Adventurer’s End

 

            He stood outside the door of the Derune home, his hand inches from the wooden entryway. How can I possibly explain this to her? How can I tell her that I let him down? That I let her down? Tears burned at his eyes as he stood there, Dan’s son stood at the edge of the house, staring at him, the boy’s eyes were wide with disbelief and fear. The boy knows what’s going on, even if he doesn’t fully comprehend it. I had better just get it over with. Quickly he knocked on the door and waited, trying to get a better grip on his own emotions.

            “Hold on, I am coming.” He could hear Lizza Derune’s voice from somewhere upstairs. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be stronger. He heard the door open and her voice call out. “Oh, Hello Mendoll. It is good to see you, where is Dan, is he at the…” her voice trailed off as he realized that his eyes were still closed and the look on his face must be telling her all that she needed to know. “NOO!!! NOOOOO!!!! OH GOODD NNOOOO!!!”

            He snapped his eyes open and reached out to her as she crumpled under her own weight, shaking in her grief, all the while screaming out her words. The commotion was enough to bring out the neighbors, all of whom looked frightened. He held her tightly, trying desperately to comfort her in any way that he could. He looked around, thinking to ask for someone to bring a chair when he saw the blacksmith hurrying up. George took one look at what was going on and rushed passed him and Lizza and went into the house. A moment later he was at the door, passing a chair out the door to be placed so that Lizza could sit before he retreated back inside.

            Moving slowly, he got her to stand up long enough to be half carried over to the chair and into a sitting position where she slumped over into her hands, sobbing hysterically. He knelt beside her, holding her lightly. Dan’s boy, Mach, was beside his mother, holding onto her hand. He looked as if he were trying to give her his own strength.

            “Here,” George had returned with a steaming mug, “It’s Shepards Herb and Chamomile, I also put in a bit of Talle in, figure if anything it would numb her enough to get her over the shock.”

            Mendoll took the mug with a nod of thanks. It would be just like the blacksmith to put a dash of strong alcohol into a drink to calm nerves, but as he sniffed the drink he could tell that George had been right, there was only a splash of it in there. Not enough to deaden the senses, only enough to numb. “Thank you, George. Liz, drink this if you can, I know it may be hard, but please.”

            Reluctantly she reached for the mug and in one swift move she downed the whole thing. She continued to sob for a few moments, her son standing vigilant by her side as the mixture of teas and the Talle kicked in. Slowly she calmed down, her sobs becoming more controllable, enabling him to speak to her.

            “Liz, can you still understand me?” He asked her carefully. He was not sure which of the two owned the Talle, but he had the feeling it was not her. She did not strike him as the heavy drinking type. There may have been more in there than was needed. She looked up into his eyes, those soft brown eyes now blood shot red, tears full to bursting from them. “Liz, I would like to tell you what happened. Do you think you could handle that right now?” She sobbed into her shirt for a moment before looking back up at him, those eyes pleading to him to know what had happened.

            He took a deep breath and steadied himself. A hand touched his back, the familiar clawed hand of his friend. That touch gave him the strength he had thought he was about to lose. “Liz, we were on our way back home, on our way to bring Dan home. He had left us in Kyrie to do something, we have been looking for something and he had an idea of where a clue might be. He did not want us to know, and that is alright, maybe he told you, maybe he didn’t. But,” He caught his breath and steadied himself, “We were only a day away when another ship came up on us. They boarded our ship, we were outnumbered three to one. The leader of the group, he claimed he was looking for the same thing that we were. He said that our lives were forfeit. We all knew who he was, Dan knew who he was. Your husband challenged him to a duel, knowing it was life and death. He told the man, ‘let us fight, just you and me. I win, your men leave. You win, you search the ship for whatever you fancy, take whatever you want that is here to take, but you allow my men to sail home alive.’” He nearly lost his control as the memories of that fight came back to him. Dan had made his men swear that they would not interfere so long as the other side did not either. That was the rules placed so that there would only be one death.

            Lizza sobbed into her hands as her son held onto her, protecting her with everything he could. The boy’s eyes were full of tears that he would not let fall. “I am so sorry, Liz. I don’t know if there is anything that I can say that can express how sorry I am. Words are just not enough.” The tears he had been holding back could not be held any longer. She looked up at him and saw the pain in his eyes, the tears that flowed hot down his face. Slowly she reached up and touched his cheek, wiping away a tear as if he were a child of her own. He lost all control of his emotions in that moment. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked like a child’s as he stood suddenly and marched off, leaving everyone behind. He let his feet carry him where they wanted to, he did not care where it was that they took him so long as he did not have to be near anyone that he cared about right now.

            His heart ached more than it had ever ached before in his life. He had lost a lot of people, been unable to protect or cure those that were in need of his help. But none of them hurt the way that this did. It felt like a piece of his soul had been torn out of him and ripped to pieces and he was bleeding out and there was nothing that would ever close that wound. He had lost a brother, a man that was as close to family as he had ever had in a long time. Aside from Bastra there was no single person that he cared for more than the man that he had let down, that he had let die.

            Before he realized where he was, he found himself standing in the ceremonial cliff. A place designated for Funeral Pyres. The stretcher that had carried Dan’s body lay to the side. He closed his eyes to the sight of it and began to pray. He did not know who to pray to anymore, but he prayed with all his might to anyone that would listen to him. He allowed himself to fall into a trance and allowed time to tick away. For all that he would not be able to handle the heartache of seeing his friend gone, he would not be absent from the Sending.

            The rising noise of footsteps and muttering brought him out of his trance. Before him was the Pyre set, wood logs stacked and Dan’s body, still wrapped in the white sheet, laying upon those logs. Flowers were being placed all around his body, every color and variation that grew around these parts encircled his body. The sight of it brought him to tears once again. The whole of the village was here, surrounding the Pyre in a horseshoe, the opening leading out to the cliff that lead toward the east where the suns were beginning to set.

            The church that was in this town followed a God they knew as the Tri-God, a being who could come to the people as any one of three forms. They led the ceremony. The preacher, who was a good honest man, opened just like any other church would. “Ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered this evening to Send one of our own off to the OtherSide.” The choir that sang for the church of the Tri-God began to hum a melody that Mendoll knew all too well, a melody that he could not help but hum in sync, tears slipping down his eyes. “Dan Derune, a beloved man by many, has left our lives. He takes with him the love that we all had for him and he leaves behind the memories each and every one of us were fortunate enough to experience with him. Please, if you all would join me, in the Prayer of the Fallen Kin.”

            Mendoll closed his eyes to the blinding suns that were on the horizon as the tears burned at his eyes and simply allowed those tears to flow without restraint. As the words came, he sang from the deepest parts of his soul, begging the Goddess Kriasta that she would hear his prayer and guide his friend to the heavens that he so rightly deserves...

 

‘My Goddess we pray, we call out to you

Please guide us all, guide the lost back to you

Please hear our plea, join us in our song

Bring these words, bring them to our fallen Kin.

Let them hear our song, ‘til we meet again.

 

We pour out our hearts, sing with all our soul

We call out their names, deep in our song

Please Goddess now, won’t you let them hear

Our Kin have fallen, we cry out to you.

 

You’ve followed the Path, of our ancestor’s deeds

Remember well, the life you will leave

Our families wait, to embrace you now

Go on and fly, to our mother’s side

There you will wait, ‘til we meet again.

 

So long my friend, my fallen Kin

Your tales will be told, never you fear

As it will be known, through the ages come

You’ll always will be, a true hero here

Go now and wait, ‘til we meet again

 

Between all that there is, and all there ever was

I will stand guard now, to protect the ones we love

In honor of you, I hold my head high

Never will I fail, to give it my all

 

To Honor your death, I will honor your life

Protect those that are here, ‘til the day that I die,

If you will wait for me, I promise you this

I will live my life, ‘til that day we meet again

 

Farewell my Kin, my heart goes with you

Though we may mourn, we will stand strong for you

Your honor’s our guide, we can only hope to find

A way of finding, our strength from your loyalty

We will continue on our path for soon we will meet again.'

           

           He kept his eyes closed to the setting sun, repeating those words over and over, letting the song repeat in his mind and praying that the Goddess of Life would hear him. He lost track of time, the noises of people leaving he did not hear. As the light behind his eye lids began to dim he cracked open his eyes to see the last bit of the third sun dipping below the horizon. Bastra stood beside him, as silent as he was. The two were silent statues at attention to the ceremony.

            As the embers of the funeral pyre began to burn their last, Mendoll and Bastra found themselves alone as the last sun’s rays of light were fading from the sky. Dan’s wife and child had left before first sunset ended, their pain unable to allow them to stay any longer. The people of the village had left before them. The sailors who had brought Dan home, they had left before the funeral had even begun.

             A knightingale called out somewhere in the woods, its song echoing hauntingly into the night and Mendoll recognized the song. It was the call of the lost lover. His heart ached as the bird sang on as the night deepened and the moon of fire crested over the eastern horizon, the direction of where the bastard lived that had killed his dearest friend. He looked up at the Gargoyle in the glowing light of the red orb and he could see the tears streaking down Bastra’s face, thick and red in the light of the moon and the dying embers.

             He reached up and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to give comfort when he himself wanted the same. Bastra reached over and tapped his hand, a silent thank you as the Gargoyle gave out a stifled sob. This was too much for either of them, through all that they had been through, all that they had done, all the laughs they had shared and all the people they had helped over the years and in a single moment, in one pain shaken moment, their friend was taken from them by a single madman seeking Power, a child hunting for Power.

              Bastra raised his eyes from the ashes of the funeral and glared toward the moon of fire, and Mendoll knew where it was that the Gargoyle’s eyes were locked. “Mendoll.” Bastra said in a deep, low, dangerous growl, a tone that he had never heard come from his friend before today. “I will make him pay.”

             “Seeking vengeance is only going to bring more trouble, my friend.” Mendoll responded in as calm a voice as he could, though he himself would like nothing more than to rip that man’s throat out, Healing Master or not. “Vengeance is only going to bring more pain.”

             Bastra grunted something under his breath before finally answering, this time his fists were clenched tightly, his clawed nails digging into his palms so much that blood was beginning to drip from his fist. “Even so, I can’t promise I won’t. But I will swear an oath right here and now.” Bastra clenched his fist tighter, increasing the amount of blood dripping from his fist, his eyes narrowed to mere pinpricks of purest hatred. “If I ever come across that son of bitch again, if I ever see him again,” his teeth were bared and the look in his eyes was murderous, his growl deepened until it was almost incoherent in his rage, “I am going to make him wish he were dead. I will make him suffer for what he has done. I swear it.” And with a roar of agony that would silence a dragon, Bastra bellowed his anguish into the night. And for that moment, it was as if the whole of the world had gone silent to listen to his grief.