Sides of War

Chapter Four: A Lantern

It didn't take long for Jorlin to remember why her heart ached when she awoke the following morning. It felt like she spent an hour lying numbly in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The dull roar of chatter coming from the floor below told her that it was nearly noon. Her working shift was drawing near, so she groggily sat up and made herself presentable.

"Ready to take over?" her father asked when she walked up to him as he poured drinks for the soldiers and farmers.

"I need to go talk to Asher's mother." Her voice sounded more like a croak.

"Huh?" her father asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning closer.

"I... I need to take care of something first," she replied a little louder.

"How long?"

"An hour," she answered, desperate to go outside and get some fresh air before she had to do what she was dreading.

"Alright," he said, sliding a mug over the counter.

Jorlin trudged outside. It was cold for an autumn day, but she didn't notice the chill in the air as she took off at a jog towards the rest of town. A few farmers passed by, but she kept her gaze on the path. In order to catch her breath, Jorlin slowed to a walk for the last stretch of the half mile separating her house from Auld Town. Asher's old house seemed intimidating as she approached the door. His mother would be home; in fact, she could hear her footsteps coming from inside. His house smelled like him, and yet again she felt haunted by the absence of his presence. When his mother swung the door open, Jorlin could see heavy bags under her eyes. His mother's blond hair, streaked with gray, was pulled up into a tight bun, and stray strands fell over her troubled face. Her expression brightened when she saw who was standing on the threshold.

"Ah, Jorlin. Good morning isn't it?" she said, wiping the flour off her hands on the apron tied around her dress.

Jorlin struggled to say something, but no words came out. She looked at the ground and wrung her hands.

"What's wrong?" his mother asked. She paused a moment before asking, "Is this about Asher? Why he never came home yesterday?"

Jorlin looked up, biting her lip hard. She simply nodded, then answered, "Yes," quietly.

"What happened?" When Jorlin didn't answer, she pleaded, "Great God, what happened?"

"I... Yesterday, when I was walking home with him from the corn field, a patrol showed up and-"

"No..." her small face twisted and she sniffed. "No."

Jorlin finished, "And they took him away for the draft. He..." Her voice caught. "He refused to lie to them."

His mother buried her face in her hands and wailed. Jorlin never would have expected such a sound to come out of her. Jorlin turned her face away in shame.

"I'm sorry," the small lady choked. "Just..."

She retreated back into the house and let the door slam shut in Jorlin's face. She stepped away and realized that a tear was running down her cheek. Angry at herself, she wiped it off her face and started back home.

After going back to the tavern, she took over the bar for her father and used her pent-up rage to scour the countertops. The work helped to take her mind off of the bitterness festering in her heart.

It was night. The wind carried the faint scent of pine needles and crushed soil. In the forest that bordered the village, Jorlin sat on the moss-covered log in the small clearing in the woods where she and Asher had sparred the other day, the sharp shhing of the whetstone gliding over the naked blade that lay on her lap.