<html> <body> Here's the second part. --------- Metamor Keep:  Heading to All Tomorrows by Charles Matthias As he planned, Andares-es-sebashou journeyed to the Lothanasi temple in the inner district the next morning. Dawn rose with a warm orange blossom on the east that never quite managed to turn red. Clouds drifted eastward through the sky, cauliflowers and dandelions of white that thickened the further west they went. Though they promised a coming gloom, the first rays of the sun glistened in the dew that coated all of the walls, the streets, and the banners, making the proud Fennasi falcon seem to shimmer as if he were flapping his wings. For one brief moment, Andares almost thought he'd wandered into a dream instead of another dawn. The streets were not empty, but so early, only the most industrious were out preparing for the new day that had just arrived. Soldiers still watched over the street, and they observed Andares with a respectful and dutiful curious stare. With his cowl up and his hands hidden with his voluminous gray sleeves, he could hardly blame them for taking an interest in him. He was a stranger in a city adjusting to many changes and with many enemies opposed to those changes. Despite their scrutiny, they seemed to sense he meant none of Bozojo's citizens any harm. Those guards standing watch over the gates into the innermost ring of the city parted when they glimpsed him. Two of the twelve struck their breasts lightly with their fists as he passed, eyes solemn as if they sensed some of his Åelvish grace. The innermost bailey was built into an incline, which would force any attacker to contend against a superior position. Vats of boiling oil could easily render the ramp slick and impossible to climb, not to mention sizzling hot. Beyond arrayed a wide courtyard with the Lothanasi temple to the right facing the eastern wall. At the rear of the courtyard stood the squat castle atop whose towards snapped the piscine flag beneath the grasping talons of the falcon; and with the wind gripping both, at times it almost seemed as if that falcon would snatch the fish up and fly away. Barracks and stables lined the northern curtain wall and these featured both banners from every surface that could be found; unlike many that he had seen in the poorer parts of the city, these were kept pristine and spotless from all muck and mire. Doubtless they were freshly cleaned each day. A broad garden lay in exuberant blossom, with a profusion of pinks, violets, lavenders, blues, indigos, yellows, and oranges arrayed in carefully cultivated rows and columns. Slender cherry trees lined the middle of the garden, their blossoms bright and the scent of them sweet and heady. Andares smiled to himself as he appreciated the simple beauty of the courtyard, a place of peace even in the midst of the unease in the countryside. A quartet of blue-liveried soldiers with the double bladed cross of the Lothanasi on their chests stood on either side of the temple doors. The doors were wrought bronze, inlaid with the symbols of the Pantheon stretching fifteen feet high and six feet across, arched with a rounded point typical of Suielman construction. The doors were open halfway, wide enough for people to come and go, but not so wide that the guards within couldn't push the doors shut at the first sign of trouble. Andares stepped past the guards with a quick nod of his cowled head. Beyond the door was a small greeting place with smaller doors on either side, before the temple area itself opened almost all the way to the vaulted ceiling. Bright stained glass windows line either side, the eastern half permitting the brilliant morning sun to bathe them all in a warm light that glistened on the gold and silver inlay around marble blocks, statues of the gods, and tapestries depicting their aid to man. Andares was not surprised that there were no scenes where the gods aided the Åelf or any of the other intelligent races living in Galendor, but he did miss it. The morning sacrifices had just been completed, and so while the Lothanas and a pair of initiates chanted in prayer before the altar at the far end, a few dozen acolytes all genuflected on bended knee, their voices echoing the prayers in a solemn ostinato. Andares clasped his hands in prayer, joining his quest voice to theirs, heart lifting to give his thanks to the gods for all of their care and protection on the many long months of their journeys. He brought the names and faces of his friends to his mind and lifted them up in prayer, seeking their protection from the great evil that still gnawed away at their hearts. And there he stayed, knees bent on a hard stone floor, gray cloak drawn tightly around him so that nothing was visible on his flesh, not his pointed ears, not his pearl-gray hands, and not his angular face. He could hear the priestly incantations to one god after another begin, reach a climax, and then decrescendo into thanksgiving before the circle would start again. Within each invocation his friends found their place, especially his dearest mentor, teacher, and master Qan-af-årael. On that venerable Åelf who had given his life freely to defeat Marzac and confound Yajakali's plans so monstrous that no word existed which could convey their severity, he dwelt most of the time, wondering and wishing they could have had more time together, but most especially, that his master's life and the lives of his own people had not been so filled with sorrow for so many centuries. He was there long after the time when the Lothanas left to attend to more mundane affairs, while the acolytes busied themselves with their many duties. Andares watched them between his own prayers, noting the way they laughed and smiled as they went about their affairs, cleaning the temple, the altar, replacing candles that had burned low, as well as donning guard uniforms and going to take their turn watching over the holy places. Others of the Light also came to worship and pray, eyes drawn reverently to the altar with its double bladed cross and lit candles. The stone altar was inscribed with the scene of the pantheon's first revelation of themselves to mankind; Andares remembered the moment from his studies, for it was a time when his brother Elf lived with man and taught him, rearing him with gentleness and wisdom. By the time the sunlight through the windows fell on him, Andares finally decided it was time to return to the Inn. It would be best to see if Heru Benlan Rais had any messages for him. He could gather supplies for his journey that afternoon. The walk back to the Lake's Head Inn was uneventful. The air was festive with talk of Spring, and all of the new merchants and pilgrims flocking their streets now that winter's last gasps had been replaced by brisk easterly winds and a warmer sun. The clouds in the sky had not thickened as much as he'd feared that morning, though the east was overcast; the storm, if it came, would not come until night. Especially in the seller's districts, his ears were tickled by borrowed words from his people, some of which were even pronounced correctly. It was midday by the time he returned to the Inn and he found the commons half-filled with patrons. Some were tenants like him come down for a warm meal, while others were laborers seeking some rest and repast. Most of the young boys ran about seeing to the needs of the patrons, while a few busied themselves with cleaning the unused tables and floors. Andares turned toward his usual table, but was surprised to see an older gentlemen dressed in a white cloak over a light gray bisht, with a bright blue sash that hung down between the folds of the cloak. His white-bearded face was weathered with the sun as if he'd come from the southern lands along the coast. Before him was a plate of cheese and bread topped with a mix of vegetables and sauce. He drank lightly from a small goblet of light wine. Curious, Andares approached the man in the foreign garb, but paused before he was halfway to the table and considered finding another place to sit. But the white-cloaked elder caught his gaze and beckoned him closer with one hand, while the other dabbed his thick lips with a kerchief. The Åelf, uncertain but unafraid, approached the table but waited at the edge just beneath the stairs. “Greetings, Velelya,” he said with a slight incline to his head, the words gliding with a musical air from his tongue. “I think you have traveled from a land farther from here than I.” The man lowered the kerchief and then stroked the end of his long beard with one callused hand. “Yára Velelya,” he swept the hand out to the empty seat. “You bless me with your company. If you choose to sit with me, I shall be the one who is honored. Heru Rais spoke of you, and my heart has yearned to meet you.” “Then you must be the one to whom he promised to introduce me. I am Andares-es-sebashou. And you, Velelya, how shall I address you?” He smiled, weathered face crinkling with folds around his eyes and cheeks. “Anefistar. I am, as you say, a Velelya who has come from a far land. Please, join me. One of Heru Rais's nessë shall bring you some apsa in a moment.” Andares slid into the table across from Anefistar, relaxing and feeling a warmth fill him. This man spoke the words bequeathed to the Fennasi with a fluidity and suppleness that betrayed a sensitive tongue. Though they had only just met, the Åelf knew that this one had studied for a very long time. Did he speak so to impress Andares, was this some conceit of his to reveal his learning, or was it something else entirely? “Where are you from, Anefistar? I do not recognize that name; it is not of the humans of Galendor.” “No,” Anefistar agreed, “it is not. I was born in Sonngefilde in the deserts of Sondeshara far to the south. My love of history and studies have carried me from one library to the next through that land, and then into this land so far from my own. And no, I am no Sondeckis. They are a good intentioned people who bear such a terrible burden of power and responsibility. But I am not of them.” “So your studies and love of history have brought you to Bozojo?” “In a way. I have been in Dûn Fennas for the last ten years of my life; the fifteen before it were spent in Sathmore and Pyralis as I learned the long history of Galendor. I am sure that you, Heru Sebashou, could tell me much more, and about lands I have never been able to enter.” Andares narrowed his gaze lightly as he watched the white-bearded man eat a bit of cheese. His words were measured, but so delicate that no hint of his unease came through as he said, “Are you seeking entrance to a new land?” “It would be a delight to my heart if I could, but no, I am not seeking it. I am not worthy of it, but I hope by sharing the fruits of my studies I can help heal some of the wounds that exist between the people in this land.” He lowered his eyes, brows furrowing like a bull frog. “What good is the knowledge and wisdom I have gained if I hoard it all for myself?” “Indeed,” Andares agreed with a faint relaxing of his tension. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Anefistar quite yet, but his manner was genuine and his speech pleasing. And if Benlan Rais trusted him, as he obviously must to have seated him at Andares's preferred table, then he would do well to spend some time conversing to better learn who this southerner really was, and what he was doing in Bozojo. “Then tell me,” the Åelf said, proffering a gentle invitation with one gray-skinned hand, “what have you learned in your journeys?” Anefistar smiled broadly and leaned back in his seat, stuffing the end of his beard within the folds of his white robe with one hand. “To make this a fair exchange, I ask only that you tell me one tale of your travels. Just one from one so venerable, Yára Velelya, as you, and I shall be satisfied.” He could not hide the smile the stretched his angular cheeks. “I do have one tale I can tell. But first tell me how you have come to know the Fennasi as well as you do.” “Any chance to speak of the Fennasi gives me pleasure. Thank you, Yára!” As promised, one of the nessë brought Andares a small plate of fruit, cheese, and bread. He savored the clutch of strawberries and the sweet dipping sauce, as well as the hard bread filled with an assortment of nuts. The cheese made for the perfect compliment to both strawberries and conversation. He and Anefistar spoke for some hours. He regaled the elderly scholar with their venture to the Chateau Marzac and its ultimate destruction, to which his companion remarked in wonder and delight. Anefistar for his part described his travels through the many human kingdoms and empires dotting the land, as well as his curiosity for the tales of the ancient ones that had led him inexorably to Dûn Fennas. There he spent as much time as he could in Salinon and Marigund, though the last few years had been spent passing between Delavia and Linduin and finding true contentment amongst those hardy people who well remembered the tales of their Elven masters who had guided them and guarded them against their enemies for generations before retreating from the world. It was there that Anefistar had finally moved beyond his practical agnosticism and fully adopted the Lothanasi ways, seeing a wisdom, simplicity, and humility in the Light that he had never seen elsewhere. “Oh, I have met many fine Patildor in my travels, Yára Velelya. As I can see you have. But the Pantheon came to us men while we were still living with your kind, and in that I can see a greater truth and humility.” Andares had accepted these words for he knew their truth. As the hours passed, he saw the patrons come and go, the nessë run to and fro cleaning tables, carrying satchels for some, stinking of horse and fish whenever they returned from errands, as well as Heru Benlan Rais tending to his many patrons, and even a few of the Lindalnér returning for another performance of ballads and love songs. Through it all he continued to converse with his new companion. The scholar was well versed in many subjects and had spent much of his time in Dûn Fennas learning of their history and culture, mastering its intricacies and even restoring some of what had once been common to the Fennasi people but had been lost in the three centuries since the Elf had left them. Andares never had to correct his pronunciation except for those few words which he felt obliged to introduce him to. Even more than the people of Bozojo, Anefistar adored the ancient and radiant tongue of the Elvish people. It was not quite the same tongue as the Åelves who had held themselves even more aloof than their brethren of Quenardya, but it too was cherished as only a reliquary handed down from one generation to the next could be. Their conversation continued into the evening before Benlan Rais was able to break away from his duties long enough to join them at their table. “Forgive me, Velelya, for not introducing you to nildo Anefistar as I promised.” “The Lake's Head Inn is busy,” Andares replied with a smile touching the corners of his lips. “You are not expected to neglect your business for my sake. We have found each other.” “That I can see,” Benaln admitted with a relieved laugh. He then leaned in closer and looking to the scholar asked, “Have you asked him yet?” “No,” Anefistar replied. Curious, Andares laid one pearl-gray hand atop the other, drawing further back within his cloak. “What is it you wish to ask me?” The white-bearded southerner sighed and lowered his eyes to the table. “Dûn Fennas may seem to be rising with this latest star in their constellation. But in truth, she is falling into a terrible darkness. It is not a darkness that springs from ill-omened Elderwood, nor one that stretches down out of the mountains. It does not even come from her ancestral enemies to the west, all of whom are too weak to even scare Fennasi children. No, this darkness, Yára Velelya, comes from within her own heart, a heart that has grown comfortable and rapacious like all the other lands through which I have wandered.” Andares felt certain he knew to what Anefistar referred, but if dark words were to be said, he would rather them be said so there could be no doubt as to what the shadows were. “Riddles and puzzles I have a great love for, and I would dearly enjoy a month, a year e'en, spent pondering and proposing them with you, Ishtyar. But now it is time to speak plainly; let there be no distance between our thoughts. What darkness has come over the Fennasi?” Anefistar nodded, then leaned across the table. Both Benlan Rais and Andares leaned toward him. In a soft whisper, one so quiet that he couldn't even feel the rush of breath, nor see the slightest disturbance in his beard when the words slipped past his lips, he said, “The Ard-Rí has taken the heir of Kelewair captive; they hold him in Salinon, so this place can be held safe.” In a voice equally as quiet, consonants punctuating the air like the drop of a pin, he replied, “I have heard. What do you mean to ask of me?” “Your aid. The Fennasi have not seen one of your kind in a few generations, but your stature in their society has grown no less. If you accompany me to Salinon, together we can persuade the Ard-Rí to set his prisoner free.” “And bring war upon this town?” “You have seen the soldiers, Yára Velelya. War is coming one day or another. But if the son is returned unharmed, and unexpectedly... such a magnanimous gesture may avert a full scale war. Please, come with me and aid me in this. I cannot do it without your help. I do not have... your grace, nor your power.” “I have responsibilities to my own people that I must consider. A sacred trust has been given to me by my late master and that I cannot disobey.” Benlan grimaced and shook his head, “Your people live so long... Salinon is not far off your course.” The Innkeeper spoke the truth, and he had already delayed his departure from Metamor a week longer than he should have out of a desire to remain with his new and sadly short-lived friends. Andares felt a deep longing in his heart for the trees and spires of his home, but at the same time he felt a vague sense of responsibility to help these people. His brothers had diligently watched over the Fennasi for centuries. If they were beginning to err and he could do something to right them, shouldn't he do so? Andares took a deep breath and lowered his head, the cowl obscuring all but his chin. “I will think on these words. Do not speak to me of this again until I speak of it to you.” He shifted in his seat, standing and sliding free from the table. “I must gather supplies in the morning, and then I mean to leave. Find me before then, and if my mind has changed, I will tell you. Good night, Heru Rais. Good night, Velelya Anefistar.” “May your sleep be restful, Yára Velelya,” Anefistar said as he rose from the table and bowed, palms spread out before him in a gesture of respect to an elder that the Fennasi had learned many centuries ago. Benlan Rais also rose and bowed, his words similar, full of respect, hope, and confidence. He met no other on his way to his rooms. And with the sound of the lake and the city, and the scents of cooked bread, meat, and fish drifting in through his windows, he lay awake in bed wondering for a very long time before sleep finally, blissfully came. ---------- Andares must have been dreaming, for he had no idea how he had come into the Lothanasi temple. The chanting of the priests and acolytes seemed a distant haze in his ears, and the colors in the tapestries and stained glass windows was bright and vibrant, but also diffuse and confusing. Each hue elided one into another as if the glass and the weave were not stationary, but a living mass breathing and waving in welcome to all of the Light who had come to worship and offer supplication. Andares blinked and lowered his head, letting the cowl fall back in place over his cheeks. The floor at least, smooth and gray, the only variation the slight discoloration in each of the stones, remained fixed like a lodestone. Keeping his eyes to the floor, Andares was also able to focus his thoughts. How had he come to the Lothanasi Temple? Where had he been so far that day? Judging by the prayers, it, if this were anything but a dream, would have been mid-morning. The sacrifice had already been completed and burned, as no blood showed forth on the altar to speak of the ceremonial death of the birds that took place each morning. One prayer tumbled into the next so smoothly that if it wasn't for the occasional use of the name of their gods, it would have been impossible to tell that they prayed to more than one. After a time though, even his mind could not focus on the question of how he had come there. Was there ever a sensible explanation in a dream? This he reminded himself as he allowed his dream to play out. Yet, if he hoped to learn anything of significance, there seemed little to offer. After finishing his prayers in the Temple, he returned to the Lake's Head Inn, avoiding the steely gaze of the soldiers, where he gathered his things and bid Benlan Rais a fond farewell. The Innkeeper was distraught that he was leaving, but expressed his fondest wish to see Andares again soon. The Eastern gate was guarded by just as many soldiers and knights as the western gate, but they allowed the Åelf passage without comment or inspection. Or at least, if they did inspect him, he couldn't recall it. Dark clouds brewed above him as he set out on the road. By the time the lake bent away to the south and he entered the rolling hill country leading toward Linduin, dotted as it was with frequent copses of trees and vast fields of crops, the sky opened and a downpour washed everything in gray. The rain smeared the very air, cool but not chilling. Everything blended together until there was nothing but streaks of light and darkness like a play with shadow puppets. ---------- As was his custom, Andares woke before the rising of the sun. After a short prayer of thanksgiving to the gods, he donned his traveling gear, his ivory-handled blade, and his money pouch. He left the small room over the kitchen as he found it, leaving the windows open so they could enjoy the brisk Spring air blowing in off the lake. He then enjoyed a breakfast of eggs and fatty meat and washed it down with juice from a fruit he did not know. But all the while he ate, he saw no sign of the scholar. The Åelf did find Benlan Rais shortly after one of the Nessë had come to clean his table. The Innkeeper looked haggard as if he had not slept very well, though his expression brightened considerably when he saw his enigmatic guest, though when he saw that Andares was dressed for a long journey, his countenance fell again. “Good morning, Velelya. You have decided to continue on your way?” “I must hearken to my people, Heru Rais. But your fears will not be left behind. I take them with me and will consider what can be done. If you would do me the honor of passing this message along to Heru Anefistar, I would be in your debt.” Benlan Rais grimaced, but then nodded and forced a smile to cross his wide lips. “It will be as you say, Velelya. May the gods watch over you on your journey. You will always have a room here when you next visit Bozojo.” And at that, Andares returned the smile, though his was genuine and full of affection for this short-lived mortal. “It would bring me great pleasure to enjoy your hospitality again, Heru Rais. May the gods bless your home and your city.” They bowed their heads toward each other, and then with one last look back, Andares left the Lake's Head Inn and made his way toward the merchant district of Bozojo to gather supplies for the next leg of his journey. There were several squares in the city where merchants gathered to sell meats, cloths, fruits, perfumes, cheap jewelry, and of course fish. The fish markets were particularly loathsome in odor, and so he kept clear of them, preferring those he could find within the second bailey where the richer families made their home. The streets were quiet at that hour despite the number of merchants already at their businesses and beckoning to all who passed by; apart from the soldiers going about their duties, there weren't that many walking the streets yet. He toured the few stalls that were open so early that day, before finally buying a few fruits that would keep for a week, as well as dried and salted meats with several small loaves of bread. That would last him at least three weeks, more than long enough to bring him to the last human city before he crossed the plains of Yerebey. The merchants were respectful and quite deferential to him, though they kept their conversation focused upon their wares. When soldiers passed bearing the falcon crest of Salinon, or the piscine crest of their liege, they doffed their hats and offered salutations with grateful smiles. It took a few hours to find all that he would need, and after he had done so, his purse was somewhat lighter and his pack was much heavier. By mid-morning the streets were filled with people tending their daily business. He could hear Lothanasi hymns chanted in little shrines dotting the district, most to Wvelkim and Artela. He could also hear musicians practicing lute and lyre as he passed beneath the high loft windows of well-to-do homes; he even recognized a few of the melodies as reasonable facsimiles of those his Elf cousins used in Quenardya. He could hear the clop of horse hooves in every direction, and the creak of wagon wheels followed quickly behind. Voices conversing in laughter, whispers, and shouts surrounded him. But at no time did these people crowd him, but always they afforded him a respectable distance, as if they recognized that he was something altogether different. Few referred to him in either speaking to him or in whispering about him as they slipped past as anything other than “Velelya” and he made no move to correct them. He reached the Eastern gate of Bozojo a short while later, and just as when he had entered the city, the soldiers there paid him little mind, preferring to inspect the other travelers coming and going from the city on the roads the wound around the lake, or headed even further eastward into Dûn Fennas proper and the country of Linduin. Those self-same travelers also gave him a wide berth, as if he were an upthrust rock that the waves divided around, flowing past with all their vivacity but unable to otherwise touch. The stream of travelers on the outskirts of the city, as well as the numerous fisherman and laborers heading from job to job, dwindled after two candlemarks, many of them fleeing to their homes as the sky darkened overhead. Andares noted it carefully, observing as the clouds poured in from the west, rippling through the sky like billows of smoke through a tight flume. A stiff breeze kept the scent of fish in the air even after the city walls disappeared behind the rolling hills northeast of the lake. The castle and temple towers remained in sight hovering over the lake, while the waters rippled in broad strokes, waves rising with each passing minute. By the time the lake bent away to the south and he lost sight of the towers in the midst of the high rolling hills wending toward Linduin, he saw no one else on the road, and felt the first drops of rain. Even if he turned back he would not reach the city in time. Andares noted the small copses of trees dotting the hills between the crop fields, but saw nothing that would shelter him and keep him dry. He pulled his cloak more tightly around his chest, and tugged the edges of his cowl more firmly over his head and ears. The puddles swelled in the road, and the patter that had at first been a gentle massage now became a thousand little fists rattling across his head and back. Andares picked up his pace, rushing down the road, spray climbing his boots with each step. His cloak kept the rain out, but with a torrent as strong and as sudden as this, it would still soak through every nook and opening. The air was a smear of gray, yellow, and green, all shrouded in a darkness that moved like a mass where the rain tightened. On a small rise he saw a large array of willows, their long branches brushing across the ground as the wind dragged them toward the east. Andares turned up the low hillside, rushing beneath the willow branches. He pushed through to one of the willows in the middle where the wind wasn't blowing as strongly The ground beneath was still dry and he smiled lightly as he rested his hands against the tough bark. “Thank you, friends,” he murmured as he slipped down to his haunches, back pressed against the tree. The storm was intense, but it would not last more than an hour. A short respite beneath the willows would see him through it. Andares spent a little time in meditation, listening to the booming rumble of the storm and the hammering blows of the rain, before another sound intruded upon his peaceful repose. Another traveler was climbing the hillside to seek shelter just as he had done. Andares opened his eyes and sat cross-legged awaiting his guest. He was both surprised and felt a sense of rightness when he saw that the heavy-set traveler pushing his way through the long willow branches fresh with spring blossoms like a dream interrupted was the foreign scholar Anefistar. The man's white hair was soaked at the ends that had slipped from his traveling cloak, and his fingers slipped along the knotty walking staff he carried. His haggard face blossomed in bewilderment when he saw the Åelf sitting patiently and dry at the center of the inmost willow. “Yára Velelya!” he exclaimed in shock, and then his lips lifted into a smile and he laughed a deep belly laugh, pressing through the last of the willows and dripping all over the soft loam like a wet dog. “I suppose I should feel some bit of pride that I possess as much wisdom as one of your kind.” “When it comes to storms, my kind is no wiser than your own. We all know to seek shelter.” Andares gestured to the dry ground, and then stood to help the man find a place to sit and rest. “What brings you here? Your surprise makes it plain that you were not following me.” “Hoping to convince you to change your mind? No, I was not following you. I have been journeying between Linduin and Delavia these last few years; I came as far as Bozoo because I merely wished to see Dûn Fennas's latest holdings. Our meeting there was serendipity. Heru Rais told me that you decided to first return to your people.” “Yes, I have.” Anefistar nodded, then drew his long beard from out of his tunic and began wringing it. He squeezed only a few drops free before shoving it back beneath his tunic to protect it. “Will you be going all the way Delavia? Your road must pass through Linduin country; there's no other way with the dread Elderwood so close.” “I will not be passing through Delavia,” Andares replied as he thought of the many fields and crags lining the road south of the Elderwood. It was a long road, one that was always tinged by an air of fear that rose from the cursed wood. “I will be taking the northern road toward Frondham instead.” “Of course.” They sat and listened to the rain for several minutes more, neither speaking though their eyes did occasionally chance to meet. Andares allowed very little to be seen in his expression, and while Anefistar revealed very little, there was some measure of calculation and want therein. In his travels with the Metamorians, Andares had well learned that when a human wants something, it is only a matter of a brief span, like the beat of a dragonfly's wings, before the desire has danced from their heart to their lips and into the world. So too it was with his guest beneath the willows as the storm continued its pounding beyond. “Yára Velelya, we are both traveling by the same road. Even if you will not journey with me to Salinon, at least allow me the great honor of accompanying you to the place where our ways must part.” Andares smiled, suspecting that his friend would make such a request. He tilted his head back and let the cowl fall down to his neck, revealing his long, pointed ears, angular cheeks, gray-toned skin, black hair, and eyes brimming with a golden blue light. “Ishtyar, there is much that you know, and much that you wish to learn, is there not?” “When else will I have the chance to learn from your kind, Yára Velelya?” Anefistar spread his sun-darkened hands wide, and lowered his eyes to them. “I have journeyed farther with my own legs than most of my race ever will. And yet, in all those travels, you are the first of the ancient ones I have ever met. I desire greatly to travel with you, even if only for so short a time as the road to Delavia.” Andares considered briefly before his smile stretched even further up his high-boned cheeks. “I would be grateful for your honorable company, Ishtyar. You may tell me more of your travels, and of the Fennasi people. I would greatly like to hear of them and of all that you have learned of the many human kingdoms of this world.” Anefistar breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I am more grateful than I have ever been in my life to hear those words, Yára Velelya. Thank you. I am your humble servant and will be obedient in all ways to you.” Andares nodded and then returned to listening for the end of the storm. Anefistar kept quiet as well, moving in closer and holding his cloak tight to keep in the warmth. The rain began to drip along the bark and the branches even so deep within the willows, and so Andares pulled his cowl back up. He could not help but hope the storm ended soon; there was a strange restlessness welling up in his heart. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>