The short goodbye

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all. They defeated the witch, but lost a companion during the battle.

Seymuhr and Broo Fang Tane scraped a depression into the rough ground near the top of the valley. Tane and I arranged Merrick in the grave, taking great care to be as gentle as possible. His face was serene; once the pain of his death had passed his body had accepted its end with what looked like a combination of grace and humor. He might have just been having a pleasant dream or remembering a funny moment.

Tane swayed fluidly over his still form, his arms and legs moving on intricate, soothing patterns. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely lyrical and I took it to be a kind of prayer known to the Order of Optimists. Behind us, Baram stood, her head lowered respectfully. Seymuhr was hauling rocks of various sizes up to Merrick's final resting place. Many were small, the size of his fists, but others were large enough to sink into the ground when he dropped them. He moved them all without apparent exertion. When Tane finished his ritual, he nodded at Seymuhr, who moved the stones in place, larger ones at the base and smaller ones on top, to finish the cairn. I considered leaving his staff to further mark it, but decided instead to plunge the dried witchwood dagger into the mound.

Everyone looked at me.

I cleared my throat. "I scarcely knew Merrick," I started, "but liked what I knew of him. He was noble and pure, wise and strong. He was a force for good and a light, now extinguished, that will make Korin a bit darker."

Seymuhr grunted. Tane nodded.

"I will tend this spot and see that all that grows nearby honors his memory," Baram said.

We stood awkwardly for a few more moments. I felt my eyes fill with tears. My mind kept leaping toward the future; I was filled with uncertainty about our next course of action. I felt small, cast upon a violent wind like a dried leaf. The queen, I decided, must know of his loss. I reached into my tunic and pulled out my Traveling Stone, a bright green chip of rock worn smooth through countless years of use. It was thinner now than when it had first been gifted to me, but still mildly warm to the touch. I rubbed it gently, cradling it with my first two fingers and rubbing the other side with my thumb, and felt the magic come alive.

"Farewell," I said to Baram. "May we meet some day under better skies."

Then I joined hands with Tane and Seymuhr, closed my eyes, concentrated on the great city and whispered: "Veral Ski."

There was a moment of stillness, followed by a tingling in my core. A wind came up and the ground, the forest, the rocks and the valley was no more.

The witch's end

Previously: Freelance historian Esmiralda and her companions--Merrick, a member of the Ministry of Human Preservation (MOHP), Broo-Fang Tane, an Optimist Monk, and Seymuhr, a brutish but somewhat dim-witted warrior called the Skullsquasher, have fought their way into the lair of the mountain witch to uproot her evil, once and for all...

"Bones of Barnok," I gasped. I felt like a newly finished suit of armor: exterior still stinging from the blows of countless hammers, hollow inside. I saw Baram's hand above me, reaching out, and I reluctantly grasped it and felt her pull me to my feet.

"I am sorry," she said. "She stole my husband and I believed her lies."

"I was there when we freed him, remember?" I poked my shoulder, arm, belly--I was tender everywhere. Broo Fang Tane crouched over Merrick's form; he had not yet regained his feet. Seymuhr looked mostly unharmed. He was covered in gore to his elbows, but had a smile on his face. He saluted me with a dripping mace.

"No. You weren't. At least not then. That unfortunate soul belonged to another. My betrothed was here, in this chamber, chained behind that witch." She looked over to the dark place where nothing stirred. "I sensed something, either in you or your companions--I could not tell which--and I knew I had to bring you here to stop her. I know not why she wanted you here."

"Glad to be of service," I muttered and turned away, Tane was motioning to me and Merrick was still on the ground. Concern was etched into the monk's face.

Merrick was red-faced and wheezing. I could see no mark on him, yet blood seeped from the corner of his mouth and, even more alarmingly, his ears. He blinked rapidly and his eyes were wild.

"Mira," he gasped. "We have pulled the root of this evil, but scattered the seeds."

"Rest, friend," I said, stopping to hold his hand. It was cold. "She is no more. We are done here."

He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. "I am," he said, "but I fear you are not."

"Don't talk like that. The danger has passed, for now. The witch is vanquished, dead and gone; banished to Ewl's dark domain. Where is your wound?"

He didn't answer. He looked up at Tane, whose tender expression was somehow more alarming than anything else. He moved his head toward Seymuhr, who was poking the grisly remnants of the dead witch with a gore-splattered boot. "Reach into my pocket," he rasped.

I did, and felt his leg quivering. My hand closed around an object, smaller than my palm and round, but with a point sticking out on either side near the top. I pulled it out. It was a small metal carving shaped like a round shield with a sword crossed near the top--the symbol of the Ministry of Human Preservation. He folded my fingers around it.

"This is yours now, as is the fight. Go to the queen. Show it to her and, and, tell my tale."

"Stop this," I insisted, my voice thick with sudden grief. "You'll tell her yourself. I am no fighter; I am a storyteller. I am not equipped...."

He went to poke me on my cheek, but spasmed and nearly put out my eye instead. "You are stronger than you know. Only you can do this." Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheek, where they mingled with the blood and turned into pink smears. "You are bound n..." Then a sudden pain jerked him half upright. His eyes squeezed tight and his lips drew back in a final grimace. He went slack with a great sigh.

"A good death," Seymuhr said. He nodded in approval as he snacked on one of his remaining dried spider legs. "We should all be so lucky."

"I'm going to miss him," Tane added. "He was like a...shade...tree...to me."

"I fear we will all walk in his shadow from now on," I said. I gently lowered him to the cavern floor and pushed myself to my feet. I crossed his arms his chest and closed his eyes. His staff, I picked up. "What to do with him now?"

"If you'll allow me," Baram spoke quietly, her head tilted in a sign of respect, "I would give him back to the land. It is a service I would gladly perform to make up for my deception. His form would nurture Korin as much as his soul sought to protect it."

"That would be......................................................................................................................good," Tane agreed finally.

Semuhr lifted Merrick and we headed toward the open air.