Power Quest: The Rebellion of Terrakia by Andrew Koenig (best books to read fiction .TXT) 📖

“Can we talk, son?”  Velma asked, her voice calm and tender.  Her eyes were heavy, as if she had been wrestling for nights with something too difficult to fully comprehend.

“Aw Granny Velma, you know I hate it when you call me that…”  Casimer mumbled.

“I know, son.”

Casimer rolled his eyes and tied the laces of his boots.  “I know you don’t want me to go to those classes, Granny, but it’s the only way for us to survive here.”

Velma placed her frail hand on Casimer’s shoulder and offered him an understanding smile.  “Casimer, let me worry about money.  You need only focus on working.”

“Come on, Granny Velma,” Casimer started, shaking his head.  “You know that there’s so much more I can be doing for us.  I just need the opportunity!”

“I know that, Casimer.  You were always so curious and well intentioned… Just like your mother.”  Velma chuckled and her eyes sparkled.  “I guess I just can’t believe how much you’ve grown already.  It seems like just yesterday I was taking you in…”  A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek, followed by two more.

“Hey, Granny Velma, don’t cry,” Casimer consoled, putting his arms around Velma’s shoulders.  “I’m still going to help you run the inn.”

“Oh, I know that boy,” Velma whimpered, tears falling off her chin and onto her dusty white apron.  “I just can’t believe that you’ll be leaving soon.  I’ve raised you for the past 17 years and in a few more, you’ll be on your way out.”

Casimer rubbed Velma’s back and sighed.  “Yeah, it is pretty crazy, huh?”  Casimer chuckled to himself and shook his head.  “You’ll always be like a mother to me.  You know that right?”  Casimer looked deep into Velma’s watery, olive eyes.  She met the electricity of his and gave a gentle smile.

“I know, son.  I’ll never forget when I first found you at my doorstep…  Gods, but you were cute.”  Velma grinned and ruffled Casimer’s fine blonde hair.  It was kept short and spiked up on the top of his head. 

Casimer gave a listless chuckle and fixed his ruffled hair.  “Yeah… Hey, you knew my mother, right?  What was she like?”

“Casimer, not a day goes by you don’t ask me that!”  Velma exclaimed with a chuckle, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes.

“I know, but you can tell me again!”  Casimer grinned and gave Velma a hug.

“Oh, alright,” She conceded, hugging the boy in return.  “Well, you look exactly like her.  I’ve never seen a child resemble their parent more than I have in you.  From the fine blonde hair, to the electricity in your eyes, to your smooth, feminine jaw!”

“That isn’t funny!”  Casimer exclaimed over Velma’s frantic, high pitched cackle.  Even though it was an ugly laugh, Casimer always felt a wave of serenity wash over him.  To him, her laughter was home.

“Oh, I’m sorry boy, but it’s true.  You have a very smooth jawline!”  She broke out into laughter again, but quickly settled down.  “Anyway, I used to work with your mother when I was, oh, twenty something years younger.  Far less wrinkles, believe me.”  Casimer rolled his eyes but grinned at her sense of humor.  “Well, she was quite young, hardly reached her twentieth winter, but she had fallen in love with some mysterious catch of a man.”

“My father, right?”  Casimer inquired, looking up at Velma with the eyes of a much younger child.

“Yes, boy, don’t interrupt.”  Velma scolded, shaking her head.  “Well, she always spoke very highly of him, as if he could do no wrong.  One day, it was the middle of Melanova’s Bounty, I believe, she doesn’t show up to work.  I think little of it, figuring that she’s decided to take the day off.  However, she misses the next day as well, and I start to get suspicious.  I assume she’s run off with this man to gods know where, and that I’ve now been left all alone to tend to the bar.” 

Casimer was holding on to each of her words like a beggar given a few coins, greedily hording the information he was receiving in the pivotal recesses of his mind.  “Well, she disappears for a few months, and I’m forced to hire a new waitress.  I wish I could tell you exactly where she was at this time, but I haven’t a clue.  All I know is that, nine months or so later, I hear a faint crying at my doorstep and discover you, the greatest blessing I could have ever received.” 

Casimer sighed and shook his head.  “I wonder what happened to her…”  His voice trailed off as he let out a dejected sigh.

“Aye, me too, son.”  Velma shook her head and put her arm around Casimer’s shoulders.  “But I know one thing for sure: if she could see you today, she would be indescribably proud of the young man you’ve become.”

Casimer looked up at her with wet eyes and gave her a tremendous hug, resting his head on her shoulder.  “Thank you Granny Velma, for everything.”

Velma returned the hug and ran her fingers through Casimer’s hair, lovingly.  “And thank you, Casimer, for being a part of my life.  Now come on inside and wash up for your classes.  We can’t have you making a bad impression on your teachers.”

Casimer left the Common Cup Inn as the sun reached its peak in the sky.  He was greeted with the cacophony of marketplace commotion and the bewildering intensity of the late summer heat.  Casimer could feel sweat condensing on his forehead and neck, and it would only be a matter of time until the sweat was pouring down his face in rivers.  Taking a deep breath of the dry marketplace air and then letting out a hearty sigh, Casimer made his way through the marketplace, pushing and shoving his way past the hordes of women, children, vendors, and, occasionally, guards that elbowed their way through the marketplace.

            As Casimer rounded the corner of the marketplace and the main street, a small, young girl ran into his legs and fell down into the dirt.  She let out a gentle cry as her friends all gathered around her, gasping as they looked up at Casimer.  Out of the corner of his eye, Casimer noticed a small leather ball bouncing down the street.  He chuckled a little and gave the girl a sympathetic smile as he bent down and offered her his hand.  She sniffled and allowed him to take her dainty, slender hand.  Casimer lifted her off the ground and apologized to her, offering her a gentlemanly bow.  She giggled and forgave him, then ran after the ball she and her friends had let escape them.  Casimer chuckled to himself and continued down the street. 

            On his right, Casimer saw one of the town’s bakers through the enormous window in the front of his shop.  Casimer grinned and waved at him, making his way towards the bakery’s front door.  The baker caught his wave out of the corner of his eye and waved back.  A small bell chimed as Casimer opened the door.

            “Casimer, how are ya, lad?”  The baker welcomed, pushing a lump of dough into a scorching stone oven.  The sleeves of his earthy red tunic were pulled up to his elbows and his arms and hands were coated with flour.  He scratched his rough, umber brown beard, covering it with a layer of flour.  “Weren’t ya here but a few hours ago?” 

            “Yeah, well, funny thing, actually,” Casimer began with a chuckle.  “I was taking our daily purchase back to the inn, and once I got there, one of the regulars stumbled into me and knocked the bread out of my hands.”  Casimer grinned apprehensively. 

            “Bad bit of luck there, huh?”  The baker laughed, taking a freshly baked loaf of rye bread out of the adjacent oven.  He placed it on a large wooden shelf to cool.  “I’m assuming you’ll be wanting to purchase more bread, then, hm?”

            “Yes, sir, Mr. Diarmaid,” Casimer nodded.  “I can pay you right now, if you’d like.”  Casimer reached under his white tunic and pulled out a small, brown leather coin purse. 

            “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Casimer.”  The baker shook his head and gave Casimer a toothy grin.  “I’ll cover this one for ya.” 

            Casimer gawked at the baker, his mouth hanging open.  “Are you sure?  I have the money…”  Casimer’s voice trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, speechless. 

            “Aye, boy, I’m sure.”  The baker moved to a counter and began kneading a clump of dough.  “It might take me a few hours, but I assume I can have all of your bread ready before your evening rush begins.”

            “Thank you so much, Mr. Diarmaid!”  Casimer grinned and placed his coin purse back in his pocket.  “If there’s ever a way for Granny Velma and I to repay you, just say the word!” 

            The baker grinned and waved his hand.  “Don’t mention it, lad.”  He wiped his hands on his apron and reached up to an overhead shelf, grabbing a small jar of gooey honey.  He dropped a dash of honey in the fresh dough and placed the honey back on the shelf.  “Just be back for your bread in a few hours.”

            “I’ll stop by after my class at the college!”  Casimer turned to leave, but felt the stout grip of the Mr. Diarmaid’s hand on his shoulder.

            “Are you going to the college right now?”  His grin had disappeared and he stared into Casimer’s eyes with the cold, sober tenacity of his darkened, deep-set chocolate brown eyes.

            “Well, yeah…”  Casimer fought with his fumbling tongue to no avail.  He could only mumble a small string of mostly inaudible syllables.

            “Well, if you’re heading to the college soon, would you mind bringing my daughter this small lunch basket?”  The baker gave Casimer a tremendous, toothy grin that pulled his eyes closed and flared the circular nostrils of his fat, tan nose.  Casimer could have sworn he looked like a small child who was begging his parents to buy him a piece of candy from the market.

            Still startled, Casimer stumbled for more words.  “Your daughter…?  Amanda, you mean?”

            “Of course!”  The baker interjected, bellowing.

            “Oh, uhm, sure, I guess I could do that…”  Casimer muttered, his tongue still numbed with shock.  He grabbed the dull brown cedar basket from the baker’s outstretched hand and gave him a timid smile.

            Mr. Diarmaid patted Casimer’s shoulder and chuckled.  “Thanks, son, you’re doing me a huge favor.”

            “Yeah, don’t, uhm…  Don’t mention it.”  Casimer murmured, opening the door of the bakery.  “Have a good day, sir!”

            “You too, Casimer!”  The baker waved his hand as he returned to his work, stoking the wood beneath the oven.

            The College of the Arts was a large, rectangular wooden building with two half-circles attached to either side of it.  The upper floor was built like a smaller rectangle atop the larger.  Large, tinted, pane windows lined the building, distorting the classrooms within.  The musty caramel colored wood of the college laid, log upon log, in a perfect line.  The entrance was an enormous cedar door, with the college’s emblem, an open book in front