Chapter 9: Last
[the beginning]
Nearly a month had passed since Phil's birth. As far as he knew the world, he had been born a fledgling adult with no clue whatsoever about his past. He had no idea who he really was, but it was okay. His life as Phil was good. He wasn't sure how good, of course-maybe his old life was better, maybe it was worse. When he thought about it, it was more likely worse, if he'd managed to nearly kill himself cracking his skull on the rocks at the bottom of the mountain pass, like his Aunt Tairan told him.
Phil didn't like to think about it too much, though. Who knew what awful things lurked in his past just waiting to come back to haunt him? As such, it wouldn't upset him too much if the life he left stayed buried, though it was clear that everyone else was too curious to let it go.
"How're you doing this morning, Phil?"
Weston waved to him. He was filling his father's shoes quite well, leaving Sheridan free to do chores that required being away from the inn. Phil got along quite well with Weston, their being nearly the same age-physically, at least.
"I'm doing as well as can be expected," he replied, smiling. For some reason, it still felt strange to smile, as though his face hadn't done it in a long time.
Weston winked in mischief, grinning. "Have you given thought to courting Meridien?"
"Your sister?" Phil grimaced. "I don't feel comfortable with your family pressing me into marriage."
He shrugged. "We've come to think of you as family. Might as well make it official, right?"
"I don't know..." It wasn't that Meridien was ugly or unpleasant, just... There was something in his heart that said she wasn't the one, as much as that would hurt his surrogates. Besides, he hadn't been alive for a month that he was aware, and it felt much too soon to make that kind of life-changing decision.
"Ha ha," Weston laughed. "Yeah, that's a lot of pressure to put on a pup like yourself, right? Anyway, how's your memory coming? Have you remembered any grisly details about your past yet?"
Phil shook his head. "I clearly remember everything from about a month ago forward, but not before."
"Well, you clearly remember how to hit a bullseye, I've noticed!"
"Yeah..." That struck him as strange somehow. It felt almost as if he had mastered the bow in his prior life because he was afraid of getting too close in a fight. Maybe he was a coward, or-in a better light-wanted to protect from afar. It was useful for hunting, to be sure, but his skill was well beyond what anyone would need for a mere bird.
"So, have you decided what you want to do once you're more acquainted with life?"
"I like working with you in the inn," he admitted. "Helping Aunt Tairan isn't so bad, either."
Weston made a face. "You don't have to say things like that just to keep from hurting our feelings, you know."
"But what are my other choices? This is the life I know, and how can I crave something if I know nothing about it? Besides, it's a pleasant life enough-I don't feel cheated at all."
"Yeah, but..."
Phil had learned quickly that Weston wasn't prone to hiding things unless it was major. "What is it, Wes? You know I know you're keeping something from me."
He frowned. "Well, it's just that what you wore when you arrived was from deep in the Inner Kingdom. There, you know... you would have been a noble."
"I know. Your point?"
"My point is that you've got something really big in your past, not something that's just going to sit ignored for the rest of your life, no matter how long you stay in Childress. If you don't look for it before it looks for you, that could mean the difference between-"
There were quite a few days when Phil thought Weston suffered from an overactive imagination. "Between you getting to see something spectacular and you just busying about the inn all day again?"
"Look, no one gets the kind of scar you have through innocent means. Someone did that to you on purpose."
There was the other thing that he didn't like to think about much, and it felt worse having someone else echo his sentiments. "Honestly, are you trying to drive me away, Wes?"
"Oh, no," he stammered, "nothing like that. I just mean... what if that something comes here and finds you?"
Phil paused, grinning, and made a motion as though to shoot him with an invisible arrow. "I'm not ruling out that possibility, believe me."
Weston laughed in amusement, but his cheer was cut short as his eye caught sight of something behind Phil. Curious, he turned to see what Weston saw and was astonished to see an injured dracon, crawling along the ground in pain.
"Speak of the devil," Weston muttered, rushing to help. Phil was in quick pursuit, afraid but also burning with curiosity.
The dracon looked beaten, but otherwise he simply seemed to be weak. "Good sir, what happened?" asked Phil.
At the voice, the dracon started, squinting in the sun as Weston helped him up. "Hound..." he muttered.
"Let's get you to Tairan's," Weston ordered, as he and Phil lifted the dracon on their shoulders. On closer inspection, he seemed to be at least forty-well into old age by even the Outer Kingdom's life expectancy. He wasn't sure from a glance whether the dracon would live, despite his injuries looking superficial.
The dracon fell limp as they burst into the healer's house. Weston helped Phil lay him on a bed, then Phil collected some medicinal ointments and applied them to the dracon's injuries. He seemed to wince a bit from the sting but otherwise remained unconscious.
"This is scary," Weston commented, "this happening just as we were talking."
"Maybe you're a jinx," Phil joked, though he didn't quite feel like laughing. In truth, he was outright horrified by the sudden turn of events. The fragile life he knew was already shattering, he could feel it.
"What's going on?" Tairan's voice called as she stepped inside. "I saw you from the other end of the square! Is there trouble?"
Phil looked at her with worry in his eyes. "He appeared from out of nowhere, weak from being beaten it looks like. All he said before he passed out was the word 'Hound.'"
Tairan frowned when he said that. Her expression was perplexing and distant, as though she realized something about the dracon that was beyond Phil's experience to comprehend. "I see," she muttered, then she approached to examine the dracon herself. "Yes, it seems he'll be okay. You're a very good apprentice, Phil."
"Thank you, Auntie," he said in appreciation, though he wasn't quite sure if he meant it. He had an unsettling feeling that she didn't mean what she said, either.
"The dracon also has Inner Kingdom attire," she noted. "I bet he knows you, Phil."
The idea hadn't been far from his mind, but it was still startling to hear it from someone else. "How? What could it mean?"
"I don't know, but it may be shocking. I'm afraid all we can do is wait for him to awake to find out for sure."
"Creepy," Weston agreed, nonetheless eager for any bit of gossip about his surrogate brother. Phil frowned at the concept.
Tairan scratched her chin in thought for a moment. "I still have errands to do in the square. Phil, can I trust you to keep watch on this man in the meantime?"
"Of course, Auntie. You know I love helping."
She smiled weakly, nevertheless not making eye contact as she stood to leave. "Thank you for your help, too, Weston."
In response, he made an elaborate bow. "A pleasure for the town's greatest healer."
Tairan nodded but said no more as she picked up her basket and left the house.
"So, what do you think?" Weston asked in anticipation. "Are you going to ask him about your lurid past?"
Phil couldn't shake the awful feeling of dread hanging over him. "Something's not right. Aunt Tairan knows more than she let on about this dracon, and she clearly didn't want to say anything about it."
Weston raised an eyebrow at him. "You think so? Why wouldn't she say something if she knew?"
"That's the thing. I don't know..."
The day passed slowly as the two watched the dracon slumber, barely aware of the time as they talked idly. A knock at the door jarred them out of their inattention. "The door's open!" called Weston as he ran to the front.
Sheridan threw open the door. "Where have you been?" he cried. "You mean to leave the inn unattended while you go play?"
He cringed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, father, but we found this dracon near death-"
Curious, he glanced over toward the bed Phil was attending, eyes widening in astonishment. "An Inner Kingdom dracon?"
"Yes, that's what Tairan-"
"Has he said anything yet?" Sheridan interrupted, forgetting the inn himself.
Phil shook his head. "Not really."
"Not really? Does that mean he said something or not?"
"He said one word, 'Hound.' Do you know what it means?"
Sheridan shrugged. "Best I figure it's some Inner Kingdom name. Sounds like one."
"Name?" Weston asked in astonishment. "You mean, is that Phil's real name?"
"I guess you'd have to ask the dracon."
"Sheridan-" Phil began, but hesitated.
He looked at Phil with interest. "Yes, my boy?"
"...do you think Tairan knows something but won't say it?"
The question made Sheridan suspicious. "I can't say for certain. Tairan wasn't born here in Childress, to be sure, but I have no idea where. It's not that I haven't asked before, but she doesn't seem to want to talk about it, either. I'd say she has some bad memories of the place that she'd rather forget."
"Do you think it has to do with him, somehow?"
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "You'd have to ask her and hope she'll be more interested in talking with you than with me."
The situation looked worse all the time. He wondered if things wouldn't be better somehow if the dracon died before he could talk. He didn't want to know what was in his past. He loved his new life, all things considered. Why did it all have to get taken away from him just when he was starting to live?
"Wes..."
"That's not a happy tone of voice I detect."
Phil projected the most uncomfortable and least happy look he'd ever been in his known life. "Could you... you know."
Unfortunately, Weston was either dense or stubborn when it came to dropped hints. "...get you lunch?"
"...go back to the inn." It was a hard thing to ask his best friend, but he wanted to find out the probable bad news first, then judge whether he wanted to share any of it with his surrogate family. "I mean it."
Weston looked as though he wanted to refuse the request, but Phil could be just as stubborn. "Alright," he said, relenting. "Your past is your business, though I hope you'll share it with the rest of us sometime."
"Thank you," Phil acknowledged, though yet again he wasn't sure he meant it. All the same, he saw his friend to the door before hanging the Emergencies Only sign out front.
Nearly a month had passed since Phil's birth. As far as he knew the world, he had been born a fledgling adult with no clue whatsoever about his past. He had no idea who he really was, but it was okay. His life as Phil was good. He wasn't sure how good, of course-maybe his old life was better, maybe it was worse. When he thought about it, it was more likely worse, if he'd managed to nearly kill himself cracking his skull on the rocks at the bottom of the mountain pass, like his Aunt Tairan told him.
Phil didn't like to think about it too much, though. Who knew what awful things lurked in his past just waiting to come back to haunt him? As such, it wouldn't upset him too much if the life he left stayed buried, though it was clear that everyone else was too curious to let it go.
"How're you doing this morning, Phil?"
Weston waved to him. He was filling his father's shoes quite well, leaving Sheridan free to do chores that required being away from the inn. Phil got along quite well with Weston, their being nearly the same age-physically, at least.
"I'm doing as well as can be expected," he replied, smiling. For some reason, it still felt strange to smile, as though his face hadn't done it in a long time.
Weston winked in mischief, grinning. "Have you given thought to courting Meridien?"
"Your sister?" Phil grimaced. "I don't feel comfortable with your family pressing me into marriage."
He shrugged. "We've come to think of you as family. Might as well make it official, right?"
"I don't know..." It wasn't that Meridien was ugly or unpleasant, just... There was something in his heart that said she wasn't the one, as much as that would hurt his surrogates. Besides, he hadn't been alive for a month that he was aware, and it felt much too soon to make that kind of life-changing decision.
"Ha ha," Weston laughed. "Yeah, that's a lot of pressure to put on a pup like yourself, right? Anyway, how's your memory coming? Have you remembered any grisly details about your past yet?"
Phil shook his head. "I clearly remember everything from about a month ago forward, but not before."
"Well, you clearly remember how to hit a bullseye, I've noticed!"
"Yeah..." That struck him as strange somehow. It felt almost as if he had mastered the bow in his prior life because he was afraid of getting too close in a fight. Maybe he was a coward, or-in a better light-wanted to protect from afar. It was useful for hunting, to be sure, but his skill was well beyond what anyone would need for a mere bird.
"So, have you decided what you want to do once you're more acquainted with life?"
"I like working with you in the inn," he admitted. "Helping Aunt Tairan isn't so bad, either."
Weston made a face. "You don't have to say things like that just to keep from hurting our feelings, you know."
"But what are my other choices? This is the life I know, and how can I crave something if I know nothing about it? Besides, it's a pleasant life enough-I don't feel cheated at all."
"Yeah, but..."
Phil had learned quickly that Weston wasn't prone to hiding things unless it was major. "What is it, Wes? You know I know you're keeping something from me."
He frowned. "Well, it's just that what you wore when you arrived was from deep in the Inner Kingdom. There, you know... you would have been a noble."
"I know. Your point?"
"My point is that you've got something really big in your past, not something that's just going to sit ignored for the rest of your life, no matter how long you stay in Childress. If you don't look for it before it looks for you, that could mean the difference between-"
There were quite a few days when Phil thought Weston suffered from an overactive imagination. "Between you getting to see something spectacular and you just busying about the inn all day again?"
"Look, no one gets the kind of scar you have through innocent means. Someone did that to you on purpose."
There was the other thing that he didn't like to think about much, and it felt worse having someone else echo his sentiments. "Honestly, are you trying to drive me away, Wes?"
"Oh, no," he stammered, "nothing like that. I just mean... what if that something comes here and finds you?"
Phil paused, grinning, and made a motion as though to shoot him with an invisible arrow. "I'm not ruling out that possibility, believe me."
Weston laughed in amusement, but his cheer was cut short as his eye caught sight of something behind Phil. Curious, he turned to see what Weston saw and was astonished to see an injured dracon, crawling along the ground in pain.
"Speak of the devil," Weston muttered, rushing to help. Phil was in quick pursuit, afraid but also burning with curiosity.
The dracon looked beaten, but otherwise he simply seemed to be weak. "Good sir, what happened?" asked Phil.
At the voice, the dracon started, squinting in the sun as Weston helped him up. "Hound..." he muttered.
"Let's get you to Tairan's," Weston ordered, as he and Phil lifted the dracon on their shoulders. On closer inspection, he seemed to be at least forty-well into old age by even the Outer Kingdom's life expectancy. He wasn't sure from a glance whether the dracon would live, despite his injuries looking superficial.
The dracon fell limp as they burst into the healer's house. Weston helped Phil lay him on a bed, then Phil collected some medicinal ointments and applied them to the dracon's injuries. He seemed to wince a bit from the sting but otherwise remained unconscious.
"This is scary," Weston commented, "this happening just as we were talking."
"Maybe you're a jinx," Phil joked, though he didn't quite feel like laughing. In truth, he was outright horrified by the sudden turn of events. The fragile life he knew was already shattering, he could feel it.
"What's going on?" Tairan's voice called as she stepped inside. "I saw you from the other end of the square! Is there trouble?"
Phil looked at her with worry in his eyes. "He appeared from out of nowhere, weak from being beaten it looks like. All he said before he passed out was the word 'Hound.'"
Tairan frowned when he said that. Her expression was perplexing and distant, as though she realized something about the dracon that was beyond Phil's experience to comprehend. "I see," she muttered, then she approached to examine the dracon herself. "Yes, it seems he'll be okay. You're a very good apprentice, Phil."
"Thank you, Auntie," he said in appreciation, though he wasn't quite sure if he meant it. He had an unsettling feeling that she didn't mean what she said, either.
"The dracon also has Inner Kingdom attire," she noted. "I bet he knows you, Phil."
The idea hadn't been far from his mind, but it was still startling to hear it from someone else. "How? What could it mean?"
"I don't know, but it may be shocking. I'm afraid all we can do is wait for him to awake to find out for sure."
"Creepy," Weston agreed, nonetheless eager for any bit of gossip about his surrogate brother. Phil frowned at the concept.
Tairan scratched her chin in thought for a moment. "I still have errands to do in the square. Phil, can I trust you to keep watch on this man in the meantime?"
"Of course, Auntie. You know I love helping."
She smiled weakly, nevertheless not making eye contact as she stood to leave. "Thank you for your help, too, Weston."
In response, he made an elaborate bow. "A pleasure for the town's greatest healer."
Tairan nodded but said no more as she picked up her basket and left the house.
"So, what do you think?" Weston asked in anticipation. "Are you going to ask him about your lurid past?"
Phil couldn't shake the awful feeling of dread hanging over him. "Something's not right. Aunt Tairan knows more than she let on about this dracon, and she clearly didn't want to say anything about it."
Weston raised an eyebrow at him. "You think so? Why wouldn't she say something if she knew?"
"That's the thing. I don't know..."
The day passed slowly as the two watched the dracon slumber, barely aware of the time as they talked idly. A knock at the door jarred them out of their inattention. "The door's open!" called Weston as he ran to the front.
Sheridan threw open the door. "Where have you been?" he cried. "You mean to leave the inn unattended while you go play?"
He cringed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, father, but we found this dracon near death-"
Curious, he glanced over toward the bed Phil was attending, eyes widening in astonishment. "An Inner Kingdom dracon?"
"Yes, that's what Tairan-"
"Has he said anything yet?" Sheridan interrupted, forgetting the inn himself.
Phil shook his head. "Not really."
"Not really? Does that mean he said something or not?"
"He said one word, 'Hound.' Do you know what it means?"
Sheridan shrugged. "Best I figure it's some Inner Kingdom name. Sounds like one."
"Name?" Weston asked in astonishment. "You mean, is that Phil's real name?"
"I guess you'd have to ask the dracon."
"Sheridan-" Phil began, but hesitated.
He looked at Phil with interest. "Yes, my boy?"
"...do you think Tairan knows something but won't say it?"
The question made Sheridan suspicious. "I can't say for certain. Tairan wasn't born here in Childress, to be sure, but I have no idea where. It's not that I haven't asked before, but she doesn't seem to want to talk about it, either. I'd say she has some bad memories of the place that she'd rather forget."
"Do you think it has to do with him, somehow?"
"Who knows?" He shrugged. "You'd have to ask her and hope she'll be more interested in talking with you than with me."
The situation looked worse all the time. He wondered if things wouldn't be better somehow if the dracon died before he could talk. He didn't want to know what was in his past. He loved his new life, all things considered. Why did it all have to get taken away from him just when he was starting to live?
"Wes..."
"That's not a happy tone of voice I detect."
Phil projected the most uncomfortable and least happy look he'd ever been in his known life. "Could you... you know."
Unfortunately, Weston was either dense or stubborn when it came to dropped hints. "...get you lunch?"
"...go back to the inn." It was a hard thing to ask his best friend, but he wanted to find out the probable bad news first, then judge whether he wanted to share any of it with his surrogate family. "I mean it."
Weston looked as though he wanted to refuse the request, but Phil could be just as stubborn. "Alright," he said, relenting. "Your past is your business, though I hope you'll share it with the rest of us sometime."
"Thank you," Phil acknowledged, though yet again he wasn't sure he meant it. All the same, he saw his friend to the door before hanging the Emergencies Only sign out front.