The Companions of Tartiël

by Jeff Wilcox

  *

  Caineye looked up as the door opened late in the evening to see Kaiyr enter. In his arms he carried an exhausted Solaria, who had stumbled tiredly so often on the long walk back to the inn that Kaiyr had swept her off her feet and into his arms, bearing her for the better part of an hour with nary a complaint. “Good evening, Master Kaiyr,” said the druid with a nod of his head. A small, remaining pang of jealousy ran through him, but he quashed it as the blademaster nodded back.

  “A good evening to you, Master Caineye. I would speak with you after I see Lady Solaria to her room.” Kaiyr continued into the room and nudged the door closed with one foot.

  Barely a minute later, the elf returned from depositing Solaria in her bed. He closed her door silently and sat across the coffee table from Caineye. “Was it a fruitful day?” the blademaster asked.

  Brightening, the druid nodded and picked up two of the items he had spent the day prodding with magic: a gold ring with a sapphire gem and a fine silver chain from which dangled a small hourglass. “Yes, actually. These two I think you will enjoy in particular. Both are magical; the ring is known in most circles as a ring of protection.”

  “It generates a screen of protective force around the wearer, as I recall,” Kaiyr said appreciatively, nodding as he accepted the offered item. Then he paused. “I suppose I shall have to guard this carefully,” he said with a slight smile as he cast his gaze meaningfully toward the door to Wild’s room.

  Caineye laughed and scratched Vinto’s head, the wolf asleep at his feet. “Fortunately, Wild already bought himself one of these, so he claims, and he is familiar with the fact that no matter how many of these one wears, only one of them will function at a time.”

  Kaiyr nodded, somewhat familiar with the ring of protection and its ilk; some were more powerful than others. This one was simple and not lavishly adorned, but it was functional. “And this amulet?”

  The druid gave the blademaster a knowing smile. “This one is probably of even more interest to you, Master Kaiyr. It’s enchanted with a relatively weak form of teleportation. Its power is limited, good for only two short jumps per day, perhaps as far as you could run in, oh, ten strides or so. Its energy is recharged at midnight, when the powers that make up day and night trade their control. It takes but a thought to activate.”

  Kaiyr slipped the ring on and then donned the amulet when Caineye handed it to him. The amulet seemed to hum for a moment, and in that instant, Kaiyr suddenly understood its workings. He sent a brief thought to the amulet and imagined himself sitting on the next chair over, and before he had even completed the thought, he suddenly found himself looking at Caineye from a different angle.

  “That was… swift,” Kaiyr commented, drawing a knowing grin from Caineye. “I hope you have found some useful trinkets for yourself and Master Wild.”

  “Oh, no worries. Wild said he just wanted gold, so after getting these appraised, I gave him his share of the treasure. I have to admit, it was sort of amusing to see him lugging around such an enormous bag of gold; he tucked it under his shirt to disguise it, and with a little more tinkering, he looked like a fat child!” Caineye rocked back, laughing at his memory of the sight. Vinto raised his head and whined in annoyance at the sudden outburst. “Sorry, boy. I’ll try to keep it down,” he told his animal companion.

  Kaiyr let a smile cross his features at the sight of the druid and his wolf. Today had been a terrific success, and the blademaster was feeling better than he had in what had seemed to be a long, long time. Even if tomorrow’s efforts returned nothing, he felt as though he could live with it.

  At length, the blademaster leaned forward, and his rustling robes caught Caineye’s attention. The druid looked at Kaiyr inquisitively. “Master Caineye, I wish to invite you to join me and Lady Solaria tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have spoken with the Lady Solaria, and I should have mentioned this to you sooner. When I tarried at the temple this morning, I spoke with Father Altaïr about the possibility of resurrecting Lady Astra, and he has agreed to hold a commune tomorrow morning. I would be honored if you would also attend, Master Caineye.”

  Caineye was taken aback at the blademaster’s offer. “You’re… bringing her back from the dead?”

  Kaiyr nodded solemnly. “I am going to see if Arvanos will allow it.”

  Eyebrows raised, Caineye breathed out, steeling himself. “I honestly don’t know what to say about that. But yes, I would love to come along. Astra… I would say she is a good friend, but I honestly cannot say I know her that well. But she is an interesting sort, a valuable ally, and a beautiful creature of nature. This, as you know, is the most important part to me.” He glanced past the blademaster and at Wild’s door.

  “I will ask him, as well,” the blademaster said. “Has he returned today?”

  “Yes, but I think he’s asleep now; he came back a few hours ago and went to his room shortly afterward.”

  Kaiyr nodded and rose, smoothing his robes with his hands. “A wise decision. I believe I, too, shall take my rest now. It is a beautiful night; I shall meditate outside.” He bowed to his companion. “I bid you a good night, Master Caineye,” he said; then, knowing that a complaint would otherwise be forthcoming, “Master Vinto.”

  The wolf’s voice rumbled in response, and Kaiyr allowed himself another slight smile as he opened the door to the balcony and stepped out.

  Indeed, he thought, reflecting on the day’s events, it is a beautiful night.

  XXXI.

  Altaïr welcomed three of the companions into his temple early the next morning. The air was cool and sweet, and the stone of the temple’s walls exuded tranquility, shutting out the distractions of the outside world even before the group set foot inside.

  Kaiyr had not been able to locate Wild in order to invite him along, but this was just as well; since the struggle against Sayel’s Terth on the Flaring Nebula, and in particular after some of the exchanges between the two of them during the ring’s possession of Wild, the two of them had barely shared more than a strained word between them. He felt terribly guilty for his gladness, but Kaiyr was relieved that the halfling had apparently slipped away earlier in the morning. Then he reminded himself why he was here, and all thoughts of Wild and his melancholy vanished.

  The aisle between the pews was lined with white-and blue-robed acolytes, each bearing a candle in an elaborate, hooded holder, the hoods shaped into leaves made of gold. The acolytes had their cowls pulled low over their faces; they were neither the practitioners of the ceremony nor the supplicants, and as such they were not to witness the events with their own eyes.

  “Walk this way,” Altaïr said, beckoning them to follow him to the altar, where several other priests waited. Kolatev, the one who had restored Wild’s hand the day before, stood among them. “You bring these two as additional supplicants?”

  “Indeed,” Kaiyr replied.

  Altaïr nodded without turning around, and as they arrived at the altar, he bid the petitioners kneel on the white marble steps before the dais. They did so, Kaiyr most reverently as he smoothed out his robes and hair, bowing his head.

  The head priest looked at everyone in turn, ignoring the acolytes who stood in silent witness to the communion. “Blademaster Kaiyr,” he said after a minute of peace had passed, “rise and bring your offering to the altar, to be extended to Arvanos Sinterian in exchange for your request.”

  Flowing gracefully to his feet, the blademaster raised his head and ascended the dais to stand before the altar. From within his sleeves he produced several flawless diamonds and laid them upon the marble table. “These gems are made from the sweat and blood of my friends and of my foes,” the blademaster said, noting the carefully but not perfectly hidden looks of awe in the faces of those who could see his offering. He had collected them during the brief time he had spent with his companions; the largest of these had been Sayel’s, with some of them having come from other encounters with their foes, particularly
in Andorra.

  Stepping backward to kneel in the same position as before, Kaiyr again bowed his head and spoke no more. Altaïr nodded and bid everyone else also lower their gazes. “O, Father Arvanos…”

  Kaiyr barely heard the cleric’s prayer to the god of elves, the First Father, for he was silently giving his own prayer. It was a rare moment for the young elf, who so often considered himself a blademaster before anything else; but in this hour he was nothing more or less than an elf.

  So it was that his heart called out to Arvanos Sinterian, beseeching Him to seek out Astra’s soul and return her to life in this world. He prayed for her return so that she could continue her quest, so that Kaiyr could aid her in serving justice to the master of Sayel, the one responsible for the death of her brother.

  “And so that you might be with her,” said a calm voice, mildly amused. “You should not deny yourself that, my child.”

  Puzzled, Kaiyr looked up from his prayer, glancing around. He was no longer in the temple; here, he knelt on the forest floor, surrounded by tall trees and the sounds of life.

  Realization hit him, and Kaiyr carefully raised his gaze to the figure standing before him, and then quickly averted it. His sudden motion caused the man—no, the god—watching him to chuckle briefly.

  “Rise, young Daioskaiyr Stellarovim, blademaster from Ivyan,” said Arvanos Sinterian, reaching down and cupping the elf’s chin in one hand, urging Kaiyr to stand and look at Him as he did so. “There. Am I truly so frightening?”

  Kaiyr stared into the brilliant green eyes framed by long, golden hair, into a face both terrifying and beautiful at the same time. At last he shook his head. “No, Father Arvanos.”

  The god smiled mischievously and stepped back. “It was a trick question, Kaiyr. By replying, ‘No,’ you say you do not comprehend the power before you. But responding, ‘Yes,’ might have been insulting. Why did you choose the former?”

  Taken aback by Arvanos’s sudden leap into philosophy, Kaiyr hesitated before replying, “I would rather appear a fool in Your eyes than arouse Your ire, my god.”

  Arvanos Sinterian cocked His head back a little, giving the blademaster an appraising look down His nose. “I like your answer, Kaiyr. You are wiser than your few years might otherwise indicate. But come, you have called upon me to answer your questions, and I see that you have many of those. To answer a few: No, we are not in the Everwood. You would never wish to leave, were we actually there. Neither are you actually here; we are, in a sense, nowhere, though you and I still exist: you, in Ik'durel, and I, in the Everwood. And no, I will not give you the answers you seek until you ask me.”

  Putting His hands on His hips, Arvanos waited for Kaiyr to catch up to Him in the conversation. One hand played with the pommel of His longsword, Valthana, as He amusedly watched the young elf.

  Finally, Kaiyr collected himself, and he returned his gaze to Arvanos’s divine features. “Father Arvanos, I come to you to seek the return of one who was lost to us some weeks past. Her name is Lady Astra Soleil.”

  Arvanos Sinterian nodded. “I know of whom you speak. You also understand that a return to life requires much sacrifice on the part of both the one resurrected as well as the petitioner, as well as a body for the soul to enter?”

  Kaiyr’s head fell with a sudden weight. “I… realize already that there are some complications with that aspect of my request. So, I will ask: is there a way to return Lady Astra to life?”

  Drawing in a breath, the First Father raised His eyebrows and let out a deep sigh. “It would be a simple matter, were the one now in Astra’s body, Solaria, to die.”

  Kaiyr’s blue hair shook vigorously with his emphatic denial. “I will not kill her,” he said, his voice returning to full vitality in the face of such an evil deed.

  This only brought a smile to the god’s face. “Good,” He said. “Had you suggested you slay her, I might have struck you dead out of anger and disgust. But again you please me, young blademaster. You mesh well my dogma and that of the blademasters into one which I find rather admirable.

  “Perhaps, then,” He said, pacing slowly in the small area the two of them shared in this vast, intangible forest, “I could offer you my aid in return for a favor. There are ways to bring back your beloved—and stop fooling yourself about that, by the way—without needing to first destroy Solaria. They could both exist in your world.” He stopped, whirling on Kaiyr and fixing the young elf with His shining, green eyes. “I would not want to be in your shoes, however, when those two each take an arm and pull you in opposite directions,” He added, laughing.

  The deity’s mirth was contagious, and despite the blanket Kaiyr kept over his feelings, he, too, let out an amused chuckle. “Indeed. Perhaps I should question the wisdom of this decision.”

  Suddenly, Arvanos’s features grew serious. “Yes, Kaiyr. Perhaps you should.” He continued to gaze down at the young blademaster gravely, who returned the stare with a pensive one of his own. After what felt like several minutes of silence crawled by, Arvanos pursed his lips. “Do you wish to accept the bargain, then? In return for a favor, I will recreate Astra’s body and return her soul to it, if she is willing. However, it will take some time, as her soul is far from my grasp. Is this acceptable? And no, I will not give you your task lest you agree to it beforehand.”

  Frowning, Kaiyr replied slowly, “It would be unwise for me to take Your offer, Father Arvanos; Your task might include sacrificing of my life. And while I would gladly give it for her, two things stand in my way: as a blademaster, I may give my life for another if doing so serves the greater good of all. However, by giving my life for her, I betray my companions, who look to me for direction and protection; I also betray the elven people by giving my life for one not of our kind. Should my aid be required by the People after my death, I will have left them to whatever fate is in store for them.”

  “And the other reason?” Arvanos asked, but by His sly look, Kaiyr knew the god only wanted the blademaster to speak his desires aloud for his own benefit.

  Kaiyr sighed and cleared his throat. “The other reason… the one whose cause I cannot comprehend, is that I wish to bring her back to my side, not to a world where I cannot see her. I am selfish, I know, but I cannot change the way I feel.”

  The deity’s look softened into a smile. “It gladdens me to hear you admit this to me and to yourself,” He said, “and you are wise to hesitate in accepting the task I have to offer.”

  “Might I have some time to weigh my course of action and perhaps discuss it with my companions?”

  Nodding, Arvanos showed Kaiyr his open palms. “What you do is your choice, Kaiyr. I no more control your actions than you control mine. Know, however, that I am here to guide you, should you desire it. I can offer you advice, knowledge, and even—occasionally—power. What I cannot give you is certainty, the certainty which blademasters crave and strive to obtain.” He smiled in self-reproach. “I suppose that is a part of the blademasters’ charm.

  “Return to me at a later date, but do not tarry overlong, young blademaster. Although Astra’s soul does not belong to me, I can sense her presence, and it grows ever more distant.”

  Kaiyr bowed, and as the forest scene around him slowly dissolved, Arvanos’s voice reached out to the elf one more time, dryly: “And next time… I do not need so many diamonds.” Then His holy presence faded altogether, leaving Kaiyr kneeling on the steps before the altar in Arvanos Sinterian’s temple in Ik’durel, an ephemeral laughter ringing from the walls.

  A sudden wind gusted through the temple, though the movement of the air did not in the least disturb even a single candle. Kaiyr found himself bowled over by the zephyr, and he rolled quickly to his feet, disoriented by the divine contact.

  Altaïr stared, wide-eyed, down at the blademaster. “You… I… We were in the presence of Arvanos Himself,” the cleric whispered, though the temple carried his reverent words to all ears present.

  Kaiyr paid him no heed, for in that mo
ment, Solaria let out a quiet sob, and he saw her tears darkening the stone steps. Frowning, the blademaster caught his balance and arrived at her side, kneeling. “My lady,” he said, gently touching her shoulder, “what is the matter?”

  Sobbing wordlessly, Solaria surged to her feet and staggered from the temple. No one made a move to stop her; Kaiyr was too stunned by her reaction to move, and the acolytes remained utterly still even when her wake snuffed out some of their candles.

  Nonplussed, the blademaster turned to Caineye, and before they exchanged a word between them, the lugubrious expression on the druid’s face told Kaiyr most of what he wanted to know. Nevertheless, Caineye felt a need to put things to words. Clapping Kaiyr’s shoulder with one hand, the human gave him a dejected smile. “We… heard it all, Master Kaiyr. We heard it all.”

  XXXII.

  Wild took a deep breath of the early morning air as he strolled down Ik’durel’s wide avenues. He congratulated himself on slipping by the ever-vigilant Kaiyr earlier today. It was a hollow victory, though, for as much as the halfling wanted to distance himself from the blademaster’s disagreeable company, he could not outrun his own thoughts.

  Though his companions had rid him of Sayel’s ring—and for that he was glad—the magical artifact had left something of an imprint on Wild. Where he once might have felt indifference for the blademaster’s actions aboard the airship, he could sense a dimly-smoldering hatred. Where he should have forgiven the elf for what he had said and done—and Kaiyr had forgiven Wild—the halfling could only find the heart to blame his tall companion.

  The very fact that he was feeling such emotions bothered the halfling, who could not find a way to rid himself of such thoughts and feelings. “I wonder if this is what guilt is like,” he wondered aloud to himself as his hand flicked out and unlocked a door as he passed by; the door swung open, but the halfling kept on walking. “There’s a strange feeling here that I can’t quite grasp. It has to do with the fact that I can’t change the way I see Master Kaiyr. Part of me knows it’s not really what I should be feeling, and that part is struggling to overcome. It’s the case of the unstoppable force and the immovable wall. I wonder if either of those feel fear at the idea of crashing together?”