Edema Rue

“More beer,” Tal growled to a passing barmaid. “The strongest you’ve got.” He’d had several deinks already tonight. Something deep inside him told him he’d had too much. He didn’t care. The girl flinched and hurried into the kitchen, looking nervous. A moment later, the innkeeper stepped out, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Eh, M’Lord, we’ve a strict rule on drink. Ye’ve had too much already tonight. I’d suggest making my way to bed, eh?” The man chuckled, but he looked afraid, and rightfully so. 

“Beer.” Tal said quietly, looking him in the eye. 

The innkeeper coughed. “Right away, Sir.”

Tal should have cared about how poorly he was treating the man. He couldn’t. Nothing mattered any longer. When they’d first found him that night, they’d had to drag him away from her body. He’d been too weak to resist. For weeks after, they’d been patient with him. They saw a hero, the savior of their people, mourning his lost love. They accepted him, because to them, he was just like them; another victim of the monster.

How could they possibly understand how much more than that it was? How could they possibly understand that the real hero was the one who had died that day? That he was left alive to rot, and the person who had been so full of life was trapped in the cold earth? They couldn’t. That was the whole of it. They could never understand. After a few weeks of watching him get drunker and drunker, they’d grown tired of him. 

So he’d left, run off. It was easier that way; after a few half-hearted explanations of how he had things to take care of, the people had been satisfied to keep the memory of a hero. 

No one would remember Ace.

No one, that is, but him. It was as he’d said the first time they’d met; no one would take care of them, so they had to take care of themselves. That was the thought that kept him alive; for years, he had been living for her. Now it was all he knew how to do. If he died, then she would truly be gone from this world. 

These were the thoughts that filled his bleary mind. He cursed his power for keeping him from getting well and truly drunk. It burned away the haze, even has he took another swig. 

The only true rest, the only real escape, was sleep. But with sleep came the nightmares, and so he stayed awake as much as he could. But tonight there was no more putting it off, so he finished his mug, then clanked it down in the counter and walked smoothly towards the stairs, ignoring the sideways glances.

***

Tal opened his eyes, feeling the sun warm on his face. He stretched, a faint popping sound coming from his back. Looking around, he saw a neat farmhouse and an apple orchard. A young woman, perhaps 16, walked out of the orchard, hand in hand with a boy of about  7. The girl smiled, waving. 

She looked familiar. “Ace?” He gasped, amazed. But no, something was wrong. Her face was too round, and she was shorter. She laughed, and the little boy did too. At the sound of their laughter, an older woman stepped out of the house, wiping her her hands on an apron. 

“Hi, kids!” She called. “What’d your grandpa do this time?”

“He thought sister was you!” The boy called excitedly, then dissolved into laugher again. 

The older girl and woman laughed too. “Oh, Tal.” The woman said fondly, coming to stand next to him. “I’m not nearly that beautiful, love.”

The young woman blushed, and Tal smiled up at Ace sheepishly. “Yes, you are. But who’s this?”

“This is our granddaughter, Aelia, and our grandson Toln,” Ace said, ever patient. “You know who they are.”

“Oh, right,” Tal recalled. “How are the orchards?” 

The little boy launched into an exciting story about a snake he’d found, and Tal sat back, at peace. A thousand little memories filtered into his mind: he and Ace had a son, Dieln. They’d raised him together on this little farm. When he’d grown, he’d built his own house nearby with his wife. These-these were his grandchildren. The little moments, Tal’s favorite moments, filled his head.

Dieln’s first steps. The three of them planting their garden together as Dieln put mud in Ace’s hair. Teaching their child all the joys of life, and that more than anything, love brought the most powerful joy. Ace trying, and failing, to learn to cook.

The day that Dieln had decided he was old enough to join a passing army, to defend their country. The resulting conversation; Ace and Talin had showed their numerous scars, spoken of the pain. They’d sparred together, showing their son a part of their lives he had never seen, never imagined. They’d asked if he still wanted to go. He’d said yes, and so they’d come along. How quickly the war had ended when the opposing side had heard that Talin and Ace were fighting. 

The awe with which Dieln had watched them, and the way he never again talked back.

The sorrows, and the joys.

The successes, and the failures.

It wasn’t always a happy life, but it was full. Complete. And they were always together, building the family that neither of them had had. 

They’d grown old together, at this little farmhouse.

Paradise.

The sun faded, and Talin frowned, standing up. Suddenly he was somewhere else, and the false memories faded. He was standing next to a pile of rubble, a corpse on either side. One a man, one a woman. One a villain, one a hero. One an enemy, one a lover. Both were lifeless. 

“Do you see the life we could have lived?” A voice shouted from the clouds. Ace’s voice. “I never got to be a mother. Never got to live. Why didn’t you save me?”

That voice cut him, cut him down to his soul. It condemned him. It was filled with pain and rage, with callousness and contempt. “You said-you said to let you go!” He shouted to the empty sky. “You said you would love me more for saving them!” Even to his ears, the argument sounded feeble. 

“And you listened? Did you ever really love me, Tal?” The nickname mocked him. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t call me that.”

“And why not? Why should I listen to you, after you let me die?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ace. If I could go back and change it, I would! If I could just do it again, I’d save you.” There was no response. 

***

Tal woke up covered in sweat. That dream…it was different than the other nightmares. It hurt. Stars, but it hurt. Reality came crashing back down. He and Ace would never have a family. They would never raise a child, never have grandchildren, never have a single moment of peace together. She was gone. He had robbed her of all that she could have had. If only he’d never met her, she would still be alive today. 

He fell to the floor and wept.