211) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 43 -- Love Letter

Kohra and Juanita woke everyone up at first light, explaining that they were leaving right after breakfast. Kohra had decided not to put it up for a vote. They were leaving, and that was that. 

Everyone argued vociferously against the idea, saying Kohra was crazy, they should heal, they should rest, the townspeople wanted to thank them, and a dozen other arguments. But eventually, they relented.    

She WAS right, after all. There was a decent chance that killing the Reapers would be noticed by the powers-that-be, and either word would get to Andor, or would somehow attract the Black Thing that was hunting them. With no Silver Lady around to save their lives next time, they would never survive it. It wasn’t like the Reapers; it was a whole different level of impossible. They tried to argue back, but Kohra was relentless; they would die, and she, Lenny, and Dominic knew it deep in their bones. Reilly was more optimistic; perhaps being a squirrel, it hadn’t been quite the same for her, but she still backed them up; if everyone else thought they should hit the road, who was she to argue? 

Sleepily, they grumbled down to the dining room for one last breakfast. The townspeople were going to be disappointed, en masse, but Juanita said she’d run interference. She would regale them with a tale of larger-than-life hero-stuff, and explain that it was top-secret and urgent. Which was actually the truth, more or less. 

In the meantime, the townsfolk had already, over the course of the previous three days, showered them with gifts: new clothes, a beautiful hunting knife (which Lenny had immediately claimed), several sacks of nuts, grains, apples, and salted meat. Dominic, much to his delight, replenished his personal stash of jerky.     

One group of little kids (well, about Reilly’s age) had even given them a stack of pictures they had drawn of their heroes fighting the terrible Reaper. Reilly was smack dab in the centre of every one, usually wielding a flaming sword or shooting fire and lightning out of her eyes; clearly, the kids had no uncertainty about who was the real Hero. Reilly vibrated with excitement as she recounted their battle in exquisite, blood-curdling detail for her fawning admirers.

As the gifts had come in, Juanita had packed them, along with the equipment donated by the town. They were fully equipped: food, clothing, cooking equipment, winter gear for the mountains. 

Juanita, for her part, had decided she was not even going to think about the possibility that she wouldn’t see them again. She felt such a yearning for the futures of these mostly-children, knowing the sheer gift of Time that stretched out ahead of them, full of possibility, full of adventure, hopefully full of joy and beauty and love.  

Their presence in the Inn had enlivened her. It was like feeling the salty breeze of the sea again, taking her back to when she’d sailed all the way to the Elves’ Green Wall, and anything and everything had seemed possible.       

She of course felt a special bond with Kohra. She knew the girl fancied her, but there was no reason for concern. She fondly remembered her own crushes from when she was that age. It was lovely, and delightful, really. It was Kohra’s own still-chaotic way of feeling their connection.

Someday maybe, the Fates would re-cross their threads. She hoped so. She would miss them all, but she’d miss Kohra’s quiet, appreciative presence lingering long after closing time, the most. She’d miss their talks. The girl still didn’t see her own self for what she was. But Juanita had faith in her. Those wide-open green eyes would cross her threshold again someday.  She had to believe that. So she did.

Captain Klardynne and the Mayor, a short fellow named Corrigan with bright red hair and a perpetual fake smile, dropped by during breakfast, having been informed by Juanita to keep the party’s prompt exit on the down-low.         

Mayor Corrigan, strangely enough for a politician, didn’t have much to say. He actually seemed grumpy, as though he disagreed with the extravagance of it all. Klardynne had brought an entire wagon’s worth of weapons and armour from the militia’s stores, and said they could take as much as they wanted, assuring them (while the little Mayor tried not to scowl too much) that the town would not only cover the cost, but they were also each being given a horse for their journey, and the town coffers were going to pick up the tab from their stay at the Inn.     

Lenny punched Gorb in the shoulder when Klardynne told them this, chortling, “Praise d’Light, Gorb!” 

Gorb scowled, for a moment resembling the Mayor, while Lenny caught Kohra and Dev’s eyes and they burst out laughing.        

To top it off, Klardynne gave each of them a leather pouch, jangling with coins. “There’s 50 gold in each, plus we had Yarl, our jeweler, choose some gem stones to make up the remainder of the bounty that was on the Reaper. We figured it’d be better than bags of gold. You can, at least, hide the stones.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, wiping his eyes as he saw these kids, younger than his own, staring wide-eyed at their sudden riches. Not to mention the impressive arsenal. “You’re always welcome in Annuvin. You’ve got a whole town of friends here.”        

Mayor Corrigan cleared his throat, approaching Gorb. “And Dominic, on behalf of our own Field Captain Kylryvyn, I, uh, what?” 

He faltered as Gorb pointed toward Dominic, bellowing “Ye got de wrrrrrong man!”, bursting into a full guffaw at the hapless man’s abruptly-reddening face. The rest of what the Mayor sputtered was lost amidst the laughter. Even Klardynne couldn’t keep a straight face, and when Melkorn slapped the Mayor right on the shoulder with a mouth-wide-open “HAR, HAR, HAR!!” not six inches from his nose, he too managed to chuckle.      

By the time they were done, Kohra thought he seemed like a pretty decent guy after all. Maybe that’s why he’s the Mayor. 

They eagerly explored the armoury wagon; it was fully stocked: swords, shields, armour, pikes, spears, daggers, halberds, a few battle-axes, one war-hammer, bows of several styles, and stacks of arrows and crossbow bolts. There was even a bola. Kohra had always wanted to use a bola, but every time she had tried with the ones her and Dominic had tried to make, she’d ended up getting it tangled around her arms, or hitting herself in the face. 

She decided to stick with a crossbow, upgrading to one powerful enough for big-game hunting. Although she knew big game wasn’t going to generally be what she was shooting at. She went for a heavy model; she wouldn’t be able to load it very quickly, but she was just going to make sure every shot counted.

Maybe I’ll be a sniper. I always wanted to be a sniper.

Gorb and Devona upgraded their crossbows as well, and Reilly proudly strapped a scimitar to her waist-belt, which hung down almost to the ground. Nobody argued. They were Slayers now.       

Dominic gratefully scooped a couple hundred arrows, and a second long-bow.

Melkorn was too big for any of the armour, although with some ingenuity supplied mostly by Lenny, and skill with knots supplied mostly by Dominic, they rigged him up with a killer outfit: a long chain shirt, breastplate, and variously-attached plates of metal, wood and banded leather. With his enormous, double-spiked battle-axe hefted like a net-ball bat, Melkorn looked like a weirdly happy barbarian who was about to go slaughter a town.          

However, the biggest surprise of the morning, by far, was Coraanyan. Right after the Mayor and Klardynne left and they had returned to the dining room to say final goodbyes to Juanita and the others, Coraanyan strolled in, right up to Reilly. Then he knelt, bowed his head, and solemnly kissed each of her feet while she giggled in embarrassment. “This is how mah people, the Sunfire Elves, traditionally expressed gratitude, and honoured their allies.”       

Getting back to his feet, he held out a red-velvet-covered leather case, long and slender, his earnestness magnified even further by his slow drawl.       

“This is mah” (holding it up high for all to see), “most valuable possession. Reilly, ah want you t’have it. To thank you, all of you, for what y’all did.” He paused for an even longer moment, nodding at each person in turn.        

“We all lost friends to them … Reapers. Myself, ah lost six, six horses. That’s six friends ah’d known close to twenty years apiece. You might’a saved us all, this whole town, you know.”       

“Also, ah did want y’all to know, the black stallion rode out sometime in the last three days. Ah’m not sure when. But maybe it’s an omen, a sign that you’re all leavin’ at the right time.”          

Murmurs rippled through their group, but right now, Coraanyan had more to say. He placed the case in Reilly’s hands, holding on with her while he continued. 

“Ah’m giving this to you, Reilly. Ah know you’re goin’ after that horse. Whatever your mission is, whatever you’re gonna do, ah want you to know, ah believe in you. The way you talk to horses….” He smiled, shaking his head. “You might not have much common sense, but you sure got horse-sense.” 

Reilly giggled, looking down at Coraanyan, then around at the others. Then back to Coraanyan. She seemed completely uncertain how to take this, or what to do next. .       

Looking around at each person, he continued even more quietly. “Ah cannot say no to the Hooded Man.” (His hand moved, self-consciously, to rub his neck.) “He don’t accept ‘no’.” He smiled boyishly for a moment, like he was a kid talking about how his old man roughed him up every once in a while when he got angry.         

Then he clapped Gorb on the shoulder, “Maybe there’s a reason you came into our lives.”      

The shaggy Klliik nodded, like a sage.       

“Go ahead Reilly, open it up.” Coraanyan’s smile carried more than his excitement; he was proud. He was proud of what he had to offer, and it was symbolic of the pride he had in them. In his friends. And particularly, in Reilly.

Reilly beamed, wide eyes peering into the package like she was a mouse exploring a fully-stocked pantry, her voice squeaking a little. “I always wanted a birthday present! This is, like, all my birthdays at once! Thank you Coraanyan, thank you thank you thank you!! We’ll find Horsey and save him! We will!”         

Unbuttoning the top of the case and opening it, she squealed, as she pulled out a slender, jet-black, wand. It was elegant, beautiful, formed out of a rough-looking black stone, like lava, and embossed with an intricate design reminiscent of spiky flames. She almost dropped it, out of sheer surprise, before throwing her arms around the grinning stable-master. A moment later, she whooped, and then burst out laughing, talking a mile a minute about how this was the best thing ever.        

Eventually her excitement subsided just enough that others could get a word in. “What does it do?” Devona sensibly asked.      

Coraanyan nodded. “It’s a Wand of Fire.”          

The girl’s mouth actually dropped open, as did everyone else’s, even Juanita’s.       

Coraanyan smiled, seeing their reactions. He sometimes forgot just what it was that he possessed in this Wand. He continued, enjoying being on the stage for a moment.

“That stone there? Comes from a dragon’s lair. And the metal? Only the Earthborn can forge it.”        

“You mean it lights things on fire?” Reilly yelped.          

He laughed. “Yep, it sure does light things on fire. Imagine a ball of dragon fire, ’bout 20 paces wide. And the whole thing — SPLPPFFFFCHCHRTTTT!!” He thrust out his hands like a giant explosion, grinning like an 11 year old boy.

Reilly set it down, very, very carefully, on the table. “What if it goes off by mistake?”         

“It won’t. It only works if it likes you. You gotta make friends with it.”            

“Yeee! I’m calling it Boomie!” She scooped it back up, hugging it to her chest like she had a new Best Friend.

Nobody else seemed to know what to say, rather awed by the whole thing.

Having accomplished what he came to do, Coraanyan turned to leave, tipping his hat to Juanita, who blushed and gave him a funny, uncomfortable smile (at least, that’s how it looked to Kohra). Then he stopped at the door and turned around, surveying all of them with unmistakable pride.

“When you catch Old Hoodie (‘Hoodie!’ Lenny shouted gleefully as Coraanyan brought his gaze back to rest on Reilly), “You give him a real good taste o’ Boomie there. Ok?” He smirked, “You fry his butt!”            

The ending of the night was drawn out for a very long time, with bouts of laughter and choruses of “Fry his butt!” ringing through the night.  

* * * * *

It was time to go. All the goodbyes had been said, all the thank-yous and good-lucks and see-you-laters. Kohra waited until the very end, letting the others exit the inn first, then turning around in the doorway so it was just her and Juanita. For a moment. They didn’t even speak. Looking into each other’s eyes. Everything was said.       

So they hugged. 

Once again, Juanita kissed both of her cheeks. Kohra kissed hers in return. Juanita laughed. And then they let go of each other’s hands. She smiled. Juanita wiped tears, smiling back, keeping her gaze steady.              

The ride out of Annuvin was dusty and windless.

Kohra held on as long as she could to the smell of strawberries and lilac.

* * * * *

Later that day, cleaning up their rooms, Juanita found the bundle of cloth underneath Kohra’s pillow. Hands trembling, she undid the little knot tied with string, and opened the bundle. Gems and coins. It looked like Kohra’s entire reward!         

A piece of paper, tightly folded into a little rectangle, tumbled out onto her lap. “Juanita” was written on the top, in a fancy cursive script.        

She held it close to her chest, feeling the tears. She held them back. Then laughed, shaking her head. 

She unfolded the paper, smoothed it gently with her hands, twice, and took a deep breath.       

* * * * *

My dearest, most wonderful Juanita,     

When a seed lays buried in the earth, does it feel alone, surrounded by darkness, tiny and helpless in its seemingly impenetrable but fertile shell?     

Does it feel purposeless, ensconced there, immobile, silent, nothing with which to move or speak or hear?

Does it despair? 

Does it know the soil is nourishing it? Or does it feel buried as though lying in a grave?       

Does it somehow know the living earth is its birthright, and it will one day be warmed by the open sky, caressed by the wind? Loved?       

Or does it only know silence and aloneness?      

When warmth begins to finally penetrate, cracking it open, sparking it into life, how terrifyingly joyous that must be.       

And how grateful that little seed must feel to finally expand into itself and take its place in the worlds.          

I love you. 

I‘m sure you already know. I harbour no illusions; I mean, I know I am but a girl to you. But, please, go forward in your life knowing that you are the inspiration for one person, who you helped to grow into herself, more than I could ever tell you, even in poetry.           

I will never forget my evenings sitting with your rowdy crowd, enthralled. You inspire me, in so many ways. And your stories! You opened my eyes to just how adventurous and exciting life can be. I’ve wondered, but never had the courage to ask, why you stopped living that life, and settled down here in Annuvin. Maybe someday we’ll talk about that too.

Just please, Juanita, don’t ever give up on your own wondrous life. I don’t know when I will make it back to Annuvin, but someday, someday I will see you again. I have to. I have to listen again to your stories and…you. 

If we are ever reincarnated into new lives, I hope we are both re-born in the same place and time. I would share a lifetime with you.

I will never, ever forget you.

Kohra       

P.S. Please place one of each gemstone in the offering boxes at the Healers’ temple, on my behalf, as I was unable to go before we left. The rest is yours.

* * * * *

Juanita read the note several more times, savouring each word, absorbing them into her heart. She re-folded the note carefully, preserving Kohra’s original creases. 

She lay down on Kohra’s bed, letting her head sink into the same pillow that her new friend had woken up with that morning.

Then nothing held back the tears.