Sides of War

Chapter Thirty: A Fool and an Idiot

As the sun was rising the next morning, Jorlin limped out of the castle with her two packs, the one she had brought with her and the one of provisions given to her by Jamath. Her hood was pulled up over her head, masking her identity to the residents of the castle. He was already waiting for her just outside the main gate with Caelator, who was laden with enough provisions to last her the journey. As she made her way over, she tried her best to mask her limp. It was a sunny day, pleasant, but Jorlin took no notice as she secured the packs on her horse. Her sword was hidden under one of the saddlebags.

"Where's Draven?" she asked, securing her cloak over her shoulders.

Jamath cleared his throat, stroking the stallion's muzzle. "Coming." As she looked over, she saw tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat again, looking away. "I s'pose we should get this over with," he muttered, walking up to her.

Jorlin felt a hard knot form in her throat. She bit her lip as he bent and embraced her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the summer air and his smoky scent with long, shaky breaths. She heard him sniffle, and he held her tighter. Finally, he drew away.

"You're..." He cleared his throat. "I'll miss you."

She looked down, tears welling in her eyes. When she looked up, she saw Draven walking their way with slow, heavy steps.

"Well," he said with another sniff, "I guess you'll want to be alone."

"Jamath..." Her voice hitched, and she hugged him again.

"Don't you dare ever give up, Jorlin," he whispered.

She shook her head when they broke away. "I won't," she managed to get out.

He took a step backwards hesitantly, then another one. He looked at her longingly as he said, "Farewell. Good luck." Then he turned and walked to the castle, and he didn't look back.

With a shaky hand, she wiped a tear out of her eye. By that time Draven had halted a few paces in front of her. He was wearing his guard uniform, his messy hair tossed in the breeze, and there was an emotion on his face that she didn't know how to read.

"I guess this is it," he said, inhaling a deep breath.

"Aye," she said, a tightness in her chest. "I guess it is."

Jorlin stepped forward and hugged him, her face buried in his surcoat. He held his hands awkwardly in the air for a few fleeting moments, but then he held her just as tightly. He smelled like rust and leaves, and when she closed her eyes a tear ran down her cheek.

When he let go, she half-sobbed, half-laughed out the words, "I'm not supposed to like you."

He gave a small smile. "Sorry about that."

A heavy silence settled between them for a while, and Jorlin was distraught as she tried to think of the best way to take her leave.

"Please," he begged, the hitch in his voice belying the knot in his throat. "Please stay. This is your last chance."

"I'm sorry, Draven. I can't." The tears were flowing freely now.

The most broken of looks passed over his face. And Jorlin felt so passionately, irrevocably sorry.

"Everyone in the castle thinks you're dead," stated Draven. "Jamath and I have already started spreading the rumor. Last night in the dining hall I announced it to everyone. I said you had passed from the wounds given to you by the bounty hunter."

She nodded.

"The funeral will be soon," he said.

"Thank you," was all she could get out.

He forced a small smile.

"I'll miss you, you fool," she murmured.

"I'll miss you too, idiot," he replied. To her disbelief, she saw a tear slide down his face. He turned away in an attempt to hide it.

She wrapped her arms around him again, and he held her. Her tears left dark marks on the fabric of his surcoat, and he rocked her back and forth gently. They remained like that for what felt like the longest time.

Jorlin pulled away, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. She took his hand in hers, and she uncurled the fingers in his fist, smoothing out his hand. She almost looked away.

"Goodbye, Draven," she whispered, taking a step back and letting go of his hand. He let it drop back to his side.

"I'll wait for you," he said as she took a few more steps back.

She finally ripped her eyes off of him and turned around, mounting her horse. She couldn't bear to look at the expression on his face any longer. Jorlin almost turned around to tell him one last thing, but she decided against it.

No, she thought. He knows.

She spurred Caelator forward, the ground speeding beneath her and her cloak flying in the wind. She looked back at him, his figure steadily growing distant. He saluted her, and she did the same, holding her arm in the air until it ached.

Draven's words echoed in her head, "Even though we never said it, I think we both knew."