Tears of Ice: Part VII

They'd lain her on the table in the common room of the caves.

At first glance, she merely seemed asleep.

"It was an arrow." Calla spoke woodenly as she stood across the table from him once more. This time it was Nerissa's body that lay between them, not angry words. "One of them had a bow. It must have... twas the lightstones, you see. All he had to do, even if he were in the dark, was aim at the lightstones she carried. She didn't tell anyone she was hit. She just ran on, until she reached the exit, and then ... then she fell. She was dead before I reached her side." Calla reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her daughter's face, while Ian struggled and failed to find something to say.

How could he comfort her? He'd failed. He'd failed to save Nerissa.

They mourned silently through the long night.

********

At dawn they carried Nerissa's body outside and set in atop a large flat stone further down the beach. What little wood they could spare was placed about the body and some of the children solemnly placed small bags with herbs upon their friend's chest. Their contents would give off a sweet smelling smoke when burned. Calla had looked distressed when the wind off the ocean had made it hard to light the makeshift pyre, so Ian had summoned a blue flame and set the wood ablaze. Calla gave him a glance of thanks, and as the fire finally began to burn down, Nerissa's body nearly reduced to ashes, Calla stepped forwards and faced the others.

"The fire, like my daughter's spirit, has burned brightly. May the Goddess gather her into the Light." Then she walked away from her daughter's pyre to where the captured horse stood waiting. One by one, all the elves, even the smallest of the remaining children, stepped forward, wished Nerissa home to the Light, and then went to join the others. Finally only Ian was left. He could not speak for a few seconds then sighed. "Go to the Light, Nerissa. Be at peace."

A gust of wind blasted from behind him and the ashes blew out and over the ocean. He turned and walked against it towards where Calla sat already on a horse, waiting to lead her clan away.

"You will not change your mind?" He stared directly into her eyes. They'd spoken again briefly this morning about leaving this Plane. Even with what had happened, Calla had still been as stubborn as she had been before. He was not surprised when she shook her head again. "Not now. My grief would decide for me. We will go to the dales for now. You've shown me the Road. I will show the others, and if the crop is not good, we will walk the Road. What of you?"

"I don't know. I failed. I'm not sure what happens next."

She gathered her horse's reins and looked at Ian. "If you can't find your way home, come find us." She waved at the others, and the elves rode away towards the mountains. He watched for as long as they were in sight, then sat down to wait.

********

The shadows lengthened and had covered the now cold pyre when Arianrhod spoke behind him. "So, Iannonvethallion. Are you ready to go home?"

He did not look at her. "I failed. The girl is dead."

She walked around so he could see her. "Yes, she is. And you did not fail."

"How ... how did I not fail? You set me here to save her, did you not?"

She sighed. "No, I sent you to save all of them. She was only one among many. And I sent you to mete out my justice to the raiders for what they had done to their captives. You did so, and quite well. You've fulfilled your second task."

"DAMN you! She was a little girl. She should be alive, with her mother, her friends, not ashes out there!"

"She's with the Light, Iannon. Truly, she is. Calla will use the Road, you know. The rest of the children will survive."

"But not Nerissa."

"No, not Nerissa. You did what you were sent to do, Iannon. Now I shall keep my word. You will return home and no time shall have gone by since I summoned you." The haze began to gather over his sight and the voice of the goddess seemed to echo in his ears. "You cannot save everyone, Blackthorn. If you insist on trying, you will... "

"... catch your death of cold, Ian Blackthorn!" Lady Xanthia Hawke tossed a blanket over his chair. "You dozed off over here by yourself, right in a draft."

Ian looked about; the firehall was nearly empty and Lumiere was wiping down the bar. Blackhawke stood at the door waiting for Xan to join him. "Thank you, milady. I best get up to my own bed." The goddess had done as she had said. No time had passed while he was gone. Nothing had changed. Nothing. Except a young elven girl had died far away.

As Ian got to his feet, something fell with a clatter to the floor. Xan retrieved it and stood looking at it in her hand with a bemused expression. "My, what a strange looking stone, Ian? What is it called?"

He gently took it from her hand, looked at it, then tucked it in a pocket on his belt. "A Tear, milady." He walked for the stairs.

"A Tear of Ice."