by Steven Drake
“That’s good to know, but all the same, you could at least share your knowledge. You owe my sister your life.” Zitane then stood and looked meaningfully at Darien’s injury. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere for a few more days at least. Who knows how long it will take that injury to heal. Miri says it could still kill you if she doesn’t continue your treatments. If it takes more than a month or so, you’ll have the winter to contend with.”
Darien arched an eyebrow at the presumptuous elf and his rather pointed though nevertheless correct implication. At the moment, Darien remained frustratingly dependent upon the rare skill of this healer. Without her, it seemed probable that the injury Traiz had dealt him would worsen until it finally claimed his life. Darien remained prepared for that possibility, but now that he had regained his senses, he was determined to find out what happened to Jerris and Nia. He had to know they had survived. After that, perhaps he could simply wander into the wilderness and die.
Chapter 4: The Whims of Fate
Over the next several days, Darien regained his strength. At first, he could only spend a few minutes out of bed before fatigue and vertigo overtook him, but he fought to extend the time with each effort. Mirisa scolded him for pushing so hard, but he paid no attention, as his focus was now turned towards finding a way back to his friends, a task that began with speaking to the faerie queen. If Jerris had found the Star Sword, nothing else would matter.
Summoning the faerie queen without attracting a crowd meant leaving the city, at least temporarily, so it had to wait until he gained the strength to be up for several hours. It also meant finding a sufficient body of water, some distance away from the city, somewhere isolated he could visit at night. He devoted much of his limited endurance to discovering such a place in as discreet a manner as possible.
Darien had learned many tactics to gather intelligence during his training as a Shade, but none were as basic or as unobtrusive as simply listening. He frequently visited the common room of the lodge, which doubled as a sort of saloon, where a few people were usually engaged in conversation. After a few days, he wandered the streets and listened to the conversations of the locals, tedious work, but experience had taught Darien the value of patience. To simply ask someone would have aroused suspicions. He also scouted the city thoroughly, memorizing its physical layout, and learning the daily routine of the city, simple habits that he had learned when training as an assassin.
Exire could scarcely be called a city, it barely qualified as a town, but it at least had walls of a sort, several rows of round logs buried in the earth and pointing upwards, angled slightly outward, each taken from a single tree, and sharpened to a point. The primitive defensive barrier would do little against an experienced military force, and would hardly hinder his comings or goings at all, but it would be effective enough defense against wild animals and bandits, a far more likely threat. The lodge was the largest building in the town, and the only significant structure with multiple floors. A large stable stood just beside the lodge on the eastern side, home to a rather impressive stock of horses for a small town. A well-kept smithy stood to the west of the lodge, manned by a family of dwarves who seemed far too skilled to be living in such a remote location. The tannery near the town’s northern gate was easily the busiest building in town, as fur trapping was one of the town’s principle industries. The butcher shop located next door to the tannery stayed quite busy as well, owing to the several ranchers and a particularly tough breed of local livestock. The locals called them wooly cows, but they appeared more like some smaller variety of the great oxen traditionally kept in the Red Mountains. The town had most of the other necessities as well, a granary, an apothecary, a tailor, a windmill, and even a school where children were taught how to read in addition to the more practical skills of hunting, trapping, and fishing. The rest of the buildings were simple log cabins, residences for the town’s inhabitants, and a handful of storerooms, all made of simple dark wood, likely from some sort of evergreen tree this far north, a few of which dotted the valley where Exire lay. Darien guessed the town’s population numbered no more than about a thousand, perhaps fewer, most of whom were unremarkable and untalented, but toughened by living in remote and difficult conditions.
Darien overheard many conversations, though he had to be careful, as the locals were a suspicious and cautious lot, and most of them viewed a strange outsider with appropriate suspicion. Darien heard mostly useless chatter, just mundane talk of daily routines, their work and the weather, an occasional piece of gossip. From that, Darien gathered that the people here seemed to rely mostly on hunting and trapping, activities that took place year-round. Farming remained a secondary concern during the short growing season, though from what Darien heard, it seemed to have been more productive lately, with several years of bountiful harvests. The farms spread out several miles around the town, many of them recent additions corresponding to the town’s recent growth. A family of dwarves closely related to the town smith had built a mine higher on the southern slope of the mountain, some thirty miles distant. These dwarves had come from a larger settlement on the far western slope where several hundred dwarves had established a mining town a half century prior.
Perhaps most importantly, Darien learned approximately how far he had come from his starting point in the northerly reaches of the Burning Lands. Kellan’s earlier estimate of a week now seemed rather optimistic, given the terrain and the absence of roads. Lacking the woodsman’s knowledge of geography, Darien reckoned that the same journey would take him twice as long at least, and depending on the weather, perhaps much longer. Darien faced the inconvenient fact that nobody usually went in the direction he needed to go so he faced a choice of taking a long southern route through the lowlands on the north edge of the Endless Forest, or a direct path across the high north country through broken wilderness, snow covered plateaus, and thick pine forests. Neither option seemed particularly appealing, given his current state.
Though only a few days passed, Darien’s morale rapidly declined. This wound troubled him more than any he had suffered before. He had been injured many times, and always before, he had been able to push through the pain, force himself to go forward. This was different. It seemed to defy all his attempts to banish it. If he pushed the pain away, his vertigo worsened, and he tired all the more quickly. Its presence gnawed at him, a constant distraction that went beyond simple pain. Rather, it seemed to have a life of its own, a presence that lingered like a shadow at the edge of his consciousness, a constant reminder of his failure, a failure that resulted in Rana’s death. Darien’s doubts multiplied, and his expectations dropped to simply finding a way to speak to the faerie queen. Any hope beyond that had dimmed.
Fortune favored Darien on the sixth day after his first ill-fated attempt at leaving his bed. He had taken a familiar spot at the edge of the lodge’s common room, a place where he could see and hear most of the room, when he overheard a conversation mentioning a spring several miles west of town and some way up the mountain. Though still weak, Darien wanted answers. He needed to know what had happened to the only two people he had in the world to care about. If they had survived, if they had found the Star Sword, then his own fate would mean far less.
He had all but decided he would not last long in his weakened state, nor could he long remain in Exire. Sooner or later, his enemies would find him, and he could not risk them gaining the Demon’s Blade, or perhaps worse, someone in town taking it and being possessed by it. In the end, it would be easier to simply leave, wander into the north where no one would look, hide the Demon’s Blade, and quietly die in peace. This momentary recovery ultimately changed nothing.
Darien waited until night fell, and snuck out. He took his time, careful not to overexert himself and risk a collapse. It was a slow, arduous hike in his condition, but the solitude and the cool night air invigorated him. Despite his aching muscles, he enjoyed the trek up, glad to be doing anything, and glad to be alone. He kept his mind focus
ed on taking each step, one at a time, a welcome distraction from his constant worry for Jerris and Niarie.
Around midnight, Darien finally reached the springs. The water bubbled out the sides of cliff face and dripped down into a circular bowl in the rock some ten yards wide, not a large volume of water, but hopefully, it would be enough. Fir trees huddled together close about the edges of the water, sheltering the pond from wind, except for a break where the path led to the water’s edge. The Leaning Mountain towered over his head, a looming figure above him, its presence cast a moon shadow across the pool. Thick and pleasantly warm fog hung over the water, blurring the cliff face and carrying the thick evergreen scent of the fir trees to his nostrils.
Darien walked into the fog, up to the water’s edge, and called out to the waters. “Spirits of the water. I know you watch me. I seek audience with your queen, Lucca.” He said nothing else, sat down cross legged, and waited patiently.
Perhaps an hour passed before he felt the fog stir around him and the faint tingle of magic power drawing close. He stood as a white light rose out of the water. Within a few seconds, the faerie queen appeared. Her bright white membranous wings stretched out nearly across the breadth of the pool, and reflected in the fog, filling the space with a warm white glow. She strode gracefully towards him, her sheer white dress flowing gently across her legs, barely shifting at all, her feet making nary a ripple in the still water. She stood before him and gazed downwards out of sparkling silvery eyes.
“Ah, Darien. Greetings. You are a long way from where you began, it seems. You wished to speak with me?” Lucca smiled warmly, but Darien was in no mood for pleasantries.
“I have questions,” Darien said curtly.
“Of course, why else would you wish to speak? You are always full of questions,” Lucca said. “What would you ask?”
Darien relaxed, took a deep breath, and cleared his mind, resolving not to show his temper, at least not yet. “My first and most important question is this. What happened to Jerris and Nia? Are they safe?”
Lucca smiled. “Your first thoughts are of your companions. This is good. Know that they are alive and well, and that Jerris has honored his promise to you. He believes you dead, and does not follow. He found the Star Blade, but it is Nia who was chosen.”
Darien sighed, letting the relief wash over him. At least his failure had not cost them their lives as well. A moment later, a question appeared in his mind. “Chosen?” He blurted out the question without much thought. “What does that mean?”
“Like the Demon’s Blade, the Star Blade must bind with its wielder, but unlike yours, it will reject those it disapproves.”
“Then it chose Niarie? But why?”
“Who knows? Perhaps she had the greater talent, or the purer heart. Perhaps because she is a member of the Golden Shield, who possessed the blade before.” Darien took a few moments to think. He had assumed that anyone could take the sword, but perhaps not. It didn’t matter now. Jerris and Nia would remain together, and Jerris already had the Staff of Kings. This way, they would both have formidable weapons against their enemies.
The faerie queen waited patiently, hands clasped in front of her, a pleasant smile on her face. Darien steeled himself for a confrontation, perhaps the last he would ever have. Now that he was satisfied Nia and Jerris were safe, he could ask the one question that bothered him more than anything else.
“Did you know?” He stared directly into Lucca’s flickering eyes. “Did you know Rana would die?”
“Of course I did. That is the nature of mortals, is it not, to live and to die? Everyone dies after all, me, you, Jerris, Nia, everyone. Prophecies are not very useful when they tell us what we already know.”
“Damn you, using my own words! Is everyone watching me?”
“Those who can, yes. Wherever the water flows, we watch, and there is nothing in Kadanar that I cannot see.”
“I should not be surprised by that, I suppose,” Darien said. “How long have you had the elves under your thumb? The Greatmother said they regard you as gods.”
“The elves of Kadanar have ever been our allies. We aid one another. If they heed our wisdom, and embrace our vision for the future, that is their choice.” Lucca’s lips flattened and thinned, adopting a more disapproving expression. “As for the children of fire, whom you call dragons, they do not see the world as we do. They have long memories, but narrow vision for the future. Rather than aid the Goddess, they struggle against her, against fate, against the inevitable. You admire them, because they, like you, think they alone decide the future.”
“I don’t give a damn about your future, and I don’t care about your Goddess. I admire the dragons because they at least try!” Darien thundered. “I don’t want your prophecies. All I want from you is a straight answer. Why didn’t you tell Rana she was in danger? Why did you let her die instead of me? I was ready. I was prepared. Why did you trade her life for mine?”
“Do you really believe it was my choice? Had I told her what might happen, had I shared all that I saw, you think she would have let you die?”
“If you had told her she would die, then maybe…” The faerie queen changed in an instant. Her power flared like a fire suddenly reaching fresh kindling. She beat her wings, and the force of the wind nearly knocked Darien over. He took a step back.
“No, you are wrong, Darien the Executioner. She loved you, and she would have followed you even knowing she would meet her end. That is the nature of love, which you so thoroughly fail to understand. To steer her away from that course, I would have been forced to lie to her, to take her choice away. If I had done that, if I had given you what you think you want, perhaps she would be here instead of you, cursing me for letting you die, doomed to the same fate worse than death that you now dread.”
“You mean she would have taken the Demon’s Blade?” Darien asked, his earlier resolve wavering.
Lucca nodded slowly but firmly. “Nothing is ever completely certain, but I foresaw that she might have taken your burden and lost more than her life. Instead, I let her make her own choice, and I honor that choice now.” Darien took a step back and Lucca smiled again. “What truly angers you, is that I did not tell you, that I took the choice from you. You imagine that you would have been able to stop it, made different choices.”
“Of course I would have made different choices. I would never have let her go near that place.”
“And what then? Who could have slain the demon had you perished? What damage might it have wrought? True, you might have saved Rana’s life, but at the cost of how many others. How am I to weigh one life against another? Is extending Rana’s life worth ending someone else’s? If so, who, and how many? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? I do not doubt you would gladly trade your own life, since you place so little value upon it, but would you trade Jerris or Niarie? Are you really so arrogant to blithely decide on the life and death of others? Would you do the very thing that fuels your hatred for me? I allowed Rana to make her own choice, and she chose to follow you. Even had she known what would happen, I believe she would have done the same.”
Darien stood silently, rooted to the ground, anger etched into his face. He felt a sudden chill curl around him, and a dull throbbing ache from his wound, but the worst hurt was not physical. The most terrible pain came from knowing that Lucca was right, every word was true. No matter how he raged against it, he could not deny the truth of her words. Darien fell to his knees and pounded the hard, gravelly ground with his fist.
“I ruined her life. I killed her family. I denied her vengeance. Then, worse yet, I rejected her affections, and led her to her death. She died for a love I would never return. If only I could have made her understand.”
“She did understand,” Lucca added. “She sought counsel from Maya before you left Ashpyre, and Maya told her what she already knew, that you would never be able to love her. She followed you anyway, because love is not possession. It is not having the thing you desire, but rather
being willing to let go. It is not found in the intensity of one’s own feelings for another, rather it is found in the willingness to sacrifice for the sake of another without regard for your own desires.”
“Sacrifice? I would have made the sacrifice.”
“No.” Lucca’s voice dropped to a thunderous booming, and she beat her wings again. Even on his knees, Darien nearly fell backwards. The wound pulsed with a pain again, and his vision blurred. “Darien the Executioner, heed my words. The truth is that you wish for death and regret that you survived, so much that you are blind to everything else. Even if your salvation was right before your eyes, you could not see it. You see only death, and death is no sacrifice for you, because you place no value upon your life. In order for a sacrifice to be meaningful, it must be freely given by one who understands the worth of what they give. Rana understood this, and died out of love for you, just as your mother did. How many more will it take before you understand?”
Darien’s rage rose up, his calm, fierce exterior broke, and he screamed at Lucca like a hurt child. “Dammit, damn you, and damn everything! I never asked for them to do it. Why should others die for me? Even as a child, I was always starting fights. My mother died for my crime. I failed to see Traiz’s treachery until it was too late, and Rana paid the price. The fault was mine! The responsibility was mine! I should have died, and instead others died in my place. I don’t want anyone else dying for me. I’m not worth it.”
Darien looked up to see Lucca’s face frozen calm. He couldn’t tell whether her expression showed pity or scorn, or both at once. He squinted his eyes tightly to prevent the tears from falling, violently holding his sorrow at bay.