II. Tales from a Nagarathi midwinter's eve....

[Elithmar]

Just read part eleven - wow. But isn't that what I always say?

Just like a Western, with the cavalry coming in at just the right moment. I'll give you American chaps that, Westerns are great!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hYV-JSjpyU

Or it was like the Return of the King with the Rohirrim coming in at just the right time...

Great stuff, just great.

There're a load of cliches in this, but somehow you just make them so much better than they usually are. Like the reinforcements coming in at just the right moment, then the damsel in distress, etc, etc. Thing is, I usually think at a point like that in a usual novel 'the cavalry's going to come...NOW! How boring...' but I never expected it with your writing.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you're an artist, genius, etc, etc. Best writer I've ever read the works of? Probably!

Fantastic, I've come to expect great things from you.

Looking forward to the epiloge.

[Headshot]

Epilogue

Narrin’Tim and Anna’lis stood on either side of Palin’Tanith at the edge of one of the manor’s parapets. Anna’lis had a bandage on her head; a final mark from her encounter with the assassin in the manor battle. Tim was just glad that the Druchii hadn’t used his blade to subdue the girl. But the horrors of the previous night were slowly fading in the late morning spring sunlight. The three stood together silently, enjoying the warmth of the morning, and the quiet….

Yet things weren’t quite finished. The three elves’ attention was fixed on an open-air walkway in front and below them: they could see a half-dozen swordmasters leading the chained, and heavily robed, vampire girl towards the manor gate. The swordsmasters had additional silver manacles at their belts; and two held their blades aloft, steel bared. They weren’t taking any chances with their charge.

“So, it is off to Hoeth with….it?” Tim asked, still not sure what to call the girl-thing. Tanith just grunted.

“It’s probably for the best,” Anna’lis mused. “The loremasters will know what to do with…. Well, at least they will make the decision.”

Tanith grunted again. The two Shadow Warriors watched in silence as the last swordmaster slipped through the door.

“Y’know, I know this is all her fault,” Tim finally said. “I mean her magic did horrible things in the forest. But I kinda feel sorry for her. She just didn’t want to go back to Nagarroth. And to be a slave of the Witchking. I can’t blame her for that.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t try to corrupt the forest by summoning some demon army from the Beyond, now would you?” Anna’lis said with a smirk.

“Sometimes there are more important things than surviving,” Tanith said solemnly. The two younger elves nodded.

The three turned and slowly began walking across the parapet and to the stairs leading below. As they started to climb, Narrin’Tim said,

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Tanith…. How did the Host find us? What are you even doing in Avelorn?”

“I was wondering about that too,” Anna’lis added.

“Well, we got word from the highland Shadow Warriors about a pair of Wardens going missing near Anlec,” Tanith explained as the three climbed the steps. “That’s suspicious enough as is, but any time Anlec is involved….” Tanith finished with a shake of his head. “The prince left a token force to watch for those raider ships we were hunting, and we passed word to the fleets in Tiranoc and Ellyrion. Then we force marched up to Anlec.”

Tanith stopped, and spat out a window. “We found the Warden’s bodies. Looked like Druchii work too….”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and entered a short corridor that ended at a delicately shaped bridge arching between two sections of the manor.

“That explains why you were in eastern Nagarythe. But why did you cross the Annulii?” Anna’lis said curiously.

“Hmmm…well that’s the strange bit,” Tanith answered, while scratching his jaw. “I guess it was what…Three dusks before… We were about to set camp, and the Prince just turns to me and says, ‘We press on, to Avelorn.’” Tanith shook his head. “That was plenty strange, and I was a bit worried about the Prince. It wouldn’t be the first time…. Well, I mean I asked him why, and he just said, ‘We are being called’.”

Tanith was sucking his teeth now. “Well, once we were in Avelorn, the Eagles found us and led us here.”

Tim frowned. “You were being ‘called’? Like in a vision? Is that even possible?”

Tanith shrugged. “I don’t know much about ‘possible’. But it is said, in the old stories, that the Everyqueen could call to her people when she needed….”

And Tanith was staring at Anna’lis with a funny look on his face. Tim’s frowned deepened and he looked at the Saphery mage.

Anna’lis really quickly interjected, “But where did the Chracians come from?”

Tanith laughed, and looked back to the bridge ahead. As if summoned by her words, the three could see the Shadow Lord standing in conference upon the top of the bridge with the Chracian Prince. They slowed to give the lords some privacy.

“Ah that,” Tanith added as they waited. “Nothing much to say. Near Anlec who do we bump into but the Lion Prince himself. Coming to Nagarythe with his retinue and guard to check on his dear baby sister!” He finished with a loud guffaw.

Tim swallowed. Loec is playing with me again! He thought. To survive an assault by a monstrous army from the Great Beyond, only to lose his head to a Chracian axe….

Why me?? He sighed in his thoughts.

The two elf lords finished their discussion and exchanged a forearm grasp; the warrior’s salute of the outer kingdoms. Then the Shadow Lord beckoned, and he and Tanith disappeared across the bridge. Leaving Tim and Anna’lis alone with the Chracian lord and….

Tarabeth! Standing right next to the Chracian prince was Tarabeth, seeming like a tiny doll in braids and pigtails in comparison.

“Anna’lis,” the princess greeted.

“Tarabeth,” Anna’lis responded.

A lot of teeth were being shown. But somehow what had been a nice, balmy spring morning, began to show tinges of frost in the air….

“You must be the Shadow Warrior my sister spoke of,” the Chracian Prince greeted.

Tim swallowed. Think fast Tim! His thoughts urged.

Tim tried to think what he should do. Jumping off the bridge to his death seemed the best option. The Chracian lord was large; taller than even the Shadow Lord. But nowhere near as gaunt. He was broad, and…muscular! The ithilmar mail rippled across his arms and torso, seeming to barely contain the contents. He appeared more of a lion than an elf; what with his long blonde hair loose and in braids, and his pale eyes. He looked down at Tim expectantly.

“Yes, my lord,” Tim answered. What to say next?! “I-“

“What happened to your nose, Shadow Warrior?” the lord asked in a curious voice. There seemed to be a twinkle in his eye.

“I-“

“It was awful,” Tarabeth quickly rushed in. “It was in a game of tolus’fin, Kurnion. You know. That stickball game the Nagarathi love. He got hit square in the face by an opponent’s stick!” She looked at Tim, her eyes bulging a bit. “Isn’t that right, Tim?”

Narrin’Tim took half a heartbeat to reflect on everything he had learned over the prior weeks.. About a warrior’s duty. Resolve. Responsibility. About the lifeways of the forest. About community. About growing up. About life.

And he looked the Chracian prince full in the eye and said,

“Yes, sir. Stick to the face.”

“Ah, well it is a pleasure to finally meet,” Prince Kurnion said, looking very amused. “But come, while my brother… I mean the Shadow Lord, leads the scouts to make sure the last of these monsters has been put to rest, we should pay our respects to Lord Dalyth. He has lost much.” Tim and the two elf maidens followed the prince into the great hall of the manor.

The hall was very different in the morning light. The feasting table had been removed. And in its place, laid out in even rows, lines of soft mats covered by the funeral gossamers. Upon each mat, under each shroud, lay the form of an Asur, cut off before the eternity promised by the compact with Asuryan. The caretakers of the realm everlasting, and of the great mortal design…. had been forced into the beyond. Perhaps to one day see the burning throne with their own eyes….

And in the center, shrouded like the rest, but still recognizable, lay Inira….

To one side of the hall, upon the clanmaster’s seat, sat Lord Dalyth. He had aged. His visage; his eyes…. Here was an elf defeated…. By loss.

Nevernili was also there, standing before him at audience. She was speaking as they entered.

“Lord Dalyth, I cannot help but feel responsible for what has happened to your people,” she said, her voice choking. “If my father….” She stopped.

“The blame is not yours,” Dalyth said. His voice weary. His eyes upon the floor.

“Please, my lord. Yvresse does not abandon its friends!” Nevernili interjected. “I head my house now. And we will send whatever aid that we can to you. I will ask our merchants and captains to come and establish new trade with the people of your clan. And we will send our artisans and craftsmen to assist in the rebuilding of your home!”

“As will I,” Prince Kurnion interjected. “For now at the very least, I will leave a detachment of the warriors of my guard to protect your people’s home, until such a time as your kin have recovered. As a sign of the ancient pact between our two kingdoms.”

“Thank you Prince Kurnion,” Lord Dalyth said graciously, though his heart was gone from his voice.

Tim, looking about the room and seeing the many bodies…. He tried to imagine what that many deaths would mean to his own village at home. Every face would be one well known- a friend; a cousin; a lover…. How could any community survive such loss?

He couldn’t think of anything he could do…. Any expression to show how much he understood the lord’s anguish. Except….

He moved to the floor before the clanseat, and knelt. He presented the white bow.

“Lord Dalyth, I return to you that which is yours. And….and I humbly thank you,” Tim stumbled out. He wished he was good at words as others were.

His head was bowed as he proffered the bow. But as the silence stretched on, he risked a glance upwards. Lord Dalyth was looking at him. His eyes red with weariness and tears.

“I…. I have lost my son,” the Avelornian lord said softly. “And now my daughter. To Druchii cruelty. I have no heirs left. No one to watch grow, and foster children of their own.”

His eyes cleared a bit, and fixed upon Tim. There was anger in them now.

“Keep the bow, Shadow Warrior. Keep the blade! Use them! Use them to kill Druchii!” His voice was soft, but there was a firm undercurrent of conviction in it. “ And I…my heart will know some peace.”

Tim muttered his thanks as he rose. Unsure what to do. He bowed and backed away towards Anna’lis.

“At last,” Dalyth said slowly. “At last…. I think I understand Nagarythe, my young friend. Go. And do not forget the hands who shaped the wood you wield!”

Tim bowed again. While Kurnion continued to confer with the clanmaster, Tim slipped out the side door with Anna’lis and Nevernili. Tarabeth waved at him as he left.

At least I don’t have to worry about her ripping my head off, he thought.

Or do I?! What did that wave mean??

He still wasn’t sure he understood elf maidens. At all.

Anna’lis was talking with Nevernili.

“You are going to return home? To Tor’Yvresse? Will you be Archon now?” she asked.

“That is not up to me,” the young Yvressi answered with a shake of her head. “That is House, and City, politics. But I meant what I said. As head of my house, at least for now, I will do everything I can to help these people!”

Tim nodded. He wished there was something more he could do too. But his people were so poor. Few resources to spare at the best of times. Everyone became used to doing with less. And sharing. That was the Nagarathi way.

“And I think when I get back,” Nevernili continued. “I think I will see about getting more women involved in the house council, and guard…. I think it is about time that Yvresse armed more of its daughters and sisters….”

“I think Inira would like that,” Anna’lis said softly.

Nevernili disappeared to her quarters, and Tim was finally where he had wanted to be all this time: alone with Anna’lis. They stood upon a veranda, overlooking the bodi clearing. A dirty battlefield now, striven with the ruins of war. Yet, he didn’t care right then. He was too busy being relieved to be next to her.

“Anna’lis,” he started, trying to think of what words to use. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” she answered thoughtfully. “I suppose that the Everqueen will send support to the clan. I can’t imagine the Avelornians would abandon their own. But they lost so many people… It will be hard for the clan to survive.”

Tim nodded. “Yes…. But I meant… with you? With us?”

The girl next to him stiffened, and looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Will you-,” he began. “Will you come back to Nagarythe? To the Host?” He needed to say more. “I miss you.”

She was still looking away from him. But she hadn’t moved; they still stood side by side at the railing. Their fingers, almost touching.

“I have responsibilities at the Tower,” she said. “And to…Tiralya. And I must write to the Prince of Caledor and tell him what happened. And…”

“But after that?” Tim said, daring to hope.

“I… I…,” for once she seemed as tongue-tied as him. And she wouldn’t show him her face. “I just need time. To think….. Please….”

The last word was so plaintiff, so full of emotion, that Tim could just begin to understand all that she was feeling. He nodded, and risked lightly touching her fingertips, and said,

“I can wait.”

***

The End





And that's it for me, at least for the foreseeable future. I'm gonna take my very finite hobby time and direct it towards painting, list tinkering, and rolling some dice! Look for me elsewhere in the forum.

But if you will indulge me for a moment, while I muse on the story a bit. I started these tales really to ask a pair of questions. One was to wonder about the transformation of Narrin'Tim. From the kid-elf wetting himself at his first battle, to the scarred veteran, elected youngest ever Shadow Lord. And at this point, I feel like I can kinda see how that is happening. Of the man (elf?) that he is becoming.

The other question was that I wanted to understand the feeling of that first epilogue. That one scene, upon that grey shore, where Tim was cradling the body of the slain Shadow Prince. I wanted to know his feeling a bit better; to wonder what the relationship between the two was. The history. And to feel his pain more poignantly. Anyways, I think I've accomplished a tiny fraction of that. And now I know a bit about the bonds of friendship, camaraderie, and yes, even love, that exists among the Nagarathi.

So what I am saying is that I am happy to leave the story here at this point. Made doubly so by the resurgence of talented pens in this part of the forum! Here is hoping that no cyber-cobwebs will be gathering here any time soon!

Headshot

[Elessehta of Yvresse]

In true Hollywood style, you finish the story but leave it open so it can be continued later on.
My Prince Elessehta will welcome seeing more womenfolk among the councils in Yvresse.

[Elithmar]

Writing is hard enough at the best of times, but getting a good ending, sounding sincere etc., is one of the hardest parts, methinks.

Well done!

“I can wait.”

Tim's better in that area than me then.

[sulannar]

EPIC! Well done Headshot! You've created a story that will easily stand the test of time and also provide a excellent background for your army. I hope to emulate this one day myself. My hat is doffed to you sir!

[Mast Sworder]

Fantastic! Wish I could see you write a bok about this, and sell it to Games workshop for a heftly sum . Good luck painting, and may many victories await you and your shadow army

[Prince of Spires]

Thanks for the great read. I like the few open end that you left, hinting that there is a life for your characters after your story. Great read all round. If ever you decide to write more, then let me know.

Rod

[Anvalous]

I'll offer my appreciation, as well. You're a talented storyteller. Thank you for the tale. Hopefully more will follow!