Brothers and Borders
(Picks up where Tell No Tales left off)
Miren glared at the spiked punch, sloshed ruby
liquid in his glass but not e’en a buzz
made him feel less like a heel; he should flee,
apologize to his brother because
he’d said harsh things to Sarn–who’d tried to warn
him off a path that led to teen parent
land, a place Miren had long past foresworn.
He’d called Ran a mistake; Ran’d been present
too, but he paid no mind to words spoken
by anyone except Sarn, even uncles,
the brat ignored and hogged all Sarn’s time, when
that time belonged to Miren, whose knuckles
cracked as he squeezed the glass, he’d been there first.
Sarn’d raised him and for that regard, he thirst.
Light broke outside announcing Christmas Day
as Miren headed back to Nolo’s suite.
He rehearsed apologies on the way
only to find Sarn was gone from the suite
and he’d taken his son; he’d not waited.
He’d just lit out for who knew where without
his brother; for a moment he hated
his nephew with a fiery rage without
end ’till reason prevailed; hating a four
year old made no sense but sense couldn’t sweeten
the vinegar in his blood; closing the door,
he collapsed on a borrowed bed beaten
but not down and out, he’d get his bro back.
Sarn’d been father, brother–it stung that lack.
“You’re joining us for Christmas?” Inari
asked through the door, to which Miren replied,
“no, wake me when Sarn returns.” He’d get by
on vitriol until a tray did slide
through the op’ning door which he arrested.
He wanted no company while he sulked.
Biting a berry decked scone, its taste wrested
happy mem’ries when they’d lived wild and skulked
through the enchanted forest avoiding
people, him and a teenaged Sarn, who’d fell
ill round Fall’s end; when lucid, Sarn’d scrounged things,
when not, he’d lay ravaged and raving, fell
by fever that broke one morn when berries
appeared on each tree, sweet like these berries.
Light drowned Sarn, it pounded against his shields,
collapsing them ’till only Ran fit inside.
His son was safe; he wasn’t but these shields
were new and being pummeled hadn’t yet fried
his mind but their onslaught buckled his knees,
knocked him to the ground and he crawled wond’ring
how much further to the other side, he
hoped not too far, as his vision darkening,
displayed Miren speaking words of anger.
A mistake, Miren’d said pointing to Ran,
the son he now held one-armed from danger.
Magic waves rolled past, burning as they spanned
that great and terrible wall–how thick
was it? The crossing was making him sick.
each attempt to flatten him, to drive him
back to the other side, flayed away more
of him leaving a husk behind, charred and dim.
He could go no further, absorb no more
magic or he’d explode from the o’erload.
A woman shimmered into existence.
Clothed by sun, her feet moon-shod, taking hold
of his hand, pulling him through that last fence.
Twelve stars crowned her, she was with with child and yet,
she carried him and his son to t’other side.
“Who’re you?” Sarn asked but all faded to jet-
knives that stabbed deep where consciousness resides.
“All is calm, sleep in heav’nly peace, you’ll find
me, but first you’ll ride with wise men, who’re kind.”
Away she fled, leaving father and son
asleep on the sand as wise men advanced.
Their caravan, son and father joined, one
in purpose, following a star’s sky dance.
They’d come far through time and space to a place
that existed long ago, ‘fore their dear
country sparkled in the babe’s eye whose face
turns, smile lit, towards Leesha resting there.
Her skyward gaze marks the hours ’till her end
and the journey’s end for one of her grand-
sons, who even now draws near as time bends
to grant, at ninety-eight, the heart’s command.
Fourteen sevens–seven squared pow’r’s increase;
seven squared pow’r’s decease and death’s release.
~ ~ ~
The story continues in Magicians and Magi.
~ ~ ~
Inspired by the holiday season. This is a fearless fantasy.
This is my “now.”
(and there are circles…)