Free The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) by R.G. Triplett

rest of them. I thought—”
    ”You think too much, brother,” Michael interrupted.
    He got up from the retaining wall and made his way over to Cal, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes.
    “Now listen here, horse face … I don’t know what that was that happened out there, but I know for sure that you were not the cause of it.”
    Cal tried to speak, but Michael wouldn’t let him.
    “All you need to worry about now is making ‘ Res-ti-tu-tion’ ,” Michael said with a mocking piety, “as fast and as quietly as you can; then worry about getting that backside of yours back to the stable yard. I mean, come on, you can’t expect those horses to last long with the lousy bunch of groomsmen we’ll have tending to them now, can you?”
    “Apprentice groomsmen,” Cal said with laugh.
    “Exactly,” said Michael. “Now here, I have something for you, but don’t you go getting attached to it. Just because those Poet-loving parents of yours never gave you a flint … doesn’t mean you need to travel through the forest in the dark.”
    Michael took a small leather thong, which had a carved, leaf-shaped piece of flint attached to it, from around his neck. He reached out and put it in the hands of his best friend. “Just make sure I get that back. I had to memorize half of those old Priest’s words to get the blasted thing, and I don’t think I have the time or the wit to pass that kind of test again.”
    Cal gripped Michael’s hand with both of his own. He looked him in the eyes and with all sincerity said, “Thank you, brother. I mean it … thank you.”
    There was a moment of finality that passed between the two young men. Not one of fear or apprehension, but rather a moment that carried with it an understanding that things would never (and quite certainly could never) be this way again.
    Michael then spoke words that he had never uttered before, feeling them come from a deep place that he rarely ever frequented. “May the THREE who is SEVEN be with you, and may the hope that you carry in your heart … well,” Michael paused and stared determinedly at the ground, warding off the awkwardness of the unfamiliar words, “… light your way home.”
    Cal responded with a heartfelt, “May it be so.”
    “Well, you better go see about getting your things together,” Michael said. “So I guess this is goodbye. For now.”
    The two friends embraced, and then parted ways for what they knew would be the last time in a long time.
    As Michael made his way down the dimly lit street, Cal shouted out to him. “Hey, horse face, don’t be so stingy with the apples, you hear? You never know when you will need one of those horses to return a favor!”
    “I hear you,” Michael said, without even looking back.

Chapter Eight

    T hat night Cal was haunted by the Owele dreams again. Like before, he found himself alone, lost in the thick of the forest with half-eaten snakes at his feet, paralyzed in the stare of the terrible creatures. He slept but never truly rested, and with each fearful waking Cal found himself feeling a greater disdain for these damnable birds of prey.
    The morning came too quickly, but Cal dragged his exhausted and now exiled body out of bed and towards the stable yard. With his pack thrown over his shoulder, he took in the greying borough of Westriver, hoping to imprint a memory of home that could get him through his ‘ res-ti-tu-tion’ in the harsh North.
    By the time he made it into the gates of Westriver’s main stable yard, the other groomsmen were hard at work readying the scouting party’s mounts. Cal felt a twinge of embarrassment as he walked with his head down towards Dreamer’s stall, avoiding as much eye contact as he possibly could. He felt out of place now, wanting to just get in and get out before things grew more awkward than they already were.
    He walked past the rows of horses standing at the ready before he finally reached his wounded traveling companion. As