Aeternitas by M Mixson (web based ebook reader txt) đź“•
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- Author: M Mixson
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Aedai said, “Duldra – what are we going to do about him?”
Heliattan who was carrying him cradled him close and shook her head, her long hair swaying with the movement. “I don’t know. I could see if someone could look after him…”
“That costs money,” Yeniat hissed at them as they walked the road, “Besides, we should be grieving right now, not talking about him.”
Aedai slapped Yeniat’s face sharply. “Shut your mouth, Yeniat. We’re all grieving but it a responsible question! If you didn’t have to help father I’d enlist you!”
Iasui the quietest spoke up, “I can do it. I can garden and carry him around. It won’t be that difficult. I remember when Momma used to carry me around when she worked.”
Surprised, Aedai shook her head sharply and twisted away from everybody and dashed up to walk by their stoic father who was setting a hard pace. They saw him wrap an arm around her shoulder and watched Aedai lean into his embrace. Meilyns pushed ahead as well and appeared on their father’s other side.
Ohiel watched the few birds that lived in the marshes call back and forth; mother, father and children. A family.
Heliattan’s shoulder bumped his as they walked and he held out his arms to Heliattan and whispered, “Helia, give him to me for a little bit, I don’t mind carrying him.”
Gently Helia placed Duldra in Ohiel’s arms and shuffled behind him rubbing her tired arms.
Exhaustion had set into all of their bones and it took all their effort to keep from slumping to their knees and crying where they stood.
They had a duty to be proper and formal, to not cry in front of other mourners. They needed to look strong for everybody else. They could not be weak. Being weak was a sign of “bad blood”. And Ohiel’s father believed that his family had never had “bad blood”. He hadn’t cried at his mother and father’s funeral, his brother’s hadn’t cried, his parents hadn’t cried at their family’s funeral and as far back as he could all the stories said that they had never cried. They were not weak and they did not have “bad blood”.
His wife’s family was not known for being weak or having “bad blood” either, but they came from a village of Timatand on the opposite coast.
Ohiel’s father had often told the story of their first meeting.
“I went out one afternoon to try and make my way in the world; I thought that by apprenticing myself to another fisherman in another village I would learn more, so I headed to Olaea. At Olaea I found myself working with another young man who also desired to become a legendary fisherman. He had been working for a man named Ocyin. Ocyin was often times a cruel man due to the way he grew up. And because of that he treated us just as cruelly as he had been treated. I stayed there for a while before I realized that my career would not be going anywhere because the other young man would take his place upon his death. After that I moved on to Timatand and began to work there as a minor apprentice. Soon my work began to be noticed by some of the older men. They quickly latched onto me and gave me better work. My work never faltered; I continued to improve but I quickly found that I would never be great at what I did. So instead of trying to do something I would never be good at I started preparing to leave. The man I worked for had a daughter, your mother, and she often would bring food to her father at the docks where we worked. We began to get to know each other over the course of my time there. About the time I was getting ready to leave I decided that I’d like to have her as my wife and so I proposed this idea to her father. He agreed and gave me her hand. By the time I returned here I was married and your mother was pregnant with our first child. We settled down in my parent’s old house and I bought a single boat. From there I began to build up my business. And so, that was how your mother and I met.”
Ohiel had head this story many, many times over his life and now as he stood in front of his mother’s gravestone it was brought back to him in full force.
Their father had chosen a simple engraving,
“Ioly. Mother, Daughter, Sister. Beloved to All. May she Rest in Peace.”
He saw the girls grouped together, holding each other’s hands in silence. The preacher stood behind her grave holding the Book of Days in preparation of reading the soliloquy read after every death. After he read the soliloquy their father would move to the front and recite some words in remembrance of her. He would then list her accomplishments of life. The final thing would be to pour a bit of dirt onto the grave and then a song would be sung in closing. When the other mourner’s left the family would then be allowed to cry or grieve in any way they liked. The other villagers would be respectful of this and not return to the gravesite for three days. They would also not visit the family or call upon them in any form. Tradition stated that the best anecdote for grief was being alone and time.
Ohiel could not comprehend this; how could time or being alone help anything? But it must because his parents and their parents before them had all gone through the same motions they were now doing.
He looked at the graves near his mother’s, on them were the names of all her children who had died before him. So many, he thought, how does one cope with losing so many children? How long did Father grieve? He wondered to himself. Will I too one day grieve for lost children?
The priest began to finish his soliloquy and his father stepped forward to take the helm. He listed her accomplishments of being a good mother, a good wife, a good daughter, a good provider of food, of having many children, of cleanliness and kindness, her compassion for everybody, and her ability to see the good in all.
“She will be dearly missed,” he commented at the end of his speech and flung a bit of dirt upon the grave before stepping back as the ending song was sung.
Finally, when all the mourners had left Aedai, Heliattans, Meilyns, and Iasui all sank to their knees and began to cry big, heavy tears. Their pain was clearly written on their faces, while Yeniat and Father stood stoic behind them.
Ohiel sniffled just a bit, but he kept the tears at bay, when he returned home he would cry for her in private.
Once only, because after that he had a journey to make.
A journey that his mother had wished for him, a journey that he hoped would change his life.
He gave all of his sisters each a hug, his baby brother a kiss on the forehead and his younger brother a firm handshake. Then he turned to his father and offered his hand which his father took gruffly. As he shook his father’s hand he couldn’t get over the feeling of the familiar rough callouses and the jagged edges of his father’s face.
“I’ll miss you,” he told his father as casually as possible.
He saw his father’s brow crinkle as he contemplated his son’s comment. “I hope…you’ll be all right.”
Ohiel nodded and let go of his father’s hand as he turned towards the carriage that would take him and Diar to Olaea. Diar was waiting patiently by the carriage doors and smiled when Ohiel looked over to him.
After another round of hugs for his sisters, he finally moved to Diar’s side. Diar helped Ohiel up and into the carriage before turning to Ohiel’s father and saying,
“Thank you for entrusting your son to me. I’ll make sure to take care of him.”
“Please do,” Ohiel’s father replied. “If he gets to be too much trouble feel free to send him back to me.”
Diar laughed, “I’m sure that it is not going to be a problem.”
A few minutes later they were on their way, the carriage banging along the ruts of the destroyed road.
Every few moments they would bounce in the carriage as they hit another one of the tree roots that stuck up due to the fact that the storm had washed away all of the dirt that had originally covered it.
There were a few minutes of silence as they adjusted to each other’s presence before Diar asked, “Are you comfortable?”
Ohiel blushed, “I’m a bit uncomfortable…I’ve never ridden in a carriage before.”
Diar was shocked, “Never?”
Ohiel shook his head, “I never had a need to.”
Diar leaned back, “Well, it’s never comfortable but it’s faster than walking.”
“Is this your personal carriage?”
The older man laughed. “No, no. It belongs to my friend, he’s only lending it to me. We’ll be meeting in Olaea so I can return it to him.”
Ohiel and Diar became quiet as the carriage rumbled onwards towards its destination. Ohiel made a quick study of the inside quickly analyzing that although it was a good looking carriage it was not the best money could buy. The carriage’s lining was fake silk and velvet of a dull (probably faded) red color. The ribbing was painted a gold color to make it look like real gold. Another sign that although this man had wealth, he did not flaunt it.
He glanced out at the window and saw the fields of green, pastures where cows grazed. He had never seen so many in one place before! He had grown up with the sea, fish and chicken and perhaps the occasional goat or horse, but never really cows. Cows of brown and white, black and white and sometimes solid black or brown! There was even a red one!
With a quick movement he had drawn his sketchpad from his small bag and started sketching the cows as they passed. He noted their anatomy and the way they moved when they walked, how they stood…his hand stopped moving for a moment as he contemplated his sketch. He brushed his fingers over the contours of the sketch. Diar leaned over to take a look at his sketch.
“You’d do better if you added more details while you had the chance. You might not get another chance to see a subject again so you want to add as many details
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