Their camp that night was not so close to the water, not so open, and the evensong of the birds had changed. Only the occasional squawk and cackle of the gulls could be heard amidst the whistles and trills of the smaller forest birds. With the receding sea, the voice of Aria would return, and Fel’annár would be complete again.
With the camp set, Fel’annár sat beside Tensári at the fire and watched as Pan’assár pulled out Or’Talán’s journal. He looked away, repressed a shudder and took up his own diary. He had neglected it, had hardly added anything to it on their journey back. Unsurprising, he mused, and almost wanted to laugh because it was a miracle it still even existed.
He opened it at a random page and then started. Lainon stared back at him, the hint of a smile on his face. He could not stop his gaze from wandering to Tensári. She had already seen it. Her brow furrowed as she looked down, said nothing. Her face was utterly still, but her eyes were as bright as he had ever seen them. She stood, grabbed her weapons harness and walked away.
Fel’annár turned back to his journal, took one last look at his sketch of Lainon and slowly closed it again. He turned his head to Pan’assár. “We won’t be far, sir.”
Pan’assár nodded. “Stay within the perimeter,” he said distractedly, before adding, “and do not be long.”
Nodding, he stood slowly. The pain in his chest and back was still there, but the deep weariness had gone, and his feet were not so sensitive. He found Tensári close by, sitting on a fallen log. He sat on the other end. He was surprised that it was her to initiate the conversation.
“Do they know?”
Fel’annár turned to her profile. “They know that I am Ari’atór.”
“Commander Hobin told you,” she deduced.
“Yes. But tell me. Did you know? Did Lainon?”
“Lainon knew. He never mentioned it directly, but he knew what he was and deduced the rest, however unlikely. I accepted that reality. And so yes; yes, I knew what you were. As for myself, after Lainon’s death, I wanted to accompany Commander Hobin to Tar’eastór. However, he forbade it, and instead, he sent me into the wilderness of Araria. He bid me meditate, think and accept Lainon’s crossing. He knew I was angry. He knew I would confront you. And he knew something else, something I only recently came to understand.” She turned to Fel’annár, a challenge in her eye.
“A Ber’ator is always an Ari’atór,” said Fel’annár.
She nodded slowly, turned away again. “Hobin knew I had to purge myself of my negative feelings towards you. In my grief I blamed you, but as time tempered it and I began to feel Lainon’s presence stronger in my mind, the warrior in me understood it was inevitable. You were not weak. You were simply outnumbered.”
Fel’annár’s eyes lost focus, his mind taking him back to the moment he thought he would die, the thud of an elven arrow in flesh that was not his own. “So many things have happened since then. The Battle …”
“I have heard only rumour of what happened.” She looked upwards to the dim stars above them and then back to Fel’annár. “Did you command the trees as they say? Did they fight?”
“To the death. They turned the tide.”
“How did you know what to do?”
“I didn’t. They did. They told me to touch, and I did.”
Her gaze lingered on him. “You know what your purpose is?”
“Yes. I must help restore Ea Uaré. Become the Warlord the Silvans would have me be, if that is what it takes.”
“A tall order. Where to start?”
“By returning, watching, listening.”
“Only that?”
“We don’t know what will happen once we’re home. This Band’orán wants me dead. He won’t be happy when he realises I’m alive.”
She nodded. “You have not mentioned your family. The king, your mother.”
“Amareth, her lies …”
“She is Ara Zéndar, Fel’annár. Listen to her story before you condemn her.”
They sat in silence for a moment until Fel’annár’s curiosity got the better of him. “Do you have family?”
A frown, fleeting and quickly repressed, but Fel’annár had seen it. “I did once.” She said no more, just as reluctant as he himself to speak of families, it seemed.
He thought he would try with another question. “What was Zéndar like?”
She turned back to him. “Zéndar was quiet and lethal. One of the best warriors I have ever seen.”
Fel’annár nodded slowly. “Did he have siblings? Are they Ari?”
“He had a brother. Your great uncle is Silvan, I believe, but that is all I know.”
“And Zéndar’s wife?”
“I do not know her.”
He turned away, felt awkward. The barrier between him and Handir had all but dissolved. The road before the two brothers was free to explore. But the wall between Fel’annár and Tensári was still there. There would surely be no better time to beat it down, if he could.
“I’m sorry, Tensári. Sorry I wasn’t better. If I’d understood the nature of my gift sooner, I could have used it, just as I did at the Battle of Tar’eastór. Lainon would not have had to sacrifice himself for me.”
“Then be sorry. But you cannot blame yourself for not understanding. Knowledge comes gradually. It is with the passage of time and the living of experiences that we learn. You are no different.”
“But I should have known. I should have fought better, should have—”
“Stop. When you were a novice, should you have fought better then? And before you began to learn the ways of the Kal’hamén’Ar, should you have been a better warrior?”
Fel’annár shook his head while she took a deep breath, seemed to smell what he did. The forest, just half a day’s trek away. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She nodded. “Lainon’s presence is stronger when I am close to you.”
“I think he’s glad. Glad that you have come. Glad that we both understand now.” He smiled at her, and a cloud of brilliant blue passed over his left eye. Tensári swayed backwards, startled when Fel’annár spoke.
“Don’t get yourself killed for me, Tensári. Please.”
She leaned forward, face cut in stone, but her eyes … Fel’annár wondered if he would ever fathom the churning, swirling emotions he saw there.
“I must. I am Ber’ator, that is my purpose—just as it is yours to give your life for this cause, as Ber’anor. I do not question that sacrifice, and neither must you.”
Fel’annár stood, and she followed. He held out his arms, and she clasped them tight. A life for a life, the ultimate sacrifice each would make for the other. To Fel’annár’s mind, she had truly become a member of The Company that day, and for the first time since Lainon had died, Fel’annár felt no guilt in his heart.
Later that night, after Fel’annár and Tensári had returned to camp, Turion watched the commanders discussing whatever it was they were reading in that journal Pan’assár always seemed to have in his hands or stuffed inside his tunic. It was obviously important to him, and Turion’s curiosity was piqued.