3rd Day of Planting, 565 CY
Prindath, Amoria, The Blessed Fields of Elysium
Tadoa had found the one thing in Elysium with the power to make him unhappy.
The knowledge that he would soon have to leave it.
The thought made the child quieter and more introspective than he had been these last four days. And now, sitting here at a table in a tavern in Amoria with his grandfather Lemontharz Falail, one of the most powerful sorcerers who ever lived (per elven Rolex legend, at least), he wondered what would come next.
These past few days had been spent mostly wandering the unearthly beautiful landscape of Amoria with his grandfather. He saw fields both pastoral and wild, each with a different but complimentary beauty. They strolled through forests untouched, climbed hills unblemished, and swam in rivers and lakes unsoiled. Although Lemontharz moved a bit more slowly than his grandson, the old elf seemed to take just as much delight in everything around him that Tadoa did, and that made the boy even happier. Some part of him knew that this was some type of therapy for his poor, abused heart and soul. He didn't care, though. He was happy, and so was his grandfather.
They talked. Sometimes for hours on end, and sometimes nothing more than a few short words over the course of an evening. Lemontharz had wanted to know everything, so Tad began from the last time he and the Elrohir party had seen the aged magic-user, seven or eight years past now. They had all assumed he was dead.
Tadoa told him about all the friends Elrohir had lost since then. The ranger Lucifer Doom and his brother, the paladin Damien; the wizard Dionysus; the cleric Diana; the ranger Natas, the rogue Estel and most recently, Thorin's wife Hyzenthlay.
But he also told Lemontharz of the new friends and allies his lifelong companion had gained. Elrohir's wife and love Talass, Yanigasawa Tojo, Argo Bigfellow Junior and his wife Caroline, and now Zantac.
He told him of Elrohir's son Barahir and of Cygnus' son Thorin, born unnaturally in the midst of his mother's murder, and of the extraordinary actions that had been taken by those who cared to help save his life.
And at his insistence, Lemontharz had told Tadoa many tales as well. Some Tad remembered dimly from his childhood; others were new. But they were all as only Lemontharz could tell them.
Lemontharz told his grandson of his early life, growing up with his own father Arnear; shipwrecked on a deserted isle in the midst of the Passa Ocean, a thousand leagues from any other land. How his father had grown old and died a scant sixteen years before the young sorcerer had finally learned how to master the teleport spell…
He told the boy of The Book of Rolex itself; the first written words and foundation for all elvendom there, and the great joys and unimaginable sorrows that had flowed from those who read and wrote in its hallowed pages.
The Authors of Wisdom. The great enmity between the Falails and the Starflowers. The "Worthy Winners." The Horn of Queen Desna. The Tragedy of Essetus II.
This all served only to whet Tadoa's appetite. When one tale was told, he would beg for another, and his grandfather would smile and oblige, but now it was time to return to the present- and to plan for the future.
Prindath was the small village he had seen earlier by the banks of the Oceanus River. Even at night, the tavern they were now in seemed cleaner and less rowdy than any the youth had seen before. It was not particularly quiet, however. The place was filled with people of all races, laughing, joking and occasionally singing. Tadoa now realized that most of the people here though were not living souls though, but petitioners. The spirits of those people, virtuous in life, who had come here to claim their final reward.
Tad envied them.
While they waited for their meal to arrive, the young elf saw out of the corner of his eye, his grandfather watching him.
"You know why we can't stay, Tadoa."
Tad sighed and nodded, not really meeting his gaze. Lemontharz had told him why mortals could not dwell long in Elysium, about how eventually the lure became so strong that one couldn't leave. The child suspected that even if that were not the case, his grandfather would still insist on their departure. The old elf had thus far spoken not at all of his plans for the future, but Tad knew it did not involve idyllic days here in the Blessed Fields.
The boy put on a game smile and turned his full attention back to his elder. "You haven't told me of those other elves, grandfather. Ehlissa and the others. Who are they?"
If the old elf realized that his grandson was deliberately avoided the topic of their imminent departure, he gave no sign. He folded his hands on the table in front of him
and spoke evenly. "Keasten and Ehlissa are brother and sister. They are from the tribe of Alias of Welkwood but live some leagues away, by themselves. They were currently passing through Willip to visit another sister, Kina, who is a member of the chapterhouse there. As for Oceanus, his tribe dwells a fair distance south, off the shores of the Kingdom of Keoland. He is on what he calls an "extended vacation." I suspect he may have had some troubles with his people, but it is not my place to pry."
The aged sorcerer bent forward, the intensity of the gaze he leveled at his grandson increasing slightly. "I've spent the years since last you saw me Tadoa, much as I have the preceding ones. I have been traveling here and there among the Three Worlds, always keeping a low profile. Anonymity is one of my most useful tools, and I can ill afford to lose it. Ehlissa and the others know the little that I have told them, but that is far less than you know. And for now, it must remain that way."
Tadoa frowned. "But why, grandfather? After all, the only reason you had to maintain secrecy was because of Kar-Vermin, and he is now slain."
Lemontharz said nothing, merely straightened back up in his seat.
Tad's voice sounded faint to his own ears.
"They did destroy him. They told me so."
The magic-user sighed. Now it was he who had difficulty looking his dinner companion in the eyes. Eventually though, he did so and when he did, his voice carried more of that hoarseness that Tadoa had first noticed when he met him.
"Elrohir and his allies are the bravest and truest friends one could ever wish for, Tad, but they are human, and humans don't always take the long road. They do not always see far enough. Perhaps they lack experience, or the triumph of the moment overwhelms them, but sometimes they forget to see things through to the end."
Lemontharz paused, as if he had forgotten something. Tadoa watched him bite his lip and shake his head, as if the old elf were having an internal debate with himself. He glanced back at the youth with a bitter smile.
"No. Strike that, Tad. Ignore what I just said. Inexperience is not a purely human failing. I've been guilty of far more shortsightedness than Elrohir and his friends will ever be." The sorcerer rubbed at his eyes. "I've failed far more at what needed to be done than they ever have or will."
Tadoa couldn't believe what he had heard. "You?" he asked in amazement. "But grandfather... you're Lemontharz Falail, the greatest sorcerer who's ever lived! What could possibly have-"
"I'm only this great and powerful sorcerer in those legends you place such stock in, Tadoa," the mage replied sternly. He glared at his grandson, who returned his gaze only because he was too frightened to look away now.
"Did I defeat the Invaders From Beyond, Tad?" Lemontharz asked. Did I save your mother and her two brothers, and all the other elves of our tribe?" The magic-user's voice grew even harder. "Did I ever figure out a way to stop the Neutral Forces?"
Now it dropped to a whisper that Tadoa could barely hear, as the old elf dropped his head to his chest.
"Do I even have a prayer at saving the Three Worlds?"
Tad didn't intend to whisper his own question, but he just couldn't bring his voice up any higher.
"Save them from what, grandfather?"
Lemontharz lifted his head and gazed sadly at his grandson. It looked more to Tadoa that the elder elf was trying to find a way to express a difficult concept.
The sorcerer gestured with his hands. "Picture that couatl as you first saw it, Tad."
Tad frowned, but Lemontharz was in earnest.
"Do it. Close your eyes, and picture it, as in trance!"
Obediently, Tadoa closed his eyes, and concentrated. A whisper of uneasiness came back to him as he saw the green serpent slithering among the rocks and vines.
He could hear his grandfather's voice, as if from a great distance.
"You could not see all of it at once, could you? You could not truly grasp what it was."
Tadoa nodded.
"Open your eyes."
The child did so. Lemontharz was looking at him intently.
"The god that Elrohir, Aslan and Cygnus worship tells a legend of a snake so large that it encircles the world, grasping its tail in its mouth."
Tadoa gaped. He struggled to find his voice. A vision of the Emerald Serpent flashed momentarily through his mind.
"Could that possibly be true, grandfather? Which world is this that the legend speaks of?"
Lemontharz shook his head. "The veracity of this legend does not matter. The point is that you cannot comprehend such a creature, can you? If you were at sea, and saw it on the horizon, no matter how far away you were, you could not comprehend the true form of what you were looking at, could you?"
The boy nodded, slowly.
"Know, then," the sorcerer nodded. "Fate is much the same. With the right training, one can see a strand here, a strand there. And sometimes, if one is wise, lucky, or both," he smiled, "one can make a guess as to what a greater portion may reveal, and act accordingly."
Tadoa looked confused. Lemontharz continued.
"I have studied the workings of Fate since shortly after I returned to my kin in Eschtren." He chuckled wryly to himself. "I thought that my interest sprung from my own heart, but I now suspect that it was destiny itself that drew me to destiny."
The boy showed no expression. Lemontharz shrugged.
"Hmph. I thought that was rather witty, myself. No matter. Tad, my goals do not involve some never-ending battle against evil. Countless others already bear that lofty load. What I seek is mundane, though not incomprehensible."
"What are your goals, grandfather?" Tad asked.
The mage smiled. "I daresay you will be quite disappointed, my young adventurer. I only seek to find what is best in all of us, and to draw it out to the surface. The desire to help others, a giving heart, the granting of mercy, forgiveness even when undeserved, the redemption of evil when possible and of course, that gentle or even not-so-gentle touch that heals body and soul."
Lemontharz smiled at Tadoa with this last. The boy blushed and stared down at the table.
"Although it may not seem as such to an outside observer, that is really the plain truth of what I do," the old elf continued. "It is sad that such an unassuming goal has drawn the attention of such hostile notice. It has however, and so my enemies and I have played this game for many, many years now. I sadly admit that I am not above using others as pawns in this game. My only defense is that I care as much for their lives as I do for my own. As to whether that defense will serve me in the afterlife, that is a question even I cannot answer, until that times comes."
Tad furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "But grandfather, does the survival of the Three Worlds really depend on such things as the amount of goodness in our individual souls? Surely, we all have lived and died since time began with both good and evil within us."
His grandfather nodded. "A very astute observation, my dear boy. Very astute indeed." He frowned. "For now, let us just say that there are certain forces in the universe who, discovering what I seek, may be overreacting." He gazed again at his grandson. "You are wise beyond your years, Tad. I do believe I've made the right choice."
Tad's fingers tightened involuntarily, pulling on the clean white tablecloth. There was something about that sentence that frightened him.
Their conversation halted momentarily as their meal arrived. Tadoa was served a slice of roast goose in a cranberry sauce, topped with goat's cheese. It was one of the Brass Dragon's special meals, and he had been craving one for quite some time now. Lemontharz seemed satisfied with a cantaloupe half filled with grapes, cherries and strawberries.
They ate slowly and quietly, saying little aside from snippets of small talk about how good the food was. Tadoa had noticed no money had changed hands. That was to be expected, he supposed. There was simply no need of it here.
Remembering only at the last possible second to swallow the food in his mouth, Tad resumed the conversation, hopefully on a safer track. "The sea elf, grandfather. Oceanus. My memory is very hazy, but I think he used some kind of magic. Is he a mage, too?"
Lemontharz smiled while dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief. "No Tad, he is not. He was able to utilize a little item I had loaned him, however." The old elf looked thoughtful. "Oceanus has the kind of heart that I seek to replicate in everyone. He risked his life on short notice to save someone he did not know; from a threat he had no inkling of. I daresay I would have hesitated more than he did, had our roles been reversed."
Tad was washing down his latest mouthful with a glass of wine. "Chic. Did Oceanus slay him?"
His grandfather grimaced and shook his head. "Sadly, no. Unlike many of his fellow fiends, Chic seems to have a strong instinct for self-preservation. He fled, and Oceanus had more important things to worry about at that point than pursuit."
The silence resumed for a while as the two ate. Tad occasionally glanced out one of the tavern's windows at the beautiful starlight evening that he knew was out there. It would not be too cold, or too damp. It never was on Amoria. Nothing was ever wrong on Amoria. It was the fulfillment of every one of Lemontharz's wishes, Tad thought. Everyone here enjoyed eternal happiness.
They just had to die to experience it.
Tad thoughtfully chewed another slice of roast goose. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the things his grandfather had said. Idly, he wondered where Lemontharz stood on the line between idealist and deluded.
Somewhat ashamed of that thought, he swallowed again and said with a weak smile, "Well, I can't wait to see Elrohir and everyone else again. And they'll be absolutely ecstatic to see you! They've always held you in such high regard, it's-"
Tadoa stopped in mid-sentence. His throat suddenly went completely dry, and constricted, as if he had been poisoned. His eyes widened, and his right hand went instinctively over his heart, which had begun throbbing with a terrible pain which he couldn't believe could exist here on Elysium.
Lemontharz was looking at his grandson with a terrible sadness, every bit as pitiable as he had looked back in the Tribal House in Willip.
"I'm sorry Tad," the old elf said softly, his eyes again holding the boy's rigid. "But that will not happen. I can never again meet with Elrohir and his friends…"
Tadoa knew it was coming, and if it were possible, he would gladly have cast off the lure of Elysium forever at that moment, just to avoid the nightmarish words he knew he was about to hear.
And then Lemontharz spoke them.
…and neither can you."