Entry 335
I sit on the edge of the lake in Avanlei. In the distance, my brother is handling the affairs of the Haven we created here, informing the people of the news we’ve brought him, that the Mal’Karad root is free.
I’ve been sitting, and thinking, about the things I and my fellows, have accomplished in the years away. Two havens, one here, one outside Shadowfane, enchanted to defend against the corrupt presence of Malediction. Wickford’s Champions, one by one defeated. Our father rescued and returned to safety. I hold in my hands a glaive of ice, gifted to me by the Lord of Winter, and something I wish to master, if I can be trained to do so. I have channeling through me, runes renewed in power and reborn by our hard work. I’ve spoken to the Gargoyle Lord of gods long past, and to a simple man with a long beard that I greatly respect about the Far-flung breathern beyond the western edge. I’ve learned to strike at the very elements, to keep balance in a world on the verge of shattering.
And now the Mal’Karad root is free. My brother spreads the word amongst our people here, the others I am sure are spreading the word to all that can that they can return home. He is the one to be Runelord when our father passes, he should be the one to carry the weight of change with his words. I laugh to myself as I remember my childish envy of my brother, always the faster, the stronger, the wiser. I do not envy him now, not the weight that will be put upon his shoulders when our people must be lead again. I know that when we are free, I can simply step back and watch our people. I can guard them from the outside. I no longer desire their service or respect, I simply desire that they live, and live well. Perhaps that is what being a leader is. Perhaps not.
We have done a lot. Great things. Amazing thing. Unbelievable things. We’ve also done horrible things. Things that no person should have let rest on their conscience. Our father was saved because I brokered a deal with the Velico. We defeated the Pyrelord because I called my father a coward. We stopped the Shetra by allying with those who are terrible. I’ve done things I am not proud of.
I look back to my brother, watching him interact with the people. They listen, because he is there with them every day. He fights beside them, protects them. That is our duty as the highborn of our people. We draw our strength from them, inspired by them, empowered by it. I remember speaking with the old man Cregori. He asked of me, what my goal was. Was it to save our people? Return them home? I thought about it for a while, and still do. But my answer was no. If I could save them, I would. If I could deliver them home, I would. I would die to save the weakest of us. But my goal was to preserve the essence of who we are. Our histories, our faiths, our spirits and our accomplishments. If the end of us is to occur, I want the world to know us as a great nation of people, who stood beside them, and fought, with pride and honor, with virtue and discipline, to protect a world worth saving. I want the world to know the soul of our people, and feel it in the wind on their face, and in the earth beneath their feet. I want the world to whisper of us, and take pride, that should we fall, Should Wickford, or Her, or any one else destroy us, they will remember what we are, and carry our legacy.
I settle down against a rock, leaning back as I watch our people. Some rejoicing, some packing. Some simply sit, glad for their fellows, yet again reminded that they cannot return home, or others of us are slaves or worse still. I touch the rocks and earth at my feet, and let out a breath as I let my mind travel through my adventures. I whisper a silent prayer to Myrkorim, for those fallen, and those who still will. for Crushridge and Tandra. I whisper another to Navril, for those who travel and might find their way home again. For us as a people and for Ranel and Linel. I even whisper a prayer to the Gold Man, though I would doubt he hears me. To welcome him back to the world, and so that even in dire times, greatness can be brought out in us.
I think many thoughts. Some deep, about gods and divinity. Some not so much, like how hungry I am. Some silly, about the courtesan houses I was raised in, and how I miss the people in Trechele who took me in when no one else could. I think a lot of thoughts as I sit beneath the trees of the forest, with the speckled light shimmering down upon the rock I rest against.
A thought strikes me then, and a smile touches my lips. I think an old thought, one of us as boys, sparring with wooden blades. Looking to my brother, I stand and stretch slowly. In one hand the glaive of ice, and in the other a blade born of the elements themselves. I look to my brother’s tools, swords rife with arcane energy. I think a challenge is in order, to test our mettle, and in the peaceful place of our safe bastion, cross swords, not in pride or rage, but in camaraderie.
“Brother, if you have a moment, I’d like to see how far we’ve come.”