The Last Pantheon: of ghosts and giants by Jason Jones

Author:Jason Jones [Jones, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Published: 2016-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

Intermezzo

South of Gillian

Shanador

“My lord Sodom, you have eaten nothing.”

I do not answer, there is nothing to say. I stare out the window, to her statue, it glistens in the morning sun with the dew from hours previous. It called to me, by hidden voice or potent emotion, I can not say with any mortal veracity.

“Dada?”

I do not answer again. My son is defiant, not eating his morning meal either, though for simple reasons of his age. The loneliness has me, the tragedy of war looming to the far north, and I have no one to share life with.

How could I trouble a child of less than three, or an old maid, even a stranger? These things that haunt me, past and present, I must keep them and own them.

“Very well, I see the lords Azarris are both quiet this morn, perhaps my cooking needs a bit of spicing.” Ranny shakes her head.

“No, it is not that.” I state without a blink nor motion.

“The conclave then, what happened, my lord?”

“They voted to hold another meeting.” I laugh out loud, chuckling to myself at the politics of Shanador. Alessandeir laughs with me, simply to follow and join in.

“That was all?” Ranny queries, suspicion in her eyes.

“No, it seems war in Kivanis is inevitable. Altestan presence there, in Armondeen, and in Caberra, is now known. Shanador wishes to invite many other nations to the next conclave, to unite Agara against the threat.” I hang my head and sigh.

“So you must go again?”

“Dada you have to go?”

“In several months, yes. Just for a week.”

Alessandeir pushes his plate away, morning root vegetables steamed with the oil of olives roll into spiced eggs and pepperbread. He looks slowly at me, turning his eyes more than his head, and his face falls serious and stern.

“Eat son, it is time to eat.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Not until you come home.”

“I am home, Alessandeir.”

“Yes, but when you come back again. I won’t eat until then. Just like you.”

The sun drifts into the windows of Azarris Keep, speckles of dust glistening the air inside, and I smile to my son.

“You would starve by then, me too. You need to eat to keep your strength, and grow strong.” I push the plate back closer to him at the table.

He pushes it back, quietly.

“I don’t want to grow up or grow strong.”

“Well, you will grow, regardless of your wishes. How strong is a matter of what you do and what you eat.” I pull the plate back slowly. “Now eat, before it is cold.”

“I like it cold.”

“Allright son, tell me what is the matter.”

“Dada, what is war? Is it where people fight and die and get hurt?” His eyes of blue look to mine, a concern, a small bit of moisture glazes them.

“Yes, sometimes. But I am not going to war, son. I am meeting low and high kings, other lords, knights, and people who are discussing how to prevent a war. I shall hope.”

“Have you been in a war, dada?”

“Yes, several. Though they were long ago, very, very, long ago.

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