Chapter Fifty-Five Elvine
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Elvine
She found the journey across the ice much easier to bear the second time.
Upon waking from the shared dream with Gruinskard she discovered that her various pains had vanished.
Her ribs no longer flared into agony at the merest touch and her flesh, so far as she could tell, was free of once plentiful bruising.
Only Colvyn and Varnyr journeyed with her.
Elvine had no desire to expose Veltta and her crew to further danger.
Besides which, she doubted the captain would have agreed to come if asked.
“When we get back,” she said, “I’ll tarry long enough to pay my respects to the queen, assuming she’s alive, then we’re off to the southern seas. I hear it’s a lot fecking warmer there.”
Their trek was also untroubled by storms. The three of them marched beneath clear skies until the bulky outline of the glacier came into view whereupon the spear began to thrum in Elvine’s grasp.
“Are you sure?” she asked the spirit, removing her gloves to take firmer hold of the haft. “It’s still a good way off.”
I trust in your strength, child, the spirit told her. One of my gifts to you. Or did you imagine you had healed yourself? The voice paused, and Elvine felt the guilt that coloured her next thoughts. My gifts will linger, child, though you may long curse me for them.
“Why would I ever curse you?” Elvine laughed. “When you have given so much?”
My gifts will linger, the spirit repeated. And not for mere days. You will live long enough to see all the souls you love age and wither. Whatever trials this world will send against you, age and infirmity will not be among them.
Elvine’s gaze snapped to Colvyn, to be answered with a bemused squint, and Varnyr, whom she had come to understand would now never leave her side. She thought of Berrine, and of all the souls who had touched her life. “How long?” she asked the spirit. “How long will I live?”
I don’t know, child. How long does a mountain live?
Or an ocean? You will have the time this world allows you.
For, while you are now stronger than many, you’re are not inviolate.
You can still be killed, though I pity any who tries.
Perhaps sensing Elvine’s mounting confusion and sorrow, she spoke on, as if compelled to explain.
When you fell after slaying the Malecite, a shard of bone detached from your ribs and stabbed deep into your spleen.
Every movement you made thereafter drove it deeper.
Had I not cured you, it would have seen your end within days.
And I couldn’t allow that, child. Not when there is still so much for you to do.
Elvine suffered through a parade of competing emotions, from perverse gratitude to righteous anger. Not among them, and perhaps never would be, was acceptance. “What are you?” she demanded of the spear, gripping it tight. “Can you not, at least, tell me that?”
No answer I can give would satisfy you, for much is hidden from me also.
I know I am but a part of something greater, something that was shattered and its various parts scattered upon this earth.
For a long time I thought it merely misfortune.
Now I feel sure it was by design. So, I do not know what I am, not truly.
But I do know, Elvine Jurest, that I am your friend.
Elvine looked towards the glacier, remembering what lay within it. “There may be other Malecite,” she said. “More could be guarding the veil.”
I expect so. And some may seek to find a way through.
If so, I shall be here to meet them. You have borne me long enough, child.
Perhaps one day another worthy hand will find me.
Though I find it hard to believe there is any worthier than yours.
Now. The spirit’s thoughts took on a brisk authority. Be so good as to do as you promised.
Taking a deep breath, Elvine clasped the spear in one hand and drew back her arm. “Goodbye,” was all she could think to say.
Her previous attempts at throwing the spear had been poor.
But, as testament to Elvine’s new-found strength, when she cast it forth it streaked high into the air.
In seconds it became a mere speck against the unblemished blue of the sky.
Elvine watched it descend into the glacier’s centre and shuddered at the sudden, deep sense of emptiness.
“I am your friend too,” she whispered.
“If you just wanted to throw it away, esteemed sister,” Colvyn observed in Ishtan, “you could have done so back on the ship and saved us this posterior-numbing trip.”
Laughing, Elvine wiped away her tears lest they freeze on her cheeks.
“You did not have to come, esteemed brother,” she reminded him.
Reaching for the reins of her sled, she hoisted them over her shoulders and they began the journey back to the Ohlnir.
Lore’s satchel still sat untouched in her nook, and she was very keen to examine its contents.
“Tell me, brother,” she said to Colvyn as they tramped across the ice, “just how extensive is our father’s library.”
“As extensive as he can make it. Barely a week passes without him adding at least one volume.” He paused, Elvine feeling the weight of his gaze. “Why not see for yourself?”
She raised her face to the sun, letting it banish the last dampness from her tears. How long does a mountain live? Or an ocean? “Yes,” she said. “I think I should like to do that.”