Kronan wolves did not venture beyond the trees. Food was plentiful enough under their leaf-canopy.
Erik lay back on the bank, stretching. I heard his back crack, and he let out a sigh of relief. At fifty-two, Erik was hardly fit enough to be traveling like this. Moving between the few safe areas of our world was a job for the young. Erik's only advantage was that in his youth and well into his older years he had been a warrior of unparalleled strength. The muscles remained, softened though they were. Still, he was slower, heavier, and tired far more easily than the fierce man I had known as a young soldier.
"This is not really about how long it took to get to Meekwood and back," I started.
"No," he sat up. "No, it's not. It is about your obsession with that damned place."
I waved him off with a smile and a shake of the head. "It is not an obsession."
"What do you call it?" he demanded, his tone taking on a slight edge. "You take any opportunity to go there."
"So?" I asked. "So what if I do? I am not bringing anything out of there, and anyway, the place is dead. What harm is there in going?"
"You keep saying that," he grumbled. "You say it is dead, and yet you keep going back. What is so interesting in a dead place that you keep going back to it?"
I sat down beside the old warrior. I gazed at the blue sky, so much calmer here than the approaches to the keep. "I am curious, just that. I spent enough time in our own throne room, hearing tales about that awful place. I just had to see it."
"Fine, once." He nodded, as though declaring some truth. "Once I can understand. I will even admit to being more than a little curious, myself. In my younger days, I might have gone myself, once. Once should have been enough for you, if it is really as dead as you say."
I scowled at Erik. "I am not really sure what your problem is, Erik" I shook my head, annoyed. I had heard all of this before. "You and Jeannine, you talk like I am planning on taking the keep as my home. I go there once every year, sometimes twice, and sometimes not at all."
"How many times this year?" He asked.
"This is my second," I muttered.
"Oh?" He knew better.
"Alright, third," I conceded. "The first time, all I did was pass by. I saw it on the horizon, nothing more."
"So why did you go at all?" Erik's question was rather pointed, but I was in no mood to answer it.
"I am heading home," I said dismissively, lifting myself off the ground, and brushing myself off.
I grabbed my pack, closing up the back of it. I fastened my sword back onto my belt. I had no reason to fear much of anything from here all the way home, but still, after so many years of surviving in this ruined land, I was not about to get killed for being foolish and lazy. The sword's weight felt reassuring on my waist, the pommel familiar in my hand.
Erik stood up, his age betrayed in the way he had to roll to one side and use the momentum to lift himself from the ground. As a younger man, I clearly recalled how he would leap to his feet without effort, ready to go and smiling at his own prowess. Now getting up was harder, the scars of battle competing with the scars of aging. I helped him under one arm, and he accepted it without complaint. Once, he would have batted my hand away.
"I want you to take a break," he said as he brushed dirt off his pants. "I want you to stay in the village for a few months."
I shook my head. "That is not what I do."
He smirked, raising a bushy eyebrow barely seen behind his mane of gray-streaked red hair.
"I get paid to do this, Erik," I protested. "Not everyone is lucky enough to have what you do. I need to feed myself, and the mill only pays Jeannine with food. That does not pay for anything else I need."
Erik shook his head. "One of the few advantages to the exodus is that nobody wants for a place to live, and none of the nobles are around to collect taxes on the land. You do not need anything beyond food and clothing, and you have both."
I waved him off. "I want to live, not just exist."
"Oh," he said with a knowing-nod. "I see. Yes, I understand. You want more. How much more?"
I stopped, held still for a moment. Since the war, the plagues, and the exodus they caused, there were few greater accusations than to be called greedy. Lust for power and dominance was exactly what had brought us to ruin, Esis and Krona both. To be asked "how much more do you want?" was really to be asked "do you wish to be like the people who did this to our land?"
Erik took my silence as leave to continue speaking.
"I think you like the thrill of it, Jovan." He said accusingly.
I stepped back a step, looking northward in the direction of the keep.
"I think the war was not enough for you," he said, "and you want more. You are like some fool inching toward a flame to see how close he can come before he gets burned."
Without thinking, I rubbed my hand, the memory of the not-burn tingling my skin. I shook it off, and the dust on my coat with it. "Nonsense."
He smirked again. "Really?"
I nodded slightly. "Really, Erik."
His nod was decisive. "Excellent. Then I am sure you will be happy to help me in the village for the next few months. I have a long list of repairs and it is going to be a long winter, so you can help me. The cold slows me down these days, and I can always use a good worker. I will see to it that you get paid, and Jeannine can stop bothering me."
"Ah," I said with a knowing nod. "This is her talking."
"No, this is my idea. I want you to stay close for a while." His smirk was brief. "It is just good fortune that it will please my daughter."
"Trying to get those marriage bands around our wrists?" I retorted.
Erik stepped in then, grasping my arm with his powerful hand.
"Hey, Jovan, I am serious about this." His look was partially grim, partially concerned. "This is not about you making Jeannine an honest woman. Right now, truth be told, you are in no position to ask her. I want you around because you need to be away from places like this."
He looked about him, but we both knew to what he was referring. He wanted me away from Skyreach Keep.
He continued. "The villagers are starting to avoid you. I know all about the last time you went to the tavern, and started telling your stories. By the time you finished telling them, the only person left to hear it was Gern, and he was not pleased to see all of his customers walking out on him."
"What are you trying to say?" I asked, trying to pull away, but held fast by Erik's grip.
"Nothing you do not already know," he replied. "Nothing you have not already
