by S.J. Drew
asked, taking a seat next to her.
"Thinking," she answered, not looking at him.
"That's an odd way to spend new year's evening."
"If I was home, I'd be talking to my family. We'd be discussing the past year, and plans for next year."
"Not celebrating?"
"We celebrate on the summer solstice."
"Isn't it summer where you come from?" he asked.
"Yes."
There were a few moments of silence. Davin blew on his hands to warm them and hugged his knees, rather than letting his legs dangle over the side. "Aren't you cold?"
"No. I'm never cold anymore."
"You mean you don't feel cold or you don't get cold? Because if you just don't feel it, you might hurt yourself staying out here too long."
"I don't get cold."
There was another pause.
"You're wondering why I'm here," he said finally.
She nodded.
"You scared them. You scared the Council, and you scared the young men. The young men didn't even see you. They just heard your voice booming in the gym. You reminded them all that you're more powerful than a mage. It's an uncomfortable thought. But I expect the young men will get over it in a few days. They'll forget, until you do something like that again."
"And you? Aidan said you fetched a ladder to look in the window."
"I did. Maybe I shouldn't have. You scared me too. Shining armor, a flaming sword, and a voice that could reduce mountains to rubble. The very image of a righteous warrior of god." His eyes were wide. "When you first arrived, you fainted on the doorstep. We thought you were weak. We all did." He sighed. "The others left it at that. You fought that wildfire, and nothing changed. When Aidan came and told us all you wanted to be a warrior, no one seemed to take it seriously. When you persisted, didn't give up, they didn't change their minds. Even when you beat Aidan, they still didn't take you seriously. Even when you started to win your fights consistently, they still thought you were weak."
"And what did you think?"
"I've never had much faith, but I did wonder why the god would send someone who seemed so unsuitable to fight for It. So I watched to see what the god saw in you."
"And what did you see?" she asked, turning to look at him.
He stared into the night. "I saw weakness. You fainted on the doorstep. You cried and cried. You tried to make friends, first with Aidan because you could talk to him, then with the rest of us, once you learned enough of the language. When you were shunned, you tried harder to fit in. When the Council scolded you, you submitted to their judgment. Every time you were hurt, you forgave us, and tried harder to live up to our expectations."
"Then why did you bother to try to talk to me?" she asked, not angry, but disappointed.
"Because I saw moments of strength, like when you put the other young men in their place. When you put me in mine. When you defied the Council and fought that wildfire. But I still thought you were weak, because you gave into the Council and to society by becoming a warrior. That's why I was so angry with you. Whenever you showed some signs of strength, it seemed to just disappear as soon as you were challenged."
"Well, I'm glad you can admit you thought I was weak. I don't expect Aidan or the others ever will. I'm not even sure the Council has really accepted it either. It sounds like I'm just going to have to scare you all again when you get complacent," she replied sadly.
He sighed and finally faced her. "We shouldn't get complacent. I'm really angry at myself. I prided myself on being different from the others and for seeing things they couldn't, because I wasn't one of them. And in the end, I had to see you reveal your power before I realized how badly I misjudged you."
"Well, we all make mistakes," she said with a reassuring smile.
"And you're doing it again. You've just forgiven me for thinking so little of you, haven't you?"
"Yes."
He half-laughed. "And we mistook an ability to forgive as a sign of weakness," he remarked bitterly. "Gods, Eliora, I've been a complete idiot. Everything you've done has shown strength. When you were Chosen, you lost the life you had through the god and through the Order. But instead of just staying here, you tried to make this place your new home. You learned an unfamiliar language. You learned about a new society. You learned to fight. I thought you were submitting to the Council by becoming a warrior, but I realized when I saw you today that I was wrong. What you were really becoming was a leader."
His expression was still nearly unreadable, so she searched his dark violet eyes. She saw remorse, sadness, a touch of fear, and something else she couldn't read.
"I am so sorry. I wasn't really angry at you. I was angry at the Light One for being a weak god and sending us a weak Champion. I thought the Light was good, warm, and gentle. I thought Light was represented by people like Jomei, who pray to their god for whatever the god wishes to give them. They are counselors or healers, but never fighters. They are people who only repair what damage has been done by Darkness, but never combat the Darkness and prevent it from causing harm in the first place," he explained, scathingly disdainful. "But Light isn't just happiness and warmth and good feelings. I forgot that Light is also dangerous."
"So you're still frightened of me?"
"I would be a fool not to be frightened after what I saw. But at the same time, I feel better about this whole battle. You are strong, and you are a fighter. I think you can win this battle. I think you can defeat the Darkness."
She smiled. "Thank you. But I thought you didn't like warriors."
"I don't like warriors. They seek out wars. But fighters are a different matter entirely. I respect fighters." He turned back to the black sky.
She gazed at him for a few more moments. "You know, Davin, not everyone fights with a sword or with sorcery. Counselors and healers aren't weak. They're fighters too."
He looked at her sharply. "Then why don't they do something to stop the Darkness?" he snapped.
"They do. They can't fight the external battles, but they help fight the one that happens in here," she replied, pointing at his heart. "They help fight the battle against sorrow, against fear, against grief and anger and despair. They help fight the battle for your very soul, and that's one of the hardest battles of all." Tears welled up as she added, "And I ought to know. I've lost much and gained little, and I still grieve."
"Then why don't you talk to someone like the priest?" he asked, trying to sound scornful, but his own voice was cracking with sadness.
"The same reason you don't, I imagine. You don't trust anyone enough. I'm a stranger in a foreign land. You're a stranger in a familiar land, and maybe that's worse. You're alone, so you carry your burden of grief and guilt by yourself."
"So what?" he snapped, uncomfortable with her shrewd insight. "Grief is healthy."
"Of course it is. If we didn't hurt, we wouldn't be human. But grief and guilt are hard for a soul to bear. If they aren't let go, if the wounds aren't allowed to heal, then the Light starts to fade, and Darkness grows." Her eyes returned to their original color. "That's the battle I fight in my soul, and that's the battle you fight in yours."
Her dark brown eyes held his violet ones for several moments.
Two tears slipped down his face as he finally looked down.
She blinked, and her eyes turned white again.
"Amazing," he remarked, his tone low. "You've shown me I was wrong about the Light for the second time today. It seems gentleness is no less dangerous than a sword. It certainly can cut as deeply."
Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand.
He looked up, surprised. "How do you do that?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Manage to get to me like this."
"I'm sorry," she replied, and tried to pull her hand away.
He held it tightly. "Don't be sorry, Eliora. I think-I think I like it."
She
smiled a bit uncertainly.
He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but didn't quite manage to do so. "Would you sing for me?" he asked finally.
"Sure. What would you like to hear? Something sad, or something cheerful?"
"Whatever is traditional for the solstice."
"Which one?"
"Whichever one you like."
"Then I'll sing something for both," she decided. Nearly two hours passed, and she tried to finish on a more cheerful note.
"That was beautiful." He rubbed his hands together, stood up, stomped his feet a bit to warm up. "You don't get cold, but I do. I need to go inside, or I'm going to freeze out here."
She half-laughed. "I'm sorry. I forgot. It's also getting late."
"That doesn't matter. Nearly everyone will be hungover in the morning," he replied, starting to climb down the branches.
She blew out the lantern and followed. "Are you going to join the celebration?"
"Probably not. Everyone's probably pretty drunk by now, and that's not as much fun as getting drunk with everyone."
"I'm sorry. It sounds like I ruined your fun for the evening." She thought to herself, "Perhaps I did say too much. I should try to cheer him up."
"Don't apologize. I spent a few hours with them already. I'm glad I spent time with you. I'm sorry you didn't have any fun. You should have been celebrating with the rest of us," he replied.
They were now near enough to the city that the demian lanterns were providing some dim light.
A mischievous smiled played about her lips. "It's early yet. I could still have some fun."
"What do you have in mind?" he asked
