn replies.
“In Fenri culture also,” Radclyff adds.
“In Kivalian society, burping during or before an hour after a meal is a sign that the food is putrid, somehow, and dangerous, so they puke their guts out or defecate till nothing is inside their stomachs by drinking a potion. Maybe I should do that to avoid food poisoning.” Barion, Deryn, and Radclyff shut their mouths immediately, holding back any gases that attempt to escape. One of the triplets burps soon after, and he and the remainders laugh before Aila’s death glare saps their enjoyment.
Barion’s siblings remember his birthday on Septham 15th, and they begin their belated celebration. He reveals the presents from that day to them, starting with the random gear for hunting such as bait and a tent. Next, he shows them a cloak that does a superb job of camouflaging him. The main event is his new longbow called White Death, and it amazes them with its haunting, beautiful, white wood from a Winter Corpse Tree and its sparkles. By uttering its three command words, he exhibits its capabilities of turning the sparkles on and off, blending in perfectly with its surrounding environment that convinces Lupus, Roffe, and Royd that it disappears and reverts back to its original color. The triplets are the most vocal in opposition to him from his brothers and sisters when he reveals that he’ll be leaving real soon to try enrolling in the Wolfpack. After explaining to the triplets that he must live independently, adding that he’ll visit every time he can, they begrudgingly stop their protest.
Inviting Narsica, the family enjoys a game of Wizards against Spiders while ingesting their pie with ice cream and other toppings. A knock on the front door alerts them, and Radclyff ambulates over to confront the source with Blazefury in his possession. Once he opens the door, all hostilities fade, and he immediately embraces the stranger tightly with his tail wagging.
“Jemeir!”
“Nice to see you, Radclyff,” Jemeir struggles to articulate. The Fenri’s hug is aggravating some of his sensitive areas. “You’re embracing too tightly. Can’t breathe. Release me, please.”
“Sorry.” Radclyff releases Jemeir from his hug. Aila’s embrace is way better when she envelopes him.
“How are you doing?” She inquires.
“I’m doing well. Woke up yesterday, but the healers wanted me to stay an extra day to monitor me closely. They discharged me a few hours ago, and I figured you, Barion, and Radclyff would be here, so I came here. I still have some tender areas on me, but I’m alright.”
“Any mental damages?”
“My meditation repelled attacks to my mental state.” I hope.
Barion proceeds to shake Jemeir’s right hand. “It’s great you’re back.”
“Pleasure to see you also, Barion. I notice that your brothers and sisters are here. That just means that the threat is gone, which reminds me. The Soulmonger’s is closer to his return.”
“I’m aware,” Radclyff speaks. “We’ll leave tomorrow and try to stop him. In addition, we’ll drop Barion at the Wolfpack branch in Hemloth since he wants to join it.”
“I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thanks, Jemeir,” Barion replies.
“Hemloth. As far as I know, one of the Gatekeepers members lives there currently, so all the more reason to travel there.”
“I believe she still lives there too,” Radclyff utters. “How fortuitous.”
Jemeir then notices Narsica. He stares at Aila and Radclyff, deducing the explanation through their body language and hers. Since it’s late in the day, the homeowners offer him and her a place to stay for the night, and he accepts, but Narsica refuses, stating she knows another location to sleep. Soon, the homestead becomes serene throughout the entire night. Tomorrow, Barion, Jemeir, and Radclyff will enter the next leg of their quest, with Barion turning a new chapter in his life after they give their farewells.
This concludes Book 1. Please give constructive feedback so I can make improvements to the novel (if possible) and write better for future books in the series. Speaking of future books, would you be more interested in me adding more installments to the already existing series, or would you prefer separate series for each book? There will be plenty of time because I'm working on a different story to avoid burnout. It's a standalone in the exact world as the Age of Cataclysm series except it's several years prior to the main narrative. I'll post the chapters that are already available to the public soon.
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