The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 376

Chapter 376

VIRION ERALITH

My boots felt as if they were covered in thick mud, each step through the empty halls heavy and dragging. The weight of confrontation bowed my shoulders and made my temples ache. The impromptu rally, or rather my response to it, was already chasing in circles through my mind as I reconsidered each word and phrase, fearing that I hadn’t articulated my thoughts well enough.

When I reached my private chambers, I turned to close the door only to find that Bairon had shadowed me from the rally, and was now standing in the hall and watching me carefully. His presence was a comfort, and I couldn’t help but consider the path our relationship had taken. I had never liked the human Lance, considering him selfish and egotistical. There were many times I would have dismissed him if I’d had the power, or perhaps consigned him to a purgatory of some demeaning, inglorious task.

At some point, however, in our long days within the ancient mages’ hidden sanctuary, it had occurred to me that these traits were perhaps not intrinsic to Bairon himself, but were fostered by both his family and the Glayders. Whether due to their absence, his own near-death, or the failure of the Council and Lances to protect Dicathen, Bairon had changed.

Now, he was a level head and steady hand at my side on the council. Still prideful, perhaps, but not vainglorious as he had once been.

“Commander?”

I started, realizing I had just been gazing at him like an old dottard for several seconds. “Bairon. Have I expressed my appreciation to you for your assistance these last long months?”

He eyed me, uncertain. “Sir?”

“Things like a simple ‘thank you’ are so often let slip in dire times,” I mused. “As I likely haven’t said it enough, thank you for your service to Dicathen.”

He swept aside the blond hair that fell down across his bright green eyes—features of the Wykes family. “Such things don’t need to be said between men like us, Commander.”

I scoffed. “Perhaps once I would have thought the same, but I’m too old and tired for masculine pride.” Bairon’s lips twitched, but he didn’t reply. “Now leave an old elf to rest.”

The Lance hesitated, grimacing, then blurted out, “Are you sure about this, Commander?”

I could only offer the young human an uncertain shrug. “We haven’t had a king or queen who didn’t try to throw their people to the mana beasts for their own gain. Not in this war. Maybe...maybe the time of rulers is past. The people need to choose for themselves how they’re going to die.”

Bairon’s face fell as he bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and marched away. As I watched his broad back recede, I considered just how separate—even lonely—our positions had left us.

Bairon had gone to what remained of his family soon after regaining his strength, hoping to help them flee Xyrus for the sanctuary. With his level of power, it would have been an easy matter, but he hadn’t been prepared for what he found in Xyrus.

It wasn’t the Alacryans, who had quickly arrived in force after taking control of the teleportation gates at the flying castle, that stymied his efforts, but his own family members.

The Wykes were a powerful and renowned house. They could have rallied the other houses and organized a defense of the city. Instead, they were one of the first to swear service to Agrona, likely in some short-sighted effort to ingratiate themselves with the invaders. Bairon went to help his family escape, but instead found them actively working alongside the Alacryans to suppress whatever small pockets of resistance had survived so long.

It had nearly broken him again to return empty handed. I had to wonder if the old Bairon—the person he was before our defeat at the hands of the Scythe—would have come back at all. I shuddered to think what would have happened to us if he’d followed his family instead of me.

Once he had turned a corner and left my sight, I eased the door closed and moved to my desk, taking a seat. With my elbows rested on the stone desktop, I let my face sink into my hands.

Learning that the asura, our allies, had destroyed Elenoir was a blow to our morale. I knew when I accepted Windsom’s proposal that it was a risk, but I agreed with him that the truth could have broken our spirit entirely. And I stood by that assessment, though I couldn’t help but second guess my decision, now that the truth had been revealed through gossip and whispered conversation.

Through my splayed fingers, I looked at the three long boxes resting on my desk. Gingerly, I reached out and flicked the latch on the first box, then opened the lid. The rod’s lavender gem flashed in the light, and I ran my fingers along the richly red leather of the handle. There was a crackle of energy, and the hairs on my arm stood on end.

These artifacts had given me hope, and I’d expected my people—both my people, the elves, and all those under my care within the sanctuary—to share this feeling. Windsom’s timing couldn’t have been better. With the artifacts in hand, I had the tools necessary to dampen the shock and despair we all felt, show them a future where we had the strength to be victorious.

Perhaps it was shortsighted of me that I hadn’t foreseen Rinia’s involvement. But then, I wasn’t the seer.

Chuckling darkly, I pressed my palms hard into my eyes to relieve the pressure building there. I was already wondering whether my offer to allow a vote on the artifacts’ use had been an act of wisdom or weakness.

This was a question I had asked myself many times before, and it was almost comforting to think that I would never know the answer.

Judging the correctness of my actions would be left to future generations. If there were any future generations. If what Rinia had said was true, if she’d foreseen catastrophe and destruction across the continent, perhaps there wouldn’t be. But then, what was the alternative? It seemed the choice was that we either grew strong enough to destroy ourselves in the fighting or be destroyed because we were too weak to fight back at all.

And that, I suppose, is exactly why I called for the vote.

Should these people not be allowed to choose their own end? I had grown too old, commanded too long, sent too many to their deaths to bear the weight of this decision on my own.

Taking a key from my belt, I unlocked the single drawer in the desk and slid it open with the rough grinding of stone on stone. Pushing items out of the way until I found what I was looking for, I carefully withdrew a crystal orb about eight inches in diameter.

The artifact was a dear possession, but something I used sparingly, trying to move on from my past. But I found myself growing more and more dependent on it, using it to escape to a better time in my life.

The orb swirled with misty light, which seemed to grow agitated as I set it on the desk, holding it with one hand to ensure it didn’t roll off and shatter.

“Lania...” I whispered, staring deep into the swirling light.

At the sound of my voice, it began to coalesce into a bright image...a face, molded of liquid light. It was the single most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on, one I hadn’t seen in person in many, many years.

My wife smiled out at me from within the memory orb. “The king of the elves shouldn’t look so glum. What weight is it that drags the corners of your lovely lips down so?”

The voice in the orb was hers, but there was a subtle echo to it, like it had been resounding through the years and was reaching me from far away and a long time ago.

My own voice, though many decades younger, sounded from the orb in response. “I’m sorry. The war...it’s gone on too long. Far too long. I’ve started to question the price we’ve paid. I’m afraid, Lania. Afraid that this makes me weak.”

“No, my love. You are not weak. You are brave and beautiful.”

“Beautiful, huh?” my younger self replied with a snort. Though the memory was from my own point of view, I could picture the elf who spoke, a younger man, face not yet creased with wrinkles, shoulders unbent by the burdens of command. A tear trailed along the path of the laugh lines she’d given me. “That’s not exactly the kind of compliment kings hope to hear.”

“But it’s true, now and always. Inside and out, you are a beautiful man, and you have lived a beautiful life. And I will always protect you.”

Another snort issued from my past self, but I remembered the way my face had softened as I gazed lovingly at her. “Don’t you mean I’ll always protect you?”

“No, my love.” Her hand rose up to caress my cheek, and I could practically feel the softness of her fingertips against my skin.

The image faded back to a swirl of misty light.

I sat hunched over the crystal orb, staring at my wrinkled hands through its transparent surface.

Would these same hands be here had it not been for my wife’s gifts?

Would Dicathen’s fate have been better without me in it?

Feeling more empty now than I had before using it, I shoved the memory orb back into my desk before pushing away.

“Damned future-sight,” I cursed, bitter that my whole life seemed almost entirely defined by the visions of seers.

Whether it was a gift or a curse, I thought, as I had many times before, that we were better left to our own devices, navigating our lives as best we could within the range of our own vision and forethought instead of relying on pictures of futures that may or may not come to pass. Even the wisest of us could drive themselves mad attempting to decipher the impossible branching pathways that lay ahead of each and every elf, human, or dwarf.

But I had seen first hand how heavy such foresight weighed on those who possessed it. The responsibility of knowledge is, in many ways, even heavier than that of command. No matter how many times I begged my wife to stop looking forward, to stop trying to protect me at the expense of her own life, she could not. If something had happened to me when she was in a position to prevent it, it would have broken her.

But had she ever considered what my life without her would be like?

Rinia had always understood my bitterness towards her gift. When the war between humans and elves finally ended, she did not offer to use her abilities to help me lead. After what happened in the flying castle, though...it was difficult to forgive her for not sharing what she’d foreseen sooner.

“You old hypocrite,” I mumbled to myself, standing and beginning to pace around the small square room.

Regret prickled in my chest. Seeing Rinia, who looked even older and more worn than I felt, drove home how much of herself she had sacrificed over the last months. She was following my wife’s—her sister’s—path, but I wouldn’t thank her for that. Still, I had to believe that she had done so with purpose, and had chosen to step back into the light for a purpose as well.