8th Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Temple of Heironeous, Chendl, Furyondy
The chapel was a maelstrom of shouting, laughter and crying. The niche being somewhat crowded, the party began to herd Elrohir and Aslan back towards the pew so they could sit down. Talass, her arms locked tight around her husband's neck, was pretty much dragged along.
Zantac and Tojo darted over to the chapel entrance, where angry people were already starting to pour through, shouting something about how shouting was not allowed in here. The duo was too late to physically prevent them from entering the room, but they stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the space between the back wall and the last row of pews. A shoving match ensued, with Zantac alternately pleading with the mob that this was a temporary celebration and that they'd all be out of there shortly and yelling over his shoulder at his fellow party members for assistance.
Tojo said nothing, of course. The samurai's hands were a blur, grabbing people's arms and gently but firmly directing them away. The verbal downpour however, continued unabated.
"I've never seen you before- who let you in here?"
"Disgraceful! You people should be ashamed of yourselves!"
"The 32nd Analect!" yelled an acolyte. "Temper your jubilation, for you are merely in the valley between battles!"
"What in Boccob's name does that mean?" Zantac cried.
"It means I'm going to lay your fat butt out on the floor if you don't let me through!"
I love church people, Zantac groaned to himself. The mage whipped his head around again.
"Oh, Aslan! Elrohir? I could use some party togetherness over here!"
Elrohir was still in shock.
It seemed like just five minutes ago that the ranger had opened the door in Icar's quarters and been confronted with a pair of fierce, glowing red eyes. Now, suddenly, it was days later, his friends were whooping and clapping him on the back, and his wife (Talass the priestess!) was wrapped around him in a death grip, her face buried in his shoulder and weeping tears of joy.
As usual, Elrohir felt like he'd entered the playhouse five minutes after the opening curtain.
"Umm, Talass- dearest," he croaked, trying far too gently to dislodge his wife's arms. He was honestly having trouble breathing.
"My throat, Talass," he gasped. "It's not made of stone anymore." Elrohir looked around frantically. "Uh... Aslan... anybody... help?"
Aslan and Cygnus, however, were already heading towards Tojo and Zantac. Nesco, looking helpless, gingerly put her hands on Talass' shoulders.
"Talass? You really need to give him some breathing room."
Argo Bigfellow Junior shook his head, cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned in right up to Talass' ear.
"So, Talass- Have you already forgotten that special embrace we shared back at the gatehouse?"
"What?" Talass shrieked, her head whipping around at lightning speed, her blue eyes throwing daggers at Argo. The cleric pulled off of Elrohir, her hands speeding towards a different throat now. "You-"
"Huh? What? What embrace?" Elrohir shouted, confused even more than before; something he hadn't thought possible.
But Argo was practically bowling Aslan over as he rushed past him and Cygnus en route to the mob scene. The big ranger was looking over his shoulder though, his mischievous smile a mile wide on his face.
The three new arrivals managed to stem the advancing tide, but a moment later a familiar resonant voice boomed out over the chaos.
"Make way! Knight of the Royal Household! Make way or suffer for it!"
Grudgingly, the crowd quieted down and parted as Sir Davos Rahldent, resplendent as always in his gleaming set of full plate armor, stormed up to the front and glared at the party.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, glaring at Aslan. "Surely you know better than to create such a ruckus in the House of The Archpaladin!"
The paladin opened his mouth to reply, but a sneering voice coming from right behind Sir Davos beat him to it.
"Who are these poltroons?"
And back at the pew, Elrohir and Talass saw Nesco's head whip around. The ranger's eyes went wide, and her face pale.
"Oh, no," she whispered.
The speaker was a young man, perhaps twenty years of age or so. He was clad in plate mail that glistened as if it had just been cleaned, although he wore no helm. He had a broad face and short, light brown hair. His skin tone was the exact same complexion as Nesco's- pure Oeridian.
The young man's gray eyes swept over Sir Rahldent's shoulder at the five individuals in front of them. The knight turned to regard him.
"I shall handle this, young Joseph."
Joseph looked like he was about to snap out a retort, but a feminine hand with long, thin fingers gently alighted on the young warrior's left shoulder.
"That's all right, my dear boy. Let Sir Rahldent do his duty."
This was a slender, older woman, perhaps fifty. She had a long, angular face with the same tan Oeridian skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. Her gray hair was piled tightly around her head in a stylish coiffure. Her eyebrows were groomed to absolute perfection, dark and sweeping in twin thin, high arcs.
Aslan frowned inwardly. She's nobility, the paladin thought. And I'm guessing smart-mouth here is her son. But what does she want with us?
The woman wore a gray gown, decorated with silver filigree. She wore a fair amount of jewelry- rings, earrings, necklaces and bracelets- but it was not an ostentatious display. A fan appeared in her left hand and spread out with a flick of her wrist. Her eyes regarded each one of them, cataloguing.
Aslan blinked. Davos was finishing up ordering the other crowd members out of the room. He then turned to the junior priest. "Find High Priest Heldenster. Inform him that I have the situation in hand. If he has any special instructions or requests, relay them back to me."
The young cleric hesitated, clearly not pleased at being ordered out of his own chapel by a knight. After a moment though, he nodded glumly and slipped out.
The woman now looked over Aslan's shoulder, at the lone pew situated under the stained-glass window. Her eyes widened slightly. A thin smile curled at the corner of her lips.
"Nesco!" she called out. "I did not know you had returned to Chendl." The statement ended on a distinctive questioning note.
Aslan wasn't exactly sure when the chapel had gone crypt quiet.
Slowly, Nesco bent down to retrieve the sack at her feet. Her eyes never left the woman's face. lady Cynewine's mouth was a thin line, her expression akin to a person who has opened their eyes in the morning to find themselves staring into the eyes of a pit viper.
"I just returned last night," Nesco replied icily.
The sound of the leather soles of the ranger's new boots echoed across the marble-tiled floor as she slowly walked up to the woman and the young man. Elrohir and Talass followed behind her.
The woman's eyes flashed over the party, and then back to Nesco. One perfect eyebrow arched.
Nesco sighed, rammed a false smile through her indignation and onto her face, and addressed her friends while indicating the older woman with her right hand.
"May I introduce Lady Gella of the House of Cynewine- my mother."
The phrase This explains a lot flashed through Aslan's mind even as Nesco was completing the introductions.
"Mother, may I present..." Nesco, about to introduce the paladin first, hesitated a moment, flashed an apologetic smile at Elrohir and continued.
"Elrohir, his wife Talass, Aslan, Tojo, Argo Bigfellow Junior, Cygnus and Zantac."
Lady Gella smiled perfunctorily at each of them in turn. Elrohir bowed low, and the others took their cue from him (except Tojo, who had already bowed in reflex to one of superior station).
When Elrohir straightened up, he was somewhat surprised to find Lady Gella's eyes focused, not on him or Aslan, but on Argo.
"Bigfellow," the Cynewine matriarch mused. "Of the House Garasteth, in Aerdy?"
A number of raised eyebrows followed the eyes underneath them that turned to look at the big ranger.
Argo favored Nesco's mother with his pained smile, although his eyes retained an uncommon bitterness.
"My family abandoned the political arena many years ago, Dame Cynewine. We now prefer a simpler life. The outdoor life."
Something about Argo's response seemed to please Lady Gella, for her smile assumed a more genuine nature. "Of course," she said simply, and dipped her eyes briefly.
Joseph cleared his throat, but Nesco made no move to introduce him.
Gella turned her steely gaze again upon her daughter. "Sir Rahldent here has been kind enough to inform me of some of your adventures down in the Pomarj."
Aslan was momentarily surprised. He and Argo had been debriefed by the knight, just as they had been following their Highport expedition. For some reason, the paladin hadn't known he had shared that information with anyone not directly involved in their mission. He sighed and rebuked himself silently for his naiveté.
"So, Nesco," Lady Gella continued.
Nesco's companions had often seen the ranger's face flush before, but that had been with embarrassment.
This was anger.
"Any news of Sir Miles?" her mother asked casually.
Aslan watched as Nesco's fists clenched so hard he was sure her nails would pierce her palms.
"As a matter of fact, mother- yes," the younger Cynewine responded as she bent down and retrieved an object from her sack. She straightened up again and without warning tossed it at her mother, even though she was close enough to have handed it to her.
Taken unawares, Lady Gella dropped the object, which hit the floor and then rolled slowly some distance off, before commencing to spin faster and faster until like a coin, it lay flat and still.
Sir Miles' shield.
"It was in the possession of an enemy officer," Nesco said, in a voice so cold it made Talass shiver. "Is that news enough for you?"
There was a brief silence. None of Nesco's allies dared to speak. Joseph slowly walked over and retrieved the shield, but his mother kept her gaze firm and her expression neutral.
"So then," she said. "You found no physical proof that he is actually dead?"
Nesco literally gaped at her mother. She was so astonished she forgot to be furious.
Gella glanced over at the shield, now being held by a somber Joseph. "An impressive trophy," she shrugged, "taken from an important prisoner."
Nesco now remembered to be furious.
"For god's sake, mother!" she shouted. "The fortress was manned by hobgoblins! He was probably chopped up and put in a stew pot months ago! How can you be so blindly stubborn?"
The older Cynewine's eyes went wide briefly, but then narrowed to mere slits.
"How foolish of me," she hissed. "Well, at least I can bask in my daughter's enjoyment at the news of her brother's apparent demise."
"Enjoyment?" Nesco shrieked. "I didn't pressure him for a mission he wasn't ready for! He told me you were pushing him, but he was afraid to disappoint you! You were the one who got him killed!"
Gella's hand shot out, intending to slap her daughter across the cheek, but Joseph, not seeing this, had interposed himself between the two and thrust his face up to within inches of his sister's.
"How dare you talk to mother like that?" he screamed at her, his eyes watering with tears. "Miles was ready for that mission! Sure, he knew that he might not make it back, but he was ready! If he weren't, he would have told me so! He'd have confided in me!"
"He was nine years older than you, Joseph," Nesco said, taking a step backwards. Her voice was suddenly quiet again- and tired. "You're just a child."
"Am I?" he squealed, thrusting his shield at Nesco. "Then how did I get this?"
"What are you talking about? I just-"
Nesco stopped dead.
She had thought she was just looking at Miles' shield again. A circular disk of steel, emblazoned with the antlers on a blue field. The emblem of the Order of the Hart.
But this shield looked almost new. Only a few scratches marred its surface. With a shock, Nesco realized that Joseph was holding Miles' shield in his left hand, and this shield- his shield- in his right.
But that meant...
"That's right, sis!" Joseph crowed. "I am now an official member of the Azure Order, the same as you!"
Nesco tried to abort her gasp but couldn't. She shot a quick glance over to her mother, who had resumed her thin, imperious smile. Nesco then glanced over at Sir Rahldent, the disbelief still evident in her eyes, but the knight merely nodded.
"How..." Nesco began. "When?"
"I've been on patrol in the Vesve under Sir Damoscene for weeks," Joseph smirked, although the volume of his voice had returned to normal. "You're not the only one who's been busy, Nesco. If you'd bothered to visit your family for a few hours when you got back from Highport, you'd have known that!"
Nesco fumed silently, unable to think of anything to say as the younger Cynewine continued.
"We saw combat. Orcs."
For a moment, he fell silent, remembering. And for that brief moment, his anger and his arrogance were gone.
But to Nesco that only made him look all the younger. All the more like her little brother.
Joseph took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself, but looking at his sister, just couldn't keep the resentment from creeping back into his voice.
"I know you don't think I'm as good as you, sis, but you weren't there! I am just as good a fighter as you- I've always said so! I killed orcs, Nesco- I killed a lot of them!"
"How?" Nesco snapped back, completely on instinct. "Did they let you run around in the aftermath, dispatching the wounded?"
"I must say, Nesco," came the calm voice of her mother, "that for all our disagreements, I've never known you to be the jealous type. It's not at all becoming for a Cynewine."
Nesco tried to throw a hateful glance at Gella, but she was cracking. For all the rage she felt towards her mother, she didn't want Gella to hate her. She didn't want-
Joseph, noting the tears welling up in his big sister's eyes, pushed his story forward.
"I had performed an act of exceptional honor, bravery, courage and service!" Joseph proclaimed, parroting the official entry requirements for the Knights of Furyondy. "Sir Damoscene signed off on the report given to the Knight Commander, and I know you respect his judgment at least!" He paused, and just a note of pleading crept into his voice, despite his best efforts. "Can't you be happy for me, for once?"
The funny thing was, deep down Nesco really did want to be happy for Joseph. But he had hurt her so much in the past, and now it all came boiling out of her.
"Like you were for me?" she shot back. "You never gave me encouragement, Joseph! You never thought a woman could amount to anything as a warrior! You belittled me, you insulted me- when I was accepted into the Order, you didn't even come to the ceremony!"
Joseph just stood there, looking at her. His boyish face showed both resentment and shame.
He said nothing.
"Why?" Nesco bawled. She knew she was crying. She knew she was acting just as much the child she had accused Joseph of being, but she couldn't help it. "You're my brother!" she screamed. "Why weren't you there for me?"
"Why didn't you?"
Heads whipped around in surprise.
Elrohir and the others had stood back during this entire exchange. None of their upbringings had made them into the type of person to interfere in a family argument such as this one, but they were not immune to the embarrassment. And they were not immune to the sadness and anger and repressed feelings that were being flung out into the open here.
And they were certainly not immune to the pain of someone they all counted as a friend, Nesco Cynewine.
But there stood Aslan, his arms crossed, his light blue eyes boring into the gray ones of Joseph Cynewine.
Joseph blinked. "What?"
"Why didn't you go to your sister's induction ceremony?" Aslan repeated quietly.
The young man's mouth moved uselessly for a few moments.
"You don't have to answer him, Joseph," Lady Gella stated calmly. "Perhaps our dear paladin has forgotten the noble nature of the one whom he is addressing."
Joseph, emboldened by his mother, let the smirk return to his face. "I admit, I am impressed. It must be nice to have unlimited healing available at will," he said snidely. "Must cover up a lot of mistakes."
All of the sadness vanished from Nesco Cynewine in an instant.
The last time that had happened, her hand had been grasping Sundancer's hilt.
And that was exactly where she wished it was right now.
"If you ever insult any of my friends again," Nesco said, her voice a void, "I will-"
"Not to worry, Nesco," Aslan interrupted in a surprisingly cheerful voice. "This is just a misunderstanding, and misunderstandings can be cleared up easily when all the parties involved just take a deep breath, and realize there's nothing as important as friends and family, right?" The paladin's hand made a casual gesture, as if dismissing all of this.
All three Cynewines just stared at Aslan. So did his six companions and one curious knight, for that matter.
"We're all on the same side here," Aslan continued, nodding towards the altar at the front of the chapter. "We've all been through a lot in the past few days, and we're all on edge," he continued, making it plain that everyone was included in his statement. "If I have offended anyone, I apologize. Common courtesy demands no less from anyone of good breeding, don't you think?" He finished with an extra smile at Lady Gella.
Aslan noted the Cynewine matriarch's forced return smile. She hates my guts right now, the paladin thought. That's all right, though. And now for part two.
"Besides," Aslan continued, as airily as any of his friends could ever remember him sounding, "if I were to get upset at every imagined slight that came my way," and here he jerked his thumb over his shoulder as he looked straight at Nesco, "Caroline would be a widow going on three years now."
Argo stepped forward, a big smile on the ranger's face.
"He's right you know," Bigfellow added. "Happens every decade or so. Go figure." He shrugged helplessly, and then bowed low to Joseph. "Sir Poltroon, at your service."
Nesco couldn't help but smile as she saw the confused glance that passed between mother and son. And she understood.
It's the Aslan and Argo road show, she thought. They're doing this for me- to defuse all this.
She smiled and wiped the tears from her face. Bless them.
"Well," Nesco said, with a loud clearing of her throat. "I think we could all use some rest." She then turned to her friends, a serious expression on her face again. "I know you have a lot of matters to clear up. Please feel free to stay in the guest rooms provided for you as long as you wish. I assume at some point we will be returning to the stockade, so-"
"Nesco," her mother cut in.
She turned back to her mother. Lady Gella's demeanor was that, if she'd delivered this news only five minutes ago, she'd have been delighted. As it was, her face was carefully neutral.
"You've been reassigned."
Now it was Nesco who couldn't speak.
"What?" she finally managed. In response, Gella glanced over to Sir Rahldent, who stepped forward. It was apparent from the expression on the knight's face that he had been wishing to speak for some time. He looked, not at Nesco, but at Elrohir.
"I bring a message from His Royal Majesty, King Belvor IV," he began sonorously. "His Majesty has of course been informed of the circumstances regarding your most recent mission." The knight cleared his throat. "King Belvor gives thanks to the Invincible One that you have all survived what by all accounts was a most dangerous foray against unexpectedly high resistance. In accordance with the agreed-upon terms of your service, the Royal Court has assumed all the expenses related to your health and well-being while on this mission, including," and here Davos turned to glare at Aslan, "certain expenses of a highly questionable nature."
Aslan raised his eyebrows in a look of innocent surprise but kept his smile inside. Karzalin, the paladin thought. I wonder how much he billed them for?
Although The Master Elementalist had eventually, and reluctantly, agreed to teleport with Aslan back to the stockade, the old man had insisted on first shining the two of them up with a battery of defensive and stealth spells, including invisibility and many others Aslan had never even heard of. He had no doubt that the aged wizard would express his displeasure to his liege at being ordered into the field by soaking the Royal Court for as much he thought he could get away with.
I hope he gets it all, Aslan thought. Karzalin may be a grouchy old coot, but he helped us get Elrohir back, and I can't put a price on that.
Sir Rahldent was once again looking at Elrohir. "However, it cannot be denied that in this instance, His Majesty's will was not made manifest."
The party leader frowned, but also kept his thoughts to himself. Translation- you blew it.
"Therefore," the knight continued, "The king shall confer with his advisors on whether to sponsor a further expedition to the Pomarj. If this does come to pass, such expedition shall consist of new individuals." Davos finished up looking slightly uncomfortable as he finished his proclamation.
"Your services are no longer required."
Sir Rahldent quickly looked away from the party as he turned towards Nesco. "Lady Cynewine, you are ordered to report forthwith to the War College."
Nesco blinked. "The War College?"
The knight shrugged; no easy task in full plate. "I know nothing more. If you will excuse me, now," and here he turned to Lady Gella. "Your servant, Madam," he intoned before bowing and then striding briskly out of the chapel.
"Come, Nesco," Gella said with perhaps a flicker of warmth. "Your father awaits us at the College, as does Sir Juntaros." This last name was said with a slight rise in tone, like a type of incitement, but Aslan could see Nesco's frown only deepen at the name. The ranger's green-hazel eyes searched her mother's face- and slowly grew cold again.
"You set this all up, didn't you, mother?"
Lady Gella avoided Nesco's gaze. "We shall speak of this later, Nesco. In private." After a moment spent to regain composure, the Cynewine matriarch again locked eyes with her daughter. "It's time to go now."
Nesco took a long, slow and very deep breath before responding.
"I am going to say goodbye to my friends first. I will meet the two of you there."
Gella searched her daughter's face again, then wet her lips and let the thin smile reappear. "Of course. I shall expect you presently." Her steely gray eyes flashed briefly over the others. "Good day to you all."
They departed. Gella walked briskly, with her head held high. Joseph trudged behind, the newest member of the Azure Order keeping his eyes firmly on the floor in front of him.
No one spoke. No one made eye contact.
Nesco, acutely sensing every precious second flowing away, eventually forced her head back up to a level position.
"Well," she said, with a weak smile that Aslan usually associated with Argo's wife, "I guess this is it."
"We're going to be at the Brass Dragon for a while," Elrohir managed to say. "We all need new armor, and besides, there's," and he made a tentative nod towards Tojo, "a lot of things that need to be taken care of."
"We'll send word," Cygnus said quietly. "By magic if possible, by letter if not."
Nesco nodded. The ranger took one more deep breath in a feeble effort to steady her nerves and walked over to Zantac. She gave the Willip wizard her best imitation of Argo's pained smile.
"Zantac," she said, shaking her head. "That outfit- it makes me wish I'd met the medusa's gaze."
The mage glanced down, trying to keep his composure. "You're just saying that," he whispered.
Nesco took his hand in both of hers. "Thank you for everything, Zantac. Take care of yourself."
He looked up at her, and then down at his hand held in hers. His expression as he glanced back up at her implied that he would have liked more, but the magic-user merely stepped back and bowed with a flourish. "Your servant, Lady Cynewine."
Nesco tried hard to keep her voice steady. "I'll have an ale," she croaked out.
Zantac favored her with a stern look. "Please, my lady. Leave the bad jokes to Cygnus. They can be dangerous in the hands of the uninitiated."
Lady Cynewine swallowed hard and moved over to the party's other wizard. She clasped his hand in likewise fashion and forced herself to look right into his brown eyes.
"We made it, Cygnus," she said, squeezing his hand. "We made it by the skin of our teeth."
The tall mage grimaced. "That's about the only part of me that didn't require healing."
"I've never met your son, Cygnus," Nesco said shakily, "but I know he must be a beautiful boy."
Cygnus shrugged; his eyes moist. "Takes after his mother."
Nesco shook her head. "After both of you, I'm sure." She leaned in a little closer. "I'm glad you'll be able to be with him again, and I know you'll be able to work it out."
He glanced at her, puzzled. "Work what out?"
She just smiled mysteriously. "What you need to do."
Nesco sniffled and quickly moved on to Argo, ignoring Cygnus' questioning gaze. She took the big ranger's hand in hers.
"Sorry, Lady Cynewine," Bigfellow said sadly, shaking his head. "That just won't do."
And he pulled her into a hug with such force Nesco could feel the air push out between her teeth.
Talass rolled her eyes. "I need to have a long talk with Caroline when we get back."
Argo kept his eyes closed tight. "Much better without the armor," he murmured.
Nesco could feel the color rising in her cheeks. She felt very, very embarrassed.
But it did feel nice.
As the seconds rolled by, it occurred to Nesco that Argo had no intention of making the move to dissolve this embrace. He was leaving that up to her.
She sighed in mock exasperation and pulled away. "Easy there, stallion. You'll be home soon enough."
It was a remark far more risqué than Nesco would normally make, but she didn't feel her face could get any redder anyway.
"With memories of a good friend," Bigfellow said softly, his eyes locking with hers. "Don't let anyone push you around, Nesco."
This was getting harder. It took several tries before Nesco could get out something that sounded like, "I won't," before moving over to Talass.
It was the priestess of Forseti who took Nesco's hand in hers and spoke first. "As much as anyone here, Nesco, I wouldn't have Elrohir back if it wasn't for you. Thank you."
"We all made it back, Talass."
The cleric raised an eyebrow. She understood the remark.
"I'm going back, Nesco," Talass said in a low voice. "I'll go alone if I have to, but I'm going back." The cleric shrugged. "If you're not doing anything by then, maybe..."
The ranger gave her a smile, although inside she didn't think she would have that option. "Send me a message. I'll let you know."
Talass nodded, squeezed Nesco's hand one more time and left go as Lady Cynewine stepped in front of Yanigasawa Tojo. She wasted no time getting inside the samurai's comfort zone, but there was no smile on the ranger's face now.
"Tojo." She practically had to force the words out. "Promise me, Tojo, that I will see you again."
Tojo's violent eyes stopped their dancing and managed to finally settle right on hers.
They looked so sad, she thought.
"Cannot promise that, Nesco-san," the samurai whispered. "Can onry say, have faith that awe wirr work out for best in the end."
Nesco's lip trembled. She reached down and took Tojo's hand in hers. He made no move to pull away.
"Take the best of both worlds, Tojo-sama," she told him, trying to keep her grip steady on his. "Of all of us, you're the only one who has the opportunity to do that."
The samurai raised an eyebrow, his face thoughtful.
"Wirr try to do so, Nesco-san."
He removed his hand, stepped back and gave her a long, deep bow.
She returned it in kind.
"Elrohir," she said after moving to the party leader and wiping her eyes clear yet again and grasping his hand, "thank you for taking me into your circle."
The ranger could only shrug, embarrassed. He cursed himself silently as once again, words failed him.
"Thank you for completing it," was all he could come up with, at length. He looked about as ready to cry as she was. "It just," he shrugged helplessly, "it just won't seem right without you there as a part of it."
Oh, I wish he hadn't said that, Nesco thought. She was on the edge of completely losing it. "I never met Barahir either," the ranger said weakly.
"But he'll know all about you," Elrohir replied, with a sudden burst of calmness.
"Thank you." Lady Cynewine barely managed the words. Her hands were working full-time now in trying to stop the tears from falling.
And now she was in front of Aslan.
The paladin stared at her. His eyes, his face, everything about him was filled with empathy and kindness. Nesco remembered sitting alone with him by the campfire that first night in the Pomarj, so long ago. His strength, his self-doubts, his compassion, his humility- even his sense of humor.
Nesco couldn't believe it. She was a ranger in the service of the Knights of Furyondy. She was in service to the king of Furyondy, possibly the mightiest nation of weal on Oerth. She was of nobility and was the envy of many people she knew.
But suddenly, she was was a nine year-old little girl, staring at the stars that she saw in a paladin's eyes.
Please hug me, Aslan.
But the paladin had stepped forward and taken her hands in his. "Thank you for being there for us, Nesco," he said quietly.
She couldn't see his face anymore. It was just a bearded blur through her tears.
And when Aslan removed his hands, she knew he was taking her heart with them.
And just as Nesco could feel an unstoppable wail of grief gathering together in her stomach, she stopped.
"Uh, I'm sorry, Aslan..." she stammered. "I... couldn't catch that... what did you say?"
He leaned forward, as close as she had been to Tojo.
Closer now.
And suddenly, it was just the two of them, bloodied and about to die, underneath the fur blanket of a giant weasel's corpse.
"I said, Nesco," the paladin repeated, so softly that only she could hear, "that we will be together again. I do not know if it will be sooner or later, but I know that is how it should be."
Even his smile was soft.
"And if there's one thing we paladins know," Aslan said. "It's the way that things should be."
Nesco stared at him. Their eyes were only inches apart. She concentrated until she thought she would pass out from the effort.
But she couldn't see it.
She couldn't see what she was looking for in those eyes. Was it there? Could she just not see it? She had to know.
She had to know.
"Aslan?" Nesco said, as terror unlike the ranger had even known gripped her heart. She was about to ask the hardest question she had ever asked in her entire life.
Long, long seconds ticked away.
"When- when you say we," Nesco whispered, do you mean-"
He was gone.
Nesco gasped. She had waited too long.
Aslan hadn't heard her. He was herding the others now back towards the chapel entrance. "Come on," he was urging them. "Nesco has a lot to take care of. After I mindrest, we can start-'
But Nesco couldn't make out the rest of it. The room began to spin, but with sheer effort she reacted, grabbing a pew and steadying herself. She nearly growled at the effort involved to regain her composure so quickly, but she did so. She began to try and bring her breathing back under control-
"Nesco?"
She whirled around. Aslan was standing by the chapel door. She saw the paladin say something she couldn't hear at the retreating party, and then turn back to her.
Nesco stared at him like a wild animal.
The paladin chewed his lip and cleared his throat. "We, uh- we all discussed this before I brought you back. We all agree that we would like you to have Sundancer."
The ranger nodded dumbly at him. She couldn't speak anymore. She didn't give a damn about the sword anymore, but she knew what she was looking at.
A second chance, Nesco! You have a second chance! Take it! Take it! Tell him! TELL HIM!
It wasn't even close.
"I love you, Aslan," Nesco Cynewine said aloud to an empty chapel.
And the only one who heard was a god that she had chosen to turn away from, long ago.