Fable: The Balverine Order (Fable) Read Free Page B

was palpable.
    Thomas followed his father out into the hallway and up the stairs to their bedroom. The doctor was standing just outside, holding his satchel loosely, a look of carefully contrived sorrow upon his face. “I have made her as comfortable as possible,” he said, “but beyond that, there is nothing I can do.”
    â€œI’m sure you tried your best,” said Thomas.
    He stopped in the doorway, however, and even though he had known what he was going to see, it still wasn’t easy for him.
    His mother was lying in bed, looking wasted and wan. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if she was still alive, and then he saw her chest rise and fall ever so slightly, and a faint rasp sounded from her chest. “She’s breathing easier,” said his father, and Thomas found that distressing because she still sounded awful to him.
    Then her mouth moved as if it was a tremendous effort of will, and her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “My son . . .”
    â€œI’m here,” said Thomas, and he crossed the room and sat upon the edge of the bed. He took her hand, and it felt cold as death already. He knew that sensation all too well, for he had felt it once before, and it was something that he would never, ever forget. “I’m here, Mother.”
    â€œI’m so glad. I . . . I need to tell you . . .” She squeezed his hand with all the strength that her frailty enabled her to display.
    â€œTell me what?”
    â€œI . . .” A cough seized her, but she suppressed it. “I . . . forgive you.”
    He heard a sharp intake of breath from his father. “You . . . you do . . . ?”
    She nodded, and even that seemed to require tremendous effort. “I blamed you . . . for your brother’s death. It is a terrible thing to admit . . . but I did. And I should not have . . . it . . . it was not fair to you . . .”
    Thomas was a swirl of emotions. “That’s all right. Mother, I know that you love me. I’ve always known that.”
    â€œYes. And the truth is . . .” Her body shook, trembling, and she forced herself to continue. “The truth is . . . if only one of my sons had to survive . . . I’m so relieved it was you.”
    â€œMother, don’t say things like that—”
    â€œI’ll say what I wish . . . what I need to say . . . the truth is that . . . that you have potential . . .” The three-syllable word had taken great effort for her to say, and she had to regain her strength before she could continue. “Far more . . . than your brother ever did . . .”
    He wanted to tell her that that was ridiculous. That Stephen had had as much potential, if not more, than Thomas ever did. That Stephen had been smart and business savvy and also brave, so brave, and the fact that his life had been cut short by the—
    Thomas stopped short. Even in his own head, the events of his past as he had remembered them had been subjected to such criticism and contempt that he censored his very thoughts.
    â€œIt’s true,” she said, as if he had spoken. “Your brother . . . he had very little worth. All he cared about were his books and his legends and tales of heroic adventure. He was never going to be of any use to your father. Heavens know he was of no use to me. Not like you.” And she squeezed his hand. “Not like you, Stephen.”
    Thomas felt as if his heart had just been crushed.
    â€œThe world would be so much poorer without you in it, Stephen. And you . . . you made up that . . . that insane story . . . about a balverine killing your brother . . . you didn’t want to admit that you weren’t able to save him . . . so you said it was something unnatural . . . that no mortal could have stopped . . . I forgive you that. I forgive you everything, Stephen. At least you’re still here . . . instead of Thomas . . .”
    His jaw twitched, and he saw his father looking at him