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.