The Companions of Tartiël

by Jeff Wilcox

  Even now, sounds of people bustling outside the Unicorn filtered up from downstairs, where many took their meals, and from outside. Their voices were not often joyous, but in them, one could hear a note of hope for the future. These sounds and more filled a dejected silence that stretched out between the elf and the nymph in one of the Unicorn’s rooms.

  Kaiyr heard none of it, though. Instead, as he had done with every available moment when he was not helping the people of Andorra get their lives in order, he relived those moments he felt pertinent to the deaths of the children he had caused. First, when the group had discovered the “creatures” in the hidden cellar; then, when they had told Kathir about them and had received the device that spelled their doom; and then lastly, when he had callously thrown the device into the pit with the children-turned-werewolves; all these he saw again and again as he struggled to… to do something, whether it was to find a way to reverse the event or to blame himself or another or to at least learn from the experience. In truth, the blademaster was not certain what he wanted to feel or think.

  After what must have been half an hour, Kaiyr heard a slight rustle as Astra rose, and her footsteps carried her over to his bed, which he had never used. “Like I said, though. Your ship is here,” she told him, settling on the edge of the mattress.

  Kaiyr kept his eyes on the wall, his thoughts broken away from his self-pity and –incrimination for a moment. “There is no hurry,” he said. “It will not leave until tomorrow morning.” Then a small realization struck him. “Lady Astra… you called me with a title.”

  “I know. It’s… it’s my way of saying I’m sorry, and that you—and Caineye and Wild, too—have already done so much for me,” she replied. “It’s also my way of showing you respect, I guess. You know, like how you always call me ‘Lady,’ even when I tell you not to.” She giggled nervously, then sobered rather suddenly. “You’re… not looking at me.”

  “You bid me not to, Lady Astra.”

  The nymph let out a muted chuckle. “I’m sorry. You can look at me. I just… oh, hell, I don’t know. I’m just as confused as you are, right now.”

  In silent response, Kaiyr turned his head to face her and fix her with a stare that told her in no uncertain terms that he believed she was wrong.

  Astra grew solemn. “You blame yourself for what happened.” It was not a question, and Kaiyr did not respond to it. “You shouldn’t blame yourself so, Master Kaiyr. You’re not responsible for what happened.”

  The blademaster shook his head. “In that, Lady Astra, you are wrong. There was no need for me to destroy those creatures. They were securely locked away in that pit, and I, in my arrogance, killed them. They were no threat!” he shouted, whirling around and cutting at the air with his right arm. Then he sighed. “My apologies, Lady Astra. You came here to deliver a message, not to listen to my self-doubts. I should not have them, being a blademaster. But, I thank you for delivering the message.”

  Astra heard in his voice a note of dismissal but decided to ignore it. “Why shouldn’t you have doubts, Blademaster Kaiyr?” she asked him. “Everyone does.”

  “It is the duty of a blademaster to have confidence in his every action, to make decisions deliberately, and to regret none of those decisions.”

  “I doubt that’s true,” she said softly. “Master Kaiyr, even though you’re a blademaster, you’re not a god. And even they aren’t perfect. Why should you expect so much of yourself?”

  “Why should I not?”

  “Now you’re just being difficult,” she huffed, though it was without rancor. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is: you’re going to make mistakes in life. As a warrior, as a blademaster, you’re going to make mistakes that get people hurt or killed. It’s sad, yes, but the real tragedy is if those mistakes go to waste, if you don’t learn from them.”

  Kaiyr drew in a breath, closing his eyes, and let it out slowly. “Thank you, Lady Astra. However, I am not in the mood for consolation right now.”

  “I get it,” she replied, standing. Her sandals tapped over to the door as Kaiyr turned back to face the wall. “Anyway, I’ve got to be going. I know we already discussed this, but I realized I can’t go with you on the airship.”

  Kaiyr turned around, rising to his feet with his characteristic grace. “Did we not agree that—” He stopped when she raised a hand, forestalling his argument.

  “We did. And I’d go with you, but even though you said you’d protect me… are you sure you can keep that promise? In your current state, I think you should worry about yourself first.”

  Kaiyr’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

  “More,” she said, her voice softening, “Let me be the one to protect you, in thanks for what you and your friends have done for me. Right now, I’m the biggest thorn in Sayel’s side, even though none of us have met him. Sayel will go after me, and if I can draw him away from you, it’ll give you a chance to get ready for when he does come for you, or when you take the fight to him.” She put her hand on the doorknob and leaned against it momentarily. “I also have to spread word to my other friends and contacts and tell them to go to ground. So, I need to head out on a smaller vessel that’s here tonight. It’ll take me back to Ist’viel, but I’ll catch up to you…” She winked. “… like I always do. Anyway, I’ve taken delivery orders from Caineye and Wild already. If you want, give me a spending limit and an idea of anything you think you might need. I may even be able to meet you again while you’re still en route to Is’thiel.”

  “I have been thinking about that,” Kaiyr intoned gravely. “Through my training, I have become somewhat adept at reading people. It is a way for me to differentiate between friend and foe at a glance. However, I have much to learn until I can rely on my instincts, and I tire of being fooled by magical means. It led to the incident in the temple outside Viel, the misunderstandings with the Lady Luna—I admit now, she is an enemy—and finally, to… to what happened here. In order to counter magical disguises, I must resort to magic.”

  Astra thought about it for a moment. “You know, I think I have just the thing in mind. You’ll find it really useful, if you have, oh, two hundred platinum or so.”

  “I do,” Kaiyr replied quietly.

  “Well, I must be off. Keep your money for now. If you need to use it and can’t pay me back when I return, I’ll put it on your tab. I’ll see you and your friends later… Master Kaiyr.” She gave him a small smile, turned the handle, and then disappeared in a small flash of light without actually opening the door. Kaiyr squinted against the sudden flare but made no move to follow, knowing he would not find her.

  But he paused at the door and reflected on the conversation he had just shared with Astra. He had seen a side of her he had not previously witnessed, and one he suspected she rarely showed. Despite her strange heritage hinted at by Caineye’s guesses, despite her nonchalant attitude, despite the regal bearing with which she always held herself, Astra was no different from anyone else in the world, with her own worries, problems, and insecurities. He then realized that perhaps he, too, should embrace that part of himself. He was a blademaster, yes, but before that, he was an elf, no more immune to the ravages of daily life than the next person.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Kaiyr ensured that he had not left anything in this room. Seeing nothing, he nodded to himself; he never owned more than he could wear or carry on his person—in his pockets, in his sash, or in his sleeves.

  He opened the door and paused, remembering the last moment of their conversation. A fleeting sense of contentment filled him when he realized that the smile Astra had shown him was one she had maybe never shown anyone else.

  XXII.

  It was a solemn group that boarded the enormous airship headed for Is’thiel. There were a few travelers who had survived the onslaught the week before, and they were all too happy to leave their memories of Andorra behind in the wreckage.

  In light of the traumatic experience and sharing a desire for solitude, t
he three were all too eager to pay extra for private rooms—private even from each other. Each of them needed a place and some time to sit and reflect and come to terms with what had happened in Andorra. And all of them knew that even a three-week journey on an airship would not be enough to significantly close the emotional wounds they had sustained.

  The airship, called the Flaring Nebula, rose into the air without any fanfare. Its decks were heavily laden, and space was at a premium. None of the passengers originally bound for Andorra had disembarked, and there were a good number of noble lords and ladies on board. None of them was pleased at having so many “common filth” on board with them. But none of them decided to stay in Andorra for the next flight to arrive, so they contented themselves with shooting glares at anyone not dressed in clothes worth at least a thousand pieces of gold.

  The group ignored the stares, the jibes and the general presence of all the passengers on board the ship. Wild spent most of the first week exploring the ship, meeting folks, and making merry, even though in the back of his mind, he still felt the effects of the events in Andorra.

  Kaiyr and Caineye were content to remain in solitude, either on the prow of the Flaring Nebula or, during inclement weather, in their quarters, lost in thought.

  Sitting at the edge of the ship, Kaiyr could see the clouds and lands below, passing by slowly as the airship sailed along on its journey. The blademaster had begun the long and arduous task of forgiving himself for his part in the deaths of so many innocent lives. The children lay most heavily upon his soul, but so, too, did the loss of those he had killed in battle only days or hours before the curse had been broken. He kept reminding himself that at the time, they had been enemies.

  So, he let his thoughts roil in his mind before letting them loose, to blow back behind him on the winds high in the sky. Looking over at Caineye, Kaiyr could tell the druid was pushing himself through a similar process, mourning the loss of both the elven children and Terth’Kaftineya.

  They had wordlessly thanked and forgiven each other for the comfort offered and turned away during those tumultuous hours and had become closer in their nearly week-long, companionable silence.

  Tonight, however, something felt different. Kaiyr’s heart still ached, but he felt as though he could live with it; he knew that it would forever haunt him, this terrible sorrow. But he came to accept it as something that would forge him into the blademaster he was still trying to become; it would temper his spirit against future tragedies and enable him to avoid making similar mistakes.

  Caineye must have felt it, too, for he was the one to break their silence. “Thank you, Master Kaiyr, for being my companion on this long and difficult road.”

  Kaiyr turned at the waist, regarding the man levelly. “I accept your gratitude and extend my own to you, Master Caineye,” the blademaster replied at length. “Protecting and aiding you, and in turn being protected and aided by you, as well as Master Wild, wherever he might be, was once my duty. It is now my pleasure, as well.”

  The druid offered a tentative smile that, when returned, grew more confident. He offered Kaiyr a hand, and the blademaster accepted it, standing and joining his companion at the rail. “It’s nearly eight o’clock,” Caineye said. “Shall we attend dinner tonight?”

  Kaiyr nodded formally. “Please, share my table.” Together, the two companions headed down to the common mess hall, but not before Vinto bumped affectionately into the blademaster’s leg, barring the elf’s path until he gave the wolf’s ears a scratch.

  “It’s good to share my table with you two again,” Wild said when Kaiyr and Caineye arrived in the crowded dining hall. They had spotted the halfling right away and made a beeline for the two open seats opposite the smaller man.

  Kaiyr took his seat and, famished, immediately reached for the spoon in the stew on the center of the long table—and served Caineye. As Kaiyr filled his own plate, he nodded to Wild. “It is, and it will be good to resume our acquaintance, Master Wild and Master Caineye. I fear we have all been wrapped up in ourselves and neglected to note and appreciate each other’s companionship.”

  The three of them ate their meal, with Caineye spooning a portion for Vinto and setting it under the table. Their conversation was scarce, but the previously tense atmosphere between them evaporated.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Wild said after they had finished. He stared past the other two, at a group of people standing by the door. One was a half-orc, easily discerned by the greenish-gray color of his skin. The other two were women; one short, one tall, both elves. “That tall woman over there just stole that man’s purse.” A mischievous light shone in Wild’s eye. “I wonder… if I could steal it back from her?”

  Ignoring the surprised protests of the others, Wild slipped from the table and weaved his way through the room to the exit. If Kaiyr and Caineye hadn’t been watching Wild’s hands, they would have missed the moment when he deftly slipped the coin purse from the woman’s grasp and slipped out the door. Unfortunately, he was not deft enough, and the two at the table watched, exasperated and helpless, as the trio by the doorway jumped into action and chased after the halfling.

  “Shall we help him?” Caineye asked, a conspiratorial smile forming on his features.

  Kaiyr gave the question some serious thought. Then, looking at his nearly empty wineglass, he replied, “In a moment.” He downed the wine and rose, and they chased after the others.

  “What should we do with him?” the half-orc was asking the shorter woman as elf, human, and wolf arrived in a vacant area of the upper foredeck. Wild leaned against the rail in a nonchalant pose, but he fooled nobody with his posture. He’d been caught, and he knew it. With the others was a human man who carried a large sword on his back; he must have been waiting outside the dining hall.

  The short woman, whose body was covered with sheathed daggers, scowled. “Once you find out what he wanted, do whatever you want with him, Doann Ga’bar. I don’t really care if he lives to see tomorrow morning. Just try not to hit anybody on the ground with the body.”

  “Now, now,” Wild said, waving one hand. “Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves? I mean, what ever did I do to you?”

  The short woman leveled a steely glare at the halfling, who tossed his curly hair, utterly unimpressed. “You stole something that belongs to my friend.”

  Wild shrugged. “Not really. I mean, it was really loose in her grasp. Oh—and didn’t it belong to one of the gentlemen in the dining hall?”

  “Princess,” said the taller of the two women, nodding in the direction of the approaching blademaster and druid. “We’ve got company.”

  “Indeed you do,” Kaiyr replied, stopping far away enough to be non-threatening but near enough to be at hand, should Wild require extraction. “You have the company of one of our companions, and now, of us.” He shot Wild a steely glare of his own, and this time, the halfling seemed somewhat more remorseful, but only slightly. “I already know of our small friend’s transgression against you, Lady…”

  “Princess Thelia,” the short woman proclaimed proudly, straightening to her full height of four-foot-nothing.

  Kaiyr paused, running through the names of the elven royalty in Vintiens. He had heard the name before. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there were many small kingdoms throughout Vintiens, all ruled by the Elven High King in Naerith’elia. It was possible, but not very likely, that this woman was a minor princess.

  “… Princess Thelia,” he amended, deciding to play along. He added to it a bow that would not have been inappropriate to give a minor princess, but also not one of true obeisance. “I apologize for Master Wild’s rash actions.”

  “That’s all well and good, but you have to apologize to my servant, ‘Hot-hands’ Deluth here, whom your little friend—” Wild barely stifled a laugh at such a tiny woman having the gall to make such comments about his height “—wronged by stealing what was rightfully hers.”

  Kaiyr bowed to “Hot-
hands” Deluth, a somewhat shallower bow which he deepened at the insistence of the decidedly childish princess. Deluth watched rather demurely, holding herself with more grace than Princess Thelia did.

  “So,” Caineye said, stepping forward. Vinto joined him and sat down, his tongue lolling in boredom. “Can we conclude our business here? We’ll go our separate ways and forgive and forget?”

  Thelia pondered it for a moment, then declared, “No. Deluth, kill the runt.”

  Everything happened in an instant. “Hot-hands” Deluth raised a dagger to Wild’s throat. Before she had even begun to move, however, Kaiyr darted inside her reach, covering thirty feet of ground in the blink of an eye. His soulblade flashed in his hand, sending the dagger spiraling out into the sky and down to the ground far below.

  The rest of them exploded into motion. Doann Ga’bar, the half-orc, drew his longsword and leveled it at Kaiyr’s neck, who proceeded to divest the grayish man of his weapon, too. Another dagger appeared in Deluth’s hand, aimed at Wild’s throat; Kaiyr, in turn, rested his soulblade on her collarbone. The human drew his sword and pointed it at Kaiyr’s neck while Wild drew his crossbow, already loaded, and aimed it at the princess, who proceeded to draw two daggers in the blink of an eye and menace both Kaiyr and Wild with one in each hand. Vinto leaped into the group like a silver arrow and bared his fangs at Doann Ga’bar.

  Caineye had fired off a spell of his own and was holding the magic at his fingertips, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. In the circle formed by his fingers hovered a splinter of wood perhaps two inches long, ready to fire. “All right,” said the druid, “first one to move gets a seven-foot spar of wood in the eye.”