Chapter 43 - Homecoming

The next hour was a whirl of emotion that Laurence simply was not used to feeling. Much of the time was spent discussing Laurence’s life since he had left the church that he had grown up in. He spoke to his mother about the entire journey, about his progress with his Book, his journey up to Spirit, meeting his friends and Cleo, and even his first encounter with Peter.

His mother expressed a range of emotions as he went through his journey, but she held his hand through the entire discourse. She clutched his hand tight at the little victories, and felt for him at the losses. She could not help but cry when she heard about him losing his arm, and hugged him tight at Cleo’s end. Laurence’s story was a bitter one, but he continued and told her of his experiments in order to bring her back. There were times when his mother looked on at him in horror, but as she heard him speak, the bitterness in his voice, the rage at which he felt over his failure, she softened to him. She could see that Laurence was driven in a way that few people were, but his drive was bitter grief, and she could not see where it would end.

Finally after much discussion, and several cups of tea brewed by Jim as they spoke, Maris spoke. “So when did you know you could not live without her?”

“I... She...” Laurence tried to answer her but he could not find the words. He stopped and thought about all the times that they had experienced together, about every house they had broken into, every person they had fought, every instant they shared together. “I think it might have actually been that evening on the roof after we had forced Peter back to his clan”.

“Thanks by the way, the only good thing about the next couple of years in my life was my Rosebush”.

“Good,” Jim said, laughing Peter’s disgruntled expression. “You deserved it”.

“That long ago?” Maris asked. “But you must have only been ten or eleven years old”.

“That didn’t stop me from knowing I wanted her. Back then I don’t think I was in love with her. I know I only began to feel that when we left Spirit and moved through Biqiril. She was stepping off the skyship and in that moment I don’t think I had ever seen something so perfect as her. She stunned me, truly took my breath away, and that was when I understood I would truly do anything to make sure that she was safe”.

“But you failed,” a deep, rich voice from behind him said. Maris looked up and smiled at the figure as Laurence turned round to look at who had spoken. “Welcome home son, I wish it had been under better circumstances, but I’m glad you’re finally here. Darling, can you begin dinner? I would myself, but I feel I have to talk through some things with our son”.

Seeing the two simple spears that appeared in his hands, Maris nodded before standing up and brushing her apron down. “I’m not doing it alone though, you three are helping”. She pointed at Fen, Jim and Peter before swaying off towards the kitchen.

Laurence stood up and looked at his father. The man, like his mother, had not aged a day. He was still the striking hulk of muscle and flesh, a rock in comparison to Laurence’s reed-like figure. He was light where his son was dark, the eyes and the hair, in fact the only thing that could be said to be similar about either of them was that they had almost the same face.

He ushered Laurence out into their back courtyard and into a simple sparring ring that had been set up long ago and weathered through years of use, repair and then more use. It was worn, but sturdy. Stepping into the ring, he threw a spear at Laurence and smirked before levelling his own weapon and pointing it to the side of his son.

“Do you remember the rules?” he asked, before lowering his center of gravity slightly.

“Of course,” Laurence replied. “Victory by ring out, surrender or incapacitation, though now I actually have a chance against you”.

“Only if I lower myself to the level of an Immortal. Ascendancy is still slightly out of your reach, despite the strength I feel from you”.

Laurence nodded at his father’s statement before moving into the ring. They faced each other under the midday sun and watched for any opening. Neither moved, but the wind its way around them. In this moment they were monoliths, ageless and untouchable, like true immortals should be.

“Why are you here, son?” Angus asked. “You could have come at any time and we would have welcomed you with open arms, but why now? And why with them?”

Laurence watched as his father spoke, diving forwards as the man finished speaking, then swinging his spear to bear and shifting his grip. By his second step he was thrusting, and by his third he was almost at his father’s chest. Almost immediately he felt the rush of wind careening towards his feet, and watched as his father arced his body back and then around the strike. The older man’s spear had whipped round his back as Laurence had charged, rolled over his hand and ended up blade forwards as the haft tried to cut Laurence’s legs from beneath him.

As he felt the wind against his calves, Laurence leapt into the air before pushing his feet back against the solid surface of the arena, skipping the spear strike like a rope. Shunting the back end of his spear forwards he dragged the blade through the dust before lifting it over his head like a banner on a flagpole. In the moment that it took to move the spear into the air, his father brought his own spear to bear against his shoulder and they stood staring at each other for a moment.

“I need your help,” Laurence finally said. “I’m so happy that I’m home, but I desperately need your help”.

“Son, you and I both know that you can’t bring her back. If you didn’t know that then we would have been your first port of call. But you knew, you looked for other paths, ideas that were off the beaten track for good reason and things that no sane man should even attempt to comprehend. If you’re so deep in the maw of something I cannot advise you on why do you want my help now?”

Angus whipped the spear across, as if he was trying to bisect Laurence at the waist, but Laurence slammed his spear into the ground then pivoted around it blocking the strike and giving himself a pole to support himself as he kicked at his father. Angus turned like a screw and slammed his elbow into Laurence’s guts as his kick slid past its intended target. Laurence slammed into the ground with the full force of the strike, and curled up as pain shot through his abdomen. Despite the pain, he wrapped his body round both his father’s shins and pulled them out from underneath the man, tipping him face first into the dirt.

Spinning onto his feet, he watched as his father rolled and stood up before turning back to face him. Their spears were both discarded in the dirt as they looked at each other and grinned. Laurence lost focus for a moment before taking a deep breath. He looked back at his father and said “I found the letter from my birth mother, dad. To bring Cleo back I think I need the key to that damned well”.

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