Dreams of the Quill

A Sentimental Afterword

King Herald of Harnecia wordlessly watched the proceedings. His court was gathered around him, and they sat together on a dais overlooking the cemetery.

Standing in front of the dais were hundreds of Harnecia Royal University faculty members, all wearing clerical white robes. A handful of freelance archaeologists who had associated with Intra Noi and aided him with his work at times were present as well. Dozens of younger men and women—students of Intra’s colleagues—peppered the audience, wearing drab black formal wear.

Professor Huun Koul had been asked to handle the ceremony, and he stood over the coffin, reading a long and elaborate piece about how Grandpa Snow’s guidance had given him a direction in life and led to so many good things. He spoke at length about Intra’s son, a great man during his unfortunately short life, and then he addressed Intra’s grandson.

Tyff stood across the coffin from Huun, Jeld by his side with a firm hand on his shoulder. She was crying for both of them; her cheeks were tear-streaked and Tyff’s were dry.

“He is a grandson to all of us,” declared Huun, smiling sadly at Tyff. “Just as Grandpa Snow brought us together and raised the bar for archaeological work at our school, so too will Tyff be a reminder to us that we must stick together, cherish our friends and family, and care for each other. Grandpa Snow was a loving man, and—”

“Horseshit,” muttered Tyff.

Jeld recoiled and Huun blinked frightfully.

The king clapped his hands and the whispers that were spreading through the crowd died down.

“Go on,” he ordered.

Huun gulped and shuffled the sheets of paper in his hands.

“Grandpa Snow bestowed upon us one treasure before he died that is greater in value than any ancient relic. Not all gathered were in his department, but those of you who are archaeologists, you know the thrill of hitting artifact gold at a dig. Imagine how Grandpa Snow must have felt when he discovered something more momentous than the remnants of an ancient civilization. For years, he hid this one finding from us, perhaps afraid that he would be discredited for revealing it prematurely. It is nothing but unfortunate that we receive his gift only after he has departed, for we all owe him a great deal for it.”

Huun bent down, deposited his notes in a bag, and produced a large tome.

“This,” he said, lifting it up, “is Grandpa Snow’s gift to us. It details the history of the South. Beyond the forests, there is no ‘Shaded Orchard’—there is snow, and south of that, there is ice. A cold, tired sky stretches out until the end of the world. Grandpa Snow’s findings have once and for all settled the question of the ‘other side.’ Let Grandpa Snow’s interment be a reminder to all of us: he is not going to live peaceful days in the Shaded Orchard with his dear wife and son. He is being buried here, in this plot of dirt, and here he will stay. I read you an excerpt from the foreword of this impressive text.

“‘Accomplish what you can within your lifetime, for it’s the only lifetime you have.’”

A bittersweet round of applause rang out from the audience.

“A royal decree,” announced King Herald. “The myth of the Shaded Orchard is but that, a myth. Let it no longer be taught as truth in the schools, and let the southern snow fields no longer carry any religious significance. Professor Intra Noi’s work is impeccable and shall be forever immortalized in the history of academia.”

Jeld shut her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears. She whispered,

“Thank you.”

Huun looked on, gratification and sorrow battling for control over his expression.

“If only he could have lived to see this day,” the middle-aged professor sighed. “He likely would have died much happier.”

All gathered reached under their robes and produced copies of Intra’s book, and as one, led by the booming voice of King Herald’s older brother, they read the book from start to finish. Jeld nodded along, sometimes mouthing the words, though she had no book in her hands. Tyff grudgingly listened as his grandfather’s chef-d’oeuvre was read aloud.

The book detailed the process of running an expedition into the South. It covered all the hazards, the harsh blizzards, the native beasts. It covered important details including how tough the permafrost was, how sturdy your diggers needed to be. The book then went on to showcase Intra’s grandest material findings—evidence that not one but many ancient civilizations had made their homes in the southern wastes. And finally, there was a sentimental piece at the end of the book, a word of caution to all archaeologists and other career academicians. The piece recounted Juuklin Talb’s funeral, and it prophesied that no family or friends would attend his own.

“We’re here, Intra,” said Jeld softly as the audience solemnly closed their books. “We’re your family, and we’re here.”

And then Huun Koul and a number of other professors heaved the coffin into the grave, and Jeld fell to her knees and held Tyff to her, bawling as dirt and roses rained down on the man who had saved her life.

---

“Why are you crying, Jeld?”

---

“Why are you crying, Jeld?”

Intra opened his eyes. He felt like crying, too. Why was everyone around him always so sad?

“You… woke up…” she breathed. She leapt up from the crate she’d been sitting on. “I’ll go get Tyff, wait here!” At the tent flap she turned around. “Anything you want to eat?”

Intra was too dazed to respond. At first he wondered where he was. Is this the Shaded Orchard? Didn’t I die? And then he recognized the cot he was lying on, and he breathed deeply. I’m alright. I’m in my tent. I’m in the South. Jeld’s going to show me the findings from the dig I didn’t go on.

Jeld dashed back in minutes later, dragging Tyff by his wrist.

“Is there anything you want to say before?” she asked, clearly distressed.

“Before what?” asked Intra. He noticed the scared look in Tyff’s eyes. Something was wrong. “Before I die? Now hold on here, you two. I’m fine!” He noted that he no longer wondered why Jeld was meddling. After that dream, he no longer had any desire to reprimand Jeld for intervening in his family issues. Jeld was his family.

“You were asleep for two whole days!” exclaimed Jeld. “I was… so worried…”

Tyff looked away when his grandfather shot him a quizzical glance.

“Were you also worried, Tyff?” he asked gently.

“As if,” muttered the boy.

“I, I was imagining your funeral,” Jeld admitted. “And it was sad.”

“Really?” chuckled Intra. “Funny. I had a dream about it. It was joyous.”

“How joyous?”

“King Herald decreed the death of the myth of the Shaded Orchard.”

“At your funeral? Your… funeral… no, how can I speak of this so callously?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“If it’s all fine, I’m going,” Tyff grunted.

“Stay here,” commanded Jeld, suddenly firm, turning and grabbing the boy’s hand.

“Let him go,” sighed Intra. “If he doesn’t want to be here…”

“He’s just acting tough and you know it!” Jeld pulled Tyff into a sitting position. “You saw how scared he was. You’re the only family this boy has.”

“That’s not true,” said Intra, recalling his dream. “You’re here with him.”

Jeld blushed and said nothing. Silence presided over the tent for several minutes, and then Tyff sniffed noisily.

“How,” he began, a solitary tear sliding down his cheek, “how am I supposed to look at you?”

Intra raised one eyebrow, not sure how to respond to his grandson’s question.

“You were always an awesome grandpa, and I loved you, and… and then, you killed Grannie. Why? Why weren’t you there for her? Is this archaeology so important?”

Jeld bit her lip.

“I don’t know,” said Intra, and Tyff’s eyes widened. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Obviously you thought so!”

“You’re right. At the time, I probably did. I probably thought something heartless, like, ‘I can’t do anything for her anyway,’ or, ‘there’s too much at stake,’ and so I left her behind and continued my work.”

“Don’t think you can sugarcoat it,” threatened Tyff.

“I’m not trying too, Tyff. I don’t expect to be forgiven for anything.”

“Then why are you bothering to make excuses?” Tyff crossed his arms, pointedly not wiping his tears away in an effort to pretend he hadn’t cried. His cheeks began itching.

“I’m just answering your questions, Tyff. I don’t have anything else to do. I can’t dig anymore and I finished my book. It’s a shame, you know.” He sighed. “I always wanted to take you on a dig with me. I guess I was just too old.”

“Dad always said that,” Tyff said, looking away, a soft expression replacing his frown, “always said that when I was old enough, you’d take me digging.” He paused for a moment. “I always wanted to go.”

“Maybe I’ll recover my strength, and—”

Jeld shook her head sadly. Tyff looked between them anxiously. Intra nodded.

“Sorry, Tyff. I couldn’t keep my promise.”

“You said you’re fine, right! You can at least take me—”

Intra forced himself into a sitting position, acutely aware of how painful the process was. He smiled at his grandson.

“I don’t think I’m going to leave this tent alive.”

Two more tears rolled down Tyff’s cheeks.

“I’m, I’m going to go get some tea,” said Jeld. She stood and scurried from the tent.

Once Jeld was gone, Tyff spoke.

“She’s really nice.”

“Do you remember her at all? She was with me on my last visit to the university.”

“All I remember from your last visit was that you didn’t stay more than one night with Grannie.”

After a couple minutes thinking, Intra spoke.

“I want you to know, Tyff, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.”

“I…” Tyff hesitated. “I know you are.”

“I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Hah, really?” laughed Intra, tears forming in his eyes.

“Grannie said that’s how you respond,” muttered Tyff.

“Tyff, I loved Del more than anyone else in the world. I know I treated her wrong, I know I was too single-minded, and I know you can’t forgive me, but if it’s possible I want you to understand that I loved her.”

Tyff nodded slightly.

“I have a short story to tell you, Tyff.”

“Okay.”

Jeld came back in carrying three mugs of hot tea on a tray. She handed one to Tyff and one to Intra and then put the tray down on one of the crates lying about.

“I hope it warms you both up,” she said.

“You’re not drinking any?” asked Intra, holding his mug between his palms and breathing in the steam.

“The third mug isn’t for me.” Jeld looked gently at the bedridden professor. “It’s for your wife.”

“Thank you, Jeld,” said Intra, and he took a thoughtful sip of tea. He looked around. “You’re not drinking any, either?” he asked of Tyff.

“It’s too hot.” The boy deposited his mug on the floor. “Anyway, your story?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s about me and Del, long before you were around. You know, the king’s brother wooed her for years before she married me. She was an arrogant woman, once upon a time. Used to say, ‘I’m the most beautiful woman in the Midlands.’ I used to forgive her that—in fact, I fed her. ‘You are.’ She was. She really was. ‘I wonder how an ugly guy like me can pique your interest.’ She’d say, ‘you are the most intelligent man in the world.’

“One day I met a woman on my travels, more beautiful even than your grandmother. That’s when I discovered that Del was merely prone to hyperbole.”

“I don’t get it,” muttered Tyff.

Jeld smiled weakly, and Intra sighed into his tea.

“Sometimes, you just love someone.”

“Just?” asked Tyff.

“Regardless of their flaws and failures. You know, I tried! I tried to be there for her, but I had a calling. I wanted to demystify the South. I wanted to bring happiness to Harnecia.”

“You’re rambling,” grimaced Tyff.

“You also sound kind of self-righteous,” chided Jeld.

“You’re ganging up on me. I’m just remembering my early years.”

“Everyone is self-righteous when they’re young,” Jeld pronounced.

Tyff felt his ears burning with shame.

“You’re wise beyond your years,” observed Intra, addressing his assistant.

“It comes in the ‘losing your parents’ package,” shrugged Jeld.

“How can you talk about that like that?” asked Tyff, frowning up at the redhead. “They’re out there, in the Shaded Orchard, listening to you and caring for you!”

“No. They’re not.” Jeld smiled at Intra. “Some of it will be lost on him, but don’t you think it’s time he read your book?”

Intra stared into his tea. The world was spinning and his chest hurt.

“It’d be embarrassing to be here while he’s reading it…”

“Oh come on,” said Jeld. “There’s no harm in it.”

“No, Jeld, I don’t want to be present.”

“Grandpa Snow, I insist—”

“I insist, Jeld. Go read somewhere else.”

Jeld blinked.

“You mean I can’t be here?”

“Please,” nodded Intra slowly. He did his best to keep his expression neutral as he clenched his teeth.

Jeld blinked again and swallowed.

Damn it, Jeld, stop crying!

“Alright.” She turned to Intra’s grandson. “Come on, Tyff, we’re going to go to my tent, and I’ll help explain anything you don’t understand.” She walked over to Intra’s desk and scooped up his manuscript. Tyff stood, and the two of them made to leave the tent.

At the flap, Tyff looked back. His eyes bespoke confusion regarding the exchange between the professor and his assistant, and he was still frowning slightly.

“Good-bye, Gramps.”

Intra could tell that it had taken his grandson a lot of effort. He smiled and replied, “good-bye, Tyff.”

“Sleep well, Grandpa Snow,” said Jeld, and then she and the boy were gone and Intra was alone with Del.

 

 

 

“There’s nothing for me to do,” Intra said. “Is this how you felt, Del, when you decided to leave this world?”

Professor Intra Noi took another sip of tea and then put his mug down on the crate Jeld had been sitting on. He eased himself out of his sitting position and closed his eyes.

“At least now maybe Tyff won’t say ‘horseshit’ at my funeral.”