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Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 17: Trust

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 19: Lessons

All Chapters HERE .

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CHAPTER 18: FAMILY

“You have nothing else to say?” the head of the Council asked, almost disinterested.

“No.” Gorken answered, “After the incident with Sven and Avah, and our fight with Cain, nothing of importance happened. We searched for Kadem’s lair in the Gray Forest, but we found nothing.”

“So you wasted time pursuing a fairy tale.” The old man reproached him.

“Kadem isn’t necessarily a fairy tale.” Gorken was tired, but he knew better than to rush the conversation and seem different from his usual self, “We might continue our search under Konrad’s guidance.”

“Suit yourself. You are dismissed.” The head of the Council stood up, looking almost as eager as Gorken felt to end the exchange. Neither of them took pleasure in their act to fool humanity, and themselves, that there was order; that they weren’t stumbling inconsequentially in the dim labyrinth of idle chaos. But it remained their shared duty nonetheless.

Gorken headed straight to the training grounds after that, curious to see how Malia was doing and aware that his presence would be helpful should conflict arise between her and his men. The air that greeted him as he entered the large hall was not what he had expected. Discomfort was still palpable in the fringes of the arena: the dense fog of resentment visibly haunted those who couldn’t subdue the memory of immortal oppression… but they were clearly, and unexpectedly, in the minority.

Somehow, the training grounds were exuding enthusiasm. Heated friendly combat was at the heart of it all, and Gorken had no trouble spotting Malia and a bunch of young rebellion members as its source. Aldous waved at him from the crowd, dutiful in his brief account of the events, even though Gorken didn’t need it. It was obvious, even if odd, how the mood around them had come to be.

Malia was covered in bruises, and dirt, and sweat, and Gorken had never seen her happier. The recognizable sensation of witnessing someone enjoying a meal so much that he too got hungry invaded him, and he had no doubt that the same thing had happened to those waiting for their turn to spar.

Malia’s excitement was contagious, and it was her first time training against rivals that weren’t her master; that is, against rivals she could hope to defeat. But she was also prideful, and thus the challenge of humbling her reinforced the eagerness of the other warriors to face her. In honest combat, where only the dance of fists and kicks existed, there was no room for deceit. Against an earnest opponent, there was no room for mistrust.

Gorken was almost swayed by the emotions of his peers; the temptation of joining the fray and having fun with the rest of them was nearly inescapable… But as always, he suppressed it. He had learned at an early age that such fun could not last when you were strong enough to crush your opponents.

He didn’t have to wait long; as soon as Malia saw him she left the arena and joined Gorken, Aldous and Bayard at its border, “I’m starving!”

“I didn’t fight half of the rebellion and I’m starving.” Aldous agreed, “Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” he teased her, “I’ve seen what your magic can do.”

“It wouldn’t count as training if I cheated.” She touched one of her bruises and winced, “If this was the result of using my magic, I’d be a mediocre magician. I lost a few rounds too.”

They were setting off for the dining hall when a voice Malia knew by then stopped them, “Girl,” the tall man she had fought first offered her his hand, “my name is Petros. What’s yours?”

“I’m Malia.” She shook his hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Petros nodded.

Nothing else was said, and yet Gorken caught the smile that refused to leave Malia’s face as they made their way to their table. Malia devoured her food in a matter of scarce minutes, but she didn’t know if it was appropriate to replenish her plate, and she was too embarrassed to ask. When Aldous stood up intending to get more soup, her chest soared. Before she could motion to copy him however, Bayard reprimanded the redhead, “Don’t stuff yourself. We have cleaning duty today. I will not do your part of the job.”

“Come on!” Aldous grumbled, “We just came back. I’m sure someone else was already appointed to replace us.”

“No.” Bayard’s answer was final. Aldous sat down and stared longingly at the emptying food counter. Malia was forced to copy that action instead.

“I didn’t know you assigned tasks in such an organized manner.” Malia chose to end her hungry stupor.

“We do.” Gorken was still finishing his bread, “In fact, you should ask Rose about your work. All members cooperate, one way or another. I’m currently assigned to kitchen duty.”

“The leader of the rebellion tends to the kitchens?” she chortled, “You did have a knack for cooking when we were kids.”

“Yeah. You didn’t.” Gorken smirked.

“Hey, practice is the only path to mastery.” Malia was half joking, but that meant she was also half serious, “Give me time and a proper instructor and I’ll become as good a cook as you. Better even!”

“You’re demanding a lot.” Gorken emptied his plate at last, “But I’ll gladly accept the challenge.”

Aldous had his head on the table, theatrically performing his low spirits, “…I find eating food much more engaging than preparing it.”

Bayard slapped the back of Aldous’ head on his way to the well, “Get up if you’re done. The dishes won’t wash themselves.”

Malia and Gorken stayed to help out; maybe they were falling for the freckled man’s stratagem, but they would have felt guilty leaving him behind to clean up when his energy seemed all but depleted. That, and abandoning Bayard to the fate of dragging Aldous around on his own would have been too cruel.

Malia couldn’t help thinking about Lyra as she piled up the dirty plates, but her somber nostalgia gave way to a question, “Are there only males in the rebellion? Rose is the only woman I’ve seen so far.”

Gorken was wiping the wooden table, “Women can join too, but it’s not common. Most prefer to stay in a phantom village, and no mother would bring her child here.” He remembered Avah’s words: I don’t want this little one to become a child soldier. “Men are better fighters anyway.”

Malia picked up the tower of plates, “I guess magic changes all that. There are a lot of female commanders of magical divisions in the immortal army… but not a lot of female foot soldiers.”

“There are always exceptions though.” Gorken glanced humorously at the ridiculous amount of platters Malia was casually carrying, “And I think the strongest member of the rebellion was a woman for a while.”

“Really?” Malia was intrigued; Gorken wasn’t one to carelessly give out praise, “Who?”

“My sister.” Bayard’s voice startled Gorken as much as it startled Malia. They hadn’t seen him coming back from the storeroom; Gorken had only brought up Breya because he thought his quiet friend wasn’t there to hear it. Aldous forgot about his hungry act immediately, shooting Bayard a concerned look, but he didn’t say anything and Malia stayed oblivious.

“You have to introduce us.” Malia followed Bayard back to the well, “She must be incredible if Gorken of all people thinks she was the strongest.”

“I can’t. She’s dead.”

Malia wasn’t ready to reply to that, but Bayard kept talking as one by one he rinsed the plates she was holding, “It’s true she was the strongest. No one could beat her. And she was poisoned by fellow members of the rebellion.”

Malia found her tongue as her curiosity morphed into perplexed anguish, “Why?”

“Why?” he repeated softly. In his lips the word was like a bad habit, a reverberating tendency he couldn’t let go of. “I don’t know. Not really.”

Malia lingered next to him as he calmly washed the plates and bowls. She had no words of comfort, and she wouldn’t probe further. All she could offer was her silent company and her assistance in the menial task before them. That made Bayard comfortable enough to keep talking, “The people who poisoned her were hanged for their crime. I thought watching them die would bring me satisfaction, or closure. And yet they just became the same as her. They were scum, but once dead they were the same as her. I couldn’t stand that. Death makes us all the same, when we truly aren’t. I can’t stand that.”

“I’m sorry, Bayard.”

“Don’t be. I was the one who babbled on.” He turned to meet her eyes, “Thank you for listening.”

Quietly, Malia returned to the dining hall, where Gorken was waiting for her. As he observed her bleak expression, he berated himself. What a leader I am. What was I thinking? Even Bayard was in a good mood, and I had to ruin it. He patted Malia’s shoulder, determined to fix his foolish blunder, “I’ll go wash myself. I can walk you to Rose’s chamber before that. I’m sure a hot bath is just what you need.”

“Alright.” Malia grasped the hand he had on her shoulder with her own. They parted ways in front of Rose’s door. Hedera and Licorice were asleep, and Rose was busy working on clothing for them, so Malia went straight to the bath.

Only after long moments in the hot spring did she realize how drained she was. She let the water cleanse her of all the dirt, and the mud and the hurting. The water was so kind as to resemble an embrace. She had to make an effort not to wander into sleep as she relaxed her body. When she was done she threw on one of the heavy robes Rose always kept in the changing room.

Upon her return Malia found Gorken inside his chamber, sitting on the bed and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

“Could I borrow a hair comb? I forgot to ask Rose for one.”

“Sure,” he looked through a drawer, “here you go.”

Malia’s hair reached past her waist, and it was incredibly tangled. She was so exhausted she didn’t feel like grooming it properly, so she moved the comb violently through her locks in an attempt to quickly tear off all the knots.

“Hold it right there! You’re going to become bald at that rate.” Gorken stopped her. He took the comb from her hand, sitting behind her on the couch. “Here, I’ll do it.” Despite his big rough hands, Gorken’s touch was delicate. He patiently and carefully combed her hair. Malia felt it had been ages since the last time she had been so at ease.

“I’ll braid it so it won’t get tangled while you sleep.” He said as he put aside the hair comb, “Rose used to do it for me when I was younger.” Malia remembered nodding in response, before falling asleep right there where she was.

Description

Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 17: Trust

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 19: Lessons

All Chapters HERE .

Watch the Trailer: ENDLESS Trailer

CHAPTER 18: FAMILY

“You have nothing else to say?” the head of the Council asked, almost disinterested.

“No.” Gorken answered, “After the incident with Sven and Avah, and our fight with Cain, nothing of importance happened. We searched for Kadem’s lair in the Gray Forest, but we found nothing.”

“So you wasted time pursuing a fairy tale.” The old man reproached him.

“Kadem isn’t necessarily a fairy tale.” Gorken was tired, but he knew better than to rush the conversation and seem different from his usual self, “We might continue our search under Konrad’s guidance.”

“Suit yourself. You are dismissed.” The head of the Council stood up, looking almost as eager as Gorken felt to end the exchange. Neither of them took pleasure in their act to fool humanity, and themselves, that there was order; that they weren’t stumbling inconsequentially in the dim labyrinth of idle chaos. But it remained their shared duty nonetheless.

Gorken headed straight to the training grounds after that, curious to see how Malia was doing and aware that his presence would be helpful should conflict arise between her and his men. The air that greeted him as he entered the large hall was not what he had expected. Discomfort was still palpable in the fringes of the arena: the dense fog of resentment visibly haunted those who couldn’t subdue the memory of immortal oppression… but they were clearly, and unexpectedly, in the minority.

Somehow, the training grounds were exuding enthusiasm. Heated friendly combat was at the heart of it all, and Gorken had no trouble spotting Malia and a bunch of young rebellion members as its source. Aldous waved at him from the crowd, dutiful in his brief account of the events, even though Gorken didn’t need it. It was obvious, even if odd, how the mood around them had come to be.

Malia was covered in bruises, and dirt, and sweat, and Gorken had never seen her happier. The recognizable sensation of witnessing someone enjoying a meal so much that he too got hungry invaded him, and he had no doubt that the same thing had happened to those waiting for their turn to spar.

Malia’s excitement was contagious, and it was her first time training against rivals that weren’t her master; that is, against rivals she could hope to defeat. But she was also prideful, and thus the challenge of humbling her reinforced the eagerness of the other warriors to face her. In honest combat, where only the dance of fists and kicks existed, there was no room for deceit. Against an earnest opponent, there was no room for mistrust.

Gorken was almost swayed by the emotions of his peers; the temptation of joining the fray and having fun with the rest of them was nearly inescapable… But as always, he suppressed it. He had learned at an early age that such fun could not last when you were strong enough to crush your opponents.

He didn’t have to wait long; as soon as Malia saw him she left the arena and joined Gorken, Aldous and Bayard at its border, “I’m starving!”

“I didn’t fight half of the rebellion and I’m starving.” Aldous agreed, “Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” he teased her, “I’ve seen what your magic can do.”

“It wouldn’t count as training if I cheated.” She touched one of her bruises and winced, “If this was the result of using my magic, I’d be a mediocre magician. I lost a few rounds too.”

They were setting off for the dining hall when a voice Malia knew by then stopped them, “Girl,” the tall man she had fought first offered her his hand, “my name is Petros. What’s yours?”

“I’m Malia.” She shook his hand.

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Petros nodded.

Nothing else was said, and yet Gorken caught the smile that refused to leave Malia’s face as they made their way to their table. Malia devoured her food in a matter of scarce minutes, but she didn’t know if it was appropriate to replenish her plate, and she was too embarrassed to ask. When Aldous stood up intending to get more soup, her chest soared. Before she could motion to copy him however, Bayard reprimanded the redhead, “Don’t stuff yourself. We have cleaning duty today. I will not do your part of the job.”

“Come on!” Aldous grumbled, “We just came back. I’m sure someone else was already appointed to replace us.”

“No.” Bayard’s answer was final. Aldous sat down and stared longingly at the emptying food counter. Malia was forced to copy that action instead.

“I didn’t know you assigned tasks in such an organized manner.” Malia chose to end her hungry stupor.

“We do.” Gorken was still finishing his bread, “In fact, you should ask Rose about your work. All members cooperate, one way or another. I’m currently assigned to kitchen duty.”

“The leader of the rebellion tends to the kitchens?” she chortled, “You did have a knack for cooking when we were kids.”

“Yeah. You didn’t.” Gorken smirked.

“Hey, practice is the only path to mastery.” Malia was half joking, but that meant she was also half serious, “Give me time and a proper instructor and I’ll become as good a cook as you. Better even!”

“You’re demanding a lot.” Gorken emptied his plate at last, “But I’ll gladly accept the challenge.”

Aldous had his head on the table, theatrically performing his low spirits, “…I find eating food much more engaging than preparing it.”

Bayard slapped the back of Aldous’ head on his way to the well, “Get up if you’re done. The dishes won’t wash themselves.”

Malia and Gorken stayed to help out; maybe they were falling for the freckled man’s stratagem, but they would have felt guilty leaving him behind to clean up when his energy seemed all but depleted. That, and abandoning Bayard to the fate of dragging Aldous around on his own would have been too cruel.

Malia couldn’t help thinking about Lyra as she piled up the dirty plates, but her somber nostalgia gave way to a question, “Are there only males in the rebellion? Rose is the only woman I’ve seen so far.”

Gorken was wiping the wooden table, “Women can join too, but it’s not common. Most prefer to stay in a phantom village, and no mother would bring her child here.” He remembered Avah’s words: I don’t want this little one to become a child soldier. “Men are better fighters anyway.”

Malia picked up the tower of plates, “I guess magic changes all that. There are a lot of female commanders of magical divisions in the immortal army… but not a lot of female foot soldiers.”

“There are always exceptions though.” Gorken glanced humorously at the ridiculous amount of platters Malia was casually carrying, “And I think the strongest member of the rebellion was a woman for a while.”

“Really?” Malia was intrigued; Gorken wasn’t one to carelessly give out praise, “Who?”

“My sister.” Bayard’s voice startled Gorken as much as it startled Malia. They hadn’t seen him coming back from the storeroom; Gorken had only brought up Breya because he thought his quiet friend wasn’t there to hear it. Aldous forgot about his hungry act immediately, shooting Bayard a concerned look, but he didn’t say anything and Malia stayed oblivious.

“You have to introduce us.” Malia followed Bayard back to the well, “She must be incredible if Gorken of all people thinks she was the strongest.”

“I can’t. She’s dead.”

Malia wasn’t ready to reply to that, but Bayard kept talking as one by one he rinsed the plates she was holding, “It’s true she was the strongest. No one could beat her. And she was poisoned by fellow members of the rebellion.”

Malia found her tongue as her curiosity morphed into perplexed anguish, “Why?”

“Why?” he repeated softly. In his lips the word was like a bad habit, a reverberating tendency he couldn’t let go of. “I don’t know. Not really.”

Malia lingered next to him as he calmly washed the plates and bowls. She had no words of comfort, and she wouldn’t probe further. All she could offer was her silent company and her assistance in the menial task before them. That made Bayard comfortable enough to keep talking, “The people who poisoned her were hanged for their crime. I thought watching them die would bring me satisfaction, or closure. And yet they just became the same as her. They were scum, but once dead they were the same as her. I couldn’t stand that. Death makes us all the same, when we truly aren’t. I can’t stand that.”

“I’m sorry, Bayard.”

“Don’t be. I was the one who babbled on.” He turned to meet her eyes, “Thank you for listening.”

Quietly, Malia returned to the dining hall, where Gorken was waiting for her. As he observed her bleak expression, he berated himself. What a leader I am. What was I thinking? Even Bayard was in a good mood, and I had to ruin it. He patted Malia’s shoulder, determined to fix his foolish blunder, “I’ll go wash myself. I can walk you to Rose’s chamber before that. I’m sure a hot bath is just what you need.”

“Alright.” Malia grasped the hand he had on her shoulder with her own. They parted ways in front of Rose’s door. Hedera and Licorice were asleep, and Rose was busy working on clothing for them, so Malia went straight to the bath.

Only after long moments in the hot spring did she realize how drained she was. She let the water cleanse her of all the dirt, and the mud and the hurting. The water was so kind as to resemble an embrace. She had to make an effort not to wander into sleep as she relaxed her body. When she was done she threw on one of the heavy robes Rose always kept in the changing room.

Upon her return Malia found Gorken inside his chamber, sitting on the bed and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

“Could I borrow a hair comb? I forgot to ask Rose for one.”

“Sure,” he looked through a drawer, “here you go.”

Malia’s hair reached past her waist, and it was incredibly tangled. She was so exhausted she didn’t feel like grooming it properly, so she moved the comb violently through her locks in an attempt to quickly tear off all the knots.

“Hold it right there! You’re going to become bald at that rate.” Gorken stopped her. He took the comb from her hand, sitting behind her on the couch. “Here, I’ll do it.” Despite his big rough hands, Gorken’s touch was delicate. He patiently and carefully combed her hair. Malia felt it had been ages since the last time she had been so at ease.

“I’ll braid it so it won’t get tangled while you sleep.” He said as he put aside the hair comb, “Rose used to do it for me when I was younger.” Malia remembered nodding in response, before falling asleep right there where she was.