Completed Namesake

[Griffyn]

Griffyn brushed off Hahnah's concern with a grin and a shake of his hand.

"It's nothing, just a sprain," he said. "I'll walk it off. And the rest of it we can handle later."

He laughed then, taking in her wounds. "What a pair we make! I hope Rathanon and the others appreciate the lengths we have gone to for their freedom. Come, we need to get away from here in case one of those fellows up there has a bow."

Their initial scouting of the perimeter of the manor had been well-considered, and they knew the path to take even before the the soldiers could make their way to the grounds. A patch of wall on the southern edge of the garden, given a threatening density by some rather ragged topiary, was in clear need of repairs and allowed them a tight exit to the streets. The call at their backs confirmed they had been spotted leaving, but that made little difference now. Beneath the moon, they made their way into the side-streets of the noble quarter and headed west under cover of shadow.

Griffyn leaned heavily against the wall of a chandler's as they ducked away from sight of a slow patrol of soldiers making their rounds close to the western gate. The open square leading to the one path out of town lay before them. There were many soldiers standing at the barricades that made up the final defence of the city, but they were stood casually, taking in conversation and very much at ease. Eventually he and Hahnah would need to make themselves known if they were to reach the outside and the delegation of elves, and with speed they could potentially outrun word of their treachery. But right now he felt strangely winded, and knew for certain they would be stopped and questioned if they revealed themselves. So, with salvation in sight, he held up his hand.

"One moment, please."

He wiped at his brow with a gloved hand. Sweat made an uncomfortable disparity with the cool of the night, and his injuries had made walking tiresome. His legs felt heavy, and his right arm still hadn't entirely recovered from being the focus for so much of his magic. It felt leaden, heavy as sin.

But he turned his eyes to Hahnah as they awaited the Order in the dark of the alley. There was a wideness to her eyes that he didn't entirely recognise, a narrowness to her pupils that spoke of fear. Or was he misreading her? Regardless, he found worry creep up his spine as he watched his friend. This had been a long day and he felt close to his breaking point. How much worse must she feel?

"I imagine this is not how you foresaw events transpiring when you came here to Menura," he said with a quick smile. "Still, I am confident we have overtaken the worst of this. And I can see a future for Rathanon, Aurielle and the others that they can take pride in. I'm certain we will soon have the opportunity to... to take a rest."

He leant back on the stone wall and looked up at the stars between the tops of the buildings to either side of them. They glistened quietly like a tapestry of silver.

"What will you do after this?" he asked. "Once we're away from here? I could do with a bath, for a start. A cooked meal, perhaps. And I'll need to write home. Word may spread back to Alliria, and I wouldn't want my family to be concerned unduly. I will need money, of course, so perhaps another caravan job...?"

His smile faded. There was so much yet that he needed to accomplish before he would be able to sleep comfortably. How far would he need to travel before he could find a place to truly rest, away from the vengeance of Lord Sunderland and the mistrust of the elves? He sighed, and shook his head. There was no sense worrying about such matters, that were still quite far off. First came their responsibility to the Order of the Acer, then he could worry about where he would sleep.

"How about you?" he asked Hahnah. "What do you want to do once we finish with this?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Through the city they went. Griffyn leading the way, and Hahnah following.

And soon enough it was that they came to a stop, out of sight of the western gate but close to it. One moment, please. Behind the cover of the chandler's shop is where at last stillness caught up with them. With her. And with that stillness the corresponding loss of immediacy, necessity, the reinforced shield which held back the full weight of the reckoning of her worldview's collapse. That weight was now building. Slowly.

I imagine this is not how you foresaw events transpiring when you came here to Menura.

(Slowly...)

Tiny shakes of her head. All that she could manage. Though she could not know it, Griffyn's appraisal of her was right, in the wideness of her eyes and narrowness of her pupils and altogether the ashen look of fear, edging into horror, upon her expression.

I'm certain we will soon have the opportunity to... to take a rest.

(Slowly...)

Hahnah's back found the stone wall opposite to Griffyn. She dreaded what she must do. Must do. Elurdrith had instilled in her the way of honesty with friends, with loved ones. And so it was what she must do, no matter how much she feared what may come of it.

What will you do after this? Once we're away from here?

(Slowly...)

Her legs started to feel weak, and her back pressed more and more into the stone wall of the shop behind her. Griffyn spoke of many things, good things, things that she would like yet which all seemed dwarfed by the enormity of the crushing torment upon her shoulders now, the full-fledged realization and acceptance that she had carried the sin of cruelty, and that she had been cruel for a long, long time.

How about you? What do you want to do once we finish with this?

(Until it was too much.)

"I..."

She couldn't look away from Griffyn's eyes.

"...should seek forgiveness..."

Her legs at last gave out, and she slid down the wall and onto her rear end on the ground, sitting as she had fallen--arms and legs resting where they may--without that characteristic perfect posture.

"...for all of the terrible things that I have done."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn's expression fell away as his friend sank to the ground. His leg seized as he approached and he half-tumbled, half-crouched onto his knees in front of her. Wincing against the pain of a handful of injuries, he reached a hand out tentatively towards her.

"No, Hannah..."

He had seen her afraid before, seen her in the throes of despair. When food was short and none in the city had the space in their heart for compassion, when her path was murky and her deity was silent with no light at the end of the tunnel. He had seen her then. But this was different. Here and now, he saw a girl who had lost the foundation upon which she'd built her life. Caught in freefall, nothing to grasp to. It was a pain he felt all too acutely as he looked into those big blue eyes, but had no reference with which to understand. That made looking for words difficult, and he floundered as he watched her.

"I... what, what do you mean, 'seek forgiveness'?" he asked. "You have nothing to forgive. You've done nothing but good so long as I have..."

But how much did he really know about Hahnah? She had come from a dark place but had been raised by a loving family. Who had died... Now this pilgrimage in service to her 'Dying God'. Had he ever asked what else her guiding light had asked of her? And her abilities, those sorcerous knives she was able to create... Those were weapons, they were not tools for building or crafting. How well did he truly know his friend?

Well enough. He decided that then and there.

"Hannah, whatever you feel you need forgiveness for, I'm certain it was long ago. It is done, and now you are here saving lives. That's what counts - the you now, not the you who... the you from before all this."

He put a hand on her shoulder, meeting her wide and haunted gaze, and smiled.

"I trust you, Hannah. That's good enough for me."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hannah.

Were it that Griffyn had been the first human she had ever met, how many lives would have been saved? She did not know. But he was the antithesis of the collective idea of a profane Humankind that had been seared into her mind ever since her first tragic encounter with them. His kindness, his grace, his care for those who were his family and those who were his friends, his willingness to stand up for what was right and his capacity to sacrifice for the sake of others, what better envoy for Humankind than a man like Griffyn?

Even in her darkest moment, he smiled. Tried to heal what ailed her through warm gestures, through the spoken word.

Hahnah reached up slowly. Laid her hand atop his own that rested on her shoulder. She tried to smile back, if only for a brief second. She felt that she had. But if she had or if she had failed, she could not smile now. Not in the preceding moment of what she needed to admit, to say with all of the right and proper honesty that Elurdrith and Kylindrielle had instilled into her.

"I am a slayer of Humankind, and I have killed many, many humans."

Her eyes didn't leave his. Searching, seeking, wishing, dreading, hoping, fearing. What would she find in the green of his eyes, with the truth being spoken?

"If we had crossed paths in another place, at a different time, I would have killed you. I would have killed you and felt that I had only done good in the world. My heart does not feel..." she struggled even to find the word, "...remorse...for all those I have murdered, because I had deemed them to be profane all. My mind knows my sin but my heart does not."

All had seemed right with the world when mind and heart were in alignment. Now, like a balefully radiant bastion of hatred, her heart stood deaf and resolute to all else of her body, inescapably a fundamental part of her and yet as well a thing that was like a foreign relic of a lost age.

"But you, Griffyn..."

Her eyes closed, this from a strange mixture of fear and affection, and she laid her cheek down on her hand that was atop his.

"...you have made it so that I can be better."

For without him she was certain that still she would have seen all of Humankind as profane things, each and every one of them who had been placed into her path placed so by cruel gods for the sole purpose of being slain.

And now it was different. The entirety of the world was different. And it was good.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

He sat back, taking a seat on the dusty floor, wordless. What was he to say to such a confession? To think that the foundation that Hahnah had lost was so... so thick with blood. She had based what looked like most of her life on the act of... of killing humans, people like him. Because she believed them all to be beyond saving.

And now she had begun to foster doubt, because of him. She had taken the imperious oppression of the human Lord Sunderland, the gruelling treatment of human soldiers, the warmongering and glory seeking of the human commanders, and instead had chosen to look to him as... what? The exception?

But if you believed that all humans on Arethil were evil, surely it only took one exception to shake your faith. That was a lot of pressure for him, then, to live up to the importance she had placed upon his shoulders. If he strayed, even a little, would she see that as the truth revealed?

Griffyn looked away, his mind at work. Where could he take Hahnah to meet humans who strove only for good? Who did he know who he could trust with this girl's entire worldview? His family, certainly... but none others. None others he would trust to always seek the right thing. And then again, if he was being honest, had he always sought the right thing? Would he, from now on?

He shook his head suddenly. He was meant to be reaching out to catch Hahnah as she fell, and here he was tumbling into a hole of his own. He squeezed her shoulder.

"Then I suppose I should thank you," he said, "for giving me the chance to prove myself. I didn't do anything special, remember. You decided to hold back and see how I reacted. I wonder if that means a part of you has always been holding out hope that an entire society of people is not truly evil. Are you so sure that your heart doesn't understand what you have done?"

Of course, another voice in Griffyn's heart said quite the opposite. That Hahnah's Dead God might have discovered a truth. Humans had built this city which had become a prison of guilt for Rathanon. Humans had warred for centuries over the same pride that fuelled Rathierel. Even his father was part of a system in the city of Alliria, in which some were elevated and others put down. And Griffyn... even he had chosen on the spur of a moment to pursue a violent end instead of trusting in diplomacy. Was his desire for justice because of who he was, or despite it?

What did it mean, really, to be human?

Not a thought worth pursuing right now, that much was certain.

"Regardless, I feel I should also thank you," he said to his friend with a chuckle, "for not killing me. I appreciate it. And I hope I can continue to make you doubt that we are all as bad as a few outliers. That's a task for the future, so let's focus on that. Not on the past. Does that sound good to you?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Of all the things she would have guessed to come from her horrid admission, being thanked was not one of them. Griffyn was..an amazing human being. Elurdrith himself had told her once: "Keep gratitude close to your heart, share it with others, and you will enrich many lives." And that is exactly what Griffyn had done, and he had done so under what Hahnah believed was one of the hardest of all possible circumstances.

She opened her eyes. Felt that she could once more met his own and did so. A glimmer of new life in her gaze, this shining faintly through the heaviness. She did not know if that had been some quiet part of her that had been hoping for a deliverance of Humankind, and she did not know if her heart would ever feel remorse--that rare, wrenching feeling that had come about when she had on occasion disappointed her caretakers, those that she loved and cared for. She did not know these things, but...the simple aspiration to be more like Griffyn was enough for now.

"Yes. That does sound good to me."

Carefully, Hahnah--with tidy, prim precision--began to move her legs and place her feet beneath herself and to rise and at last come to stand again. And it was here that she decided to do something. Wishing Griffyn, and perhaps by some extension many others of Humankind, well, despite the furnace of hatred in her heart for humanity. Doing this to perhaps in some small way share her gratitude and enrich his life.

She held her hands, clasped together, to her chest just beneath her chin, very much as if she were praying. Gazed up at him. Said, "You are a human, Griffyn, and still I wish you well. You are a human, Griffyn, and still I do not wish for you to die. I wish only good things for you. I want you to have a bath--"

She was in such a throe of earnestness that she did not realize in the moment how awkward it was to phrase it like that. So she continued without a hitch.

"--I want you to have a cooked meal, I want you to be able to write home, and I want you to see your family again so that they are not worried. Thank you, Griffyn, for sharing food with me. Thank you, Griffyn, for teaching me the sound of my true name. Thank you, Griffyn, for helping me to doubt my ways of sin when my own heart could not."

She tried to smile again, and it was easier. It was easier.

"I care for you, and you will always be special to me."

There was no easy reconciliation of the heavy reckoning for all that she had done, all that she had so grievously been mistaken about. But this was a start.

A good start.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn felt a warmth in his chest that bordered on ache, but that brought a wide smile to his lips. He rose to his feet beside Hahnah and nodded.

"The feeling is mutual," he said.

Who would have thought. Griffyn had always felt that one of the overt goals of his journey would be making friends, networking contacts that he could call on when he took the reins of the family finances. And yet, it was not in the gilded cages of Dornoch, the paved trails of caravaneers nor in the homes of his fellow nobility in the city of Alliria that he had found a true companion, a real and honest friend. It was in the dusty streets of a besieged city far from home, in the form of a young girl who days, hours earlier would have slit his throat and thought nothing of it. A girl who would likely offer him no benefit or support in the world of business, but who had taught him more than the rest of his days on the road ever had, even more than many of his years spent learning the ropes of his father's business. His father, he considered with a smirk, would no doubt love to meet her.

But his next words to that effect were cut off as a commotion occured at the mouth of the alley. Turning, Griffyn watched the soldiers at the main gate begin to mill and gather like anxious sheep with sporadic calls to arms and raised queries. A small mob of burnished helms and upright weapons blocked much of his view, but he fancied he could see bright firelight amassing at the entrance of the city, beyond the barricade. He frowned and exhaled quietly.

"It's time," he said. "Time to see this to the end. I..."

He faltered, looking down at his boots before glancing over at Hahnah. "I would appreciate if you would pray to your Dying God for us. I'll do the same on my end. I am hoping that Rathierel and his Order see the sense of letting all this drop with our signed agreement and the safe return of Rathanon and the workers. But... Well, we have seen the stubbornness of this particular family already."

He smiled tightly and cast his thoughts inwards and upwards. Astra, guide us. Protect us. Just for a little longer, he implored. The first honest prayer in quite some time.

More soldiers were amassing at the gate. It was now or never. Griffyn straightened his shoulders and prepared to move, wincing against the pain in his leg. One last time he put upon his shoulders the airs of one who had every right to be there.

"Ready?" he asked his friend.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah looked toward the alley's opening when she as well heard the soldiers, and this was like a grounding of her feet to the earth again, a clarity of purpose to right her freefalling turmoil. She had already spoken her gratitude to Griffyn, yet still, with the shifting of the moment she felt as though she had a cherished moment cut short. But perhaps it had to be so. Peace, and all of the good and all of the bad that would come with it, lay at the other end of their final task.

Of sacred things I am the savior.

With her world in shambles, with elves of both sin and grace and with humans of both sin and grace on either side of Menura's walls, with the burden of her own vast cruelties realized and weighing upon her, this could still be so. Because she was not alone.

She met Griffyn's glance. Her chest swelled with admiration when he mentioned that not only should she pray, but that he would pray as well. To his Gods of Celestialism, to Astra and Aionus and Tychan and Metisa and Nykios and Drakon. And briefly she wondered if they spoke to those who followed them, to those who were devout, and if they returned the love that was given to them in kind and that this could be felt in the hearts of those who believed. Griffyn went to 'temple' every year, as he had said. Had he ever--

(been locked inside of it)

--felt the presence of the divine whilst there?

For now, she put aside her theological wonderings, else it would threaten to steal away the urgency of the present moment. She gave a sharp nod--still feeling the awful ghost of Amon's club upon the bruising wound atop her head--and said to Griffyn, "I will."

Hahnah delicately, with perfect fluidity of motion, descended down onto her knees and turned her face skyward and clasped her hands once more. Her voice was quiet and reverential.

"Are You still with me?"

Only the sounds of Menura, the sounds of the world.

"If it is Your will that I shall not use Your gifts, then may it be so."

That steady, faint presence in her heart. Always there. Always, save for Strathford, silent. Even now.

"All I need is Your love. Please allow me to continue to walk among them, as You have bidden. May You see Griffyn and I through this ordeal?"

No answer came.

But.

That was alright.

Hahnah's hands glided back to her sides as she rose to her feet once more. She did not know why command of the gifts from the Dying God had receded from her grasp, she did not know if it would return or if it was gone for good. But she had the knife, meager as her skill with mundane weaponry in general happened to be. She had the love she knew the Dying God was returning to her. And she had the will to do all that was necessary to ensure that she need not keep her promise to Griffyn, that he need not sacrifice himself for good to prevail.

"I am saddened by what a few of Elvenkind have done here in Menura," Hahnah said. And then she looked out toward the opening of the alley, "but I will rejoice when we make right that which we still can."

* * * * *​

Elsewhere.

The Dying God watched.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched his friend as she prayed, and listened to her words. For all the evidence she had already offered on her devotion to the enigmatic source of her strength, it was still a surprise to see her fall to her knees in reverence. He felt a modicum of shame, were he honest with himself, that his own prayers to the Celestials were so lacklustre. But then again, Astra and her heavenly compatriots had never walked alongside him as Hahnah's Dying God had. Had they?

As she rose, he composed himself anew. They began with a nod.

Griffyn strode out into the square, tall and outwardly confident, with as little limp as he could muster. As he walked, the blue cloth of the commander's armband emerged from his pocket and went around his upper arm. He met the eyes of the soldiers at the back of the throng, who turned at the sound of their approach, and waved his hand in a fierce gesture.

"Out of the way! Out of the way, boys!"

More turned, and more saw. But all were content to step back. Some even gave a quick salute. Griffyn recognised the trust in those eyes that told him there had been no word yet that their commander had tried to kill the Lord of the city. He also saw relief that someone else was willing to take responsibility. Both suited their needs, and Griffyn couldn't help but grin.

"Someone told me we have guests!" he added. "Hope you lads are making them feel welcome!"

A wave of laughter, made a touch hysterical by the mounting tension, washed over them as the crowd parted. Before long, Hahnah and Griffyn were stepping through the wooden barricade in the wrecked frame of the city gates and into bright torchlight. With the massing garrison of the city of Menura at his back, Griffyn looked upon the Order of the Acer.

The elven council took centre stage, naturally. They stood about a hundred feet from the walls, easily within arrowshot but undefended in their silken finery. About them stood men and women in armour, armed with spears and grim expressions where their helmets did not hide their faces. Griffyn spotted the man who had escorted them to their council when they had visited under the pretense of diplomacy, but could not remember his name. Graves? And behind them, a force of soldiers in prim lines and ranks. He estimated around two hundred, at least fifty astride mounts. Enough to take the city, but at a cost. Mistrust, it seemed, had forced the elves to leave a host in the forest in case the city proved more cunning than expected and targeted their workforce while they battered at the walls.

The pair stopped within earshot of the soldiers of the city, about twenty feet from the gates, under the piercing, explorative gazes of the council. Griffyn held out his arms in a wide gesture, and brought forth past years of training to cast his voice powerfully over the assembly.

"Friends," he called in greeting, "you are most welcome here this evening."

That was as far as he got. Rathierel, resplendant in a red gown and with his dark hair straight and shimmering, folded his arms with a sour expression.

"You?" he demanded. "The clerk of the city comes to welcome us? What insult is this? Is the Lord of Menura so above us that he will not come down from his throne to speak with us?"

"I believe you were there when we stated out terms." This the Lady Cierannias, eyes aflame. "The Lord of the City and his pet mage were to present themselves to us and inform us themselves of their innocence. Clearly such has proven impossible, and you are aware that now our hands are tied."

She raised an arm, and the mass of steel and leather at her back shifted expectantly. "This blood is on your hands."

Griffyn put up his own arms, palms out, in an attempt to calm her. "Please. Circumstances have changed. The Lord Sunderland is indisposed presently, but his will is enacted through documents I have on my person. And with his words, justice! Your kin are safe, and shall arrive presently. Unharmed, and free to leave as they wish. The Lord's will is that with this, we may finally have peace!"

The next words came much harder. He swallowed. "As for the 'pet mage'... I am willing to hear your grievances."

The transformation was sudden and dramatic. Cierannias' hand fell slowly, and Rathierel unfolded his arms with wide eyes.

"You?!" a new voice from the council spat, that of one whose name Griffyn felt was Fierathas. "You are mage of this city?!"

"And you had the gall to stand before us but not announce yourself?" Sycalor, the well-spoken diplomat, laughed as he spoke. "Such... Such arrogance!"

"Then you already know of your crimes! You shall pay for them now! Elfslayer!!" Cierannias waved a hand swiftly, and a line of archers pulled back on their weapons.

There were shouts from the wall behind them. Griffyn felt cold, paralysed.

"W-Wait!" he cried out. "Please, wait! I only wish to talk!"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah did not bother to put her own armband back on. The blood smeared down her face from this night, the makeshift bandage still around her neck from the night previous, even those other wounds she had suffered but yet were not visible on account of her clothes--all these told of a story more powerful than that blue armband.

She walked beside Griffyn as they strode through the gathering of soldiers before the patchwork gates. The knife she held in her hand and lowered at her side, her green cloak sweeping away sight of it every now and again. One thing that was certainly unaffected by the collapse of her worldview was her apprehension of crowds, for in the many came myriad issues of base level trust. Who among them were those who meant her harm, or those who could mean her harm, were there any at all? This primal fear, if anything, had only gotten worse, what with the clarity of hard definitions and expectations vanished from Elven and Humankind. She kept her confidence as best she could, taking heart in Griffyn's ability to work with the crowd. It was his world, fluent and persuasive speech on scales as large as the throng of soldiers and as small as simply to one other person, and he navigated it well.

Through the gates and outside the city.

And there the Order of the Acer and the elven council led by Rathierel stood, awaiting the continuation of their negotiation as they said they would. Hahnah slipped the knife into her pocket as they approached, and not so far beyond the relative safety of Menura's decimated gates and the soldiers thereabout did they stop. Truthfully, she could not see how such a weapon could be of much use here, and in that moment, looking across the gap at the forces of the Order and knowing what Rathierel had demanded, she wished that she had the powers of her sorcery available to be wielded.

Rathierel and the other elves were not so pleased to see the "clerk" of the city. But Griffyn told them of what they had done, the succinct story of what had transpired with Rathanon and the human master Sunderland. And he revealed that he was the mage that they wanted dead. This, as Hahnah worried, was not received well, even after the (what should have been) good news about Rathierel's brother and the other elven craftsmen.

Words were spoken quickly.

Tensions rising even quicker.

And weapons were readied.

W-Wait! Please, wait! I only wish to talk!

Had she the gifts of the Dying God, Hahnah would have immediately gone into action, launching Knives and throwing Orbs once their imminent hostilities were made clear, as her instincts in such a situation would have dictated. But she did not have the option. The only thing that would carry across the distance before an explicit order to attack could be given was her voice.

Elfslayer, was the accusation. Yet it was the failure of the brothers Rathierel and Rathanon which had brought those elves who had been killed to their deaths, fighting in a siege and a war that was being waged for petty reasons and by callous means.

Hahnah took a step forward, arms spread wide out to her sides, and she called out in Elvish, "You are the slayers of elves as well! And you will ensure the deaths of more if you do not wait and listen!"

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

For a wonder, the arrows did not fly. Even more so, the soldiers of Menura did not rush to the slaughter. Perhaps the Gods really had taken charge of this chaos, Griffyn wondered as he watched Hahnah's plight unfold.

The slightly raised hand of the elven councilwoman held the weight of a judge's gavel as it kept the bolts from flying. Her expression was fierce as a summer storm, though tinged with pain.

"We would not expect a child to understand," she called back to Hahnah. "We fight now for lives long gone, lives besmirched by the handling of humans that cannot speak for themselves. By allowing this imbalance to continue, we dishonour our forebears. Their spirits shall not rest easy until the noble name of all Elfkind is restored.

"They have to know!" she added, voice faltering. "We have to make these short-lived, hedonistic fools know that they cannot just do what they want with us!"

Along the line there was quiet weeping as the words resonated. Sycalor put a hand to his eyes and his shoulders began to shudder.

As for Griffyn, he understood little of what was said. But the emotion, the understanding, came through the veil of his ignorance and touched at his heart. Such pride! These were a people for whom harm to reputation was evidently as dire a crime as harm to the person. To them, it was clear that though Rathanon had not suffered physically at the hands of Sunderland, his shame was an injustice that could be righted by violence as easily, more easily than like shame. And that made them impossible to negotiate with. Each member of the council had brought the full force of their passion to bear on the city of Menura, and just being heard above the din was proving impossible. Griffyn steeled his heart then, his course set, and stepped forward.

But his words died on his lips as a whisper of awe passed across the Order soldiers. A soft rustle at his back brought his attention to Rathanon, and at his side his wife Aurielle, standing beside the two of them. Others stood with them, a full thirteen, still dressed in workman's overalls. And Ethriellan, red-eyed but standing tall. The wind was cast out of the Order of the Acer, who watched on with wide eyes. Rathierel, in particular, was pale and aghast.

"Brother." Rathanon's voice had a weight that Griffyn did not expect. He was transformed before them, a lord among men. "We must talk. There are words, long overdue, that I must share with you."

"You don't have to do this," Griffyn said, stepping close. "You can sit this out. Any injustice...-"

"Any injustice has already been paid for," Rathanon interjected with a soft smile. "We allowed ourselves to be deceived, and have paid for that. Lord Sunderland, our deceiver, is also aware of his own shame. Anything further, quite simply, is not my brother's concern. Anything further is naught but arrogance. I shall convince him of this."

He turned to Hahnah then, eyes creased with sadness. "With a little courage."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Cierannias called back her answer, and she was wrong. Hahnah did understand. She had for years been fighting for lives long gone, fervently upholding her grim promise to them, and it was this that had made her who she was: a human slayer. Hahnah and the elves of Fal'Edwein both sought good in the world, the cleansing of profane things for her and the righting of that which was wrong for them, and this was perhaps the most frightening aspect of their respective fights, that the pursuit of good could lead one so easily into perpetuation of cruelty. How kindred was the hatred of humans that Hahnah and Cierannias held in their hearts, she wondered, and regretted so doing, as if the thought alone could infect all Elvenkind with every sin nestled beneath her bosom.

Cierannias's declaration. Hahnah felt the soul of it as Griffyn had, and it kindled a flash of yearning for the elves of Fal'Edwein to have here in Menura nothing short of total victory, all that they wanted delivered to them. Hahnah had to suppress the surge of unquestioning support for Elvenkind and as well the flared embers of hatred for humanity, visible signs of the internal struggle evident in her expression and the shifting of her shoulders. She thought in that moment that this very suppression was something that she would have to do again and again, that the disfigurement of her heart was something that could never be fully undone. To be a good person, to alleviate her monstrous cruelties, this suppression she would be something that she must do...forever.

Griffyn turned. Hahnah's noticing of it was delayed, and then she looked back as well. Rathanon, Aurielle, Ethriellan, all of the other elves that had been with them in their so-called captivity. And when she looked forward again, she saw across the gap the face of Rathanon's own brother at the sight of him. It seemed more than mere surprise or shock, and devoid of the joy Hahnah thought his expression should have had. How much would Griffyn rejoice upon seeing his brother Altyr again, and he upon seeing Griffyn?

Hahnah looked to Griffyn and Rathanon once more as they spoke. And the latter, he who was now acting to end his own cruelty, turned to her.

She spoke, in Elvish, "You are not alone, Rathanon. You and I and Griffyn know that this is best for all. Your wife Aurielle has already taken her stand. It is time now for you to take yours."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Rathanon nodded, a heavy and funereal movement.

"Thank you. Thank you, both."

Then he turned to face the Order. By his side, Griffyn watched him carefully. The elf appeared far older than his many hundreds of years as he slowly breathed in, then out. Then...

"My brother, you have come far. All this... you have achieved all this for me and our friends. I am honoured, truly. Truly. I believe you have done all this out of love for your kin and your people. And for that, you have my earnest thanks."

Oddly spoken, Griffyn considered as he translated quickly in his head. As if Rathanon was telling himself to have faith, reconciling his heart to that of his brother by force of will. Sweat beaded on the elf's brow, showing the extent of his exertion.

"And now we are free. Saved by the hands of all of us, all manner of people. Humans and elves together have achieved this, and a great deed it is too.

"I am... truly sorry that such was required to bring me out of the shadow."

Rathierel opened his mouth to speak, but his brother did not let up on the momentum of his speech.

"We are finished here, so let us leave," he intoned. "Not one of us has any desire to be here a moment longer. Let us go home together. Brother, I... I want to go home now. I long to see my home once more."

His hands shook. Griffyn fought the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. Let the Order see their friend in all his strength, without the need of support.

"We shall." Sycalor spoke these words into the void left by their leader. "We shall, Rathanon. And how wondrous it is to be able to say such. But first, we must right the imbalance of your capture and detainment."

Rathanon shook his head violently at this. "No, Sycalor. There is no imbalance. No longer. All costs have been paid, all debts settled. I say again, there is no reason for us to remain here."

"You do not understand, then, the toll exacted to bring us here." Rathierel spoke quietly but insistently. His sombre tone carried the weight of all the soldiers at his back. "There has been blood spilled for this moment, brother, which must be bought back. Blood spilled by men such as that one beside you!"

An accusing finger aimed at Griffyn eliminated any doubt as to who he was referring to. But a hand landed on his back then as Rathanon drew near to him.

"And we have hurt him and his kin, also!" he cried. "How much they have hurt because of us! Because of me! And not only him, and not only human."

Rathanon's other hand reached out to Hahnah, drawing her towards him. The elf stood between them, his grip tight.

"When you speak of imbalance brother, forgive me, you speak in ignorance! You are ignorant, all of you, if you name the continuation of this battle as justice! It is done, brother! It is all done!"

He gasped raggedly for air.

"Let it be done, please!"

Griffyn could only watch, heart hammering, as Rathanon pleaded his case. Though Griffyn held in his pocket a writ that named him the one responsible for the elves' containment, he found he could not bring it forth. Fear gripped him, as did guilt. But mostly he simply wanted these two brothers to reconcile. No other resolution, he realised then, would satisfy him.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

There has been blood spilled for this moment. Rathierel's words shook Hahnah, this a light tremor of dread, like hearing the clap of distant thunder and knowing that a storm was coming. His words touched on the present, of course, but the retributive sentiment giving them weight touched on a harsh fear that Hahnah, in the wake of the realization of her sins, had yet to speak aloud.

Then the accusatory finger was pointed, and Hahnah's brow narrowed, her chin dipping down ever so slightly. The feel of the knife in her pocket she became more acutely aware of. But she stayed her ground.

Mild surprise, as she felt Rathanon's hand and was nevertheless brought to stand a touch closer to him. And it was only then that she noticed he'd done the same with Griffyn. Rathanon's impassioned words, his firm stance--things Hahnah would not have expected from the elf she had seen back in the human master's manor. He seemed to have undergone his own transformation in the intervening time between then and now, and here he was, the butterfly emerged, finally speaking with his brother while the lives of many good people were balanced upon the words he spoken--one of which happened to be Griffyn's.

Rathanon had taken his stand. He had spoken his will to his brother. And now there was the stillness between the two opposing parties, the quiet that preceded the unveiling of the entwined fate of Menura and the elves of Fal'Edwein.

Hahnah's palm touched the side of her pants. Beneath the fabric she felt the imprint of the knife. If peace did not come, if Rathierel persisted in his cruelty, she had to be ready to do whatever she could, however meager or however by sheer chance monumental. The promise she had made to Griffyn was settling down upon her like a slowly descending weight, and she wished dearly for it to not come to pass that she must allow for that sacrifice.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn could feel the weight of this moment as though it were a tangible thing, hanging precariously in the air before him. It shook and shuddered like the string of a viola, keening into the silence. Rathanon's palm upon his back was warm, slightly damp. Or perhaps that was his own perspiration. Indeed, the chill of the night was fast receeding. In the distance, sunrise.

And with the light came Rathierel's response. He looked down at the grass at his feet, brow taut and expression pained, as the hazy light made its way gently along the landscape and up the stony walls of the city at their backs. And then he spoke.

"My dear brother, I am touched by your words," he said across the gulf. "You seem much grown from when you departed Fal'Edwein those years passed. It is wonderful to see such passion within you, properly directed."

He sighed, like a wave breaking against cliffs. "But this has grown beyond you. This situation is grander now than either one of us, than any of us. It has been allowed to fester by the men and women you shelter, and now it must be dealt with for all the land to see. It must, Rathanon. Our endless culture cannot allow this slight upon our name."

He looked left and right along the line of the council. Each nodded their heads slowly in agreement. Sycalor, grim faced but resigned. Cierannias, steely-eyed and determined. Each of the others gave their consent.

"Surely all these people need not suffer for this!" Rathanon cried out. "Surely you see that innocent lives need not be taken to make things right! Why can we not settle this with words, and not blood?!"

"So long as the instigator of our shame remains hidden behind his walls," Rathierel intoned, "we have no choice. Bring him forth, and there will be words. Can you tell me that such is possible?"

Rathanon stammered, lost for words.

Griffyn felt his heart sink. This was it, then. This was the end of the line. He would have to make good on his bravado, now. One hand reached down to the pocket of his breeches, where the contract that named him deceiver lay folded tight. When Rathanon's hand tightened on the back of his shirt, Griffyn's other hand reached around to hold it. They locked eyes, and he shook his head.

But it was Hahnah that concerned him the most. He leaned around the elf to behold his friend. Was this sacrifice the goodness that she needed to see in humanity, or just his own vanity? Would this encourage her, or set her back on her violent path?

"Please." There was much more he wished to say to her, taking in her stance and the primal cast to her eyes. But that was all that came.

He turned back to the Order of the Acer. But they did not look back. As one, their eyes were cast up and behind him, to the walls of the city. And in their eyes, awe. Fear.

Griffyn turned.

Far above the city, wheeling ponderously like gargantuan birds of prey and lit by the orange fires of the dawn, was a flock of griffins.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

If such a thing were possible, for Hahnah to storm back into the city and drag the human master Lord Sunderland from, she would have turned on her heel right then and there and done it. But it was not. She knew sparse little of the hierarchies of society but she knew that at least some of the armored men--enough of them to be too many, even if she had her sorcery available--would not simply allow her to do so. Such a thing she would have done without a moment's hesitation to spare Griffyn.

Who, from the very corner of her eye, had reached a hand into his pocket.

Hahnah's eyes opened wide, and her head craned slowly to the side to regard him with abject worry.

Please.

The word almost broke her, a thin string of composure keeping together her expression. She wanted to speak. To make a case against what he was about to do. But the plea both started and stopped within her chest. A promise made.

Hahnah closed her eyes and pursed tight her lips and gave a series of small, nearly immeasurable nods.

A promise kept.

When she opened her eyes, however, Griffyn had turned. Looking to something that was behind him. Behind him...and up. Hahnah turned as well, squinting slightly as she looked. Birds. Large birds, so she imagined, for she'd never seen an actual griffin before and indeed did not know such creatures existed. A thought then, disconnected from all the troubles of the moment and all the troubles of the past few days, about how much she adored wings, how their wings must be beautiful to behold up close. Then came a mounting realization, this the coalescing of a few scattered details she knew and what she was seeing now.

The large human city of Oban. The human master who was called the King. These were the riders that were coming to break the siege.

"They did not come riding on horses," she said breathlessly.

In that moment, it did not occur to her that this might well destroy the possibility for peace. That the riders would have their mission and very much so the iron will to see it through. That they might well be coming armed with all the fire and fury of their own retribution, seeking to lay waste to the forces of the Order of the Acer and the elves of Fal'Edwein.

And, with this new volatility, that she and Griffyn could be in horrible danger.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

From seemingly nowhere, one of the colossal creatures landed atop the walls. It swooped up from the streets with a rush of wings like an oncoming hurricane and landed with a crunch of stone. About the creature, the soldiers of Menura scattered to avoid the claws, each easily able to pluck one from the ground and carry them aloft, but their panic lasted only a moment. Slowly, but with mounting intensity, cheering. Celebration, echoing up from the streets of the city. Griffyn heard an earthy crushing sound as human hands slapped against the wooden barricades at the gate in a triumphant rhythm.

Griffyn slowly turned, and his eyes caught Hahnah's. Suddenly, the tension of the scene reverberated violently. It threatened to break. Suddenly, there was danger.

His eyes passed on, continued to face the enemy, if that was indeed what they had ended up becoming. The soldiers of the Order stood pale, looking up at the King's men. They did not break, which was admirable. But it was evident in their posture that they would have liked nothing else. The elves, too, stood enraptured by the scene. And Rathierel's expression was unreadable, casting back and forth between rage and fear like a swinging pendulum. Griffyn feared neither would suit them.

Like a clap of thunder, an avian caw resounded across the field, causing many of the soldiers of the Order of the Acer to flinch. Griffyn glanced back at the newcomer, standing tall and proud over the scene. Atop its back sat a humanoid figure, androgynous in its layers of leather and burnished, gilded steel. It had a long lance by its flank, attached to a simple harness around the body of its mount. A steel helmet on its head hid its features, but the dark slit from which it looked upon them was fixed on Griffyn. After a long moment's inspection, the figure slowly folded its arms. There was a hint of a nod.

"I... I think it is time we said our farewells." Rathanon looked quickly back and forth between the three of them: Rathierel, Hahnah and Griffyn. "I think we have all outstayed our welcomes. Would you not agree, brother? I believe any discuss left unsaid, we can say on the road to Fal'Edwein."

The dark-haired brother watched them icily, eyes furious and glinting like steel points. He said nothing. A nothing that spanned the space between them, and spoke again to Griffyn of the endless years of his kind. But after a long moment, he looked away.

Wordlessly, he raised a hand. And with a clatter of metal and leather, the Order of the Acer turned on its heels and began to walk towards the distant forest. The other members of the Council remained watching the city for a moment longer. To a one, there was a odd reflection of regret upon their features. Then they also turned and left. Sycalor caught Griffyn's eye momentarily, and his mouth twisted into an uncertain smile. Then he too was on his way home. They walked slowly, calmly towards the treeline, with hung heads and heavy shoulders.

Leaving only Rathierel. With a low brow and fiery countenance, he extended his hand towards them.

The eleven elven craftsmen moved as one to cross the field. There was a spring in their steps as they hurried back to their kin. They passed their lord and continued on towards the trees of the forest. Rathanon hesitated, and he and his wife came to stand before Griffyn and Hahnah. There was worry across their features, but hopeful smiles won over upon their lips.

Rathanon stood before Hahnah, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "It has long since passed the time we should have been home," he said in his native tongue. "Yet even this chance would have passed us by were it not for your courage. And your kindness."

The old elf closed his eyes. "Thank you, Hannah. For all that you have done."

Aurielle put one hand on Griffyn's forearm and smiled. "What you did, you did for us. Not for humans, nor for elves. But simply for us. Those such as you are uncommon among both our peoples. We have been blessed to have shared this time and place."

Griffyn had no words. So, after an awkward moment's silence, he bowed his head.

"But perhaps you should stay clear of the Falwood for a while."

He chuckled uncertainly, and nodded.

And with that, hand in hand, the last of the elves of the city of Menura began to take their leave.

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah gasped, more with simple wonder than anything else once the creature landed on the walls of Menura. Look...at those...wings! She had never seen a creature quite like this one before. It was large enough to carry an armored person upon it and still it could fly. It was part bird and part...cat? And the arrival of this flying creature and all of the others in tow was cause for cheering among the humans of Menura manning the walls and the ruined gates.

Hahnah turned back to regard Rathierel and the other elves of Fal'Edwein. Though no attack from the King of Oban's riders had come, a great trepidation had seemed to spread across the features of the elves and the stature of those of the Order had faltered somewhat. What time they had to demand the deaths of Griffyn and Lord Sunderland, to outright take the city, had passed.

Rathanon, therefore, had more leverage to his wishes. It was heartening, Hahnah thought, to have seen this example in Rathanon of how one could turn from cruelty to goodness. Sin did exist, even if it was not as widely pervasive and predictable as she would have thought before, and it existed only where it was allowed.

The Order retreated, and only those of Elvenkind were left. Of the many things that had happened, that had changed, coming to discover that there were no people of Arethil who were solely good was the most saddening. Maybe it was that this purity was the exclusive domain of the divine.

As he set out to depart with his brother, Rathanon first stopped to speak with her.

Thank you, Hannah. For all that you have done.

"I seek only to do what is good."

Aurielle likewise spoke with Griffyn. Who, to Hahnah's mild surprise, could not form a response. But maybe it should not have been so surprising. The arrival of the riders of the Oban had spared him from the sacrifice that he was imminently in danger of making on behalf of the city of Menura. Any later, and Griffyn...Hahnah did not know what she would have done.

(but she did know. she did, even if she did not want to admit it.)

With Rathanon and Aurielle's departure, all seemed...different. As if they had been locked in a cage for a time, and then, despite fears of the contrary, the door to the cage had been opened and they had all of a sudden been allowed back into the world. The freedom from the siege was to Hahnah like discovering that there was a whole world outside of the Temple, and that all of it had become available all at once. The narrowness of their confinement in the city had given way to the vast expanse of all Arethil. A thing lost, thus returned, and in this return a staggering feeling.

Hahnah turned her head to the side. Looked to Griffyn, stark relief washing over her expression.

"Our prayers were answered. The Dying God and Astra do listen."

A smile. As joyous as could be.

* * * * *​

Elsewhere.

Disappointment.

And a new, drastic, consideration.

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched the elves depart with an odd weight in his chest. This was a good ending, wasn't it? This was what they wanted. Right? Then why couldn't he hold onto that certainty?

In his mind, he had charted with growing fear the ever-escalating heat of the seemingly inevitable clash between Rathierel's Order and Sunderland's city. He had stood here in the middle of the fighting, quite literally, and watched the pot begin to boil over. His own life, and that of his friends, had been held at the knife's edge. Now, the fighting was over. The knife had been withdrawn. But it had not been resheathed. The pot had been taken from the heat, but the flames still flickered. Griffyn would have to have been a true fool to think that Rathierel was satisfied with this conclusion, that Sunderland had learned his lesson, that peace had come to the city of Menura. Just how long did the people of the city have to celebrate?

Our prayers were answered...

He turned, brow fixed with concern, to look at her. Hahnah's expression was alight with life beyond anything he had ever seen her hold before. He could feel the warmth of her radiating out, like a miniature sun. And in the wake of that light and life, he couldn't help but smile.

"Yes..." he said. "Yes, they have heard us."

She was right to smile, he decided then and there. The siege was over, and they were free. Free to leave, free to finally put their burdens down.

There was a thud at their backs, and he turned quickly with a lurch in his chest. The griffin was there, right there before him, in the flesh! It had descended from the walls silently and smoothly, as though one with the wind. The creature now stood head and shoulders taller than him and looked down with bright, cat-like eyes that shone with an ancient intelligence and more than a little pride. The curved beak had no means of smiling, yet Griffyn thought he detected a hint of a smirk regardless. With a mechanical clunk the rider then landed by its side and approached the two of them with what could have been swagger, but might also have been rolling stance of one who lived astride a flying beast. It raised gauntleted hands to its head and removed its helm as it came to a halt before them.

The man beneath the armour had a narrow face and a nose that mirrored the curve of his beast ally. He was dusky skinned and his dark hair was cropped as short as Griffyn's own. His dark eyes were lit with the humour of an untold joke and he took in both Griffyn and then Hahnah with raised, questioning brows.

"Well, then," he said in a thick Oban accent. "Who wants to tell me what that was all about?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Hahnah blinked. Canted her head. But otherwise her smile and her expression did not falter. Dissonant, the shape of his brow. It was at odds with his returned smile and his words.

But Hahnah did not have much time to think and dwell on it. The creature that was both bird and cat and altogether massive came down with a heavy landing, and Hahnah whipped around quickly at first and then, upon beholding the creature up close, her motions slowed tremendously as awe found her. Her eyes precisely tracked the movements of the creature's avian wings, and she was transfixed with brief fantasies of her own wings, of changing like a butterfly yet again, and this time emerging with the wondrous ability of flight.

The clatter of the griffin's rider dismounting brought Hahnah back down from the clouds to the soil. Her attention flicked over to the rider, the awe and wonder of the beast at his back gone and a healthy caution there to replace it as he approached. His helm was removed and Hahnah still felt a light pang of concern upon seeing that he was human; her worldview had been shattered, yet still there were broken pieces everywhere.

The human rider spoke, and his question was direct.

Hahnah's reply was similarly laconic. "Two brothers brought their war to Menura, and everyone around them suffered."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

The rider blinked at Hahnah's response, but smiled wryly after a moment.

"Families are difficult," he remarked. "And what state have these brothers left our beloved Lord Sunderland in, eh? What are we likely to see when we go to meet the Lord of the city?"

Griffyn stepped in, one hand on the pocket of his breeches. "Lord Sunderland exacerbated the exchange by holding elves against... I mean, that they were held in a business deal that exploited them. That is the root cause of all this."

It wasn't so straightforward, but Griffyn suspected the rider wouldn't care for the detail. Why not tell it as it was?

"He had every chance to end the siege peacefully, but he refused. Many have suffered for his arrogance."

"And I suppose our Lord will corroborate these claims?" the rider responded, still smiling. "He won't, for example, assert that he has been victim to some ploy by, say, an elf-girl and a lad from... I want to say Alliria?"

Griffyn looked away. His hand moved from his pocket to the wand in its sheathe, slowly, though he could feel the intense gaze of the griffin on him as he did. What chance did they have to outrun such a beast, if they were forced to flee? The gods had watched over them so far, at least. They would need to trust to them again.

But then the rider sighed, and rose a hand to scratch at the flank of his mount. "This report is going to be a pain to write, I can just tell. What this sounds like to me is some extranational conflict that spilled over into Obani lands, that a local lord reacted to poorly. The first point is irrelevant to us and can be overlooked, the second we'll need to sort with an official sanction. A hearing, maybe? There goes the rest of my week."

He put his hands on his hips then, stance controlled and easy. "One of you will likely need to testify in an official Court of Lords. I'm looking at you, big fellow - if that accent is anything to go on you sound like you have a bit of coin behind you. We can hash out the details over drinks, if you know of anywhere good in this dusty part of the world?"

"As for you," he added, looking to Hahnah while Griffyn was still thinking over what he had just heard, "you're welcome to join. Something tells me you'd be bringing a unique perspective to what's transpired here. But it would mean staying here in the city for a couple of days and... I'm not sure what the temperament of the folk here is looking like. Might be a little uncomfortable for you here, is what I'm saying. It's unfortunate, really, that we didn't bring enough Riders to watch everyone in the city. You could just slip away and we'd have no means of knowing who you were or where you got to."

He shrugged. "I'd better go restore some peace in the main square. Why don't you come tell me what you think when you've made your choice?"

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

Our beloved Lord Sunderland. This to Hahnah was baffling. Did this rider know Lord Sunderland? She could not imagine why he would use a word like "beloved" if he did not know Sunderland and know him well. The vast hierarchies and communities of cities, kingdoms, empires, all of these were beyond the current scope of her comprehension; how could someone have a feeling toward someone they had not met and seen and heard?

Griffyn answered the follow-up question that Hahnah in her mild confusion had missed. All the rider wanted was an explanation of what had happened, and that was fair. No one had known why the Reds, so called at the time, had attacked, not Griffyn and certainly not her, but they had through a number of ordeals come to find out.

Then the rider said something which, judging from the tone of his voice and the smile, was not threatening at first. But the specificity registered then. Some ploy. By an elf-girl and a lad from Alliria. If the intent of the statement was merely for the rider's own amusement rather than accusation, the mirth was lost on Hahnah, for she saw it as solely the latter. She did not see Griffyn reaching for his wand, did not know that she was mirroring his motions, moving her own hand to her side and touching her pants and the tips of her fingers searching the edge of her pocket. The knife was still within.

The rider sighed. Spoke as if nothing had just happened, and throughout all of what he said Hahnah found it difficult to let her apprehension fade, to let the sharp angles of anticipatory violence creasing her expression relax back into neutrality.

As for you...

Hahnah's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

...you're welcome to join.

The rider was certainly right about the city being "a little uncomfortable," and this for Hahnah even before its current state. But he wanted Griffyn to go to a place called a Court of Lords. Where that was in the city she did not know, but she felt that wherever it was, it would not be safe. The entire city would not be safe. Lord Sunderland would be vengeful. The human Amon had said his threat. This rider of the winged creature had made his questioning accusation.

As much as she wanted to turn her back to Menura, to finally journey away from the place where the ground and the sky had changed places, it would be wrong to leave Griffyn when he was being made to return there.

She did not want the rider to overhear, and she simply waited for him to set off restoring that peace he had mentioned. Then a sidelong glance. "Griffyn, I do not like this." A casting down of her eyes, averting her gaze. "It is as if we have escaped a snare and now you are being made to put your leg back into it and await the hunter."

Hahnah looked out over the open expanse, the freedom of the world before them outside the locked confines of Menura's walls. "We could simply run." She drew in a breath, as if coming to terms with reality. "If only we could simply run."

Then she looked back to him. Eyes of resolve. "If you return into the city, I will come with you." Eyes of worry. "Please do not make me promise not to come with you."

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched the rider and mount make their exit, passing through the gate and into the celebrating throng of soldiers, before letting his gaze return to Hahnah.

"Agreed," he said with a nod, brow taut. "But Hannah, at the very least this would be a trap I am all-too familiar with. It won't be my first legal hearing, not even the first I have needed to testify for. And I suppose the Merchant Council of Alliria are of an ilk with the Lords of Oban, though I've only ever had to speak before them once in the past. I was eleven at the time, if I recall correctly."

A hesitant smile crept to his lips at the memory, but it swiftly vanished as he became aware of Hahnah's concern. Concern which, if he was honest, was likely well-founded. He suspected the rider was more right than he knew - by returning to the city they would both become targets to those who knew the truth, or at least most of it. Sunderland's home guard, Amon and any like-minded ruffians he could scrounge up, even a number of ignorant soldiers who had recognised their enemy as elves and, seeing Hahnah, were unable to separate two from two. Griffyn had no doubt the Griffin Riders would stand to defend them both as key witnesses to what had occured, but the fact of the matter was that while his own enemies would be punished severely, any damage to Hahnah would have to be mostly overlooked. She was neither a citizen of this city nor of any, and lacked the 'importance' that would protect her in the courts.

But any attempt to disuade his friend, to encourage her flight from the city and into the forest, died on his lips at her words. And she was right, he had already asked much of her by forcing her to allow him to stand alone against Rathierel's ire, even by continuing to involve her in all this when she could have no doubt slipped back into the shadows days ago. He had no right to extract another demand of her now. So instead he smiled sadly and voiced only part of how he wished to respond.

"I would be glad of your company," he said. "You have already saved my life once. I would feel a lot safer with you nearby. But Hannah, a Court of Lords is an assembly of rulers from all across this part of Arethil. I suspect they will not be able to hold such a hearing here, but would have to do so in the capital itself. I fear that any path that takes me away from the city will only lead there. I can't ask you to follow so far when you have been given a way of leaving this mess behind."

He approached her, standing close and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I can't force you to anything, but I would strongly encourage this, that you get out of all this before it takes you so far that you can't find a way back."

Hahnah

 

[Hahnah]

They walked through the forest along the thin dirt footpath. Thick forest brush was to their left and a deep pool of water to their right, the sound of a waterfall at the pool's head, water foaming and flowing to the downhill river the pool became.

Elurdrith stopped. A downward cant of his head, and he said, "I know you are still upset, Hannah."

"I Kylindrielle leave do not understand," Hahnah said. The concept of speaking, of communicating ideas through articulated sounds, was still new to her. Her form was rough, more akin to a learner of a foreign language than of a child taking her first stumbling steps with the native tongue of their parents.

And this was the first time for Hahnah that Kylindrielle had departed to Fal'Edwein to restock supplies for the rangers' lodge. That either she or Elurdrith had gone away.

Elurdrith turned and he let out a sigh whose sound was lost among the splashing water of the fall and he crouched down until he came eye-to-eye with her. "Tell me what you think has happened to her."

Sadness creased Hahnah's face. "I Kylindrielle gone forever think."

A small smile from Elurdrith. He reached out and held her cheek and his thumb swished softly across the ridge of the bone, her glowing orange eyes tracking its motion. Elurdrith said, "No. No, no, she is not. She will not even be gone for a month."

"Month is what?"

"Thirty days or so."

"Thirty days long time is."

"Yes. Yes it is. But it will not be too long." He took in a breath and held her shoulders. "I know that you are sad and that you love her, but you have to learn how to let go, Hannah."

Hahnah blinked. "Let...go?"

Elurdrith just nodded. "Yes. You have to be able to let Kylindrielle leave without feeling so upset."

"But I Kylindrielle love."

"Yes. And that hasn't changed. You still love her and she still loves you. Hey, listen to me, that will never change, all right? Even if she is not near to you."

"She...will return always?"

Elurdrith paused. "Hannah, this is why you need to learn how to let go. There will come a time when I and Kylindrielle will not be with you anymore."

Hahnah's eyes were wide with fright, her mouth small and pinched together. Elurdrith, on seeing it, immediately pulled her into a hug. "Do not worry, Hannah, this will not happen for a long, long time."

"...A m-month?"

A quiet laugh escaped him. "Oh no, no, not a month--this will not happen for many years. I will show you how to count years by the stars and the seasons later. But this is how life is for all, Hannah. The time we have together is precious, and it is precious because it does not and cannot last forever. It is okay to be sad that someone you love has gone, but you also cannot stay sad. It is not good for your heart. Your heart feels heavy, pained, right now does it not?"

Hahnah nodded, a forlorn motion.

Elurdrith nodded too. "Yes. Because you love her, and that is okay, but you have not let her go so that she can do what she needs to do, and that is not okay. Do you think you can do that for me, Hannah? Do you think you can let Kylindrielle go for a little while, so that you can be happy again?"

A long moment passed, with subtle quivers of a struggle throughout her expression, the constant rush of the falling, foaming water from the pool.

And at last she spoke. "I try."

Said it again. "I try."

* * * * *​

Subtle quivers of a struggle throughout her expression after Griffyn had spoken. Hahnah was looking up at him, silent and distressed, as a great conflict tugged her to one side and back and all over again. And over all of it, the formidable points and counterpoints on each side, what won the battle was this:

The recognition that she had only been able to finally realize her sins, her cruelty, because she had listened to Griffyn. Because she had trusted him, and this trust led to a moment of true and necessary discovery, however shattering and painful, and could ultimately lead to the betterment of her way of being.

She had not been able to heed Elurdrith's wisdom when he had shared it. Not then. She simply could not let both him and Kylindrielle go after they had been murdered, and that grief had turned into the hatred that was now calcified deep inside of her heart. Here was another vulnerable time. If she could not let Griffyn go, even for a short time, then what would become of her?

She should listen. She should trust him.

Hahnah all but lunged forward and wrapped Griffyn in a tight embrace. Just held it for a moment. There were many things that she could say but all paled in comparison to what was unspoken, communicated through the squeeze of her arms alone.

But there was this.

She looked up, eyes beseeching, voice salted with sorrow, and said, "Will I see you again?"

Griffyn

 

[Griffyn]

Griffyn watched on as Hahnah's resolve struggled within her. He could not know the intensity of the pain she felt, nor the thrashing of her own thoughts as they battled for dominance. But from the little movements of her eyes, the minute shudders of her shoulders, he knew full well that this was costing her. This moment was important to her.

Then she was in motion. She leapt to him, and he readily answered her embrace with his own, putting his arms around her shoulders and holding her close. She was strong, stronger than he'd anticipated. Strong enough to make it a little hard to breathe.

Then she spoke.

Will I see you again?

The realisation was like a blow to the back of his head, heavy and unyielding and cold as steel. As he looked down into Hahnah's eyes he saw that she had made up her mind. She was going to do what he asked. And that meant... And that meant she was about to leave him.

Had he not suggested this course, and cited such good reasons as he did? Was he not certain that to keep her by his side now and on into the coming weeks would only endanger her? He knew how she felt about cities...

So why... ?

His hand tightened on his friend's shoulders as he controlled his breathing, and the void that opened up before he could answer her stretched out before him like an unknown road. But then...

"I hope so," he said quietly. "I do."

Above their heads, the day was beginning. The sky brightened from deep orange to fierce yellow, and spring moved inexorably towards the heat of summer. There was moisture on Griffyn's cheeks. Sweat, he presumed.

"But, tell you what," he added with a soft smile. "The Dying God brought us together in this unlikely place, and with good reason. I'll be praying that we meet each other again very soon. Very soon. If you'd pray with me?"

He chuckled awkwardly at the sound of his own words, and had to look away.

Hahnah