A Knight's Rest

[Aedon Durreah]

The night’s air blew against his face bringing with it the crisp feel of autumn. Aedon had always loved this time of year. All through the glade the scent of kindled fireplaces and campfires set to not only keep away the chill, but also to stir the imaginations of those gathered close to their flames. As he walked towards the Rest Aedon took his time and enjoyed the nearness of the woods he loved so dearly.

He had just left Izzy back at Connemara, and was heading to the Tavern in the Glade of Aegis to clean it a bit, and see to it things were set for the next few days. It always seemed that there was some ale or wine in need of stocking these days, and of course fresh food must be arranged for. He enjoyed doing his work in the evenings. There was a calmness, a sense of peace that seemed to emanate from the ground, and a familiarity that seemed to call him, beckoning him home as it had for so many years now.

He had for a split second considered putting off his work till morning, and spending the night in the comfort of his home with Izznet. He had been enjoying hearing her tales of all the things new and old she came across. The joy she felt with each new discovery thrilled him, and set him mind to wondering about the woman she would become. But it was a small task to tend, and then he would hurry home and share time near the hearthside with her.

Arriving at the Rest, he pulled out some of the things he needed to stock. Before setting to his task, he unstrapped his sword, and laid it across the counter, as he so often did. It is not that he was uncomfortable wearing it. In fact, after so many years he almost felt naked without the scabbard strapped to him.

He had just finished filling the ale cabinet when he heard the sound of the door opening. As he turned towards the entrance he called out;

“Sorry, but we are closed for the night.”

The figure at the door spoke no words, but instead slowly moved towards where Aedon stood.

“why are you hear, what do you want now? Aedon yelled at the all too familiar face.

He knew this person well, but a sudden cold chill gripped his heart, and he turned towards the bar, trying to reach his sword. The feel of some heavy object crashing down on his skull stopped him dead in his tracks. As darkness took him his last thoughts were of Izznet. And through the pain and blood, he smiled even as the figure laughed as he watched Aedon crumble to the ground, and lie still.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

When John arrived at the Rest the doors stood open still. From within the building an odd, pungent scent wafted out. John has smelled this sort of odor many times in the past. From the hill near the pavilion overlooking the field of battle the stench of burning flesh was easy to recognize. Running up the stairs he entered the building, and then quickly stepped back onto the porch. His eyes wide in disbelief, he struggled to come to grips with the site that met his gaze.

On the floor, before the bar lay the body of a man dressed in black slacks and a light shirt. And though his face had been burned away by the use of some chemical, John recognized the height, coloring and other aspects as those belonging to Aedon. On the bar just past the remains Aedon’s sword, still fully sheathed laid.

Going behind the bar, John pulled out a few towels and using them, covered the face of his old friend. He had on many occasions done the same such thing to show some respect for the fallen as they lay in the infirmaries. But this time it was altogether different, and as he worked to see that the entire head and chest area was covered, the smith cried silently.

Standing, he looked towards the bar. To the side of the word a letter had been placed on the counter, with a jagged dagger driven through it. He was not sure if he should touch the note, did not want to read the words that may be scrawled on the paper. But curiosity got the better of him, and he moved closer, and looked down onto the page.

Aegis

You and your soft useless residents have been warned time and again and yet you never listened. So I’ve taken something that you think you needed. The old fool seemed to think he was invincible. Guess this proves he had a little sense as Aegis has guts. This is just the first of many more to come.
A.

It was hard enough to lose his lifelong friend so suddenly. But it was terrifying to think that there was someone out there that hated Yew so much that they would do such a thing. Looking down towards where Aedon lay on the floor of the Tavern he had tended so long, John said a silent prayer, and then went out to look for Llyrwech. The body should be removed before anyone else came across it, and Llyr would wish to tend to his brother personally.

Walking outside, he closed, and locked the doors to the Knights Rest.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Cleaning up the Rest was a grim task, but Llyrwech wished to see to it personally. Working methodically, he could feel a connection to the man who for so long he had followed with devotion. Aedon was not just Llyr’s brother, but his liege and more importantly, his friend.

He recalled the numerous times he had cautioned Aedon against working alone, and unarmed late at night. It was clear that his younger brother had made many enemies over his long term as Guardian and Protector of Aegis. One does not live so long a live without stepping on many toes.

As the sun rose, he and John had taken the body form the tavern, and laid it to rest alongside the pond. This was something he knew that Aedon would wish. No marker would be placed over the simple grave. His brother believed that you leave as small a footprint on the world as possible. In time grass would grow over the mound, and a small tree would be planted.

He had long known and dreaded that such a day would come. And though he had foreseen such an event, the senseless violence which marked Aedon’s passing was something that plagued his thoughts. Aedon had been bred for war, his life should have ended in glorious battle, not on the floorboards of a tavern. Perhaps this was some sort of karma at play, or a cruel joke of nature acted out to offer little meaning to a life spent in service to others.

After he finished cleaning and restoring the floor, and stowing the tools into the nearby closet, Llyr stood and looked towards the bar to where Aedon’s sword still lay. Walking over, he first drew the dagger out of the note nearby. Reading it once more, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. Then carefully picking up his brother’s weapon, he held it close against his body. Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer in Gaelic.

Heading out the door, Llyr paused a moment as he thought of again locking the tavern doors. He knew though that Aedon would wish the Tavern to remain open. To close it now would only signify some measure of fear following the death of the Keeper of the Glade. Leaving the doors unlocked, he looked down at the sword in his hands and sighed deeply.

“I suppose it is time to send for the Knight Protector of Aegis, and then, tell Izznet what has happened.”

As Llyrwech stepped onto the well-worn path which led from the Knights Rest to Connemara A shadowy figure watched him from the tree line. And seeing the pain on the man’s face, laughed.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Sitting alone in a darkened corner of the Shattered Skull the man sought to pull himself further into the shadows, as he used a dagger to slice off pieces of an apple. His eyes focused on the task at hand, as all the while his hands trembled slightly. It had not been that many hours since he stood above the body of the man he had attacked in the Knights Rest and watched with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion as he poured the solution over the victim’s face, and watched as skin and tissue melted away leaving spots where the bare bones of the skull showed through. He had never seen such a thing in his life, and even though parts of his actions sickened him, he could not bring himself to look away from the horror that lay at his feet.

Slowly paring off a slice of apple, he popped it into his mouth savoring the tartness of the juices which ran down his throat. He had tried his best to forget what he had seen. Too him it had been nothing personal, just a job and one that paid well to boot. And these days he needed the gold to continue on with his matters of more concern to him than a dead tavern keeper.

He knew that one day he would forget the sound of the bones in the man’s head fracturing as he hit him from behind. He would be able to push aside the sight and smell of flesh being burned away. But somehow he would always come back to the last thing he saw before exiting the tavern.

He had done as he was told. The tavern keeper was dead, and the note given him by his employer was left where it would easily be found. But as he turned to leave, and took one last look at the figure lying face up on the floor he gave met the gaze of the single, now cloudy green eye staring blankly at the ceiling. For a moment he jumped, and his heart raced within his chest. It was almost as though he was looking at him, accusing him and laying a mark on his soul that would follow him the rest of his life.

Shaking a bit, the man thrust the tip of his dagger into the wood of the table. If only he had stabbed out that eye and put an end to his accusing glare. Standing, he tossed a few coins on the table, and pulling his hood up over his face, headed out into the night.

He did not know that man, and what did the life of one barkeep matter when weighed against the cold reality of gold?

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Oh dark the day that bids me news of thee.

My soul crumbles and my heartbeat is nothing more than a hollow echo.

Take me to my beloved on the wings of air and sun,

But lo, I am undone without your gentle presence.

Returning from their voyage, where she regained her mortality, had been an exciting adventure in freshness and life. She was able to feel things deeper than she had ever been able. Her nature made her a sensual being, and finding Life had broadened that ability a thousand fold. Izznet felt deeply, passionately those things around her.

The ability to feel turned out to be a blessing and a curse. He had granted her the gift of a beating heart, a way to redemption and the capacity to love deeply. With the ability to feel good also comes the depth of anguish when that love is stripped away.

The news from Llyrwech had been earth shattering. The bright world around her suddenly became nothing more than shades of dark gray. Trees lost their luster, grass felt like broken glass and the bird’s songs lost their melody. Kneeling at the fresh grave was more like a walking in a dream she could not shake.

After Avalon’s visit the day vanished into a mist. All the things that had happened since she met him rushed back to replay in her mind. He had been imprisoned, beaten, tortured and yet she loved him. Every bump and bruise, she loved him. She had vowed to walk his glade with him. Now …

She found herself lying next to the dirt patch digging her fingers gently into the fresh soil. Whispering softly hoping to find a degree of comfort within the land, her whisper became a song. The dark melody of a long forgotten culture that she once knew became her prayer and her anthem.

It was a song to Elistraee, her chosen deity. In her darkness she would not forsake what she had promised. Would he see or hear her? She would never know. Gently caressing the silk tie around her wrist she sat next to his grave, her heartbeat echoing a distant lullaby in her ears. She had been alone far too long, but the familiar loneliness wrapped around her like a blanket.

The gentle flap of the Watcher’s wings added an element of real to the deep sorrow. Avalon’s low voice added to the song that rose in the dark of night as they mourned together the loss of lover and friend. The morrow, Izznet would dance.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Stepping into the ring began as a familiar exercise of devotion. The moon was quiet hanging in the sky as if it too was mourning. With each step the blanket of sorrow drew in closer.

She was thankful none had joined her. Hun’ep had insisted on remaining at The Knight’s Rest in case something was needed. Avalon was not seen, but there was a high degree of certainty she was close. This was a time Izznet held to offer her sacrifice of broken spirit to her deity.

Another step around the circle and the depth of loneliness became overwhelming. The void in her heart left by a senseless act of violence held a vice grip around her throat. Collapsing to her knees she released a howling mournful cry. Releasing the full depth of her agony to the silent moon felt futile and empty.

Folded into a heap on the ground her tears fed the grass beneath her. The cold breeze that cut along her exposed skin was barely felt. When the Watcher landed softly next to her, Izznet was still in a slumped position unable to move. Gently Avalon picked up her charge and returned her to the clinic.

Feeding her some tea and broth, Avalon ensured Izznet was safe and covered. A heavy sigh loaded with quiet prayers was released into the night’s sky.

“Please, for her sake, find the source of all this pain.”

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Kneeling on the roof of Connemara, Izznet waited to feel the wind on her face before speaking.

“To the Great Winds that guide the waves and hold the birds in your embrace, I beseech you, have mercy on me for the words I must speak.”

Taking a moment to regain control of her emotions, she stared out to the ocean feeling the salt air fill her lungs.

“Aedon is dead, Nemira. As guardian mother, you most likely knew already. I do not wish this to be an assumption that would be wrong, so I offered to speak these things to the winds.

Perhaps it is more for me than to inform you. It does not seem possible, yet all that was spoken to me seems to prove he is no longer here. My heart is in pieces and my mind in a fog as to understand all that has been spoken. Perhaps you know better than I what this means.

Forgive my boldness, but know my heart. If you desire to answer me, I will be easy to find.”

Resting her forehead to the ground, she continued to kneel. A heavy sigh kissed the earth as her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Avalon bent down to her Charge shaking her gently. The cool night air combined with the damp sea breezes had left a thin film across Izznet's hair and body. It was obvious she was having trouble moving, too long in one position. Avalon was not about to allow her Charge to simply fade into oblivion.

"Izznet! Wake thee. Tis time to awake and meet this foe with clear head, at least an angry one. Your duty to family is complete, now address the duty to yourself and to the one you Claim to love!"

"What do I do, Avalon? I do not know what happened."

"You know Enough! You smelled the vile potion, you Know what it is. You have used it before. Remember, you Must remember."

"But..."

Avalon took Izznet by both shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. The teeth in her head rattled and the stiff joints screamed in pain. The action had its desired effect. Izznet struck the rock with both fists.

"Good! You are angry. Now focus that rage on the proper matter. Think and remember. Who would want to harm Yew in such a dramatic fashion?"

Setting Izznet gently back on the ground Avalon stepped away to allow Izznet room to collect herself.

"I must speak to Rowan and James," Izznet seethed at the Watcher.

A slight nod before the Watcher took to the sky was the last she needed to set into action the plans to find Aedon's killer.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Moving from town to town the man found that he was unable to run away from what he had done. The money that he had received in payment seemed to weigh him down, and no amount of whisky he drank seemed to dull the memories. He had been a drifter for some time now. Estranged from his family and searching for the one that had some years in the past turned his life upside down and sent him spiraling down into madness and despair.

He had taken the job for one simple reason. He needed the coin to continue his own hunt. The employer had assured him of the nature of the target, claiming him to be a cruel person who dominated the local town folk, often slaughtering one of them in the town square to keep the others in line. He would be doing the area a favor by eliminating this human blight. The sealed letter he never opened, but left it on the bar as a testament to the locals that they were now free. But as he hid in the shadows and watched the pain displayed by those who clearly loved this man he began to think that he had been used.

Having moved on now from Skara he wondered if there was any road that could lead him away from what he had done. He had heard rumblings of investigations and theories of who could have committed such a senseless act. Time was not at all on his side, he could only hope that he could finish his task before the law, or perhaps his own client caught up to him.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

“AAAVALONNNN!!”

The slow deliberate scratching of talons to tile floor made Izznet’s impatience bubble into a rolling fury. Waiting for her Watcher was something she had no desire to do. The necessity for sleep had been something all together unexpected. Izznet knew Aedon required rest, but had completely forgotten the negative side effects from lack of sleep.

The irrational irritability was making Izznet’s skin crawl. She Had to do something before she began to climb the walls of every building she entered. There had been no clues, no voice of reason, nothing to indicate that Aedon was alive or dead. Her only glimmer of hope had been the mocking voice of Hairy.

“I know where Patch is, but I’m not telling!”

“Fine! He knew where Patch was,” she muttered to herself.

The stunning proclamation made her burst into tears, but she would be damned if she’d show that to the pooka. Irritating little rodent was fortunate she liked him. Ripping off his ears and feeding them to him had entered her mind, but for the sake of Patch and James she bridled her temper.

If she couldn’t find Patch, then maybe looking harder for the assassin would be better use of time, thus the need for the Watcher. Avalon’s skill in speaking to the stones and hearing what the Earth spoke was something Izznet required. Waiting for the Watcher was something Izznet found extremely difficult.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What Took you so long? Oh never mind. I have something I need from you.”

“You wish me to seek the one who perpetrated the violence at The Rest?”

“Please tell me you’ve already been looking,” she said with an exasperated sigh.

“I have, ma’am. I am speaking with the stones. The last place of one who was out of place had been The Shattered Skull. Rather ironic in the choosing of that pub, in light of what happened in our own.”

“On task, Avalon. The Shattered Skull? Will you go there and see if the one returns?”

“Aye, I will. I would dare say they are soon to move along, but I will seek what can be discovered. Wish ye, to return to thee with news or to another?”

“Bring anything you find to me. Any information, or the one responsible.”

“What will you do to the one responsible?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Izznet gave a final glance to her Watcher before waving her hand to dismiss her. Turning on her heel she strode back to Aerlinnbar to sleep in the bed alone. The room was lovely and comfortable, but all she could feel was the cold. Closing her eyes she summoned ideas for more “color” to add to The Rest.

“That’ll bring you back!” Her whisper to the ceiling was her last thought before drifting into a restless sleep.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Spent some time in Mooonglow last night, and it was so full of pies I almost wet myself. Unfortunately, they put em on a high table just outta my reach. A nice lady lifted me up so I could grab some, and seeing that I was so close to the others, I had ta put my paws on them to claim them.

Izzzzznet keeps asking me about Patch, if I know where he is. Well Sure I know where, I took the ship to the guy. Got a nice bag of whisky for my work.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Walking as if in a dream she meandered the halls. The soft padding of her bare feet on tile floors did little to shake the foggy images in her mind. Moving as a puppet on a string she made her way to where the ships bobbed lazily in the surf.

“He said … its gotta be… what else could it be?”

Distant echo in her mind spurred actions a rested and rational mind would have found absurd. Without word to anyone, Izznet slipped out and boarded the Painted Lady. Setting sails to the West she pulled out of the harbor. The last thing she remembered when they voyaged together was setting sail to the west winds.

The winds carried her at their whim. There was no real thinking involved other than to find Aedon. In her trance-like state she drifted into the horizon.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

“How long will you leave him there this time?”

“For as long as it takes.”

“As long as it takes for what.”

“To decide woman, I have to make up my mind as to what to do with him.”

“But, I thought your purpose was clear when you took him from Aegis. Has something happened to change your mind?”

“No, not change my mind. I still know what the plan is, and I intend to follow through. Still, some questions nag at my mind.”

“What questions could possibly trouble the mind of one who professes to always know his course? Has something changed in you, or are you confused as to whether your decision to end his life is the right one?”

“I am not confused Nemira. And, if you will remove yourself from in front of that doorway, I will show you that my resolve has not wavered. His time has come, and this time I will see it is done.”

“If all you wanted was to end his life, why did you intervene in Aegis? The assassin was approaching the Rest, you saw this. All you needed to do was bide your time and the deed would have been done. But just as you did after the battle you swooped in and removed him. And what is with that thing you left behind?”

“It was a duplicate to fool the assassin.”

“Well it is a good thing the assassin was a buffoon as your duplicate did not for a moment fool the pooka.”

“That one is sharp though. Next time, I will take more time and care.”

“Next time?”

“Do not use my words against me, stand aside and allow me to do what I should have done centuries ago.”

Taking a few steps forward, the man stopped suddenly as the being before him shifted, taking on the form of a large swallow tailed kite.

“I will not allow you entrance. And you know as well as I that ending his life here will do nothing to convince the Gathering to readmit you. Aedon was your second crime not your first.”

“Stop talking as though he is life form. He is an experiment gone wild.”

“He is a living being.”

“He is a construct!”

“He is my son and I love him. Perhaps you do not recall what it means to love another?”

Stopping in his path the eld mage regarded the bird for a moment then softened his tone a bit:

“You of all should recall what I know of love.”

Taking a step forward, the large bird shifted again taking the form of a woman clad in white once again. Reaching up, she laid her hand softly on Figol’s cheek saying.

“Do not punish yourself for the past my love. You did what you needed to be done at the time.”

“I could not just stand there and watch you die Nemira.”

“I know, beloved.”

“I chose to turn you into what you are now.”

“Yes, yes, you did; and I have stayed at your side through the centuries.”

“I gave you nothing but heartache.”

“You gave me life, and a son in the only way you could find to do so. And, at your bidding, I have borne him out of battle and death countless times, only to watch as you again sent him to be tested for your amusement and that of the gathering. I cannot now allow you to simply end him as a character in a fairy tale.”

“What would you ask of me then, my love?”

“Give him a bit of light, something soft to rest on, and perhaps a cup of coffee.”

“Hrumph: coffee?”

“It is one of his few pleasures.”

At this the old mage chuckled a bit and took a step backwards.

“So be it. He will have some light, a few comforts and a cup of coffee. But I make you no promises beyond that. Understood?”

"Yes my love," the woman said stepping back and shifting again into the form of a bird.”

No further words were needed. The mage bowed low smiling, and then vanished into the dark. As he did, Nemira spread wider her wings and giving a shrill call, brought the Celtic Tide out of the clouds and to rest on the water’s surface.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Time was meaningless. All thoughts of sight, sound and touch had been pushed from his mind. There was no looking forward to a new day, no change to be seen in the blackness which greeted his sleepless gaze. Aedon had become convinced that this was what the remainder of his life would be; if, indeed he still lived at all. And, where many might have been driven mad at the prospect of such an existence, he greeted his own personal oblivion with all the dignity he could still muster. He would not, could not allow himself to be fully broken this time. In this, his final battle, he would somehow prevail.

He could not bring thoughts of friends and loved ones to mind to comfort him, so thick was the black shroud which enveloped him. The few times he tried to speak or even sing were pointless. The words seemed to be silenced and crushed as they left his lips. So, he amused himself by trying to keep track of the number of times he blinked. It was this concentration which was suddenly broken as the Celtic Tide sat down on the water with a thud tossing him forward onto the floor.

Sitting back up, he looked around and noticed that the edge of the blackness seemed to be getting gobbled up by light drifting through unseen windows. And then the smell of fresh brewed coffee came to his mind. As he looked to the left he could see a small table on which sat a pot of coffee, cups and a plate of cookies. Moving towards the feast, Aedon poured a cup of the brew, grabbed a couple of cookies from the plate-and sitting back enjoyed the first things he had tasted since that night in Aegis.

He was careful not to overdo it. Not only because he feared getting ill from over stuffing himself. But also in the advent that this would be all he would have for a while. Finishing his coffee, he wiped out the cup with the napkin from beneath the cookies, and then slid back to the wall he had been sitting against. To his surprise, his hand touched something soft and warm. Turning to inspect the object at hand, he discovered that a futon and coverlets along with a fluffy pillow were now laid out along the wall.

He did not question from where these items had come, but stretched out on the mattress, pulling the covers over him. Sleep came quickly, along with dreams filled with the sights, sounds and smells of the open seas.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Sing to the Moon to watch and protect

Sing to the heart for the one who is loved

Sing to the sea to return from whence he fled

Sing to the lands to show the footsteps left behind

Sing to me of those things I need to know

Sing to my soul that which carries peace.

The haunting melody rose from the deck of “The Painted Lady” as words from the Watcher pounded in her mind. “You are meant to live the new life given, why waste on such futile efforts?” Of course she was grateful for the fresh start of life, but to abandon the one who helped make that possible was impossible. It was foolish for Avalon to utter words so ridiculous as that.

Life had been stalled on many occasions. Each time others had intervened to force one hand or another. With each encounter had she not felt deeply, waited patiently and done what she was able to solve a problem beyond her control? Why would this be any different? She had been given a glimmer of hope that Aedon was yet alive, and perhaps find-able. There was little chance she would simply move along.

The few who she felt would be of assistance had been notified. There was effort being made, but with so few clues it seemed fruitless. Avalon was seeking the assassin, that remained the best lead.

John had reprimanded Izznet hotly for making mention of anything to anyone. How he would consider her to remain silent was something of a mystery for one who claimed to know her so well. It was obvious he knew her not at all, if that was his thinking.

“You should go about your own life.”

What life? She had Finally found a degree of normal and was on the road to purpose. Why was that so difficult to understand? Perhaps she had worn her welcome and this was their subtle way to shove her along. There would be need of a great deal more than that to make her abandon the one who made her heart beat.

“Sing to let your heartbeat carry on the waves. If he will hear you, then he will know he is missed.” Her prayer was as much to her deity as it was a reminder to herself.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

He awoke feeling rather hungry and quickly remembered the coffee and cookies from the night before. Sliding over to the small table, he was delighted to discover a fresh pot of coffee, the cookies and an assortment of breads, cheeses and fruit as well. After enjoying his meal, Aedon took his cup, and set with his back against the wall looking around the room in which he sat.

Already the shadows, that had once swallowed all, had given way to the shapes and outlines of items often found in a storeroom. Chairs and tables, a few well-worn crates some ropes stacked about. And against the fall wall, a stack of chests bearing a family crest. At first he was unsure of the mark, could not make out the lines of the letters or the shape of any special devise. But as the sun climbed outside, and the light made it’s was way through the windows Aedon could see that it was clearly the crest of his own family.

So, intent was he on trying to figure out how a chest of his house came to be in this place, he was caught unawares as the room shook. It was then that he turned his gaze toward the light and suddenly realized that he was looking through portals of a ship.

“A ship! I am on a ship!”

Turning to scan the far side of the room, he could make out the dim outlines of doors set above a short passage of stairs. Moving up the stairs, he opened the doors and threw them wide to the sides. The sudden glare of the sun assaulted his sight.

The shock of the blinding light sent him spinning to the side, crashing against the chests. Lowering himself to the floor, he shielded his eyes, and waited for the stabbing pain to subside.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

After a time, the stabbing pain in his head was reduced to a dull thrum, and standing, Aedon made his way back up the stairs. Walking through the doorway, he found himself standing on the deck of the Celtic Tide. He wanted to be angry, to shout out and confront the one being he knew could have brought him here and locked him in the vast darkness of the hold. And, though he tried to muster those feelings, he could not think of anything past the glorious beauty of the light of day. Throwing his arms wide, he began dancing wildly around the deck of the ship.

As he approached the bow, he looked up and called out to the large shadow which flew before the Tide, pulling the ship in her wake, “Nemira!”

Then he resumed his dancing and singing with even more zeal. The swallow-tailed kite looked down on the man, and where many may have seen madness, she saw the unbridled joy of the one she had cared for through the many long years of his and her life. With a sudden cry, he charged the rail of the ship, and leapt over into the foaming water.

If a bird could laugh, then surely she did. And releasing the ship, she swooped towards the water’s surface, plucking Aedon out, and depositing him back on the deck of the Tide. He laid on his back a few moments laughing, and enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze blowing across his face and the salty taste of seawater clinging to his lips.

Then sitting up, he regarded the bird for a moment before speaking, “Where is he, and why has he done this to me?”

“Who knows what purpose he finds to the things he does. Still, know that he did have his reasons.”

“He did not speak of them to you?”

“No my son, he did not.”

“Nemira, turn the ship about, take me back home.”

Without looking at him, Nemira gazed into the east for a moment then spoke softly.

“Aedon, you know that is not for me to do; but be content in knowing that I have done my part for you and will keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?”

A voice came from behind Aedon and to his left, “I imagine she means from me, Aedon.”

Turning towards the voice, Aedon watched as Figol seemed to float down onto the deck of the ship. The old mage had not changed much in the years he had known him, and in truth his real years were not to be seen so much as sensed. One could look upon Figol of Athryvald and feel an immense passage of time which seemed to swirl about him. His hair was mostly white, but there was a shimmer about it which had an almost mesmerizing effect to one watching him too closely. He walked erect and with some degree of strength in his step, but to the discerning eye there was a creeping slowness to his gait. His keen grey/blue eyes carried in their gaze a commanding aura. Figol was, all in all, a formidable looking being, and even Aedon knew well it was best not to test his patience.

Taking a step towards the mage Aedon asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“To save your fool life.”

“Save my life?” Aedon replied with a half laugh in his voice. “An interesting way of saving one’s life.”

Raising a hand, to rub the swelling on his head, Aedon said, “Be sure to tell the bruise on my head that one.”

“Yes, and it is a good thing I keep watch over you. The assassin was only moments behind me and you, as usual my progeny, were unarmed and unaware of your surroundings.”

Stammering a bit, Aedon could feel the watchful eyes of Nemira on him as he spoke again. “Fine, and thank you, I suppose. Now, if you will just return me to Aegis and be on your way we can forget any of this ever happened.”

Looking at the younger man for a moment, Figol shook his head saying low. “No Aedon, I will not return you to Aegis.”

“They will come looking for me, you know; they will find this ship and you, and Nemira. Then what will…”

“No one will come Aedon,” Figol said interrupting him. “Do you even know how long you have been gone this time? They ceased any search for you months ago, and their lives have quite returned to normal.”

“Izzy will not let them give up, she will come looking for me.”

“The Drow?”, Figol said half laughing. “She was the first of that lot to pick up and move on. I have kept watch on her lad, and she has been making the festival circuit many times on the arm of a rather handsome fellow. She seemed, quite content to put you in your grave and move on.”

“You are lying! She loves me and will not lose heart. She will…she will look.”

“Really Aedon, do you actually believe this ‘happily ever after’ drivel you spew, or is it that you cannot face the fact that she is better off as she is?”

Moving towards Aedon, and placing his hands on the younger mans shoulders, Figol spoke on, “And if it is not so Aedon, then tell me what good will come of sending you back? Your life is ending, and you will quickly become a burden to her. Would you have her spend her better years tending your failing body, wiping drool from your lips and helping you with even the most mundane of daily functions? No lad, she is better off where she is, and you are where you belong.”

Aedon spoke no more words; but, moving past the mage, went to the rear of the ship; and sitting with his back to the mast, stared off into the east. He knew that out there, just beyond the sight of mortal men lay the dock and quays of Yew. And at the water’s edge stood Connemara. Closing his eyes, he summoned Izzy’s visage to mind and remembered days that were happy and good.

As Figol stood watching Aedon, he felt a flutter of wind behind him, and then the soft touch of a woman’s hand on his arm. Turning, he looked into Nemira’s eyes.

“You lied to him. Why?”

“It is better for him this way, and really better for the Drow woman. He will relax and be ready for what is to come, and she can find herself a more suitable mate and go on with her life.”

“The Drow did come looking for him, you know this well.”

“Yes, and it still amazes me that she went to such lengths. Had I not turned her ship around and sent it drifting back to shore she would have perished in her misguided attempt.”

“I am glad you saved her my love.” Nemira said smiling. “And Aedon, will he live his life now?”

“He will do what must be done, and in time, he will understand it was all for the best. Take the ship to the north west, I think the colder air will do him some good.”

Backing away, the form of the woman gave way to that of the large kite. Flapping her great wings, she rose into the sky and took her place at the ships bow. Looking back, for a moment, she gazed down to where Aedon sat; then turning her face to the northwest, flapped her wings mightily. And, where she went, the Celtic Tide followed.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Lying in bed at Connemara, her eyes closed, as she listened to the night sounds a quiet tear escaped from her eye. The loneliness was heavy as it rested on her heart threatening to crush her. Trying desperately to keep a light spirit was more effort than she could muster. Night time was by far the worst for Izznet.

Focusing on the sound of the waves against the shore the rhythm took on a melody. The melody began to form words as she focused on his smile. Hoping he would be able to hear her voice or feel her love for him was the only thing that kept her from vanishing into the mists.

Before time began was darkness.

At your touch the world became light

The air of winter was warm at your smile and embrace.

How can I see in the death of night? By your smile and grace.

Feel the sun upon your face and know my embrace.

Let the wind blow through your hair and know my fingers long to touch you.

Close your eyes and remember my voice whisper across your cheek.

Know me, feel my heartbeat on the wind.

Look at the East and Know me.

Finishing her tune had chased sleep far from her. She lay in the darkness clutching his pillow. Rolling over to his side she summoned his scent, his voice, the feel of his skin as quiet tears fell.

“Please return to me.” The whisper rested on the night air as she lay willing visions to dance in her memory.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Avalon’s Journal

She stands at the shoreline with a lantern. She sings to the moon and prays in the waking hours. I know her heart breaks with the dawn of each day, yet I am powerless to aid her.

I found her early this day curled by the fireside, there was a cat snuggled against her. They both slept on the floor. She tidies herself with each new morrow in trust that he will return. She is quiet and withdrawn, yet she keeps vigilant watch for any sign of ship.

Her lament is that others speak to her often to ‘live your life’. Perhaps there will be a day her life can resume, this is not yet that day. I as well have wished her to do things, her heart is quite literally not in it.

Perhaps the lantern she hung on the apple tree will draw attention. Only more time will speak to what is yet to be.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Walking to the rear of the old vessel Figol called out several times. “Aedon, Aedon! Where the blast are you Aedon?” As he approached the quarterdeck he finally received an answer to his inquiry.

“I am here.”

Climbing the small flight of stairs, Figol came upon Aedon standing near the rail watching the wake left where the Celtic Tide passed. To the mage it seemed as though this was all that the younger man did since coming out of the hold. No amount of talking or information seemed to shake Aedon’s desire to see him home again. And for Figol, time, and patience were wearing thin.

“You need to give this up Aedon. Pouting like a child will not avail you. I have been more than patient with you lad, but there are more important things to tend to at this time.”

Without turning to look at the eld mage Aedon replied slowly. “And what would you have me believe is more important to me than the life I was trying to lead. Who should matter more to me that my friends and those I love?” Turning suddenly to face Figol he continued. “What have I not yet done to the satisfaction of Figol of Athryvald?”

For a moment Figol stood looking into the younger mans eyes, then he spoke deliberately and with some measure of anger in his voice.

“Loved ones and friends? Have you not listened to a word I have spoken over the past days? You have no loved ones awaiting your return, and as for friends my lad, you have none other than those you may have bought. Other than myself and Nemira you are quite alone in this world. And that is what I need to speak to you about?

“You are an old snake Figol! You had seen for yourself the close bond I shared with Izznet. That is one of the things that has your kacks in a bunch. You cannot forget that I chose to seek some redemption for her.”

“You tossed away a gift more precious than you can imagine Aedon, and for what? A common Drow who could not wait till you were cold in your grave to fill the spot in her bed. I was appalled when you asked me for such a boon and wish now I had refused and let her die. It was wrong of you to even ask such a thing”

“It is a thing you could have and should have been willing to grant me with no conditions. Have I not always followed the paths you laid before me? You are an ingrate and oblivious to my many sacrifices in the name of your research”

Holding his hand up suddenly Figol said in a commanding voice. “Silence pup! Do not force me to forget that I like you.” Relaxing a bit, he went on in a softer voice. “Aedon, there is not time enough for us to spend in pointless arguments. You speak of friends and loved ones? What is Nemira to you?”

Breathing deeply Aedon worked to contain his ire as he answered. “Nemira is everything to me. You know this. Hers is the face from my life that always stands out. I have seen it from my crib as a child, in the clouds passing over me as a youth, and as a gentle calming smile in some of my darkest hours.”

Stepping forward, and laying a hand on Aedon’s shoulder, Figol seemed to look lost in thought for a few moments before continuing to speak. “Change is coming Aedon. I have two times defied the Gathering, and am just before doing so for my last time. This will cost me dearly son, and I will need you to be here for Nemira. So, if you can set aside your hatred of me for a short while, I must ask you to do one last task for me.”

 

[Izznet H'unar]

A note hastily scribed into the “magic book” had been the first real thread of hope Izznet was given since the night Aedon was taken. There was no real reason to trust that the note would find its target, yet she wrote in the book hoping with all her being Aedon would see it and know she was still waiting for him.

Hairy’s words of “find new people” stung. It is not a lack of people, it is the deep connection she sought. People were all around her. How many could she love so fiercely?

“One must love fiercely to die of a broken heart.” The words of her aunt had been used as a chastisement against forming bonds. Those words were beginning to settle into her mind and make more sense with each day he was missing.

She was trying to go about life. Events and festivities had become hollow. She knew her presence sucked the air out of the room, but she was trying to be present. The ability to initiate conversation was simply out of reach.

Watching the Pooka vanish a horrible, chilling thought gripped her mind. What if the note was rejected and Aedon was no longer interested in her? Did he still love her? Would he want to be bothered with her upon his return?

With tears threatening to over flow she held to the tiny hope he would still want her too.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

I don’t understand people sometimes. I don’t understand them most of the time really. But I was willing ta risk myself ta take another message to Patch. Soul-drinker did not take too long ta write what she wanted, and I have ta admit that this time, I read it.

Mush, mush, mush!

Why is it that they have ta get so mushy all the time? She should have written something that made sense like; Help, I’m being held prisoner in a chocolate factory! But no, she had ta get mushy. Then she asked if I’d take it to that ship with the magic man on it. So, I went there and hid under the bench again and watched and waited.

Patch was below at first with the Magic man, and the big bird was sitting on the front rail waiting. When they came up from the hold, Patch looked upset and sort of pale. I am thinking he had a bad supper and it was upsetting his stomach a bit. I figured in time the other two would go to the other side of the ship, and then I could slip him the book like before. Instead they both stayed with Patch talking about someone called Gathering and about how they were mad at Magic Man and Aedon.

Patch musta been a bit tipsy or under the zoogie, he kept calling the bird mom. He was telling the Bird he would not leave her alone no matter what happened. After a bit, the mage said he had things ta do and vanished. The bird then told Patch that everything would be fine, that he just had to do what he had been told. Then she flew off into the sky leaving Patch alone on the deck.

I guess I was not so quiet, and Patched turned towards the bench I was under and called for James. Sliding out from under I stood up and looked at him. Not James, Hairy I told him. Odd thing is, he seemed really glad ta see me. I told him I had the book with me again with a note in it, and handed it to him. After he read what was written, he smiled, and then took out a pen and wrote something onto the pages, then handed it back to me.

I had hardly got the thing tucked away when suddenly magic man showed up again. When he saw me he was livid and started to yell, calling me a blasted pooka and a pest. The bird came down and swooped around trying ta grab me. But I was a bit quick and ducked behind some things. Then the magic man made my hiding places vanish and as I ran towards the rear of the ship he prepared a spell ta hit me with. I heard Patch yell “Hairy, get off the ship!” and turned in time ta see the mage release the spell just as Patch jumped between me and the magic man. Casting a recall spell, the last thing I saw was Patch falling to the deck of the ship, and some woman in white running to him.

When I got ta Aegis I ran into the Innis Free and hid under my bed for most of the day. I guess I should tell James and Soul-drinker about this, but I’m afraid that that mage is on the hunt for me now.

Maybe I should eat the book.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Seeing Hairy made Izznet’s heart catch in her throat, but when James showed up shortly after a flood of relief rested over her. She knew Hairy would have some news from Aedon, but he was always a bit less than anxious to share with her. His regard for her was still questionable, at best. She had been given redemption from her darkness, yet Hairy still saw her as “soul drinker”.

“The message seems to be private.”

It would take a bit of finagling to convince Hairy that she needed to see the book. After agreeing, reluctantly, she opened the pages to the new entry. She tried to hide the joy that flooded her when she saw his words. They spoke of the journey together and allowed a bit of peace into her torment.

When Hairy took out the ribbon she could catch a faint whiff of him. She almost missed it, there were so many other smells around, not the least of bit was Hairy. He claimed the ribbon was his "tip" and had no intention of releasing possession. There was no need to, she got what was needed. Moving with the notion of aroma she pulled a tiny vial from her pocket.

She traveled always with a vial of oil. To her, it were a sacred object used in ceremony and devotion to her deity. It also was used to set space and intention where ever she happened to find herself. It was her personal aroma unique to her, she knew he would recognize it. He had often commented that he enjoyed its fragrance.

Taking a tiny vial of her oil Izznet tipped the bottle before opening it. Running her finger along the lip of the bottle the hint of a fragrance graced her skin. Whispering a single word across the page she drew her signature in her own fragrance.

“’Chev”

Closing her eyes and the book the whispered word was sealed to the page in the oils of magnolia and jasmine. The only way to release the signature was for Aedon to open the book. None other, without specific knowledge of her ward, would even consider seeking it.

Hoping the book found Aedon safely she returned it to the Pooka. It was a risky endeavor but the hope it provided gave her heart a reason to beat.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

The news of the attack on Hairy was unsettling at best. It meant the end of the note exchange. There was absolutely no reason to continue to put either Hairy or Aedon in further danger for the sake of one Drow’s lonely heart.

The words Hairy recited would hold her for a while. They brought a calm and peace that rushed through her like a tidal wave. Openly crying from the relief that had been building over the past weeks made the Pooka uncomfortable, yet there was no other way to express what she felt. He knew she waited for him. That was all she could hope for.

Whatever project he had been recruited to accomplish, she would wait for his return. She looked forward to the day where they would sit by the fire and exchange wild stories of harrowing deeds done.

Closing her eyes she could almost summon his touch to her face. His smile and laugh filled her heart and mind with the waking sun and resting moon. She held his pillow close, trying to fight the cat for a space on the bed.

“Return to me safe and unharmed, remember my name and hear my voice on the winds, ‘chev.”

 

[Aedon Durreah]

It had become a normal part of Aedon’s day to spend most of his time standing on the quarterdeck of the ship gazing into the distance. He longed for a sight other than the blue of the ocean stretching out on all sides. Even a small island would be a welcome sight and possibly serve to renew his hope that one day he would again sit in the garden of Connemara sipping coffee with Izznet while the cats frolicked about. But that vision, that life seemed to be from another time and place now. All that was left was the wide expanse of the open sea.

He had seen Nemira land towards the front of the Celtic Tide, and knew she must have come in response to a call from Figol. Aedon suddenly found himself curious as to what they might be discussing. He did not mean to eavesdrop, but he slowly and quietly made his way towards where the two sat talking. He could not hear what Figol had said but was able to seat himself behind some crates within listening distance as Nemira answered.

“You are pleased then with the way things are going Figol?” Nemira said softly.

“ I am Beloved.” The mage said in response. “He has given me his word that he will go through with this, and that you will never be alone.”

Looking softly at the old mage before her Nemira shifted slowly into the form of a woman, and walked towards him a few steps. “Will you then remove the enchantment you have placed over this vessel?”

“I will not, you have seen what has happened. First that meddling pooka found his way on board, and last eve I had the Drow woman to contend with.”

“I know my dear,” Nemira cooed, “But she saw nothing, and Aedon was never aware of her presence onboard. Much as I regret my part in your doings, all has gone as you have wished. He has given his word Figol. Will you not now show some faith in him and allow things to flow as they will?”

“And what if they come back? How can we trust that he will remain here once he has made contact with that life again?” Shaking his head a bit Figol continued to speak. “It is too risky Nemira and I will not take chances where you are concerned. I have already done too much harm to you as it is.”

Moving to stand in front of Figol, Nemira reached up and caressed his face gently. “You must stop blaming yourself for sins you believe you have committed my love. They have dogged your days and haunted your nights. You did what you could do at the time and I am grateful for gift you gave me.”

Placing a weathered hand over hers the old mage studied her face for a moment then spoke softly and slowly. “What I did was more for me I believe. I could not bear to be without you, to watch you die and do nothing. And yet what I did has condemned you to a life without end, without peace and beyond reach of anything but my heart. And if I must take all that is left from Aedon in the end I will do so to know that when I am gone, you will not need to face your life in solitude.”

“And what of his life my love. You know well my wishes in this matter. He is my son, and I would see him free and happy. Will you not consider my wishes at all and turn away from this path?”

Figol stood silent for a moment as if carefully considering her words before speaking again. “I am sorry Nemira, but in this I, am resolute. He owes you much for all you have done for him. And if not for me he would have been dead and buried several lifetimes ago. He will stay here with you, and you will not be alone. In time, he will forget any life other than this one. With my final gift to him, he will have wonders within his grasp to keep him busy and happy for centuries.”

Slowly drawing her hand away Nemira looked the mage in the eyes saying. “He is his father’s son, and in time his curiosity will lead him to discover all that you have kept hidden from him. And he will hate you and turn away from me. And in the end, all will be for naught for he will be gone and I shall be left to ride the winds alone.” Looking down, Nemira clasped her hands together and said in an imploring tone. “Please my love, drop the enchantment on the ship.”

“And if they return, what will you have me do?”

“Allow him time to say his farewells. He has given his word to you, will you not give him your full faith?” As she spoke these words, Nemira backed away a few steps and again took on the aspect of a large swallow-tailed kite.

Raising his hands, Figol spoke words of power in a slow and steady voice. Then looking at Nemira said. “The enchantment is no more. Let us now hope that your son stays true to his words.”

Bowing her head low Nemira simply said; “Thank you my Dear.” Then flapping her wings, she lifted off the deck and flew off into the west. Figol watched her for a few moments and then whispering words of recall, vanished from the ship.

Walking back to his spot at the rear of the Tide, Aedon poured himself another cup of coffee and looked out towards the horizon. He pondered the words spoken by Figol; “The Drow had been on the ship.” Could Izznet have come looking for him and if so, had the mage done any harm to her or had she just, as he said, found an empty ship floating aimlessly with no sign of life aboard? The more he thought the angrier he became. And in that anger, was born a need for vengeance against this person who had controlled ever thought he had, every breath he took and ever relationship he was ever a part of.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Sitting at the clinic sipping tasteless coffee Izznet spoke in low tones to her Watcher. Her heart was heavy and the weight of her loneliness was troubling to Avalon. There was simply no way to fix the situation until such a time as those who controlled it saw fit to do so.

“Avalon, I found the ship. Its empty. I know there’s a ward over it. I could feel the energy. It is quite obvious someone has no desire for me to ever see Aedon again. What have I done that is so horrible to demand this level of punishment?”

“Lady, it may not be punishment to you. There may be larger forces at play. Perhaps try again. Leave a sign, perhaps it will be answered.”

“A sign?”

“Aye, consider what would be acceptable in House of Drow as offering of peace.”

“Oh! A sign, to the Matriarch! Avalon, you are brilliant.”

Standing as she finished the last of her coffee, tasting the rich brew for the first time in weeks, Izznet steeled herself with a new attitude. She was Drow, but had been in the top world far too long. How could she forget such a basic rule? The Matriarch is the final say.

Preparing the blend of coffee personally she spoke blessings to those who, she hoped, would receive her offering. Hairy had spoken of Magic Man and the Big Bird, that could only mean Figol and Nemira. They obviously required Aedon for some purpose.

Izznet had been given a tarot card reading, one of the things mentioned had been the need to continue with commitments made. This was her act of fulfilling her words to Aedon. She would honor his family.

Her hope was that he would summon her to him, she would drop all to be by his side. The reality seemed to dictate that there were forces outside of them that insisted they be apart. For her, life would move with or without her, but the resolve to wait for him stood strong. She was committed to him, and his family, until such time as he was no longer desiring of her company.

“Find this offering favorably, Matriarch of ‘chev.” Her whisper over the mugs of coffee and short note lingered in the air as she used the recall stone one more time.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

"Keep in mind, Aedon, that the cause and effect of magic usage is an ever-changing constant. Much depends on the degree of the spell and the number of targets it is aimed at, and can range from a mild headache to full incapacitation. Aedon? Aedon, are you listening to me?"

Staring, with a degree of frustration, Figol watched as Aedon stood at the rail of the ship seeming to pay no attention to what he was saying.

"Yes, yes, magic and headaches. I get the gist of what you are trying to tell me. And it would be a lot nicer if you spoke to me as an adult, instead of treating me as some child you need to impart knowledge to, replied Aedon almost sneering."

Watching him for a moment, and seeing the younger man turn his attentions back to watching the horizon the Mage huffed. He was growing more than a little irritated with Aedon’s lack of interest in what he was trying to teach him. Raising his voice, he continued with the lesson. "When you first receive the power, you may find yourself a bit disoriented, perhaps mildly confused. Although in truth where you are concerned Aedon, I doubt anyone would notice the difference."

Anger welling suddenly deep within him, Aedon turned towards the mage and shouted, "You can dispense with the snide remarks any time now. I may need to stand here and listen to you drone on, but that does not mean I will take any more of your verbal abuse. Speak to me as an equal, or not at all."

"Calm yourself Aedon, or are you still that angry about my finding your Drow hidden on my ship?"

"You mean My ship, old man. Do not forget who is master on this vessel."

"For now, whelp, that would be me!" Figol hissed back angrily. "You are endangering all we are working towards by allowing her onboard."

"And tell me Figol, " Aedon replied, "what danger did she pose in her short visits with me?"

"Aedon, you must remain on this ship, and you know this."

"Yes, I know, and she has come and gone many times and I am still here old man." Finishing, Aedon turned towards Nemira a moment, then calming himself, turned to face the mage once more. "Okay, I am calm. Shall we continue?"

Nodding a moment, and collecting his thoughts, Figol continued. "Yes, cause and effect. It is imperative that you do not use magic willy-nilly as many are inclined to do. Misuse of magic can leave the caster in a highly vulnerable state. Also, Aedon, at times the use of some magics may lead to a feeling of euphoria and a feeling of being invulnerable. You must never fall into such a trap lad. All of us can be defeated under the right circumstances."

Sitting quietly for a time, the old mage studied Aedon’s face and demeanor. Although he appeared calm and relaxed, it was easy for Figol to see the anger and resentment which boiled beneath the surface. He was sure that, on some level, the lad held a large amount of hatred towards him. And he wondered if there would ever come a time when Aedon would be able to look back on his time of training with any sort of fondness and appreciation. He had, after all, cared for Aedon since not long after his birth. Having convinced the king that he would be better trained away from the castle, he had brought him away and placed him in Nemira’s loving care. But, if he would or would not ever forgive him for the past was no longer a concern of Figol’s. All that mattered now was that he prepares Aedon for what was to come. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak again;

"I am telling you all this for a reason Aedon. And I hope that it is not all falling on deaf ears. Should you become too careless, and take for granted my gift or misuse it, you may find yourself unable to tend to the ship and Nemira in an emergency. Am I making any sense to you, son?"

Turing around and looking at the old mage Aedon nodded slowly. "Yes Figol, I understand quite well what you are trying to tell me. Please rest assured that the safety of Nemira means as much to me as it does to you."

"Aedon, it is not just her safety or yours that concerns me. I do not wish to leave her alone, nor do I wish you to be alone."

Smirking at the words spoken Aedon replied. "Oh really? Then tell me Father, why have you always come between me and any happiness I had found? It would seem that me being alone serves your purpose quite well."

"Aedon, do not take that tone with me and do not claim to know my purpose. I assure you lad, I and my goals are beyond your comprehension."

Stepping forward Aedon opened his mouth to reply only to be stopped by Nemira’s hand on his arm as she stepped between the two men. "And, I think you should both seek more civil grounds or none of this will be done at all. And then wizard’s spells or the good wishes of man will not avail any of us." She said softly.

Both men nodded in agreement and took a step back. Aedon stood for a few minutes considering his words before speaking again. "Nemira is right, and you are right, Figol. Our time grows short and there is much to be done. What say we go below deck for some tea and you can tell me all that I will need to understand?"

Smiling, Figol walked forward and laid a weathered hand on Aedon’s shoulder. "You are right, my lad, a cup of tea will do us both some good. Should she deem us worthy, perhaps Nemira will consent to join us."

Smiling at the two men, Nemira stepped forward and took them each by the hand. "Tea, with two such fine gentlemen, would be delightful." Then, laughing together, they went down into the cabin below.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Slipping aboard the Tide once more hoping for a glimpse of Aedon, she left coffee and cookies. As before, the cloak of mystery veiled the ship and any who may have been aboard. The air was heavy, not just from the thick sky of changing ocean, but of something more. There was a melancholy that hovered in the quiet mist.

The waves lapped at the hull quietly rocking the ship. She loved being on the ship. There was something melodic in the song of the ocean. Life times past she had spent time on a ship. She had been the Siren, wooing sailors to their demise. Perhaps this was her punishment for deeds done so long ago.

Standing at the rails she could see a soft glow of the lantern she hung at Connemara. She knew there was a presence, his presence. The night she spent on board was glorious bliss. Was that her last? Was she still so unworthy as to not be permitted to know or give aid? He was her family, yet not a family, even still just on the outside of acceptance.

Whispering to the wind she hoped he was close enough to hear her, to see her. She knew she had to leave, but would she be allowed to return? Would he want her to?

“If you can hear me, ‘chev, know I am here. I know your family is your world, I would like to be part of that family. If you want me to remain, please let me know. If you are not able, or … *a soft sight and a tear was released to the quiet* leave behind the ribbon, and I will return the one you gave to me.” Her voice lingered in the fog.

Fingering the silk around her wrist she hoped. It may be a vain hope, but it was all she had.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

The morning broke, bright and clear. Through the portal in his cabin Aedon could see an azure sky in which few clouds could be seen. Rising, he dressed and headed topside to check on Figol. He knew this would be his last time to speak with the old mage, and he was torn between sitting quietly at his side, and ripping him a new one. Any questions that remained in his mind as to Figol’s reasons for all he had done would be forever lost within a short span of time. But for now, his thoughts must stay calm, and focused on Nemira. She would soon need all the support he was able to lend her, and he did not plan to let her down.

Looking towards the cot they had made for Figol he noticed that the mage was back in his robes of clear blue. The color was so similar that often it seemed hard to tell where the sky ended, and the old man began. His hair was released from the ponytail he often wore and was combed out smooth, falling over his shoulders and down his back. Upon his brow rested a simple circlet of braded twine, and other than that, no trinket nor gem adorned him. Close by Nemira sat, arrayed in white silk. Her hair, as white as snow was braided down her back, and she also wore no gem or fancy item of any sort. She looked both ethereal and sad, and Aedon could easily feel the grief that dwelt beneath the surface of her quiet demeanor.

Watching them for a bit, he became entranced by their quiet dignity. Here was one facing his end, and at his side the one that he had loved more than any other he had ever known. And, though they knew these would be their last moments together, they laughed and spoke of a future beyond the worlds ending. Aedon dare not approach them, he did not wish to break their mood nor the spell which seemed to be woven around them. This was peace in its purest form. An understanding that as all things in the world end, Figol’s life was drawing to a close.

He was glad that at this time he could summon up some compassion for the one who had brought about his life, but also brought his life to the condition in which he found himself. But, even as he watched the touching scene unfold before him, deep within Aedon the resentment built. He thought that it is not enough to give life to another, you must also be willing to allow that being the freedom to become what they will, even if that does not serve your purpose. He tried to push these thoughts from his head; the longer he stood watching the serene scene, the more his blood seemed to boil in his veins.

Lifting his head slightly and spotting Aedon, Figol motioned for him to come over. He did not wish to, but one look from Nemira told him that this was important to her. So, straightening his shirt out, Aedon walked closer to where the eld mage lay. Aedon was a bit shocked when, reaching out, the mage took Aedon by the hand and looked up to meet his gaze. Smiling, he spoke in a voice softer and weaker than Aedon had ever heard come from the old man. “You have done well my son.”

Then, releasing Aedon’s hand, he turned again towards Nemira.

Returning to where he had been standing, Aedon struggled to keep control of himself. But, from deep within a voice yelled out in disbelief; “That, is it? You have done well?”

No apology for past treatment of Aedon and his family. Only the same pat on the head that he offered at the end of every battle, every trial, every loss that he endured. For Aedon, this was the final indignity. As he watched the mage lying there, something within Aedon finally snapped. Pulling himself up straight, he took one step towards where Figol lay and shouted.

“No! You do not get to leave in this manner. How dare you think you worthy of such a passing at the end of this story you’ve spun? You have harmed many, father, and for that you must pay. I’ve learned, from you, to all magic, there is a cost.”

Before Nemira had the chance to rise and seek to calm the distraught man, Aedon drew on Figol’s power within him and released a torrent of magic enveloping the old Mage and the cot. His concentration was so focused on controlling the spell, he failed to hear Nemira’s cry of dismay. When at last he sank to his knees spent, there was no sign of the old mage. It was then that he could hear Nemira speaking to him.

“Aedon, what have you done?”

Looking towards the woman who raised him he could see the look of utter shock and pain on her face as, stepping back a few paces, Nemira shifted back into the form of a swallow-tailed kite, and took to the sky.

Aedon remained there, a few moments longer watching as she rode the wind currents. Then, rising slowly, went back down into his cabin and cast himself upon his bed. Sleep came fast, and not a fitful sleep. But the most undisturbed, relaxing slumber he had experienced in years.

When he awoke, he poured himself a cup of coffee, and heading up top, he went to the railing. He was not sure of how long Nemira had kept up her vigil in the high drafts above the Celtic Tide. But he could see her swooping gracefully between the clouds, and hear her call as clear as the ringing of a bell. Setting his cup aside, he called to her and watched as the kite spiraled down, and landed gracefully on the deck before him. Eyeing Aedon thoughtfully, she bowed her head slightly, then spoke.

“What is it that Aedon of Athryvald asks of me?”

“Nemira, I want to go home. Please take the ship back to Yew.”

“And what of the promise you made my son?”

“My word is true mother, you will never be alone.”

She started to speak again, but as she did, she looked at Aedon and could tell that in this matter, he would not be gainsaid. And so, with a bow and flourish of her wings, Nemira took once more to the sky, and taking her place before the vessel, flapping her wings, made her way rapidly towards Emerald Point. Standing at the bow’s railing, Aedon looked up and enjoyed the feeling of the brisk wind blowing through his hair. As he looked ahead he could see a storm gathering on the horizon, and could not help but wonder if perhaps the Gathering had some welcome in mind for him. He had, after all, taken steps that they might no more approve of than they did Figol’s refusing to dispose of Aedon so many years back.

As the winds began to rise, and the sky darken, Aedon watched as, for the first time he could recall, Nemira seemed to have trouble controlling the Celtic Tide. It was then that a shadow passed over the vessel, traveling from the rear of the craft and moving towards Nemira. Aedon watched as a larger Kite, with white feathers tipped in blue, took its place beside Nemira. And, as the beating of their wings blended into a harmony of sound, the ship quieted, and moved swiftly through the storm.

Going to the galley, Aedon poured another cup of coffee, and sad down to drink it. He believed the storm they had now passed through was not one of nature, but a device of the conclave of mages who saw the same obstinate disobedience coming from the son that they suffered from the father. The thought of their sitting someplace, pissed out of their minds, somehow pleased Aedon. Taking a sip of his coffee, he looked towards the front of the ship and smiled a bit. Setting his cup in the sink, he went again to stand at the railing. Stretching, he considered how good it would be to again sleep in his own bed, and before his own fire. As the shoreline of Yew became a thin line on the horizon his heart raced with the anticipation of arriving home. Looking up to where Figol and Nemira flew in perfect oneness, Aedon could not help but smile. “The Gathering,” he thought, “will not be pleased with what I have done. “

“The Gathering, can go to hell.”

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Dark shadows danced with the reflection of firelight on the ceiling taunting Izznet in her restless slumber. The weeks since Aedon’s disappearance had taken a toll she had not anticipated. Restful sleep and food were important to a mortal body. She was beginning to pay the price for the heavy weight of unknowing.

Tossing and turning in the bed had become a nightly ritual, as evidence in the sheet massacre she found each dawn. With each new day she would sit on the edge of the bed and offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the depth she missed ‘chev. It was his face she longed to see, and his voice she heard in the dark hours. His absence was the reason she struggled to sleep.

Gray streams of pre-dawn broke through the windows as a cool draft whispered across her ear. Stirring from a dream she was thankful to be rescued. Rolling over holding his pillow tight she steeled herself for another day.

Donning the black silk dress as a shroud, she forced herself to move. She had taken it upon herself to sneak aboard the Tide daily bringing fresh mugs of coffee and snacks of some sort. There was no way she would allow Aedon to think she had forgotten or abandoned him. A simple act of service was her way of reminding him she was still there.

Walking through fresh snow to the shore behind Connemara, as had been done so many times, she idly walked past the other ships moored in the harbor. Nodding to the few crewmen on her way by she failed to notice their smirks. Gazing out to the horizon she was greeted with a sight that made her drop both mugs of coffee leaving broken ceramic and a dark stain in the snow. Bobbing happily at the dock was the Celtic Tide. She blinked and rubbed her eyes not believing the image before her.

Disbelief flooded her mind, but was quickly replaced with jubilation. Rushing back inside she searched the house. Standing quietly for a moment she summoned the calm of peace to envelope her and allow her to see with her heart. Closing her eyes she realized the soft draft that woke her was his presence.

Making another cup of fresh coffee she took her seat by the fire. The wait was not long before the door opened. To see him breech their threshold unleashed the flood of emotions she had been holding. Leaping into his arms she smothered him in kisses and with an embrace that threatened to suffocate.

He was home!