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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Fourteen – Foster Conway, Age 12
He had known fear before but not like this. Foster knelt beside the bed that held his brother; untying the stupid ribbons from his hair. Mrs. O'Connell was using a warm washcloth to clean the make-up off the fair cheeks. "Poor baby," she whispered. "He is such a gentle child … those terrible boys."
The door to the room opened and his parents rushed in, his father still dirty from the fields. Mama let out a soft cry as she hurried to Nathaniel's side, his pa stood in the doorway, seemly at a lost.
"I'm sorry," Foster said, pleading. "I shouldn't have left him; I thought he would be okay waiting at the school. They used Jenna to lure him away … I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," his pa said. "I should have dealt with it sooner."
"What's wrong with him?" Mrs. O'Connell said. "When Donald and Henry found him in the stables he was already comatose. We thought it might have been the knife wound or shock, the poor babe, but the cut isn't deep it won't scar. Smelling salts had no effect either."
"The ring," his pa said. "Where is the ring?"
"Excuse me?" Mrs. O'Connell asked, confused.
"He has worn a ring around his neck since he was born, where is it?" Pa demanded.
"I'm sorry, Thomas," Mrs. O'Connell said. "He wasn't wearing one."
"The boys must have taken it," Foster said.
"Where are they?" his pa commanded.
"Their fathers decided it would be best if they spent the night in the town's jail," Mrs. O'Connell said. "What they did, that's assault!"
"My boys wouldn't have sat for a week," Pa growled.
"Oh believe me," Mrs. O'Connell said as she watched his mother work her healing magic. "Once Henry found out about it, those boys of his were happy to sit in jail. I don't think our blacksmith is done yet."
"Come on, Foster," his pa said motioning him. "Let's go talk to these boys and see if we can find your brother's ring."
"Is that really important?" Mrs. O'Connell asked, "I mean your son is in dire need …"
"Of that ring," his pa said as he ran out of the room. Foster followed him through the inn that also served as the O'Connell's home. On the sofa in the front room sat his sisters working on a puzzle with Bethany. They looked up expectantly when they ran through but Foster just shook his head slightly and went after his father. They went to the small jail the town had, it just had one cell where people that drank too much could cool their heels. At the moment it was occupied by the conquered bullies, outside the cell stood the fathers of the boys … Henry Madison the blacksmith, Quinton Lewis a local farmer and Zach Dixon, who ran the general store.
Two out of three of them looked ashamed when Foster and his father ran inside. Henry spoke first, "I'm so sorry about my boys, Thomas … I had no idea it had gotten so bad for your son. It won't happen again," the last words were spoken as York and Kyle cowered.
"I do hope the lad has recovered," said Mr. Lewis, "he must have had a terrible fright."
"Not yet, I'm afraid," said his pa as he walked over to the cell and looked down at the boys within. "My son was wearing a necklace with a ring attached to it, where is it?"
"I don't know sir," York said softly.
Henry banged his large callused hand against the wall and his boys flinched. "I saw it," Kyle said. "After Vance … it fell to the ground of the stables … I don't know where it went after that."
"That's a place to start," his pa said, "thank you."
As they turned to leave the jail Zach Dixon whispered beneath his breath, "this wouldn't happen if you hadn't raised a queer."
Foster had never seen his father move so fast, nor so deadly. His fist was a blur as he slammed it into Mr. Dixon's face; Foster could hear the sickening crunch as his nose was broken. Mr. Madison moved quickly and pulled his father back stepping between the two men.
"I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree," Pa growled as he stormed out. Foster glanced at the blood smeared face of the grocer before chasing after his father. Once they reached the stables they started searching the ground. They found the chain but the ring was nowhere to be seen.
Soon a small collection of town folks joined in the search bringing brooms and lanterns when the sun started to set, but in the end they still walked away empty handed. Vance had been removed from the jail by his father, the other three could offer no more help. As the moon began to rise his father decided it was time to go home. Nathaniel still hadn't awakened and was placed in the wagon on some quilts. Foster climbed in on one side and his ma on the other. The ride back home was a quiet one. Once there Nathaniel was put into his bed, their mom moved a chair into the room to sit beside him. Ever so often Foster would see her whispering a chant, he assumed it must be the healing magic she knew.
The children did their best to eat some of the stew Rosemary had made; Foster had to force himself to swallow a few spoonfuls. He excused himself and after a glance upstairs, went outside. Behind the barn was a large leather bag his father had hung up, filled with grain. Taking off his shirt Foster threw a few experimental punches at it and then after he got into a rhythm attack it full out, adding a few quick kicks. His father's training and the work he did around the farm had already started forming his youthful body. Picturing Vance's smiling face in front of him, Foster punched it repeatedly. He was soaked with sweat when he finally ran out of strength and let his hands fall, the knuckles raw and bleeding.
"Feel better?" his father asked from behind him.
"Better … no … calmer, yes," Foster said.
"Good a calm head will win the battle," his pa said as he approached and shed his shirt. He took an extra moment to wrap his hands up in straps of cloth before he started his own workout. With all the bad that happened today, Foster could still appreciate the form of his father's fighting figure. There was not an ounce of fat on him, it was all muscles and they rippled in the moonlight as he pummeled the bag. "Go put those hands under the pump for a moment," his father said between punches, "will stop the swelling."
"Yes, sir," Foster said. He paused. "Pa, what's wrong with Nathaniel?"
"When he was a baby he would scream when that ring he wore was taken away," he replied. "We never fully understood the why; we just knew if we kept it with him he was happy."
"That makes no sense," Foster said, scratching his head. "It's just a piece of jewelry … Pa?"
"Yes, son?"
"Nathaniel is my brother as much as Janice is my sister … and I was young when he came to the family but I know he didn't arrive in the same manner as my sisters."
His father stopped punching the bag and turned to face him. "There will come a time when I'll be honest with you," he said. "But for now I need you to trust your father knows best and wait for that time. You must also never repeat that fact in front of your brother."
"Yes, sir," Foster said. "I'll go get cleaned up now, it's getting late and I still need to do my chores and study for a test we're having in history."
"I was thinking of keeping you kids home tomorrow," his father said.
"Please don't," Foster said. "I'll go crazy just waiting on Nathaniel to wake up, let me focus on something else."
"Foster, you are not to lay a hand on those boys if I allow you to go," his pa warned. "Their fathers have handled the matter; if they so much hint of malice you are to tell your teacher Miss Kettle she'll deal with it."
"Okay, Pa …"
"Promise!" he commanded.
Crossing his fingers in the dark Foster said, "I promise, sir."
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Brothers