at life.
“FATHER!” he shrieked.
His voice rose up, higher into Dark Wood, louder even than the sound of the rain—and was met by the cry of a distant bird.
*
Godfrey walked quickly down the forest trail as the sky darkened and a cool wind picked up, forking onto the trail that led to Dark Wood. The wind howled and the sky grew darker as he went, and he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He could sense evil in this place. As the skies opened and rain came pouring down, now, more than ever, he wished he had a drink. Or two.
As the reality of what he was doing began to sink in, a part of him became afraid. After all, what if he found this witch, and what if he found answers he did not like. What could he really do? Was this witch dangerous? And if Gareth caught him asking, couldn’t he have him imprisoned, too, along with Kendrick?
Godfrey doubled his pace, and as he rounded a small bend, he raised his head and was shocked at the sight. He stopped in his tracks, frozen. He could not believe it. Walking towards him, head down, mumbling to himself, was none other than his brother: Gareth.
Dressed in their father’s finest robes, still wearing his father’s crown and carrying his scepter, Gareth marched towards him, alone, emerging from Dark Wood. What was he doing here?
A moment later Gareth looked up and let out a little cry, just feet away, startled to see anyone there in the wood—let alone his brother.
“Godfrey!” Gareth exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I should ask the same of you,” Godfrey responded darkly.
Gareth scowled and Godfrey could sense their old sibling rivalry rekindled.
“You ask nothing of me,” Gareth hissed. “You are my younger brother. And I am your King now, unless you have forgotten,” he said in his sternest voice.
Godfrey let out a short, derisive laugh, raspy from years of drink and tobacco.
“You are king of nothing,” Godfrey shot back. “You are just a pig. The same person you always were. You can fool the others, but not me. I never deferred to father’s command—do you really think I would defer to yours?”
Gareth reddened, turning a shade of purple, but Godfrey could see that he’d caught him. Gareth knew his own brother, and knew that Godfrey would never bow down to him.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Gareth said. “What brings you here?”
Godfrey smiled, seeing how nervous Gareth was, and realizing he had him.
“Well, funny you should ask,” Godfrey answered. “I remembered my walk the other day, bumping into you, and your evil sidekick, Firth. At the time, I thought nothing of it, of what you’d be doing out here, in Dark Wood. I must have assumed the two of you were taking a lover’s walk.”
Godfrey took a deep breath.
“But as I thought back on our father’s murder, I remembered that day. And as I thought of the vial of poison used in the attempt to kill him, it occurred to me that maybe you came all the way out here for something more. Maybe it was not just an innocent stroll. Maybe you came here for something more ominous. Something potent enough to kill our father. Maybe a witch’s brew. Maybe the same poison supposedly found in our brother Kendrick’s chamber,” Godfrey said, proud of himself for piecing it all together, and feeling more sure of it now than ever.
Godfrey watched Gareth’s eyes closely as he pronounced each word, and he could see them shifting, could see how well Gareth tried to hide his reaction; but in those eyes, he could see that he had caught him. Everything he had said was true.
“You are a paranoid, wasteful drunk,” Gareth scolded. “You always have been. You have no purpose for your life, so you imagine fancies for others. I can see that you try to make yourself important with these fanciful plots, try to be the hero of our dead father—but you are not. You are as low as the masses. In fact, you are even lower, because you had the potential to be more. Father hated you, and no one in this kingdom takes you seriously. How dare you try to implicate me in our father’s murder? The rightful assassin is sitting in the dungeon, and the entire kingdom knows it. And babbling words from a drunk will change no one’s mind.”
Godfrey could hear, from the over-eagerness of Gareth’s tone, that he was nervous. That