Page 27 of I Will Always Find You
“What is the matter, my love?” Nicholas asked, placing his large hand on Anastasio’s shoulder. He began to gently rub it. “You seem pale and unsettled.”
The white-bearded man stroked his beloved’s round face and smiled. “We will be back soon, Nicholas. I will be, anyway.”
With nothing more he wished to say, he led the bewildered but accommodating Romani witch out of the inn and down a main road, heading north.
“Anastasios, what is going on?” The Romani witch’s tone showed both concern and frustration.
“Please, keep up with me. The place we are going to is not far.”
The two men walked with a sense of urgency, though the Romani witch had no idea why or where they were headed.
“I did not finish recounting the battle from a week ago, as we were cut off by my Nicholas beginning his story. I did not give it a second thought, as there was always time to finish the story later. Only now, you are dead set on leaving, and I cannot let you go to Athens. You have no business there.”
“Stop all this foolishness, Anastasios!” the Romani witch bluntly stated. “Of course, I have business there! I told you!Now, I do not wish to be curt with you, as I can see you are clearly suffering from some distress, but I do not have the time to—”
The Romani witch’s breath caught in his throat as he beheld the beautiful yet horrific sight before him. A wave of disbelief enveloped him, silencing his thoughts and rendering him speechless as if the very air conspired to halt his words.
“I am so sorry, my friend,” Anastasios said gently, filled with pity.
The Romani witch had been so perplexed about what was happening that he had not paid much attention to their journey, not even noticing when their surroundings shifted.
The two men had walked to the town’s north boundary, where they stepped into a tranquil field awash with peonies in full bloom. The air was fragrant with the sweet scent of blossoms, and the colourful petals danced gently in the breeze, creating a picturesque scene that felt like a hidden paradise.
It was when he saw the statue that his voice left him.
The life-sized bronze figure bore an uncanny resemblance to Aeneas. Approaching it, the Romani witch glanced at the plaque attached. It read:
Tommaso Greco
Hero and Friend
Blessed by Magic, Protector of Innocents
We Shall Never Forget His Courage and Sacrifice
“It was your final statements at the end of your story,” Anastasios said, breaking the silence and with tears welling in his eyes. “That’s when I realized whose adventure you were describing. It was you and Aeneas, set against a fantastical backdrop from a time long ago.”
“Yes,” the Romani witch whispered, still staring at the object, frozen.
“I spoke of those mystics who showed such bravery and courage, the heroes that aided us one year ago today. One of them was a man with a thick mane of fiery red hair. The red-headed boy in your story, Anestis, should have been my first clue, but I saw it as a mere coincidence at first.
“At the end of the battle, when our saviours had triumphed, one lone raider remained, hiding in the livery. In his attempt to escape, in a display of great cowardice, he let loose an arrow upon the man with red hair who faced away from him, comforting frightened children, unknowingly blocking the villain’s exit.
“Unaware, preoccupied, his thoughts focused on the needs of others, the red-haired mage did not hear the arrow coming at him—the arrow that entered his back and pierced his heart. Despite their best efforts, none of the spells used by the other wizards could heal Tommaso. The arrow’s tip had been laced with a deadly poison, some foreign venom that quickly spread throughout his body. For some damnable reason, it resisted all attempts at magic to eradicate it so the others could mend Tommaso’s ruptured heart.”
“The Wheel of Destiny,” the Romani witch growled angrily, believing with all his shattered heart that it was the cause of this inexplicable magical interference.
“I know nothing of that, my friend, but please know that the fiend who did this terrible deed was dealt with—permanently, though I doubt this news offers you any comfort.”
“No, it does not,” the Romani witch proclaimed, his voice seething, slicing through the air like a blade, rage simmering beneath the surface.
“With the permission of his compatriots, we buried his body in this field, now beneath this statue, which has only just been completed in time to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the saving of our town. It is a tribute to Tommaso and all thathe sacrificed for us, keeping us safe and paying the ultimate price. Please know that everyone in the town holds him in deep reverence. Tommaso—Aeneas—will always be remembered and honoured long after you and I are dust. I promise you that.”
Unconcerned if anyone saw him, the Romani witch calmly levitated into the air. This was no spell; he was exerting his will upon the natural world. He wished to gaze upon his beloved’s face, whether made of flesh, marble or, in this case, bronze. And when he was eye level with the statue, he stilled himself, wafting upon the air.
“Always so handsome, my love.” The Romani witch placed his hands on the face of the statue, leaned in, and kissed it. As his lips met the cold surface of the bronze, he pressed against it, wishing with all his heart that he could transform those metal lips, this lifeless figure, into flesh and blood. Unfortunately, that was far beyond his power.
As he pulled back from the statue, a river of tears cascading down his cheeks, he whispered, “I felt your essence, my love, leading me here. And I found you, as I said I always would. Only—only too late.”
