CH 30 - Loose Ends

The next day, Logan limped through the halls of the castle feeling every wound and all of his twenty-nine years. Everywhere he went people stopped what they were doing to move out his way and smile, nod, or just stare at him. The attention was more uncomfortable than his injuries were.

For all that, there were fewer people to stare than he would have hoped. The battle had taken a serious toll. Fully half of those who had chosen to fight with him were gone, returned to mist to float on the Hellwind.

His only consolation was that they would, in theory, one day regain corporeal form once their spirits had regained enough strength. Small consolation indeed knowing they were, once again, at the mercy of Hell and all of its countless dangers.

“Logan?”

He turned to see Amber smiling at him. “Need a shoulder to lean on?”

“I’m not drunk this time.”

“You weren’t drunk last time either,” she replied with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “However, you are exhausted and severely wounded.”

He shrugged and fought not to wince in pain from the hole in his shoulder. “I need to make the rounds and check on Beauty, Boudica, and ... my hound.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you made friends with one of those awful monsters and a demon but I guess I should not be too shocked. You are certainly full of surprises.”

He started to laugh but pain put a stop to that. “I have my moments.”

She fell into step beside him, going slow so he could keep up. “Regardless, Boudica is resting comfortably. As is your hound. I checked on both only a short time ago.”

He paused mid-step to stare at her. “You got close to a Hellhound?”

Amber blushed and began to fidget under his gaze. “Well, not too close! I didn’t go into the pen where he chooses to sleep, but I did make sure he had food and water. I think he knew I was trying to help. He ... licked my hand.”

Logan chuckled and shook his head in wonder. “Yep, I think he likes you. And Beauty?”

“I had her moved to your chambers.”

“Mine?” Logan scowled. “Why?”

“So there would be a bed big enough for the both you, of course.”

“You changed the beds?”

“I changed the rooms.”

“On whose orders?”

She glanced up at him with a nervous expression. “Mine?”

“Alright then.” He smiled at her. “Explain your reasoning for making that decision.”

“Well...” She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. “You are the Lord of the castle now, and she is your lover so...”

“I’m the what now?”

“Lord of the castle.” She blinked at him. “You conquered it and defeated Graveek’s forces. You rule here now. So, it wasn’t proper for you to be staying in one of the guest chambers and I thought you would want the comfort of your lover in your bed. Did I do wrong?”

“I ... no, no you didn’t.” Logan shook his head and eyed the brunette with renewed appreciation. “You assessed the situation and, with no one else around to make an executive decision, took it upon yourself to fix. That is a mark of good leadership.”

She laughed. “Oh, I am not a leader! It just seemed like the thing to do.”

“And you got it done. That is leadership. Is there a title for the person who keeps everything running on behalf of the Lord of the castle?”

“Yes. Castellan.”

“Then as my first act as high muckity-muck, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Castellan. Congratulations. Your salary is hereby doubled.”

“I wasn’t paid a wage.”

“Well, then that’s easy,” he grinned. “Twice nothing is still nothing.”

“M’lord...” she stammered, wide-eyed. “I don’t deserve to-”

“The hell you don’t.”

Logan stopped limping through the hall, laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes with a serious expression. “None of this would have been possible without you. You are smart, capable, brave, and efficient, and you deserve to be recognized for that.”

He smiled at her and started walking again. “So, you are stuck with the job. I’ll even sweeten the deal and offer you a hundred times your old pay.”

“That’s still zero,” she laughed.

“Details,” he laughed. “Now where is this new room you have exiled me to?”

“We will have to climb some stairs, I’m afraid. Sure you don’t want that shoulder to lean on?”

“Maybe just this once.”

She nodded and swallowed a grin. “Just this once.”

Slowly they made their way up. When he moved to open the door to the third floor, Amber just kept going.

“Wait, you didn’t.”

“I certainly did,” she replied.

Onward they climbed, past the fourth floor and all the way to the top floor of the keep. A guard, one of those Amber had said should be spared, stood in front of the door, and snapped to attention as they exited the stairwell. He stepped back and opened the door for them. Logan, attempting to salvage some male pride, chose to walk the rest of the way without her to lean on.

The entire top floor of the keep was one lavish suite of rooms. Thick carpets lay across the hardwood floors. Cabinets and tables of polished dark wood, plush couches, and overstuffed high back chairs created cozy nooks for relaxing. A stone hearth glowed with the warm light of a fire. Tall windows spilled the ruddy light of day into the room. Exposed beams supported a high, peaked roof and candle chandeliers for light.

In the center of the room was an enormous, canopied bed held up by stout wooden columns. Each column was carved into the image of a man or woman. Two writhed in silent pleasure. Two appeared to be in acute agony.

“We can work on that,” Amber offered with a shrug.

Laying on the bed looking unhappy in a swath of bandages was his Beauty. Her smile was enough to make his wounds hurt less.

“Welcome home, Lord...” Amber paused and looked at him. “What do you wish to be called? Lord Logan?”

He thought about it, then shook his head. “No. “Logan” is too familiar for a structured hierarchy.”

Logan remembered Coyote’s advice.

“Your true name is more than words. It is also a sound; a declaration, as if you were carving your name into the bedrock of the universe. If you found another’s true name written on a page, you would still not have the whole of it.

Logan scratched his jaw in thought, then looked over at Beauty. “I think I saw some horror movie once that talked about demon’s having a secret “true name”. Something about it giving you power over them or some such. Any truth to that?”

Beauty hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Interesting,” he grunted.

That certainly answered his question. True names did matter in Hell, as it did in the Faery realm. Perhaps such truths mattered in every reality.

And then, just like that, he knew the sound of his full, true name. Logan could feel it resonating inside him like the ringing of a bell on a quiet, summer day. It just felt ... right. And it was so much more than anyone, including himself, had ever heard spoken.

Any fear of using his family name vanished like mist in the wind. Logan understood that he was far more than the sum of his parts. More than just the son of his Apache father and Irish mother. More than just a soldier in the US military. He was unique in all the universe, just as every other human soul was, living or dead.

He looked at Amber. “Proud Bear. You can refer to me as Logan Proud Bear.”

“Then Lord Proud Bear it shall be,” Amber smiled. “Now go get some rest, Lord Proud Bear, and give your Lady some much overdue attention.”

“Yes ma’am,” Logan smiled.

He heard the door close behind him as he limped over to the bed and gently moved his battered body onto the mattress. After all that time in the cavern, sleeping on moss and dirt, it still felt strange to lay on something so soft. It all felt alien to him.

Beauty rolled over and curled up against his shoulder. Whether on a dirt floor in a crevasse of rock, or a carpet of moss in a drafty cavern, or a king-sized bed, this was what he needed most. In her arms was home.