Armistice - Part 3

     The carriage drops him off at the city’s outskirts, where the roads turn to mud and reeds.

     “I can take you further,” the Ogrin pulling it says, sounding very much as if he’d rather not but feels obligated to support the “hero.”

     But Meekel shakes his head. “It’s alright. Thank you for bringing me this far, but I can walk the rest of the way. The path is unsuited to carriage travel.”

     With a look of relief, the Ogrin departs. After a few moments, Meekel does, too, walking in the direction of the setting sun. The verdant countryside around him is only vaguely familiar, like something he’d seen in a dream once a very long time ago. But Vex had assured him that, according to the most recent census records, his family still lived in the old farmhouse he grew up in. Vex had even given him a map to show the way. Meekel follows it for a time before muscle memory, long since buried away, kicks in. He walks over weed-choked roads and through golden fields, thinking.

     And as he thinks, his footsteps slow. He sees Ma on her rocker, blind to him. He pictures a grave on the hill behind the house where Pa rests, because Pa was ill when Meekel left to serve, and he’s certain he will not have survived this long. His siblings will have moved out, and though Vex assured him that all of his relations had been informed of his homecoming, Meekel somehow doubts that they will be there.

     When the fence comes into sight beyond the old wheat field, he’s surprised to find it still standing. A little Blue Kacheek pokes his head up from between the golden stalks, gasps, and then scampers through the gate. Meekel stops before it. Aside from the child, there are two others—a Faerie Kacheek perched on the edge of a lawn chair and a Yellow infant cradled in his arms, sucking away at a bottle.

     Not for the first time, Meekel feels his resolve falter. He recognises the infant—of course he does. His baby brother, Aiden—no older than fourteen months when he set off for squire training. He presses his hands into fists at his side.

     “Aiden,” he says in a broken voice. He’d never even gotten to see him grow up.

     The Faerie Kacheek lifts his head. His eyes go wide as he stands up from his chair. “Meekel?” he cries, taking an uncertain step forward while supporting the baby’s head in the crook of his arm. “Is that you?”

     Numbly, Meekel nods. As he’s determining whether or not to ask the Faerie Kacheek who he is, the Kacheek laughs.

     “I can’t believe you recognised me—even after all these years! Hoo boy, the others are gonna be so happy to see ya!”

     Meekel swallows. “Aiden?” he repeats, and the Faerie Kacheek nods.

     “That’s right, big bro! It’s me, Aiden!” He makes his way through the overgrown grass and stops just a few feet from Meekel. Then he whistles. “You look good, brother.” He pauses a little awkwardly. “I know we never got the chance to get to know each other well… But boy am I glad to see you. The others told me all these stories about you, y’know?”

     “The others?”

     “Sure. Ma and Pa and Edie and Julie and Miles and Josiah—they’re all at the house waitin’ for ya! And all the newcomers, too, of course—the husbands and wives and nieces and nephews!”

     “Ma and Pa,” Meekel says, his breath catching in his throat. “Are they—they’re still—”

     Aiden guffaws at that. “The old coots are still kicking, if that’s what you mean. The grandkids sure keep them on their toes. Come on—let’s go say hello!”

     Aiden turns and gestures for Meekel to follow.

     “Oh, by the way—” He holds up the baby. “This is my daughter, Ailanna. Your niece.”

     “My niece,” Meekel echoes, gazing at the tiny infant, who gurgles at him. “She looks…”

     “Just like me?” Aiden grins. “Sure does! Doesn’t look a thing like her mother, not at all. Oh, yeah—sorry to say you can’t meet her mama today. My girl wanted to come, but she’s tied up with a case back in Faerieland. She’s a lawyer, you know. When I first met her and told her about you, she actually managed to get in touch with King Skarl himself! But it takes movers and shakers to get things done, and Skarl isn’t that by a long shot, so she ended up liaising with this fellow named Vex.”

     Meekel stops dead. “Vex? The warden?”

     Aiden nods. “Figured you’d know him. Anyway, he was the one who really got the ball rolling. If you ever see him again, you should thank him.”

     Meekel slings an arm over his eyes, and Aiden makes a conscious show of turning around to afford him some privacy. “Thank you,” Meekel says as soon as he can steady his voice. “I’ll be sure to do that. And thank you and your wife. I—I had no idea you had—you’d done all this for me.”

     Aiden’s voice softens. “Family’s got to stick together, right? A-anyway!” Clumsily, he changes the subject as they resume walking. “I live in Faerieland now with Gemma, my wife. That’s why I got this paint job. Ah—you probably don’t know this, but Faerieland hit the ground some years back. Don’t worry, it’s flourishing again. Still, wings are the style there, and I’m nothing if not a man of style.”

     Meekel nods along, grateful for the change in tone as well as quietly astonished that any one of his family was able to afford a Faerie Paint Brush. As Aiden continues to chatter away on their walk toward the farmhouse, the Blue Kacheek from earlier dashes past them and up to Aiden, casting a wary glance in Meekel’s direction.

     “Aww, don’t be scared, Junior,” Aiden says with a laugh. “That’s your uncle Meekel—the one you were named after!”

     Meekel starts. “You named your son after me?”

     Aiden shakes his head. “This one’s Edie’s boy. She…” He goes quiet then, gazing almost reverently at Meekel. “She never got over what happened. Your… you know.”

     Meekel swallows. Edie had always been his support, his partner in crime. He’s long been haunted by thoughts of the effect his detention must have had on her.

     “She’ll be pleased as punch to see you again,” Aiden assures him.

     As the farmhouse comes into view, Meekel is again shocked to find that it isn’t rundown like in his dreams but instead perfectly maintained—even nicer than he remembers it, in fact. The corral is still up, and three Whinnies bray behind it as they graze. There’s no old rocking chair on the porch; instead, a Striped Kacheek in a kerchief and long dress sits across from a Pastel Lupe on a brand-new patio set while Junior (Meekel can’t get used to calling the boy by his own name) bounds up the steps.

     “Easy, there, kiddo,” the Striped Kacheek laughs, and then she looks up, her eyes freezing on Meekel. “Oh!”

     Though she was Yellow when he last saw her, he still recognises her face and her voice. “Julie?” He says it hesitantly in spite of that, afraid that she will no longer recognise him.

     But her hand moves to her mouth as her eyebrows shoot up. “Brother! I-I knew you were coming, I just—” She stumbles over her words, and the Lupe across from her takes her free hand into his and strokes it. “I’m so happy to see you!” she manages at last, scrambling from the table and hurrying down the steps. “It’s been so long, and I—I barely recognised you! But of course, it’s you!”

     She flushes and looks away as the Lupe comes to stand behind her.

     “I know. It—it’s been a while.” Meekel averts his own eyes, unable to think of what else to say.

     “It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” the Lupe says, graciously interrupting the tense silence as he steps forward and extends a hand. “I am Robert, Julie’s husband.”

     “It’s nice to meet you,” Meekel blurts out, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it. Husband… The word is almost dizzying in its impact. Julie, who he last saw when she was just a wispy, tomboyish thing at nine, has a husband now. She’s grown up, started her own family.

     And he has remained stagnant for twenty years.

     “Come on in,” Julie says, at last, smiling a little. “Everyone else is inside or out back. Ma and Pa are desperate to see you.”

     So Meekel follows Julie into the house, Robert, Aiden, and Junior trailing after them. The first thing he sees as he steps into the rustic kitchen is yet another banner, this one homemade, its text painted in neat rainbow letters: Welcome home, Meekel!

     Little handprints in a myriad of colours are strewn about the banner—the kids’ doing, no doubt. His nieces and nephews. He puts a hand over his mouth and squeezes, blinking back his emotion.

     “Oh! Oh, Fyora, you’re here already?”

     Meekel turns to see a Spotted Kacheek fumble with some party poppers. They go off with a muted snap, and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly while a Brown Kacheek slaps his forehead.

     “Well, uh, welcome home!” the Spotted Kacheek exclaims, hopping up to Meekel and thumping a fist against his shoulder. “It’s me, Josiah! Do you—do you remember me?”

     Meekel can feel the itchiness behind his eyes intensifying. “Of course, I remember my baby brother Josiah,” he whispers, lip trembling. “And—and Miles, too.” His gaze swivels to the Brown Kacheek, who’s already grabbed a broom and started to sweep the confetti off the floor.

     “Welcome home, Meekel,” Miles says. As the third oldest, he was the surprisingly dutiful one among them, always quick to right a wrong and just as quick to tattle to Ma about whatever foolish thing the rest of them got up to. He’d fought like Lupes and Chias with Josiah, who was only six when Meekel was captured. Josiah had always been the spoiled little brother before Aiden had the chance to grow into the role.

     Josiah loudly clears his throat and gestures to a White Xweetok holding an armful of party poppers in the corner by the wood stove. “Brother, let me introduce you to my husband, Xander.”

     The Xweetok smiles. “Apologies that I can’t shake your hand at present.” He nods sheepishly toward the poppers. “But know that I am honoured to meet you. Josie tells me you’re a hero of Meridell. Thank you for all that you’ve done.”

     Meekel shakes his head. “N-no, I’m not a hero. I only—”

     “He is a hero!” Josiah interrupts. “He fought for the future of Meridell!” Before Meekel can argue, he grabs him by the wrist. “Come on! Ma and Pa and Edie are out back!”

     He drags Meekel through the kitchen, then the sitting room, and finally to the back porch. The hill they all used to roll down as kids still stand before them, decidedly smaller than Meekel remembers. There is no grave atop it like in his dream.

     “Hey!” Josiah calls out into the yard. “Meekel’s home!”

     A Red Kacheek kneeling in a flower garden tenses. Even before she turns around, Meekel recognises her.

     “Edie…” The name falls from his tongue like burnt sugar, bittersweet.

     Her eyes find his and hold his gaze. “It really is you.” Tears slip down her cheeks before she can even get to her feet. “Right? It’s you, Meekel. Meekel!”

     She doesn’t wait for more words; she hurtles across the grass barefoot and throws herself at him with such force that it nearly knocks him to the ground.

     “Meekel!” she cries into his tunic, clinging to him like a Spyder. “You’re back! Oh, Fyora above, you’re back! You’re finally back!”

     She laughs and cries at the same time, and Meekel can no longer keep his own tears at bay. He lowers his head and buries his face into the crook of her shoulder. “Edie. I’ve missed you so much. All of you, I…”

     He dissolves into wordlessness, his heart straining against his ribcage with sorrow and joy and ecstasy all at once. Edie holds him against her, her tears dripping onto his cheek. She was always the toughest and bravest of them, but she doesn’t stop crying now even as Aiden, Julie, Miles, and Josiah press in to join the hug.

     “Meekel?”

     Meekel looks up, sniffling and then staggering back, breaking apart the embrace.

     Two Kacheeks, Blue and Yellow, support each other as they amble down the side of the hill. They’re older than he remembers but not nearly as old as he expected. Though their movements are slow and their legs shaky, they negotiate the hill with skill and poise.

     “Mama,” Meekel hiccups, tears wetting his cheeks again. “Papa.”

     Reluctantly, Edie releases him, and he leaps off the porch steps and dashes, his legs weak and unsteady but unfaltering.

     “Oh, Meekel,” his mother murmurs, hurrying to meet him. “Oh, my son. My boy. You’re home. You’re finally home.”

     “Meekel,” his father says, his voice gravelly but just as warm as Meekel remembers. “My beloved son. Our hero. You’ve made it home at last.”

     Meekel falls to his knees before them. He’s trembling and can’t stop. But Ma and Pa are soon upon him, and they spread their arms around him.

     I’m home, he realises, but the words sound unreal even in his own head. So he speaks them aloud: “I’m home.”

     Even now, Meridell and Darigan Citadel have much to reconcile. But from a shaky armistice flourished a long-standing peace. Meekel knows that he, too, has much to reconcile. But for now, he will take this armistice and enjoy whatever beautiful, fragile thing blooms from it.

     The End.