BENARQUE'S DEPARTURE
"Belrosian, I must speak with you." Benarque the ranger sat on a log before a dim fire, surrounded by the shapes of his two companions, a paladin, breathing softly as she lay asleep, and a wizard, upright and attentive in his red hooded robes. The strong scent of pine was everywhere, as the three travelers sheltered within the boughs of a giant fir tree on the outskirts of an evergreen wood. Above them, the stars glimmered in their nightly procession, little caring of the events in the lives of men on Norrath.
"My ears are always open to you my friend," said the red-robed wizard.
Benarque did not immediately respond, but instead silently turned an arrow over and over in his hands and stared pensively into the dying flames for several moments. At last he spoke, the arrow coming to rest. "I must leave you," he said in a near-whisper.
Belrosian blinked beneath his cowl then squinted at the rugged ranger. "Leave? What do you mean?" Benarque sighed. "I have been trying to figure out how I would tell you this for the past week," he said. "All my preparation as to what I would say seems to have fallen flat."
He turned his eyes to meet Belrosian's for the first time. "A very long time ago I set out from Surefall Glade to find my father. To this day I have not come any closer to that goal. I have found many purposes to fight for in my journeys with you and Kalweni but this..."
Belrosian rubbed his chin. "I admit our quest to seek your father has not been on our top list of priorities. I apologize for this. It is simply that we have gotten so caught up with the Mark-bearers and the prophesies of the Three Walkers." The wizard frowned, faint lines creasing his copper-tanned face. "If I have angered you..."
"Don't be foolish," Benarque said. "It is nothing you have or have not done. It is me, Belrosian." The half-elven ranger shut his eyes and shook his head. "There is something within me...within my soul perhaps...It is calling me, and I cannot ignore it." He looked up at Belrosian again and grimaced. "I don't expect you to understand. I can't describe it to you in terms you could comprehend. I'm not sure I understand it myself. All I know is there is some higher force calling me to move, to accomplish some purpose. And that purpose is not here."
Now Belrosian stared into the flames for a moment before speaking. "I can understand this desire in you. You are a remarkable man, not overlooked by the gods. I do not doubt they have a special design in store for you." He took a deep breath then said in a deliberate tone, "What I truly cannot understand is why you think you must leave us to find this purpose."
Benarque frowned and exhaled through his nose. "Because it is a journey only I can make, Belrosian. I can explain it no more clearly than that. Just as I know I must go, I also know I must go alone." A cloud passed over the moon, shrouding both men's faces in darkness. "It is not a decision I make easily, nor with any great relish." Belrosian steeped his long fingers and leaned back against the log, his face a mask of concern. "Normally I would not propose to go against divine will, but in this case I find my heart speaks louder than my sense. You are more than a friend to me, Ben. You are a brother. It is no secret that I would now be in the company of the gods many times over if not for your efforts. I do not know what we, what I, would do without you."
Benarque winced as if physically struck. "I knew you would say that, wizard." He steadied himself. "It is also no secret that you taught me more about this world than any man under the sun. It is no secret that I owe you my life just as much as you owe me your own. And let it be no secret now that this is the hardest decision I will ever make!" His voice had risen to a near shout and he hastily lowered it to keep from waking Kalweni. He scowled into the flames. "If I do not go now, I will miss my chance forever. I will never find the answers I seek; I will never find my purpose. This I know for certain."
"I will not try to stop you," Belrosian said softly, accepting defeat. "And I will aide you however I can before you start out. But know this: I will not forget you, nor ever give up hoping for your return."
"And I will never forget you either, you musty old scholar," said Benarque with a chuckle, the first time he had smiled that night. "I will return one day, if the gods are merciful and I survive my journey. This I swear."
"What will you tell the young paladin?" asked Belrosian.
Benarque glanced at the sleeping woman. "I will tell her nothing. She would not let me leave, no matter what I told her, if she knew my intentions. I shall leave it to you."
Kalweni's eyes suddenly flew open and she sat up, bolt-straight. "You mean you were going to leave without saying goodbye?" She scowled at Benarque and clenched her fists. "You insensitive bastard."
Benarque could not restrain a laugh, nor could Belrosian. "I'm sorry Kal," said Benarque. "I...I thought it would be easier for you if I slipped away unannounced." He grinned. "I suppose you overheard the entire conversation?"
"By thunder I did. Seems you don't know how to keep quiet while someone's trying to sleep," she snapped. "But if you think you're going anywhere, just let me get my axe and you can rethink your decision."
Belrosian put a hand on Kalweni's shoulder. "If you know the whole story, Kalweni, then you know there is no changing his mind."
Kalweni looked downtrodden and said, "Of course. But I don't have to like it. And I certainly am not letting him leave without a goodbye."
Benarque clasped her forearm. "Forgive me, Kalweni. I should never have presumed to leave you without a word."
"It is forgiven," she said. "But it makes your departure no easier." Her blue eyes stared into his brown, full of concern and worry.
"There is one other matter I must inform you both of," said Benarque. "Perhaps it is best to simply show you..." He pulled off his shirt and turned around. His companions gazed in puzzlement at his bare back. Belrosian was about to question him when he realized-
"Your Mark is gone!" cried Kalweni.
Belrosian's jaw dropped. "My friend, how can this be?"
"I do not know," Benarque replied, slipping his shirt back over his head. "I felt it disappear one night not long ago...It simply dissolved away into my skin, leaving no trace."
Belrosian looked apprehensive. "Ben, this is a definite sign. I have never heard of a Mark simply vanishing...What this may portend, I do not know. It is a frightening prospect however." "Indeed," said Kalweni. "But does this absolve you from the Mark of Draconians? If you are not Marked, how can you be one of us?" "That is one of my prime reasons for leaving," said the ranger. "There must be a cause for the removal of my Mark. Somehow, I know the answer to this riddle will be found alongside the riddle of my father. In the meantime, I'm of little use to the Light if I am Unmarked and no longer to communicate telepathically with our brethren."
Belrosian and Kalweni both started in surprise. "You mean you no longer hear the collective thoughts of the Mark of Draconians?" said Kalweni.
"No," Benarque replied. "I have been dead to them for some days now."
"Then I suppose you really are excommunicated from us then," said Belrosian. "This is an unfortunate turn of events. I had counted on being able to speak with you telepathically on your journey at the very least."
Benarque shook his head. "No, the gods have denied us even that small comfort. I will be alone, physically and mentally."
The three said nothing for a while then, and watched the fire burn down to glowing embers. A wolf howled in the far distance, the eerie sound echoing through the tree-filled dale around them.
"I must be a lone wolf now," Benarque said to no one in particular.
Belrosian looked at him, opened his mouth to speak, but then decided against it and remained silent. Kalweni stared mournfully at Benarque. "I suppose this is the end, then," said Benarque at length. "There is nothing more to discuss about my departure."
His companions said nothing.
Benarque reached for his pack and opened it, and began rummaging through it. He produced a short sword in a black leather scabbard and a small wooden box. Holding them in his hands, he looked gravely at each of his companions and then spoke. "I am going to give each of you something to remember me by."
He held up the wooden box and opened it. Within was set a coin-sized disc of green marble with a strange symbol graven on it. He handed it to Kalweni. "This is the Rune of Ivy. If you remember, I won it off one of the vicious griffons of the Karanas." Kalweni nodded, sadly. "Take it now, and hold it for me. It is said there are four such runes, which together can create the perfect armor for a woodsman. Should I return, I will seek these other runes. For now, keep it safe and remember me." Kalweni took the wooden box, her eyes pooled with unshed tears, her mouth quavering in a frown to fight back sobs.
Benarque turned to Belrosian, who sat frowning into the embers of their fire. "To you, Belrosian, I give this." He held up the short sword in its scabbard. "This is Morin's Blade, the leader of the rangers of Kithicor. I performed a valuable service to her, if you remember, and she gave me her own sword as a reward. Now I want you to have it."
Belrosian solemnly took the blade and laid it across his open palms.
"I know you are no swordsman," said Benarque, "but bear it for me now, in remembrance of our many adventures, and our friendship."
Belrosian met his friend's eyes and said, "No man shall touch it until you return for it, Ranger of Surefall." A tear made its way lazily down his dark cheek but his face remained stoic.
Benarque wiped a hand across his eyes, sniffled, then said, "You two are the best friends I have ever known, and will ever know. I shall never forget you, no matter where my travels take me." Then he stood and turned his eyes toward the heavens and held out his hands, almost like a priest. "May your arrows always find their marks. May the bards sing your praises across the land. May the gods write your names in the stars."
Belrosian and Kalweni both stood now, and surrounded Benarque. "May your spells never fizzle, noble woodsman," said the wizard softly.
"May the gods pave your way with Light," said the paladin.
And then they embraced, the three of them, and held each other in arms for a long moment.
"Let us sleep now," said Belrosian. "In the morning you shall be gone. Good journey to you, Benarque, son of Surefall."
"Farewell to you, my friends, Belrosian the Wise, Kalweni Stormcaller," said Benarque.
They slept.
In the cold morning, Belrosian and Kalweni awoke to find the ranger gone. A bundle of wood had been stacked near their stone fire ring, in case they wanted a hot breakfast and their water skins had been filled near to bursting with fresh, icy-cool stream water. Belrosian couldn't help a smile as he hoisted his pack. A ranger to the end.
A set of man-sized tracks set off west of their camp but quickly vanished into the trees and could not be followed. Kalweni stared off to the west and knew the ranger had put miles and miles behind him already. So the two set off, wizard and paladin, heading for their old haunts in Qeynos, the western port city. They spoke not a single word the entire trip, each reflecting on his or her own memories of the half-elf. By sundown, they were entering the gates of the city.
***
Belrosian sat on a stool in the tavern, a little leaner and a little grayer than he had once been, sipping an ale, which he had acquired a taste, not to mention the responsibility for, some years before. He still held that a drunken wizard was a threat to all those around him but he had tailored his tolerance to alcohol over the years and could hold his liquor now. Across the tavern, a bard was finishing his song before a group of patrons, who were actively booing the poor lad and looking for things to throw.
"I'm sorry!" cried the young bard, "but I just don't know any good stories! You seem to have heard them all!" The crowd grumbled and glowered at the young man, who was trying to pack up his lute as inconspicuously as possible.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Belrosian decided to get up off his stool and speak to the boy. He made his way through the dozen or so bar patrons and sidled up to the bard.
"So you need a new story, eh?" whispered the wizard. The boy jumped, startled. "Y-yes, I suppose..." He looked Belrosian up and down and said, "Are you a mage, sir?"
Belrosian smiled. "I am somewhat familiar with arcane lore, yes. But today I will not be teaching you any of that. Instead, I will tell you a tale of a hero. This tale you can be assured few have heard. And you will be the first bard to sing of it."
The boy smiled and shouted, "Listen, friends, the old man here has a tale to entertain you, perhaps even better than I!" The crowd booed the boy but quickly turned their attention to Belrosian.
The wizard, despite bristling over being called "old," cleared his throat and began his tale.
"Hear now the tale of Benarque, the half-elven ranger of Surefall, friend to wizards and swordsman extraordinaire! It began one day in the remote but fair glade of 'neath the Surefall, some miles out of distant Qeynos. Benarque was a young boy, brought there by a mother plagued by guilt. Little did he know what he would someday become...."
On Belrosian's hip hung a short sword in a black scabbard, patiently awaiting the return of its master
"Belrosian, I must speak with you." Benarque the ranger sat on a log before a dim fire, surrounded by the shapes of his two companions, a paladin, breathing softly as she lay asleep, and a wizard, upright and attentive in his red hooded robes. The strong scent of pine was everywhere, as the three travelers sheltered within the boughs of a giant fir tree on the outskirts of an evergreen wood. Above them, the stars glimmered in their nightly procession, little caring of the events in the lives of men on Norrath.
"My ears are always open to you my friend," said the red-robed wizard.
Benarque did not immediately respond, but instead silently turned an arrow over and over in his hands and stared pensively into the dying flames for several moments. At last he spoke, the arrow coming to rest. "I must leave you," he said in a near-whisper.
Belrosian blinked beneath his cowl then squinted at the rugged ranger. "Leave? What do you mean?" Benarque sighed. "I have been trying to figure out how I would tell you this for the past week," he said. "All my preparation as to what I would say seems to have fallen flat."
He turned his eyes to meet Belrosian's for the first time. "A very long time ago I set out from Surefall Glade to find my father. To this day I have not come any closer to that goal. I have found many purposes to fight for in my journeys with you and Kalweni but this..."
Belrosian rubbed his chin. "I admit our quest to seek your father has not been on our top list of priorities. I apologize for this. It is simply that we have gotten so caught up with the Mark-bearers and the prophesies of the Three Walkers." The wizard frowned, faint lines creasing his copper-tanned face. "If I have angered you..."
"Don't be foolish," Benarque said. "It is nothing you have or have not done. It is me, Belrosian." The half-elven ranger shut his eyes and shook his head. "There is something within me...within my soul perhaps...It is calling me, and I cannot ignore it." He looked up at Belrosian again and grimaced. "I don't expect you to understand. I can't describe it to you in terms you could comprehend. I'm not sure I understand it myself. All I know is there is some higher force calling me to move, to accomplish some purpose. And that purpose is not here."
Now Belrosian stared into the flames for a moment before speaking. "I can understand this desire in you. You are a remarkable man, not overlooked by the gods. I do not doubt they have a special design in store for you." He took a deep breath then said in a deliberate tone, "What I truly cannot understand is why you think you must leave us to find this purpose."
Benarque frowned and exhaled through his nose. "Because it is a journey only I can make, Belrosian. I can explain it no more clearly than that. Just as I know I must go, I also know I must go alone." A cloud passed over the moon, shrouding both men's faces in darkness. "It is not a decision I make easily, nor with any great relish." Belrosian steeped his long fingers and leaned back against the log, his face a mask of concern. "Normally I would not propose to go against divine will, but in this case I find my heart speaks louder than my sense. You are more than a friend to me, Ben. You are a brother. It is no secret that I would now be in the company of the gods many times over if not for your efforts. I do not know what we, what I, would do without you."
Benarque winced as if physically struck. "I knew you would say that, wizard." He steadied himself. "It is also no secret that you taught me more about this world than any man under the sun. It is no secret that I owe you my life just as much as you owe me your own. And let it be no secret now that this is the hardest decision I will ever make!" His voice had risen to a near shout and he hastily lowered it to keep from waking Kalweni. He scowled into the flames. "If I do not go now, I will miss my chance forever. I will never find the answers I seek; I will never find my purpose. This I know for certain."
"I will not try to stop you," Belrosian said softly, accepting defeat. "And I will aide you however I can before you start out. But know this: I will not forget you, nor ever give up hoping for your return."
"And I will never forget you either, you musty old scholar," said Benarque with a chuckle, the first time he had smiled that night. "I will return one day, if the gods are merciful and I survive my journey. This I swear."
"What will you tell the young paladin?" asked Belrosian.
Benarque glanced at the sleeping woman. "I will tell her nothing. She would not let me leave, no matter what I told her, if she knew my intentions. I shall leave it to you."
Kalweni's eyes suddenly flew open and she sat up, bolt-straight. "You mean you were going to leave without saying goodbye?" She scowled at Benarque and clenched her fists. "You insensitive bastard."
Benarque could not restrain a laugh, nor could Belrosian. "I'm sorry Kal," said Benarque. "I...I thought it would be easier for you if I slipped away unannounced." He grinned. "I suppose you overheard the entire conversation?"
"By thunder I did. Seems you don't know how to keep quiet while someone's trying to sleep," she snapped. "But if you think you're going anywhere, just let me get my axe and you can rethink your decision."
Belrosian put a hand on Kalweni's shoulder. "If you know the whole story, Kalweni, then you know there is no changing his mind."
Kalweni looked downtrodden and said, "Of course. But I don't have to like it. And I certainly am not letting him leave without a goodbye."
Benarque clasped her forearm. "Forgive me, Kalweni. I should never have presumed to leave you without a word."
"It is forgiven," she said. "But it makes your departure no easier." Her blue eyes stared into his brown, full of concern and worry.
"There is one other matter I must inform you both of," said Benarque. "Perhaps it is best to simply show you..." He pulled off his shirt and turned around. His companions gazed in puzzlement at his bare back. Belrosian was about to question him when he realized-
"Your Mark is gone!" cried Kalweni.
Belrosian's jaw dropped. "My friend, how can this be?"
"I do not know," Benarque replied, slipping his shirt back over his head. "I felt it disappear one night not long ago...It simply dissolved away into my skin, leaving no trace."
Belrosian looked apprehensive. "Ben, this is a definite sign. I have never heard of a Mark simply vanishing...What this may portend, I do not know. It is a frightening prospect however." "Indeed," said Kalweni. "But does this absolve you from the Mark of Draconians? If you are not Marked, how can you be one of us?" "That is one of my prime reasons for leaving," said the ranger. "There must be a cause for the removal of my Mark. Somehow, I know the answer to this riddle will be found alongside the riddle of my father. In the meantime, I'm of little use to the Light if I am Unmarked and no longer to communicate telepathically with our brethren."
Belrosian and Kalweni both started in surprise. "You mean you no longer hear the collective thoughts of the Mark of Draconians?" said Kalweni.
"No," Benarque replied. "I have been dead to them for some days now."
"Then I suppose you really are excommunicated from us then," said Belrosian. "This is an unfortunate turn of events. I had counted on being able to speak with you telepathically on your journey at the very least."
Benarque shook his head. "No, the gods have denied us even that small comfort. I will be alone, physically and mentally."
The three said nothing for a while then, and watched the fire burn down to glowing embers. A wolf howled in the far distance, the eerie sound echoing through the tree-filled dale around them.
"I must be a lone wolf now," Benarque said to no one in particular.
Belrosian looked at him, opened his mouth to speak, but then decided against it and remained silent. Kalweni stared mournfully at Benarque. "I suppose this is the end, then," said Benarque at length. "There is nothing more to discuss about my departure."
His companions said nothing.
Benarque reached for his pack and opened it, and began rummaging through it. He produced a short sword in a black leather scabbard and a small wooden box. Holding them in his hands, he looked gravely at each of his companions and then spoke. "I am going to give each of you something to remember me by."
He held up the wooden box and opened it. Within was set a coin-sized disc of green marble with a strange symbol graven on it. He handed it to Kalweni. "This is the Rune of Ivy. If you remember, I won it off one of the vicious griffons of the Karanas." Kalweni nodded, sadly. "Take it now, and hold it for me. It is said there are four such runes, which together can create the perfect armor for a woodsman. Should I return, I will seek these other runes. For now, keep it safe and remember me." Kalweni took the wooden box, her eyes pooled with unshed tears, her mouth quavering in a frown to fight back sobs.
Benarque turned to Belrosian, who sat frowning into the embers of their fire. "To you, Belrosian, I give this." He held up the short sword in its scabbard. "This is Morin's Blade, the leader of the rangers of Kithicor. I performed a valuable service to her, if you remember, and she gave me her own sword as a reward. Now I want you to have it."
Belrosian solemnly took the blade and laid it across his open palms.
"I know you are no swordsman," said Benarque, "but bear it for me now, in remembrance of our many adventures, and our friendship."
Belrosian met his friend's eyes and said, "No man shall touch it until you return for it, Ranger of Surefall." A tear made its way lazily down his dark cheek but his face remained stoic.
Benarque wiped a hand across his eyes, sniffled, then said, "You two are the best friends I have ever known, and will ever know. I shall never forget you, no matter where my travels take me." Then he stood and turned his eyes toward the heavens and held out his hands, almost like a priest. "May your arrows always find their marks. May the bards sing your praises across the land. May the gods write your names in the stars."
Belrosian and Kalweni both stood now, and surrounded Benarque. "May your spells never fizzle, noble woodsman," said the wizard softly.
"May the gods pave your way with Light," said the paladin.
And then they embraced, the three of them, and held each other in arms for a long moment.
"Let us sleep now," said Belrosian. "In the morning you shall be gone. Good journey to you, Benarque, son of Surefall."
"Farewell to you, my friends, Belrosian the Wise, Kalweni Stormcaller," said Benarque.
They slept.
In the cold morning, Belrosian and Kalweni awoke to find the ranger gone. A bundle of wood had been stacked near their stone fire ring, in case they wanted a hot breakfast and their water skins had been filled near to bursting with fresh, icy-cool stream water. Belrosian couldn't help a smile as he hoisted his pack. A ranger to the end.
A set of man-sized tracks set off west of their camp but quickly vanished into the trees and could not be followed. Kalweni stared off to the west and knew the ranger had put miles and miles behind him already. So the two set off, wizard and paladin, heading for their old haunts in Qeynos, the western port city. They spoke not a single word the entire trip, each reflecting on his or her own memories of the half-elf. By sundown, they were entering the gates of the city.
***
Belrosian sat on a stool in the tavern, a little leaner and a little grayer than he had once been, sipping an ale, which he had acquired a taste, not to mention the responsibility for, some years before. He still held that a drunken wizard was a threat to all those around him but he had tailored his tolerance to alcohol over the years and could hold his liquor now. Across the tavern, a bard was finishing his song before a group of patrons, who were actively booing the poor lad and looking for things to throw.
"I'm sorry!" cried the young bard, "but I just don't know any good stories! You seem to have heard them all!" The crowd grumbled and glowered at the young man, who was trying to pack up his lute as inconspicuously as possible.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Belrosian decided to get up off his stool and speak to the boy. He made his way through the dozen or so bar patrons and sidled up to the bard.
"So you need a new story, eh?" whispered the wizard. The boy jumped, startled. "Y-yes, I suppose..." He looked Belrosian up and down and said, "Are you a mage, sir?"
Belrosian smiled. "I am somewhat familiar with arcane lore, yes. But today I will not be teaching you any of that. Instead, I will tell you a tale of a hero. This tale you can be assured few have heard. And you will be the first bard to sing of it."
The boy smiled and shouted, "Listen, friends, the old man here has a tale to entertain you, perhaps even better than I!" The crowd booed the boy but quickly turned their attention to Belrosian.
The wizard, despite bristling over being called "old," cleared his throat and began his tale.
"Hear now the tale of Benarque, the half-elven ranger of Surefall, friend to wizards and swordsman extraordinaire! It began one day in the remote but fair glade of 'neath the Surefall, some miles out of distant Qeynos. Benarque was a young boy, brought there by a mother plagued by guilt. Little did he know what he would someday become...."
On Belrosian's hip hung a short sword in a black scabbard, patiently awaiting the return of its master