She knew the mage was right; he did deserve to know that she was leaving, even if she could not tell him why. That was the reason she dreaded it so—because she didn't know how to tell him. How could she put into words the gratitude that she felt for him, for all the things he showed her, for uncontested friendship? She knew that she could trust him to not ask questions or tell anybody if she asked. Saying goodbye to him would be the hardest thing she'd ever done, and she dreaded it.
"I know...and I will,” she sighed, wiping tears from her face.
* * *
Searon sat alone on Starlyn's porch as he smoked from his cedar pipe. The smoke kept him warm on the cool morning while he pondered his thoughts. He continued to think about the previous night that he spent with Anaela. She kept him infatuated but seemed to stay distant. At least, she’d tried to until she leaped at him with a kiss. Searon hadn't thought she was interested in him, or at least not enough without pursuit. He smiled when he remembered the night. Warmth spread through him at the thought of her; there was something about her that kept his heart and mind racing.
The peace and quiet appeared short lived when the wizard walked up to the porch. Karceoles sat down at Searon's side and lit his own long-stem pipe. Smoke encircled his face with a long puff before his exhale turned into a bow and arrow. Searon smiled at the smoke representation and rather enjoyed the extra company, especially since the wizard hadn't opened his mouth yet.
"So…how does she taste?" Karceoles asked.
"Excuse me?" Searon shot a glance at the wizard.
"Anaela, how does she taste?"
"You saw us?"
"No, but you've been grinning like an idiot. By the serene look on your face, which is a first time I've seen you happy since your wife. Adding to that the way you can't take your eyes off of her shows me that she would make you happiest. Then of course the fact you are sitting on a porch alone, and she isn't here, and the fact that you're smoking a pipe. This leads me to believe she didn't spend the night, but something else happened with you two last night, the final conclusion being a kiss. So I ask again…how did she taste?"
Searon's eyebrows rose, impressed to be read like a book. Generally, he kept his feelings hidden. Anaela seemed to bring the personality out of him. He liked the wizard better when he kept his mouth shut, but since he knew it was unlikely, he sighed. Karceoles would continue to press on him until satisfied with an answer.
"She tasted like cool watermelon and sugar; it was the most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced." Searon smiled.
"What did Starlyn taste like then?" Karceoles asked.
"That was different." Searon frowned.
"I know, but the taste…I am curious," Karceoles admitted.
"She tasted like a hot glass of apple cider."
"Interesting, isn't it?"
"What?"
"How each kheshlar has a unique taste."
He had never thought about it before, but it did seem odd to him that Starlyn had the taste of spiced apples, but he never paid it much attention. Now that the wizard pointed it out, he did notice that both had distinct tastes and smells. When he was with Anaela, he hardly paid attention because he was so ecstatic that they kissed. He never considered adding the fact that she tasted sweet as well, and that both tasted of exotic foods that weren't similar to each other.
"Is that true?" Searon asked.
"For the females, yes, it is. It is part of their mating. The male often finds a soul mate with one who has a taste he can't resist. They get a slight hint of it when they kiss their hands in introduction.”
"There is so much to know about kheshlars."
"And nobody will ever learn it all. They are mythical creatures."
* * *
Searon wandered the city all day; he watched the kheshlars spar in the field and read from the vast collection of books at the library. They were a fascinating species, elegant in their own way and completely different than humans. Despite all of his wandering, he never found the person he truly wanted to see, Anaela. After their kiss from the previous night, when she ran off, she hadn't strayed too far from his mind, and despite his best efforts she could not be found. Although all evidence pointed against it, he truly hoped he hadn't upset her.
He returned to Starlyn's cabin at twilight and saw her sitting on the porch, serene in posture, alone with hands in her tangled hair, and tracks of her tears dried upon her pale face. Carefully, he strode up the steps and sat next to her. At first, he sat there silently, but when she didn't speak, he decided to put his arm around her and embrace her in a comforting hug that she accepted gratefully. He wasn't sure what bothered her but knew that it would be best to let her unload when ready. She felt cold against him and so he held her tighter in an attempt for his warmth to spread through her.
Starlyn remained still, quiet, accepting his comfort, but not yet wanting to open up to him. He didn't bombard her with the questions spinning through his mind but remained silent as he held her. She moved closer and put her arms around him; tears steadily flowed down her face, and he embraced her even tighter. Searon had never heard of kheshlars crying, and to his knowledge such things were rare, but Starlyn differed from others. She remained more open with her feelings than any other kheshlar Searon had knowledge of.
"I have to leave, Searon. I have to travel far away from here."
"Why?"
"You are a friend, a real good friend of mine, but you must understand I cannot tell you. I cannot tell anyone." Starlyn sniffed.
"Is the fault mine?"
"The only fault this is…is my own."
"Is there anything I can do to help? Perhaps I can have someone accompany you on your journey."
"This is something I must do alone, but I will have company though,” she revealed.
"How far do you have to go?"
"A long journey. I will be gone for a long time, but when the time is right, I will see you again." Starlyn smiled.
"Promise?"
A single tear washed down her face, and she smirked. Even so sad, her smile warmed Searon's heart. He couldn't imagine never seeing her again and only hoped to see her return soon. Her journey was a long one, but he hoped one day to see her face again, and to see her happy. The tears that stained her face were upsetting to him.
"I promise,” she said.
Searon stood up and took three steps back from her and got on one knee. He released something from his sash and held it in both hands as he bowed his head and handed it to her. She looked bewildered as she removed it from his grip. In her hand she held a throwing knife and pouch.
"Searon…I do not need this. I have shurikens."
"Ah, but shurikens do not find their way back to you. Your journey is farther than mine, and I wish for you to have it. May it remind you that no matter where you go, my spirit will be with you."
"Thank you.”
“I notice you’ve acquired a new hammer.”
“Yes, it is the metal of Andron’s. I melted it down so it would better serve me. It is not quite as large as my old one, but it will do.”
Searon leaned in and gave Starlyn a tight hug before grasping her hand and gently kissing it. He smiled, took a few steps back, and released her hand.
"May the stars shine upon you, Starlyn, and let my creator and your mother watch over you on your long journey."
Starlyn smiled. "And may your blade never dull, your creator never stray, and my mother keep an eye on you, always."
She turned toward the incoming wind and whistled. Footsteps echoed through the forest that grew louder with each passing second. A white Bengal tiger appeared from the trees and sprinted toward them. The tiger knelt before Starlyn, and she stroked the beast just behind the ears before climbing on and looking back to Searon.
"Goodbye, my friend."
A single tear surprised Searon's face that he promptly wiped away. "Goodbye,” he whispered.
He stared in disbelief as Starlyn and her tiger fled into the night. An eerie cold overtook his naturally warm body as he stared up at the sky to find a shooting star. He closed his eyes and said a wish to his creator, asking for a safe journey for both Starlyn and himself. When he opened his eyes, he looked toward the ground where he spotted a single white rose. One eyebrow rose as he bent to the ground and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers as he stepped inside Starlyn's cabin.
Epilogue
S
earon sat alone on the porch of the abandoned cabin with pipe in hand. He smoked his tobacco as he wondered where Starlyn could have gone. A week had passed, and he hadn't dared speak of her departure with anybody. Everybody wondered where she disappeared to and why. Searon kept busy making preparations for his army so they could head back into the wilderness. After the last harsh battle, he wondered if he would be able to defeat the draeyks and daerions, especially without the kheshlarn support he hoped to bring with Starlyn.
There appeared to be powerful leaders against him, Zergiel the dark wizard being one, but also rumors flooded of Starlyn's sister, the undead kheshlar, being behind some of the training. He shivered as he thought back to when he met her face to face.
He hadn't seen Anaela since the night they kissed, a truth that haunted him dearly; she made it blatantly obvious that she wanted to avoid him—and her feelings. At least that was what he kept telling himself; he couldn't bear the thought of her not wanting to be with him. The kiss they shared showed him otherwise, or at least it felt so. Every now and then, he would catch glimpses of her, but she would disappear as soon as he spotted her.
Searon knew the kheshlars’ hospitality would only go so far, and so when he received a polite message from the king to leave his land, he began packing his things. Starlyn remained the main reason they had been tolerated for so long, and now she was gone. An alliance shattered with the disappearance of one kheshlar.
He sighed as he fingered his weapon, circling around the crested rubies before getting to his feet. Everything was already prepared with the messages he sent to Sh'on and Etherond. He prepared himself to meet with Elsargast and thank the king for the little hospitality shown, and say goodbye. Wind crept over the cabin, and he took one last look. It reminded him of his own home so many years ago, a place that he wanted to live when the war was over, if he survived.
Searon shook his head and stalked off into the city where Elsargast awaited him. Vil'ek stood by the king's side, serene in appearance and hands far from the hilts of his scimitars—a small measure of trust about him. They waited for him by their keep, gold circlet and armor secured upon the king.
Anaela stood near them, confident expression on her face, yet she dared not make eye contact with Searon. She appeared more beautiful than ever with hair hung straight past her shoulders, except for a small piece near her face braded in green beads. A forest-green dress without straps fell only a few inches below her hips. Searon stared in awe for a moment before he shook himself out of it to nod to the king.
"Searon, I am sorry to see you leave, and yet I am content with your departure," Elsargast admitted.
"I appreciate you letting us stay so long."
"Starlyn wouldn't have wanted us to cast you out until you were healed and organized," Elsargast admitted.
"Yes, she is an amazing person."
"I wish she were here; her whereabouts are still unknown. Have you heard from her?"
"No...no, I have not." Searon sighed.
"Where is Karceoles? I thought he was supposed to be here to say goodbye as well."
"He is supposed to be here, but I do not know where the old wizard is."
Searon shrugged and held his hand out, and Elsargast took it and held firm, his hand so much softer than Searon's own, which was full of calluses. He looked around for a moment, but when nobody showed he nodded to the king and turned to leave. Before he could get a few steps, he heard quickened footsteps in the distance. A mix of iron and copper lingered in the air that Searon knew too well as fresh blood. Karceoles appeared from the southern gate, running toward them with a limp, using the zylek to help him along. Strapped over his shoulder was a flaccid warrior with long ebony hair.
At first, Searon figured it to be a swordsman in his ranks, or perhaps even a scout that caught wind of something. He hoped it wasn't a scout because it would mean something bad approached. Searon shook his thoughts as the wizard advanced, out of breath. He stopped and looked at the man; something familiar about his appearance fell just outside of his grasp. Searon moved the long hair from his face and noticed a large jaw with clef chin and scruff where a beard usually didn't grow covering his face.
It dawned on Searon and he gasped. "Is that—"
Karceoles pushed Searon aside and crept toward the king, where he stopped and bowed his head only slightly. Anaela rushed forward, face covered in a mask of horror as she scanned over the man's wounds all across his shattered plate armor.
Searon pushed everyone aside and studied the man once more. He knew it was him, although he had no idea how or why his life had been spared. His hand shifted to the man's neck, where he felt a slow but steady pulse. Relief drenched Searon's face as he noticed the young man continued breathing.
"Andron," he choked.
Andron's black-and-blue eyes opened slowly to glance at Searon. He attempted to smile but tensed as he realized how much it hurt. Instead, he coughed a few times and looked back up to Searon.
"I'm glad you made it out of there," Andron coughed. "General."
"You saved my life," Searon said.
Andron only nodded and closed his eyes, his head falling down limply. Karceoles turned to Elsargast, staring deep into his silver eyes, causing a look so intimidating that even the king seemed to shrink at the glare.
"This man needs medical help, now!" the wizard shouted.
Elsargast turned to Anaela, who had remained still with eyes wide. Her eyes bulged, and she looked around to each person surrounding her, and each in turned looked to her. She flinched and burned red but looked around, unsure what to do.