The Ebonstone Tower

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       It was goodbye, and I hate goodbyes, but nothing lasts forever, especially good things. Good things never really seemed to last and this was no exception. I could feel my lungs spasming for the next breath, yet despite my struggle, I forced my breathing to remain steady by sheer will alone. Even as I lay there, white-hot pain searing through my ribs I could feel the inevitable numbness crawling through my extremities bringing with it that tell-tale chill that I would never be able to shake. Death approached, slowly, deftly.

 

       Salira leaned over me, a river of tears raining upon my face as she begged me to hold on. “Just a little longer,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She cradled my broken body, rocking back and forth. “You can’t go yet.” 

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       Oh, how I wanted to give her the reassurance that all would be well, and that I would be up in a moment so we could go back home to our mountain home overlooking Vyndrmyr - that we would laugh and talk about our adventures as we went back to normal life.  But the spear had bitten deep… too deep and when I tried to speak, blood spewed from my lips, spattering her face in a light spray of crimson. The wound was mortal; I knew it when my legs buckled after I failed to deflect what I thought to be a mere glancing blow. Now, here I lay, spending my last moments with the only woman I ever truly loved. Oh, and what a woman she was.  She had hated me in the beginning, but our adventures in the Ancient East had brought us together in ways no formal courtship ever could. Who could say how many times I saved her life, or nearly felt the bite of her Saber or the sting of her tongue? But here we were nearly a decade later in the aftermath of a battle against the boggarts of Azär-Gôr and the wild men of Asp Tongue Ridge. The battle was over, and the defenders of Aladorun were victorious, but at a terrible cost. Countless goodmen, warriors, husbands, wives, and more had fallen to the cruel horde. Thus, here I am, alive amid the dead and dying, waiting for my end to come… 

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       “You’re going to be okay; you’re going to be okay…” her voice is starting to fade. The numbness has reached my waist, and my fingers have begun to lose their feeling. 

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       “I…huhhh.. I… will… hurk… always… huh …protect… you….” Words meant to comfort only brought heavy sobs as I struggled to get them past my lips. The Cold has begun to set into my bones. I can no longer feel the white-hot of the spear’s venomous bite. In response, Salira held me close, ignoring the scarlet stain that marred her jerkin. 

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       With a spasmodic jerk, I knew the time had come. It was as though the sun was setting in my eyes and Salira, my Salira’s face was wrapped in dusk. Beyond her, I could see the archon, Elsir beckoning to me. It was time for me to go, yet I didn’t want to leave. I heard Elsir’s voice in my soul like a gentle stream, and knew that I had to go. Dusk faded to night with my eyes seeing the face of my love for the last time.

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       “I promise you, my Salira, we will meet again. I must believe that ours wasn't a love that death could tear asunder… Thank you, for the moments we shared… and please forgive me for going on this next adventure without you. I have somewhere I have to be, but I will be waiting for you there. 

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       …and so, as Salira held her Renaldin for the last time, she felt his departure. The instant hit her with a blow that stole her breath in such a way as no hammer, club, or weapon ever could. She couldn’t move- she couldn’t breathe- she felt disoriented, then it all came back together with a heart wrenching cry that echoed across the battlefield. Even as the cry of anguish began to fade, she heard the voice of Rinaldo in the wind…

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       “We will meet again,” he said, “until then, I will be waiting for you.” As swiftly as it came, it was gone.  And for the first time in more than a decade, Salira Geraldyn was alone.​​