Chapter B4C74 - No More Heroes
Tyron sucked in air as reinforcing skeletons finally poured into the corridor. Throwing themselves into the fight, he soon received burst after burst of vitality as his undead slaughtered the remaining Soldiers. The splits in his skin began to close, and he breathed a little more easily, the deaths of his enemies bringing him back from the brink.
Worthy looked down on his nephew, waiting and watching as he healed. He was significantly wounded himself, but he was patient, still steady on his feet, until a little colour had returned to the lad’s cheeks.
“Any chance you can turn off this spell that’s hurting me?” Worthy asked, pointing at the swirling mist around his feet.
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Tyron mumbled, cutting off the magick.
Finally able to take a good look at his Uncle, Tyron noted the changes that had come over him. He hadn’t seen Worthy since he had fled from Foxbridge, all those years ago. His Uncle had been larger than life, a former Slayer who had retired at Silver rank, settled down and opened an Inn. With his broad smile, fierce beard and portly frame, he’d been every inch the celebrated hero and consummate Innkeeper.
That was the only way Tyron had ever known him.
Barely a shadow of that man remained now. Worthy had lost weight, but not muscle, looking leaner, but powerful, his arms and shoulders still massive within his armour. His face had lost its laughter and gained more scars. His eyes no longer twinkled with the joke he hadn’t told you yet, but held a deep sadness. As he looked into those sombre blue eyes, so much like his own, Tyron found he didn’t know what to say.
He’d dreaded this moment, he realised now. He had told himself so many reasons why he wasn’t able to go and see his Aunt and Uncle, that it would be better if he didn’t. They wouldn’t understand what he was trying to achieve. They wouldn’t approve. They’d try to talk him out of it. Tyron had always feared, deep down, that not only would they try to turn him from the path of vengeance, but that they would succeed.
They were the only people in the world who understood and shared his pain, who understood a fraction of what he had gone through. When he looked at Worthy, he had feared there would be condemnation, criticism, anger and rejection in his gaze, but what he saw was so much worse: understanding.