Chapter 58
Chapter 58
Max floated high above the city, surprised to see how much of it had been improved. Buildings that had once been only a single or two stories were now three or sometimes five stories tall, stone bricks showcasing rapid growth in such a short period of time. Beneath him, the city was moving like ants, each street bustling with carts and people.
One section was his focus, the area where the Golden Axe Faction was located. It had seen major growth. The building they had been constructing when he and the rest of the team defeated the tower was finished. It wasn’t the only addition now; two other long buildings, each over five stories tall, now took up a significant portion of the grounds. Everywhere he gazed in the compound was teeming with movement. Multiple sections of training areas gave off magical lights as people practiced their spells.
You’ve stared long enough. Phaius’s tone seemed hurried.
Max nodded and used his Illusion Magic, altering his body size, scent, and giving himself a head full of blond hair.
They dropped down on the street along the outer walls, finding a few additions to the statues that had once adorned them.
The gates were open, six guards watching as people came and went.
“Halt!” a dwarf guard called out. “Who do—”
Max summoned the badge that would identify him as a member. “Sorry, I’m from the Nalgrun branch. Hadn’t put it on yet.”
The dwarf nodded and motioned him in. “No worries. Welcome home.” Max nodded, his fake hair moving with it.
He strode through the gate, glad the illusion kept a straight face as his eyes followed the path, cut from stone he recognized from the dwarven capital. Each one was laid perfectly, leading directly to the Faction house, which had gotten some updating.
Sounds called from everywhere, people shouting, laughing, and groups in full gear talking as they moved along the walkway. Many nodded at Max, their eyes scanning his equipment he had created with illusions. A few even said hello.
Reaching the main doors, he entered, finding the Faction house buzzing with even more noise. He paused, finding a painting of himself and the rest of his team on the wall that faced the door. It looked so lifelike, each of them smiling, dressed in their armor.
Someone got Fowl’s height wrong. He’s not that tall.
Chuckling to himself, Max moved on, finding the stairs, and when he was certain no one was looking, he activated stealth.
He moved through the halls, finding his way to where Everett’s office would be and paused, a row of pictures lining the walls on both sides. One had the man he had expected to talk to on it. A gold plate under it.
Never Forgotten
Those words felt like someone had punched Max in the gut. He blinked a few times, thankful for the stealth as he scanned the walls, trying to find out if another picture was there. One he didn’t want to see.
Tom’s isn’t up here. Or Dexic.
Good, but you need to keep moving. This isn’t the time or place to waste time.
Max knew Bob was right, so he set aside his feelings and moved to the large doors that stood outside the office of the Faction Leader. He knocked and heard the words come in through them.
He pushed it open, a sense of nostalgia washing over him as Max’s eyes fell upon a green couch he remembered well. As the door opened enough, he saw the face of someone he remembered but with a lot more wrinkles.
Two eyes stared at the door, and when it closed, Max dropped stealth.
Tom barely moved but Max’s sonar told him the man was ready to react.
“Coming in here stealth isn’t a wise idea,” the older man said. “Who are you and what do you need?”
“Forgive me,” Max said, bowing slightly, the Illusion magic keeping his voice changed. “I have a message for someone and needed to deliver it personally. I was instructed to ask you, but I was told to keep it a secret. I’m looking for Stacy Hoste.”
Both eyes barely shifted, and Tom nodded slowly.
Max dodged to the right, sensing walls of air trying to box him in.
As he moved, Tom was over the desk, both hands holding a sword, golden armor now equipped. There was a slight look of shock shown as a pair of eyebrows rose on the Faction leader’s face.
“Who are you?” Tom asked, his voice carrying a tone that Max knew meant danger. “No one asks for that–”
Max let the illusion fall, held out both hands, and smiled. “It’s me, Tom. I don’t have long. Where is my family?”
A pair of swords clattered against the wooden floor as Tom’s mouth fell open. Tears started to flow as the one who had trained him to be a better warrior took a half step forward.
“Max… is it… Really, you?”
“It is Tom,” Max replied. “I saw the picture outside. Everett? Is he?”
His friend took a moment, cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “You… here… how? It’s not supposed to be possible.”
“I can’t talk about it, and I don’t have much time,” Max said, moving toward his friend and holding out a hand. “I need to go before I get in trouble with the system and Phaius.”
“But—”
“No one can know, Tom. No one,” Max said, grabbing the older man, who still hadn’t taken his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
A pair of arms squeezed him, and Max felt Tom shudder. “It’s good to see you, boy,” the man whispered. “We’ve… we’ve done good. I… So many questions, but I still can’t believe it’s you.”
Max gently pushed the older man back and smiled. “It is… but again, my family. Where are they?”
His heart skipped a beat as Tom’s mind must have caught up with his face. The older man’s lips pressed together in a pained look. “Southeast corner of the Faction grounds, where you and your dragon always landed. A small house is there. But…”
“Do I want to know now or find out on my own?” Max asked, noticing his friend’s behavior.
“Uh… go. You should go. Stacy should be there. And Callie, too! She’s grown. They’ve all…” Tom stopped himself and slapped Max’s arm once. “You should go. It’s good to see you! Will you visit before you… leave?”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Max winced and shook his head. “No… I’ve spent more time than I should here. I just needed directions and wanted to see you and… Everett.”
“He’d understand. He was so close… so close to the dream,” Tom said softly. “He’d reached the…” A hitch stopped Tom, and Max squeezed the Faction leader’s shoulder.
“He did what he wanted and chose his path,” Max said. “I don’t need any more news. Be safe, my friend.”
Tom nodded, and Max had to free himself from the older man’s grip before giving a small wave. “Don’t tell anyone about me, please,” Max said. “Phaius wouldn’t like it.”
A small laugh came from Tom, and then it grew when Max winked at him.
“Be safe, son,” Tom said. “Tell the others I miss them.”
Max nodded, changed his appearance again, went invisible, and summoned a portal to the spot he knew Tom had talked about.
The scent of lavender struck first as Max found himself crushing a few flowers in a garden. The area he and Rakonath always used was transformed from flat open grass to a stone cottage with a small fence and a couple of gardens. A new wooden door sat in the stone, and it looked like it hadn’t been used much. Multiple pairs of boots were lined up on the stone steps to the side, with dirt and some dried mud caked on them.
There are six different sizes of boots, including children’s boots.
It’s been almost fifty years, Max. Are you ready for what lies behind the door?
Max’s chest ached, and he winced.
No… but I don’t have a choice. I can’t walk away now. I’d never forgive myself.
Then go. We are risking trouble by standing here crushing their flowers.
He moved to the door, deactivating stealth and summoned a box he had considered enjoying for decades. The purple cardboard container was a memory he would occasionally look at. It reminded him of one thing. A small bakery in Alundra, his hometown.
He knocked, finding it hard to gauge how hard to strike it, emotions tugging at his entire being.
The door swung open, and a small boy, perhaps nine years old, with brown hair and eyes, looked up at him and then fixated on the box.
“Treats? Did someone get a delivery?” the boy asked.
Max smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, Faction Leader Tom told me to deliver these personally to Mrs. Stacy. Said it would be a good thing for right now.”
A sigh came from the boy, who nodded, frowning a little bit. “Figures… no baked good before lunch,” the kid muttered. “Follow me, and make sure you don’t track dirt in. Grandma will kill you… or me… or both.”
Max stomped his feet and winked, noticing the child before him only had socks on. He followed his escort inside, a light smell of baking bread and oranges drifting through the air. A larger room than he expected was inside, filled with two slightly older kids on a couch, each reading a book. They looked up, eyes widening till his guide shook his head.
“Those are for grands… Tom’s being mean.”
Groans came from the pair as the younger of the three motioned for Max to follow.
He walked along the outer room, able to sense the warmth and love that filled it. Paintings were on the wall, and Max had to force himself not to stop, seeing images he hadn’t expected.
Caleb… and Stacy… and that’s Callie?
She’s grown into a beautiful woman. Just like her sister. Now focus.
Max stayed behind his escort and soon found himself at a door where the child knocked before opening it.
“Gran’s, package for you from Mr. Tom.”
“Let them in.”
Max nodded and moved past the young boy, stopping in the doorway at what he found in the room. The smell hit him: age, decay, and death. His sister was beside the bed, her hand holding his mother’s. She had aged. Fifty years had passed, and he could see that each of them had left its mark. Her hair was thin and completely white. Each breath seemed labored as her eyes were closed.
On the other side sat his father. Gone was his hair, and wrinkles had taken over his scalp and face.
Stacy looked different and yet the same. She was stronger, her body carried power, and he could sense the hint of an aura wanting to be released. Still, all she wore were simple clothes, and her eyes studied him for a moment before landing on the box he carried.
“Tom sent that?” she asked.
Max sensed the slight shift in her voice as she spoke.
He shut the door behind him gently. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Tears fell, and he didn’t stop them with the illusion. Each one plopped onto the purple cardboard top of the box as he slowly stepped across the room to where his mother lay.
Max could sense Stacy’s body tighten, her hand on her lap flexing. His father blinked a few times and stared at the box.
“I remember that… somewhere back home. A bakery,” his father said, voice weaker than Max could ever remember.
“Yes,” Max said softly, opening it, tears still falling from his eyes. He pulled out a blueberry muffin.
A gasp came from Stacy, and her eyes widened.
“Ahh, blueberry!” his father exclaimed, taking a few seconds to rise to his feet, having to use the armrests of the chair to stand. “Those were Max’s favorites. Some red-headed hussy there made them.”
Max laughed, unable to stop himself.
His father came over, took the muffin, and bit into it. A slow moan exited the older man’s mouth after he chewed a few times. “Tastes just like I remember.”
“Who are you?” Stacy asked, an edge to her voice. “Why bring that gift? And why are you crying?”
Blinking back the tears, Max set the box on the end of the bed, turned to his father and smiled.
The illusion vanished, and a gasp came from his sister, while his father suddenly choked.
Max didn’t wait, moving quickly and patting his father’s back a few times, dislodging the piece of muffin as his dad tried to turn and stare at him.
“Maax,” his father said, voice struggling to work.
“It’s me, Dad. It’s me,” Max said, unable to hold back the tears any longer, spinning his father around and embracing him.
Sobs came as they stood there, each of them drenching the other’s shoulder as occasionally a laugh came, followed by another round of crying. Both of them hugged over and over, never breaking the embrace lest the moment might vanish altogether.
“Son? How?”
Those words had no answer that Max could come up with. He shrugged and slowly pushed himself back, staring at his father and the trail of tears that had turned both eyes red.
“I was given a chance, and I took it. I won’t get another. I’ve missed you.”
“The tower! You beat it then!” his dad exclaimed, a large grin forming, showing a few teeth to be missing.
“We did. We’re fine. We’re all fine. I… I can’t—”
He stopped talking, sensing the object charging at him.
A pair of arms enveloped him, sliding between his father’s chest and his.
“You bastard, I’ve missed you!” Stacy said, burying her head against his shoulder.
Max nodded and kissed the top of her head, bringing her into an embrace that his dad became part of as well.
“I missed you, too, sis.”