When Angels Cry; Part Three
The two began to walk towards the gates of the city, Freman eying his brother closely. Something was obviously bothering Cumlius, and while it might indeed be their father's failing health, Freman shared enough of a connection with his brother to suspect more.
"Grim times indeed," Freman began, hoping to fish an answer out of Cumlius, "though the elders always fade, and this turn was not unexpected..."
Cumlius merely gave a half smile, an obviously preoccupied look in his yellow eyes. Then they were through the city gates, back into their childhood home... a place Freman could have gone much longer before seeing again.
It did not take long for the two brothers to be met by their father's officers, who quickly escorted them to the bedside of the ailing king. The room, much like the small castle it stood in, was less than impressive. Lord Wingback was the king of a people who rejected the very idea of being governed, and as such commanded neither great wealth or power. Freman did notice, however, that he did possess the resources to have the best surgeon in the city by his bed. Lord Wingback looked to the door from his bed as it squeaked open, and Freman was struck with how gaunt and old the face seemed.
"Come... come in, my sons," he managed to wheezed through ragged breaths. The message had not been wrong at all. Freman noted with a twinge of pity that Wingback looked as though he should have died months ago. The only thing more matted than his ratty, molting wings was his tangled hair. The dark, stone, room smelled of sweat, sickness, and bile. The surgeon, Freman noticed, was no Filda... just a man someone had obviously ferried up to the city. Did the poor doctor know he would never be allowed to return to the ground he had once lived on? Maybe so... his father did have some money, and humans were all too greedy and short-sighted. Their freedom could be bought with a few lose coins... sometimes with even less... No, Freman decided, he would not pity the doctor at all.
How could he when he barley pitied his dying father?
"Grim times indeed," Freman began, hoping to fish an answer out of Cumlius, "though the elders always fade, and this turn was not unexpected..."
Cumlius merely gave a half smile, an obviously preoccupied look in his yellow eyes. Then they were through the city gates, back into their childhood home... a place Freman could have gone much longer before seeing again.
It did not take long for the two brothers to be met by their father's officers, who quickly escorted them to the bedside of the ailing king. The room, much like the small castle it stood in, was less than impressive. Lord Wingback was the king of a people who rejected the very idea of being governed, and as such commanded neither great wealth or power. Freman did notice, however, that he did possess the resources to have the best surgeon in the city by his bed. Lord Wingback looked to the door from his bed as it squeaked open, and Freman was struck with how gaunt and old the face seemed.
"Come... come in, my sons," he managed to wheezed through ragged breaths. The message had not been wrong at all. Freman noted with a twinge of pity that Wingback looked as though he should have died months ago. The only thing more matted than his ratty, molting wings was his tangled hair. The dark, stone, room smelled of sweat, sickness, and bile. The surgeon, Freman noticed, was no Filda... just a man someone had obviously ferried up to the city. Did the poor doctor know he would never be allowed to return to the ground he had once lived on? Maybe so... his father did have some money, and humans were all too greedy and short-sighted. Their freedom could be bought with a few lose coins... sometimes with even less... No, Freman decided, he would not pity the doctor at all.
How could he when he barley pitied his dying father?
posted by Czar at 5:35 AM
1 Comments:
You know - you should learn to write faster. I get into the story and then the post ends!! But I guess that would mean your stories wouldn't be so good since you would be rushing through them. And then I wouldn't care if you wrote quickly or not. So don't change. And keep the story coming. *smile*
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