by P R Glazier
Chapter 4. Friends in Need
“Is that really you Alonso?”
The old human stared into her eyes. He nodded slowly, memories flooded back into his mind as he stared into the blue eyes of the long-ear he had travelled so far to see. “Hello Nar’Allia. The years have been many in the passing since we last spoke. It pleases me that you recognise me, even though those same years have not perhaps been as kind to me.” He continued to look long and hard at her, ran his eyes over her features in wonder, “you look the same as you did then. I remember clearly that day when you departed from us, you left with your human companion Jonas and the strange one, Amndo, along with JDC the Gnome. You all flew away in the belly of the great battle bird. We hoped we may see you once again. But you never returned.”
Nar’Allia nodded in recognition of his words, she felt a pang of guilt as she remembered that day, as if it were but weeks before, for time indeed had less of an effect upon the T’Iea. She and her companions had left the eastern lands, Nar’Allia did not remember saying goodbye, she was distraught and she did not care. All she wanted to do was return to her home and to her father and family. She could have gone back, should have gone back. She had all the time of a long life to do so. Yet for what? What would she have gained by returning there to that eastern land? The reason for going there to start with was no longer an incentive to return. Clearly her mother Minervar would not be found there. The one place Nar’Allia would return to if she could, the last place she saw her stepmother alive, was now beyond access, guarded by monstrosities of technology, the legacy of a bygone age. Relics of a forgotten time but even so still had the potential to affect the lives of all so dramatically. The army of mechanical warriors had come to haunt the present from the distant past. They had no part in these times, the reason for their creation had passed long ago, they were no longer needed, no longer welcomed. Returned into the world by the Dark Brethren, the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran, no doubt intent upon using them to further evil gains.
Yet the irony remained. She too had been party to a similar crime; all those years ago she and her companions, those that Alonso mentioned, had unwittingly followed in the footsteps of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran. For they also found and recovered a similar army, brought it back to haunt the world. She was stricken with a feeling of guilt and remorse at the potential dangers of her actions back then. She had endangered the world itself by bringing forth this army of invincible warriors. The worst of it though was that she no longer knew where that army was. All she had was a promise from the Pnook JDC that he would make sure they were kept under lock and key. She sighed, looked once more into the face of this man from the past. She was pleased to see Alonso the person, yet what he represented she was not so pleased to be reminded of. But that was unfair. She dropped her eyes.
Much time had passed since those events and Alonso had aged much in the intervening years. Such was the way of men whose time upon the world seemed but a blink of an eye to the T’Iea. The man that stood before her now was not the same warrior she had known from the moors across the mountains of the Tolle’Fornosse’Veetri, the eastern lands that surrounded the great Rift. But that was the nature of things. Men aged and waned in this world, destined to fade after their allotted time. Whereas the T’Iea, her people, took much longer to age. In fact after reaching the time of R’Golea’Foed, the time that T’Iea come of age, their physical appearance remained much the same, unless some outside influence changed it. For her people lived on for many hundreds of years of man, only answering the call of Eny’Nin’Rel, the Father of all, when the time finally came. The great parting from this world. What her people would call the last great adventure, it came to all eventually, for even the T’Iea were invited to take the last passage, to sail the white ships to the fair shores of the Maker’s realm and to another life, a life that Eny’Nin’Rel originally intended. A true life with no final death, a life they had forfeited because of their own ignorance and selfish design. Yet the Maker, Eny’Nin’Rel, in his great love still even now offered that life to those who truly believed the offer was there, who had open minds and a true faith. Nar’Allia wondered if Minervar and Iolrreas had taken that final voyage, wondered if by their own free will and their personal faith they had embraced their relationship with the Father of all and as a result had him welcome them home as his long-lost children.
Nar’Allia shook these thoughts from her head; she looked once more upon the waiting human standing on her doorstep. She smiled, but the muscles of her cheeks twitched with the emotional effort of doing so. “Alonso please come in, forgive me for leaving you standing there, but, well I was not expecting anyone and …….”
Alonso cut her off short saying, “and least of all me eh?” He looked sorrowful as he said, “I see in your face that my coming has rekindled old memories, your eyes betray you Nar’Allia, I remind you of much and you do not hide it in your face, for I see written there the fact that not all of those memories are good eh?” H saw wetness in her eyes as she turned. He followed her into the house. Once inside he stopped and listened to the voices in the next room, “forgive me, you have company, perhaps I should return at another time.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t you dare,” came the reply as Nar’Allia held his arm gently. “You must have travelled far to get here.” Nar’Allia scanned his face as if looking for something there, searching his features for an answer to the question that presented itself in her mind. “To have come so far, to have made that journey of many weeks, endured such hardship.” She looked questioningly at him. “Alonso you must have something very important to impart or to say?”
Alonso nodded, “even so, such can wait until a more appropriate time I feel. For I am keeping you from your guests, please if I may sit here and wait?” He made to sit upon the floor.
Nar’Allia once more took hold of his arm, the skin felt dry and thin, little muscle lay between her fingers and the bones beneath, but what strength of flesh there was felt firm and knotted like strands of a tensioned rope. Nar’Allia remembered him in his youth, lithe and toned, a warrior in his prime. She smiled, trying to hide her shock at his condition. “You may wait here, but I would deem it a greater honour if you would join us. You and your people showed me and all my companions, great hospitality once, when we arrived unannounced. You helped us even though we were strangers to you. I welcome this opportunity, that we can extend to you as much grace as once you and your people did extend to us.”
Alonso bowed and allowed Nar’Allia to lead him through to where the others sat. As Nar’Allia entered the room, no one took any notice initially, just thinking that she was returning. But Lo’Rosse asked her who it was at the door. She reached out and ushered Alonso into the room, immediately Lo’Rosse stood and gradually the rest of the room quietened as the presence of the old human was realised by all.
When all was quiet Nar’Allia smiled and addressed the gathering, “please, everyone I would like to introduce you to an old friend, someone I met on my travels long ago and who extended to us every courtesy. This is master Alonso. He comes perhaps with news from his home in the eastern lands, from far beyond the mountains of the Tolle’Fornosse’Veetri, from the lands across the great spine. He has travelled far to be here, please welcome him as you would our own.”
Immediately Lo’Rosse rose and moved round the table to where Alonso stood, “welcome my friend to our humble home, please sit in my place, eat, drink and rest, our home is yours.”
“Alonso looked at Lo’Rosse, “you honour me greatly, a lesser place would do. But I tire, I have not the strength to dispute your offer, please forgive me my foolishness.”
Lo’Rosse took the old man’s staff and cloak, he made sure that he sat comfortably, then he made to retrieve another chair from the next room. Nar’Allia followed him out intent upon getting a plate so that Alonso may eat.
Lo’Rosse frowned as he asked, “do you know why he is here? Does it have to do with your mother? Does he have news?”
In reply Nar’Allia whispered, “I do not know. After greeting him I suggested he eat and rest.” Nar’Allia busied herself getting cutlery and a glass of water. When she was ready to return to the table she whispered to Lo’Rosse, “by the Maker Lo’Rosse, he has come very far on a very difficult journey, I would not wish to pressure him further until he has rested and feels himself able to broach that which may be upon his mind.”
Lo’Rosse’s frown faded. “No of course not, you are right Narny, but I recognise his name from the tales you told, I cannot think why he should be here, I suspect it is not because he missed you in all those years gone by. Something has driven him on this quest and it bothers my mind as to the reason.”
Nar’Allia smiled and tried to allay Lo’Rosse’s suspicions, but in her own thoughts she had to agree. Alonso being here was delightful, she was of course over-joyed to see him once again, yet his being here also fueled misgivings within her own thoughts. Partly she was excited that he may possibly have important news, then on the other hand surely he would not delay in giving such news to her if it truly was that important. So what then? It must be something connected with the events that led to their meeting all those years of man ago, if not, then why would he seek her out after all this time?
Alonso was introduced one by one to everyone else. Once this was done the conversation around the table started once again, many questions were asked of Alonso.
After a while Nar’Allia’s mind wandered from the conversations, her thoughts turned to what she knew of Alonso and his people. She remembered he was a ‘shifter’ a member of the human society that long ago had been affected by unusually high concentration of arcane energy. A particular strain of arcane energy once used for immense devastation, for wreaking destruction on an unimaginable scale. Power that fueled a war that pitted human against human in a struggle that almost destroyed their race completely. Great and terrible battles had raged across the continents in a time in the long distant past. During her travels she had heard both sides of the sorry tale, told from the descendants of both sides that fought in the great war. She had spoken with possibly the last remaining member of the A’Kath, a race of men who lived on the western continent where now lay only the red sands of the Rust Desert. The sands were thought to be the oxidised remains of the A’Kath city. She had forgotten the name of the city, but then it no longer existed, well not as a city. No one she knew remembered it as such, not even the race of human nomads that roamed the Rust Desert. All that remained where mysterious ruins buried beneath the desert sands. She had been beneath those same desert sands, seen what remained of that society, a place of immense power and capable of wreaking great destruction. All that was left of a once great civilisation. No fine examples of art or literary works could be found there. No proof of great achievements, or the fruits of academia, nothing to mark them as a civilisation at its peak; just a place of war, a place designed to kill even though nothing remained of the society of man that designed it.
She had also heard a different version of the sorry tale from the easterners, Alonso’s people who were descended it seemed from the other side, the A’Kath’s opponents in the war. Their stories differed of course, but one thing was common to both and that was the terrible tale of how the world was almost totally destroyed and the race of men diminished and almost wiped out by their own machines of war. Machines that had adapted and changed over the centuries of battle into something far more sinister and terrible. She remembered the tale of how those machines had turned on their very masters and sought to eradicate the race of man from the world.
Gradually her attention returned to the room. Alonso was talking to all the gathered members in the household about the society of humans to which he belonged telling stories of their lore and other tales of their homeland. He seemed to draw energy from the various conversations and the assembled T’Iea asking many questions about his people and the journey he had just made. Solin in particular was greatly interested in what he had to say. After the meal Nar’Allia noted that the two of them spent much time seated in a corner of the room beside the hearth talking at great length. She noted that the expressions upon Alonso’s face and his body language spoke clearly of some discomfort and he seemed at times to be suspicious. Nar’Allia wondered what it was they were discussing. But eventually there came a time in the evening’s proceedings when everyone retired to the outer room to relax.
Alonso made the point of walking close to Nar’Allia. “Please there is something quite urgent that I need to impart, I am thankful for your hospitality and the fruits of your table, but what I have to say bothers my heart, it must be said, for I cannot rest until my message is dispatched to those who must hear it.”
Nar’Allia smiled and nodded at the old man, acknowledging that he was obviously desperate to tell her something. She noted that he glanced across towards Solin a number of times as if trying to hide his actions from her. But she shrugged these thoughts of thinking that her imagination was just running wild. She did feel a little defiant as she said out loud so that Solin could hear, “come then Alonso speak, for there is nothing that I hold secret to any gathered here, what you have to tell me all can bear witness to. Although I admit a certain anxiety at what your message may be.” If Solin heard what was said she did not acknowledge it, she just continued to walk alongside Solvienne with their arms linked.
Alonso was also looking at the two T’Iea academics, perhaps he expected a response, but when none came he returned his attention to Nar’Allia, nodded his understanding and said, “very well.” he then waited until the assembly was seated, he refused a seat, waving his hand he explained that he preferred to stand to impart the news he had to tell. He leaned heavily upon the back of a chair and scrutinised the faces of those gathered around him. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention he began. “It has been many years since the lady Nar’Allia left our lands to return here to her home land. I do not know how much of the tale of our meeting she may have told each of you,” here he was quiet for a few moments as if trying to find the right words to say. He then continued. “An evil force that we once battled together has found increased new strength, the arrival of Nar’Allia and her friends set a spark upon the fuse of that force and an inevitable conflict arose. An event we were long expecting. But the arrival of Nar’Allia and the powerful weapon of destruction she brought with her was intimidating to our enemies, intimidating enough that they decided to set an offensive against us. But that same powerful weapon of destruction was also instrumental in saving my people. Although we lost many their sacrifice was not wasted, for the result has proven a lasting peace in our lands.”
He nodded towards Nar’Allia as if adding his own thanks to her. “Our greatest loss however was the loss of our Taekla, perhaps you would call this person ‘mother’ although she was much more than that to us. Her name, I’m sure the lady Nar’Allia will recall, was Deanola. She was both wise leader and tireless protector to our people and she is sorely missed.”
Here Alonso glanced once again at Nar’Allia who nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.
“Well, our Taekla died in combat, fighting a mage of great power, for the mage and our Taekla dueled in those last days. Our Taekla and the dread elf mage, the one called the Gatekeeper.”
Nar’Allia thought about his words, she had been there, seen first-hand that of which Alonso spoke, witnessed the events of that day in fine detail as they had unfolded. For these words of Alonso’s, other than her own memory, were the first news she had heard about the final hours of the time she spent in the eastern lands. The memories of that time were still painful, for she was there to witness the death of Deanola and the dark elf Gatekeeper. She felt the pang of grief in her chest, it was terrible to lose Deanola who had become a friend, but even more terrible to Nar’Allia was the loss of the Gatekeeper for the dark elf Gatekeeper was also her stepmother, Minervar. Both had fallen over the edge of the great rend in the surface of the world an
d plunged into the Rift. Nar’Allia had seen them, witnessed their final moments, they had grappled on the edge of the great Rift, a chasm, a gaping wound in the surface of the world where enormous amounts of arcane energy broiled and stirred like the crater of some vast volcano. The T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran relied on the Rift for their twisted and perverted use of the energies within and what she witnessed that day still troubled her greatly. Some sort of foreboding entered her mind, somehow she dreaded what Alonso was about to say, so she stood in readiness. Lo’Rosse sensing her inner turmoil came to stand by her side.
Alonso was still speaking, “the dread elves, the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran, are still a force to be treated with great caution. They wait for a time when they may once again step forth to cause great mischief upon the land. They are driven by the will of the Rift, some ancient curse lies upon that place, some perverted malevolence with a deep desire to destroy the world. The Rift’s will uses the dread elves, it causes them to be the instruments of its desire, much the same perhaps as it once did with the many machines of war and destruction it once controlled. Yet the malevolence within the Rift is patient, it knows that all elves live many years, it has no need to be brash, take unnecessary chances, it awaits a time when once more it can send its emissaries and armies forth to cause havoc and destruction.”
He looked into the faces of those that surrounded him, his gaze fell upon Solin’s. For the first time since Nar’Allia had known the old T’Iea mage she saw her lower her gaze in what looked like a gesture of submission towards Alonso. Nar’Allia was shocked.
Thorandill spoke. “Alonso you speak of the Rift as if it were alive, as if it held malice for our kind?”
Alonso continued. “Our Taekla told stories if the Rift, whether it is the Rift itself or some other evil intent I do not know, but there is a rational, driven intelligence within.”
Lo’Rosse asked, “but what happened to all the machines of destruction, the Rift seems a much more benign force now even though it may harbour some evil intent it does not seem to have the same powers to act?”
Alonso nodded towards Lo’Rosse, to answer your question master elf, “the story goes on to tell of how long ago, shortly after my people had hidden from the machines of war and the Rift’s evil will, people from the skies came in a great ship. A ship so big that it changed day to night, blotted out the sun and stars whilst it remained in the sky above. The sky people protected us from death. They brought the Rift under control and rid the world of the machines of war. They somehow changed the Rift to do this, used the energy within. Many sky people stayed behind. We welcomed them for they aided us greatly, we counted them as friends and much was shared between us. But some were taken by the Rift, changed into an evil race. It is they that have awakened the intelligence within the Rift once again, somehow the dread elves have partially freed it and once more it is exhibiting hate and malice, it is becoming once more a great threat to the world.”
“Who are these sky people of whom you speak.” The question was asked by Lo’Rosse.
Alonso shrugged. “Their identity is lost to us, for all we know they may have left in their great ship of the stars never to return.”
Nar’Allia whispered under her breath, “the Ancient Fathers.”
But before she could say more Alonso shifted about changing his position but still leaning upon the chair. He continued his voice sounding grave. “But there is something else; another force is also present there in our lands. There is another foreign army in the east, one that has also remained hidden for a long time. Long have we lived in the knowledge and suspicion that this other force existed, but what little we experienced of it was friendly and did not seem a threat to us. But now this situation has changed. For now this second army has suddenly become more active. Something has awoken them to action and although they do not attack us out of malice or some hidden purpose, they are also less than friendly than they were. Brief skirmishes have occurred with deaths upon both sides. But the threat is that they remain a much stronger force than we are, I fear it is only a matter of time before they attack in force. Thankfully they seem preoccupied with the dread elves for the time being, they attack them whenever possible with such hatred and malice. But if they were ever to go to war and eradicate the dread elves city and gain access to the Rift, then I feel there is a great danger that they may turn upon us. We feel that this war is imminent and we fear that we may even be caught between the hammer and the anvil.”
Thorandill asked Alonso what the identity of this other army may be, which race, or perhaps races did they comprise?
Alonso, thought for a while, he seemed reticent to answer Thorandill; something clearly troubled his thoughts and prevented him from answering. He looked towards Solin as if seeking permission for something, but she did not return his gaze or acknowledge him in any way. When he finally spoke, it was with a deep regret in the tone of his voice. “They are long ears, elves, those who call themselves T’Iea like yourselves, even like the dread elves but different. They harbour as much malice and hatred as the dread elves but they are not the same, for they do not ally with the dread elves, they are bitter enemies.”
Everyone was shocked to hear such news. None could fathom what this second army of T’Iea represented, there in the east. No one said a word, they just remained deep in thought. Until Thorandill spoke, “I have not heard of any such army being deployed in the eastern lands and certainly I have not witnessed such a force traveling there in my time in the legions. I have spent many years in the borders, the region just to the west of the Tolle’Fornosse’Veetri, never have such a large number of T’Iea passed by on their way into the east.”
Alonso addressed Thorandill directly for the first time, “I do not have an answer for you, but there maybe someone who does. I left something outside, young soldier, a treasured item of a forgotten time. Perhaps you might be so kind as to retrieve it for me?”
Thorandill, stood and nodding his agreement walked out of the room, the assembly heard the outside door open and close once more. Thorandill re-entered, this time he was carrying a rolled piece of rough looking cloth material, tied around with twine. Alonso indicated that Thorandill should place the item in the centre of the table.
“There is something that you left behind in our lands Nar’Allia, for this belongs to you. I return it, reunite it with its rightful owner. I return it for the message it may bring, for such words are for your T’Iea ears alone and not mine.”
Nar’Allia looked hard at the rolled cloth that was now on the table. She looked at Alonso, he nodded and gestured with his head and his eyes that she should take up whatever lay there. She stepped towards the table, she moved her hand forward to grasp the object, but hesitated.
Lo’Rosse said, “would you like me to ….?”
Nar’Allia looked at him she said, “no. I can do it, it’s just …….” But she felt foolish; she thought she knew what she may find in those wrappings. But it was not the item itself that made her hesitate; that was harmless enough in its own right. It was the other capabilities, the other uses to which this item may be used that worried her, although she knew not why she should hold such concerns.
She pulled on the twine holding the wrappings around the length of the package. She slowly unraveled the cloth. Eventually there before her lay something wrapped in a soft silken white material, someone had taken a great deal of care to look after this thing. She knew the shape and feel even through the silken wrapping, she sighed as she did not expect to see this thing again in her lifetime. She untied the silken cords that held the final wrappings. Lo’Rosse remained by her side following her every action intently.
Once the item was unwrapped, Thor leaned in closer and spoke. “That is the old quiver, the one that used to hang above the fireplace in this house. The one no one ever used, apart from you Narny, you took it with you when you left with mother. I had forgotten all about it.”
Thor took up the quiver, no arrows did it carry within. Nar�
�Allia stared at the item as Thor took it up, she recognised the dagger like claws that hung down each side along with the jet black shiny stones that adorned the rim. She knew now that the claws belonged to a bird-like creature that stood much taller than she. A creature that she had seen once on her travels. A meeting she would not like to repeat, for she had only just survived that encounter. The stones she knew to be portal stones, or key stones as they were known by to the race of the Keepers. The jet black shiny mineral was not of this world, it was mined by the Grûndén in other places, places called collectively ‘the voids’. This mineral possessed a strange ability, for these strange stones were able to concentrate a form of arcane energy that could be used somehow to create pathways which could be used as a form of instantaneous travel between different places. A sort of bridge able to bend time and space in infinite ways. The quiver used this bending of time and space to connect to somewhere unknown that could replicate any arrow placed within, this enabled the quiver to refill itself with those arrows.
She had once owned this item. Actually that was not true, no one could own such things, the best anyone could hope for was that they become custodian to such items for as long as that person deemed it right. Such items had been more common once in T’Iea society, heirlooms beyond price, passed down within families, even granted to others when necessary. This particular item had been granted to her family from Serinae the mercenary ranger, Nar’Allia had been given it by her mother Minervar who knew Serinae well. Perhaps this may be the only one left now. A unique reminder of the arts of her people that existed long ago in ages past, a time when they knew such skills.
She thought also of something else that was given by the ranger Serinae, there was a unique war bow that went with this quiver. A beautiful long bow made by the same T’Iea artisans of old. The bow was formed from the ebony coloured wood of some ancient, long forgotten tree that no longer grew in the great wood. She thought again how both the bow and the quiver were the creation of her own kin. Those craftsmen of long ago in ancient ages past, a time when the T’Iea had the knowledge and artistry to create such things. But unlike the quiver there was no chance of recovering the bow. Nar’Allia had lost it. For the first time in many years she was reminded of those events. She had tried to save Minervar from the Rift by extending the long bow down to her, for Minervar hung on a crevice that was too far away for Nar’Allia’s arm to reach. She remembered the look of recognition on Minervar’s face, that look had changed suddenly to one of great sorrow and despair. Nar’Allia had reached down with the long bow, willed her step mother to take the end of the long bow as it wavered there, willed her to grasp that thing, it would have saved her. Nar’Allia was sure she could have saved her; pulled her stepmother to safety. It would not have been difficult. Indeed, to Nar’Allia’s great relief, Minervar had grasped the offered end of the long bow. Nar’Allia again felt that sensation of relief when Minervar’s weight had been felt upon the other end of the long bow and Nar’Allia had realised that she would be able to pull her to safety, that they would be reunited at last.
But Nar’Allia frowned as she remembered the burning sensation that had filled her hand, the hand that held the bow, she tried to keep hold, but something had made her muscles weaken, something had opened her fingers even though she wanted so desperately to keep her hold upon the bow. She had looked into those sorrowful eyes, the eyes of her stepmother and seen there something she never wanted to see again. She pleaded silently, she implored with her own eyes. But she had been forced against every will within her to gently to let go. She saw the pain, saw the despair; she saw the finality of it all. Minervar shook her head as if in disagreement with Nar’Allia’s will. She had watched transfixed as Minervar and the bow fell back from the rock face and down into the Rift. Nar’Allia watched Minervar disappear into the heaving mass of oily substance that made up the visible part of the concentrated arcane energies and forces that the Rift contained. Such anguish Nar’Allia had felt, such painful emotions, her mind and body felt disconnected, she felt unable to do anything. Nar’Allia knew, just knew that in those last moments Minervar had recognised her, the look in those eyes, the sadness that was there, yes, she knew her stepdaughter. Those realisations above everything else fueled the despair, the hopelessness that Nar’Allia still felt even now as she thought about those events of so long ago.
Lo’Rosse touched her elbow, she was brought back from her thoughts once more with a start, she shivered. She looked once more upon the quiver, she knew she should not fear it, or the black long bow for that matter, both had served her well as both had served others before her. Why then did she feel strangely reticent about picking up the quiver? But she knew why, in the past the properties that the item possessed somehow allowed another connection. Nar’Allia knew from experience that the quiver allowed communication across the voids; one person in particular was able to communicate with Nar’Allia through those same properties, the original custodian of the quiver. For the T’Iea ranger, the lady Serinae, had been the original owner of these items. Serinae had spoken, even appeared to Nar’Allia through the connections within the quiver on numerous occasions. Her messages were sometimes a little clumsy perhaps, sometimes informative, sometimes cryptic, but Nar’Allia had gained a sense of Serinae’s nature, the rangers character through those messages. She found she liked Serinae, something about the ranger spoke of T’Iea history, of a past greatness, perhaps even of greatness yet to come. Nar’Allia dearly wished that one day perhaps they should meet, for there was not a grain of malice in Serinae’s character, only love and joy and a single-minded purpose. She was the stuff of legend, of T’Iea honour and values, the very essence of the stories of old.
Never the less, something within Nar’Allia did fear that she may hear Serinae’s voice once more. Not the voice itself, or the persona behind it. What Nar’Allia really feared was what Serinae may have to say. Long had she hoped that Minervar may still be alive, yes, she witnessed her fall with Deanola, they both plunged into the Rift and disappeared from this world, but she did not see them die, not actually die. None knew what was below them in the Rift; none knew what form the arcane energies took apart from Serinae perhaps who seemed to be able to execute some control over it. For in those last days Serinae had appeared as they various battles had raged around them. According to Amndo the Keeper, Serinae had managed to harness a great power from within the Rift, a power that she used to free him and to battle the Dark brethren’s shroud that hid their city from the outside world. Amndo had suspicions that if Serinae had used the Rift as some kind of roadway to link from wherever she was then there was a good chance that Minervar had done the same, even if it was unwittingly.
Nar’Allia was reminded for the first time in ages that this promise was what still gave her hope. Hope that Minervar may yet be alive and like Serinae, unable to be reunited in person with them. But now that she had this quiver once more, some fear stopped her from holding it, what she really feared was if Serinae knew Minervar’s fate, perhaps she would be the harbinger of the news that in fact Minervar was beyond any aid, that all this time of hope was wasted and amounted to nothing. Nar’Allia did not know what would happen if this were proven to be the case.
Nar’Allia was brought out of her thoughts by a gentle pressure on her arm. Her eyes rested upon a hand placed upon her upper arm gently nudging her. She looked up. Thor offered the quiver to her, she looked long and hard at it, but her hands remained by her sides. She looked up at Alonso and she smiled, a tear fell down her cheek, she shook her head slowly, rose and backed away then left the room.
That night in her room Nar’Allia told all of these things to Lo’Rosse, he held her in his arms and whispered into her ear, “I understand your fears. I understand it has been a long time in which you held a hope for Minervar. If that hope was to end, I understand it would be a devastating revelation, a part of you that has been there for so long, wrenched from you with nothing to replace it. He gathered her in his arms, he
stroked her hair, felt the dampness of her tears upon his skin. Then whispered in her ear, “but Narny, have you thought, what if Serinae tells you that in fact Minervar yet lives? It maybe she even knows how to get to her, how to reunite you with her? What if that were the case, could you live with yourself if you found out that Serinae, through your aid, could rescue Minervar and you had delayed that opportunity, even refused to acknowledge it in your ignorance and fear?”