Episode 132 Be Strong
Be Strong
Whispered voices reach Viala’s ears before her eyes open.
“We’ll have to wait until they wake to gain answers, but clearly Stardust attacked Werithen. And I won’t blame her for protecting our elfling, Lorial. You and I both know what sort of elf Werithen was.”
Was. All of Tharios’s efforts were for naught, then.
Viala’s eyes flash open. “Tharios!”
“Viala, darling.” Nestraya hurries toward her. “It’s all right. He lives. If you hadn’t maintained that flesh contact or sent that message, though, the story would likely be much different.”
He’s alive. Relief fills her as shudders wrack her body again, and it takes a moment for her to realize the chilly form at her back is Tharios. Blankets cover them both, but he’s still so cold.
“You help him even now, young one,” Grandmera says from the ground beside them, where she sits rubbing Tharios’s arm. “Just lie by his side so he may replenish his life through you.”
“I would do more,” Viala says, emotion filling her as it lodges thick in her throat. “To keep his heart beating.”
Nestraya and Lorial exchange a glance.
“Would it help?” she asks. “Please, if it would help—”
“His heart would have to consent,” Lorial says gently. “A heartbinding cannot be performed on an unconscious individual if his heart won’t allow it.”
Lorial’s words are like a slap, and Viala shrinks against Tharios. “You don’t think he’d choose a heartbinding with me? Even now, so near death?”
Lorial sighs. “In truth, I’m unsure. But Nestraya has stabilized him and believes he will likely recover on his own, given time and enough flesh contact.”
“Likely recover? You speak calmly for someone whose elfling lies near death.”
“Do not mistake my calm appearance for a lack of terror and outrage, my youngling. I would tear this elf apart had Stardust not beaten me to it.”
Another shudder wracks Viala’s body as she chokes on her own tears. “I’m sorry. I’m not—”
“You have done nothing that requires forgiveness. You saved Tharios’s life, Viala. I will be forever grateful.”
“He’s stable now,” Nestraya says softly. “If that changes, I won’t hesitate to attempt a heartbinding. But we risk our relationship with your people by doing so. Lorial and I can’t take that lightly, especially now when the past seems eager to reopen old wounds we thought had healed.”
“You truly think he’ll be all right?”
“I truly do, or I would be in a much different state right now.”
“If you feel up to it, we’d like to know what exactly happened here,” Lorial says.
Nestraya brushes back Viala’s hair in a way that makes her long for her own mother, and she fights more tears.
“Tharios brought me here to get away from everything. To just be us for a night. And it was perfect. But I woke to him releasing my flame because he sensed rebel high borns approaching.”
“How many?” Nestraya asks.
“Three.”
Lorial lowers himself to the ground beside them and reaches for Nestraya’s arm. She looks pale. She must have used her life magic to help Tharios.
“And then what happened?” Lorial asks.
“Then they asked us to give you a message. One of them must have sensed Tharios’s air magic and recognized him as a Westaria.”
Lorial nods. “And what message was that?”
“That the Lostariel you fought for is not the Lostariel they want. Tharios tried to apprehend them, but his plant magic wasn’t strong enough to overcome the destruction magic one of them wielded. All he could manage was to contain them with his air magic.”
Lorial exchanges a glance with Nestraya. “The family Teratheros?”
“I know of no other with destruction magic that strong.”
“They’ve disavowed any association with or knowledge of Fenoral’s activities since before the war,” Lorial says. “Do you have any reason to suspect otherwise?”
“Other than their blatant loathing of their queen?” Nestraya asks. “None whatsoever. They are descended from the Shadow King, though. For whatever that may be worth.”
“As am I,” Lorial says. “We won’t judge them for that.” He turns back to Viala. “How did that lead to this? Tharios should have been able to hold them with his air magic for as long as necessary.”
“A soil wielder attempted to bury us alive. I managed to use my magic to contain them, but Stardust...”
“We saw,” Nestraya says.
“And I didn’t know how to free the injured elf without letting the others go.
So Tharios insisted I release them all. And he spent the hours until you arrived trying to keep the elf alive.
Something about Stardust’s magic made the wound impossible to heal.
I tried to talk Tharios into letting the elf go, but he kept saying just a little longer.
It took Stardust pushing him away to get him to stop.
I should have done it myself. I don’t know why I didn’t. I—”
“Shh, young one,” Grandmera says. “The past lives strongly enough with us without us carrying it into the future as regret.”
“Tharios lives,” Lorial says. “Let’s focus on that, all right?”
“Do you want to search for Fenoral?” Nestraya asks him, and he shakes his head.
“I’m sure he’s long gone by now. I don’t wish to spread our meager warrior band too thin. And I worry about the elflings we left behind in Feressa.”
“Cerian is strong when he needs to be,” Grandmera says. “He’ll keep them safe, though he wasn’t pleased at being kept in the dark. He may be your littlest love, Nestraya, but he is no longer an elfling.”
“He will always be my elfling,” Nestraya says. “No matter how old he grows.”
“Should I have forbidden you from joining Restoval’s warrior bands?” Grandmera asks Nestraya pointedly. “You weren’t much older than Cerian is now.”
“Of course not.” Nestraya sighs. “I’ll speak to him when we return.”
“In the meantime,” Lorial says, “What should we do with Werithen? Return his body to his kin? There will be questions.”
“He may become a martyr for their cause.” Nestraya shakes her head. “But we’ve never made a habit of secrecy and lies during your reign, and we won’t start now.”
“Agreed,” Lorial says. “I’m loath to reduce our numbers by splitting our warrior band, but we’ll have to send his body to Darlei while we retrieve Elowyn from Feressa. We can’t sojourn in Nunia much longer. Lostariel needs her king and queen. Is Elowyn well enough to travel?”
“What about Tharios?” Viala asks after quietly following their conversation. He’s probably in worse shape than Elowyn at the moment.
“I’m eager to be done watching our elflings approach death,” Lorial says.
“I heartily agree,” Grandmera says. “I’ll remain here until he’s well enough to ride Stardust home.”
“And split our group even further?” Nestraya asks. “I’m not certain that’s wise. What if Fenoral returns with reinforcements?”
“I’m hardly helpless, my elfling.”
“But you are not a warrior, Mera.”
“Then what would you suggest?” Grandmera asks her.
Nestraya glances around the little clearing, looking from one elf to the next. She seems to be running some sort of equation in her head. It’s fascinating seeing this side of her. Since Viala met her, she’s always been so focused on surviving.
But she’s strong now. Fierce. The Nestraya of legend.
“May I just say, my love, that it’s good to have you back,” Lorial whispers, but she shushes him, and Viala struggles not to smile.
“I don’t like our options,” Nestraya finally says. “But this is what we’ll do. Lorial and I will remain here with Tharios and Viala, and as soon as Tharios can travel, we’ll return to Darlei. Mera, you’ll return with our warriors to collect our young ones from Feressa.”
“What of Werithen, my queen?” a member of Lorial’s warrior band asks from nearby.
“We’ll have to carry his body with us,” Nestraya says. “I won’t risk more lives by sending any of you in too small of numbers into these woods right now simply to return his remains to his family sooner.”
The elf inclines his head and rattles off instructions to the other elves as Grandmera tucks Tharios’s arm back under the blankets.
“What do you wish for me to tell your elflings?” Grandmera asks.
“I don’t know. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have left Cerian like that.” Nestraya takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “In my heart, he’s still my littlest love with a gentle spirit and fragile sense of self. But he’s a man now, with someone of his own to protect.”
“Which he can’t do properly if we keep him in the dark,” Lorial says softly. “He is stronger than you think, Nestraya. He is your son. How could he be anything less?”
“He is also your son,” Nestraya says with a smile. “And I watched you impulsively run into a firefight and almost die, if you recall.”
Lorial smiles in return. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Tell him what he needs to know,” Nestraya says to Grandmera. “And tell him we’ll talk when we reunite.”
“Very well. I expect you all to reach Darlei in one piece.” Grandmera looks at the three of them in turn, her gaze lingering on Viala. “Be strong, young one. You did well today.”
Viala swallows the lump in her throat and nods, pushing away thoughts of how close Tharios came to death because she didn’t act sooner.
Then Grandmera rises, and Lorial’s small band of elite warriors falls into place around her as they mount their horses.
“Ride out,” the Second calls, and soon they disappear from view.
“I’m going to set up a perimeter with my magic so I’ll sense anyone approaching,” Lorial says to Nestraya. “And if you tell me you’re already sending feelers out with your magic, I will wrap you in a cage of air and fire.”
“I have no intention of saying anything of the sort.”
“You worded that carefully, my love.” Lorial stands, his eyes never leaving Nestraya, and she shrugs.
“I am who I am, Lorial. If you wanted someone else, you shouldn’t have gotten yourself shot that day.” She looks entirely unapologetic, and Viala almost laughs.
“I’m far from displeased with the outcome. Just be careful with your magic, all right? That’s all I’m asking.”
Nestraya nods before turning to Viala. “Just rest, my youngling. There’s nothing you can do that you’re not already doing.”
Viala snuggles closer to Tharios. Hopefully, he’ll wake soon so she can tell him how furious she is with him for almost dying.
And so she can see for herself that he’s going to be all right.