"Of course, honored Warrior," the Emissary replies, and he gestures for one of the monks to attend him. "Find the priest Bao Gan, that he might attend to the Warrior Simon Greer." The monk bows, and rushes off towards New Harbor.
"Easy now, old one," whispers a sibilant and feminine voice as an arm wraps around his side. He recognizes the bronze scales upon her arm after a moment. "Let's get you back to your quarters," Tsavati says, slowly walking Simon towards the docks. "You've earned some rest after these last few days."
"Thank you, dear lady," Simon says, bowing his head to Tsavati as he pats her arm. "Thank you for your hard work today, Lady Guardian of the Phoenix. I am grateful that you decided to stay."
Simon looks back to the others for a moment and smiles more strongly.
"I shall see you all in the morning!" he calls to them. "I am looking forward to it. A great day!"
Asha steps up beside him to take his other arm. "If you think she's the one who gets to escort you to bed," Asha says, her grin pure wickedness (although her eyes are filled with concern), "you have another think coming, my friend!" She nods gratefully to Tsavati, and the two women begin to guide Simon toward the inn.
"My, my, what a day," Simon says, chuckling. "A great victory and a flower in each hand. I am truly blessed."
You have no difficulties returning to New Harbor, other than the sheer number of people who stop you to congratulate you upon your victory. Yon Loi's Noodle Hut is packed with spectators, as well as most of the Guardians of the Phoenix. Making your way to your wing of rooms is slow going, but you eventually return there.
As soon as Asha sees Simon settled, she goes to seek out her brother. The treasure for winning the tournament is all well and good, but for her, he is the real prize.
Content with their victory, but still worried for Simon, Zak claims a well deserved rest.
Poog grumps around the rest of the night, waiting to claim his prize.
As Asha leaves Simon in his room, she passes by Bao Gan, who bows his head to her in greeting. He knocks upon Simon's door, and slides it open to enter. As he sees Simon, his demeanor grows solemn. "I am certain I am not the first to wish you congratulations on your victory, Simon, but I wish them nonetheless. You called, and I am here to serve." He kneels down next to the old man, his holy symbol in hand. "What service do you need of me?"
Poog is given the most space of all of the Warriors - even in distant Tian Xia, goblins are considered murderous pests at the best of times. Still, a few drinks are passed his way. At one point during the evening, he hears his name shouted. "There you are, you little devil!", says Ganyavesha, a smirk upon her lips. "I know you missed most of the festivities last night, due to saving Marythsan and fighting the Aspis, but I was able to convince one of the acts to stay for you. Huo, come here, this is the Warrior I was telling you about." A barrel-chested Tien man approaches, chuckling as he lays eyes upon the goblin. "Ah! Now it makes sense to me! Hand me my tools, I shall get started immediately!" Someone brings a pair of long handled torches to Huo, and space is made around the three of them. Immediately, he tilts his head back and lowers the flame to his mouth, swallowing the fire. He passes the flame back and forth between his body and the torches, even spewing flame from his mouth at the end.
Kaditula is waiting for Asha when she arrives at the Pavilion. He's seated at the bottom step of the ziggurat, and he's looking up at the stars. His hands are still bound, though in front of him, and a monk is off to the side watching him from a respectful distance. "So, Asha," he says at last. "Where do we go from here?"
Poogs eyes grow wide, and he breaks out a toothy smile.
"Ah, this is good magic. Soon Poog am able to eat fire without burning himself too!"
He applauds in all his goblin glory as the man performs, It sitting next to him, dirty tail wagging enough to kick up a small cloud of dust.
"My hands are a bit shaky, good priest," Simon says, his smile feeble. "First of all, I would appreciate it if you would write something down for me..."
Kaditula is waiting for Asha when she arrives at the Pavilion. He's seated at the bottom step of the ziggurat, and he's looking up at the stars. His hands are still bound, though in front of him, and a monk is off to the side watching him from a respectful distance. "So, Asha," he says at last. "Where do we go from here?"
Asha kneels, taking his hands in hers. "That's up to you, Kadi," she replies, "just as it always has been. I came here wanting you to come home with me, but I've realized that's me being selfish. Father and Mother love you, and I think you should see them, but I'm not dragging you anywhere against your will. I want you to know you are loved, and to let love be your guide."
Very deliberately, she pulls out her dagger, and places the edge against the bindings. "I believe I can arrange for your release into my custody, now that we've uncovered and dealt with the masterminds of the Golden League's plot. If you want to travel with me..." She trails off, suddenly uncertain.
"I would love nothing more, sister," Kadi says, rubbing his wrists as he stands to face Asha. "But nothing has changed. You've captured the Sisters Wu, true, and dealt the League a blow that they will not soon forget. Someone will pay for this. Who do you think that will be?" He tucks his thumbs into his belt as he sighs with remorse. "If I travel with you, then yes, I'll be safe. There's no doubt you can handle yourself. But Mother? Father? What's to stop them from sending men in the night with long knives after them as punishment?" He picks up a bowl of rice wine the monks had left nearby, and finishes it off.
"This has to end here, sister, and I trust you to end it far swifter and mercifully than them." He looks her into the eye. "One strike, sister. An open-handed strike. The open-handed strike." He closes his eyes and raises his head to the heavens. "Please, sister. Do this for me."
Asha frowns, obviously upset. "Kadi... are you sure?"
Still content after his perceived revenge and success, Zak lounges while wondering what Grovnidal may require of him in the quest for reclaiming ancestral lands.
Zarina dared not to interfere in Asha's family dealings. She knew the warrior well, but not well enough to advise here.
"Shelyn's all about mercy, sister," Kadi says, taking a few steps towards her. "From everything I've heard, the dim mak can be relatively painless. One single strike, and you stop my heart. I'm dead before I hit the ground - but I'm sure you'll catch me. After all, you already did."
He looks at you, and a single tear falls from one of his eyes. "Please, sister. Do it quickly." He shudders a bit, his fists clenched.
Asha looks down at the ground for a long moment, then back up. "As you wish, Kadi," she murmurs. "Shelyn bless you." Taking a deep breath, she looks directly into her brother's eyes and says, "I love you," right before she hits him in the chest.
Kadi crumples at Asha's strike, and collapses into his sister's arms. The air goes out of his lungs, and Asha is sure she can hear him thank her with his last whisper. He is still in her arms. The monks in the Pavilion leave her to be with her brother.
Asha bends over Kadi, her eyes closed in prayer for several long moments. Then she reaches into her pouch for a potion that she drinks down in a swift movement before launching herself into the air, her brother's body still cradled in her arms. In a few minutes she has crossed the small town and come to a landing before the temple to the Rose.
"My brother has fallen," she tells the priests somberly. "I beg you to care for his body."
The priest accepts Kadi's body, and lays him gently on a pallet. "I will prepare his body for his final rest," he says somberly. "I'm not familiar with Vudrani funereal customs, so any direction you give me would be appreciated."
Asha kisses the priest on his cheek, then leans over to whisper in the holy man's ear.
"Thank you," she says, more loudly, as she straightens. Turning away quickly to hide her expression, she makes her way out quickly, her eyes fixed on the dusty road before her.
The priest is more than a bit confused, but he accepts Kaditula's body and retreats into the shell-shaped shrine. It's already late when Asha returns to the inn, and the remainder of the evening passes without incident.
The next day, the group awakens to find breakfast prepared for them. However, one place at the table remains empty - Simon's.
Poog shrugs and sits down to eat.
"He am not eating his portion if he am not here, right?" he asks, looking around and reaching for Simon's bowl.
Realizing it's simply gruel, he grimaces and pushes it back.
Zarina gathers at the table with the remaining group. She isn't as happy as she thought she might be, what with Asha's family struggle still casting its shadow over the festivities. "Did anyone hear from simon? I've not seen him since yesterday."
Asha is pensive as she sits down, clearly wrapped in her own somber thoughts, but Zarina's question penetrates her self-absorption. "I haven't... We ought to check on him. That cough was troubling." She eyes Poog warily, but seeing that Simon's gruel doesn't seem to be interesting him, she decides her own steamed rice probably won't either and stands. "I'll go upstairs and see how he's doing."
After Asha gets up, Poog dips a finger into her rice and tastes it. Making a face, he ignores her food, glancing over at It, who has now climbed up on the bench and reached up, the dirty terrier's tongue cleaning out Simon's bowl of gruel.
"You am having it if you am wanting, it," he crossly tells the dog. "She am leaving, but it am no good at all."
He takes another bite of the fresh bacon in front of him, dredging it in gooey egg yolk on his plate.
"I'll join you Asha, the old man needs a little fresh air and hot tea if he's going to feel any better." Zak pushes his gruel towards It and carries a cup of hot tea up the stairs.
Asha and Zak head upstairs to Simon's room, but there is no response from within when they knock.
Although, after a few minutes of knocking, a metallic voice rings out:
"It's not locked. Come in."
With trepidation Zak enters the room, holding the door open for Asha.
The first thing you see is Grovnaidel, set against the bed, its metal parts gleaming and winking in the morning sun as if the magical sword cane were freshly polished.
"You took your time," the magical weapon says, its voice ... weary, somehow.
The second thing you see is Simon, lying on the bed, his expression oddly peaceful. But his body is so withered that it looks as though he were well on his way to becoming a mummy. His hands, so gnarled and bent that they look like old tree branches, are cupped protectively on his chest.
Lying on his chest is a crisp, white envelope.
Lying belly-up on top of that envelope is a tiny, red-backed spider, its legs curled in death.
"You don't need to worry about Rach," Grovnaidel says. "He went with Simon. Just ... don't knock him onto the floor. Slide the letter out from under him. It'll explain. It'll explain... everything."
The archer's normally stable hands begin to shake, threatening to spill tea across the floor boards. Setting the cup down, Zak moves to the side of the bed and carefully slides the envelope from beneath Rach, being sure that Simon's companion stays right upon his chest. Afraid his voice will crack and choke away the words, Zak hands the letter to Asha, his eyes brimming with tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
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Whoever opens the envelope finds a letter inside, which reads as follows:
'
By the time you read this, I shall have died. Please do not be too upset; I have known that I was not long for this world for over twenty years now. The end comes a bit suddenly, but I have been prepared. I do not pass from this world free of all regret, but I believe I have achieved what I set out to do.
Let me share with you a confession: I lied to you when you asked about the curse on my homeland -- I especially lied to poor Poog, for which I apologize. You see, it does not only strike the land; its terms also affect my family. If the curse only affected our lands, even a stubborn bunch like the Greers would have moved out, rather than continue to squat at the edge where we had to keep looking at the horror that had been inflicted upon our ancestral home. The purpose of a curse is to inflict suffering, after all. By the terms of the curse, the blood of Greer is bound to the land of Greer. Any man or woman who bears the blood of Greer and does not live at the edge of our homeland shall "find their life running through their fingers like sand".
And so we have continued to suffer. Every generation, the head of the family would make sure to conceive at least two children. One an Heir to stay at home and keep our family and those few families of loyal retainers remaining to us going -- and one to go out into the world as Questor and seek some remedy for our predicament. It is true; I feel I have lived a long life, but my wrinkles, weak stomach and white hair came to me when my older brother was still dark-haired and hearty.
Would you believe my distant ancestors were noble Paladins? While we continue to embrace the cause of Good, we have strayed far from the Knighthood they once espoused. I have no idea what manner of being or beings they angered to land this curse on us. Who- or whatever it was, it must have been -- and continues to be -- powerful, indeed! We have petitioned priests, wise men, shamans, wizards, sages... all to no avail. The land continued to be tainted, the Questors continued to wither and die while their older siblings remained young and healthy.
The Questors before me sought out many rumours of great power capable of breaking the curse. Needless to say, all of them failed. I am the last Questor, and the Ruby Phoenix' treasury was my last hope after many a failed lead.
I do not say 'the last' to be dramatic. As I mentioned, I have a brother -- or rather, had a brother. He is gone now, dead from food poisoning, and he left behind only his Heir: my niece Sand. (For some reason, I suspect some fatalism or malice in her naming. My brother sometimes suffered from odd moods in life.)
My niece is a wonderful young woman, quick-witted and skilled. I have made sure to teach her everything I could when I found time to visit home, and I have no doubt that she will excel in whatever role she takes -- but she can not, must not, be the Questor. A Questor's life runs through their fingers like sand, and they can bring forth no new life. If Sand leaves home as Questor, my family line will end. That may not seem like much of a tragedy in the grand scheme of things, but my family is the only thing that has kept the blight on our homeland contained. If we fade away, it will not be long before there is no one left who finds reason to keep that filthy taint sealed within its current borders!
Forgive me, I find myself rambling a bit. This is a curious sensation, my life not simply spilling away, but rushing headlong like a waterfall. I am a bit dizzy. No matter. The point I am trying to make is, the Ruby Phoenix' treasure vault is my last hope. I must be the one to succeed. And I believe that hope is justified! The way the curse quickened in me the very instant the Emissary told us we had won tells me so. Whatever malice has been plaguing my family, it is trying to cheat me of the victory of my life -- of the lives of all the Greer Questors.
I come to you, my comrades-in-arms. My friends. I ask that you deliver my family's salvation to my homeland in my place; I can promise you a warm welcome. Grovnaidel will show you the way, if you will but agree to do me this final service.
As I am dying, I should like to bestow some of my belongings on you, my comrades. Please do not see this as something as crass as payment, but rather as a memento of the great things we have done together. It was a fine adventure, quite possibly the best one I have ever experienced. I was honoured to fight by your side, and I can think of no one better suited to carry salvation home to my family than you, the Warriors of the Five Elements.
To Asha Ghadvhi, I give my Boots of Elvenkind. You are a wondrous, talented dancer and I see the honour of my distant ancestors in you. May these boots enhance your performances for years to come.
I ask that you forgive me my dishonourable conduct after the battle with the brine dragon. Please think kindly of me, if you can.
To Poog Bonebane, I leave my amulet of natural armour. You love fire, Poog, and I wish you joy of it, but this amulet should come in handy in case your ardent love leads you into peril (be it from wild flames or from someone who finds issue with your love of it).
I ask that you not let your delight of the flame lead you astray. You are an exceptional spellcaster and a mighty warrior. Let your justified pride guide you, and not the blandishments of those who would use you as a tool of terror. I know you are stronger than that.
To Zakarras, I give my Wakizashi. It is a simple blade, but I give it to you for those occasions where you must fight up close. Do not doubt that I deeply admire your archery skills, but fate throws us bitter surprises at times.
I wish you freedom, friend Zakarras. Freedom from the pain you carried and that culminated in vengeance. The roads once again lie open before you; may you travel well.
To Zarina Malora, I leave my ring of evasion. You are a mighty warrior and a powerful spellcaster, but I fear that sometimes your great passions might lead you into danger. This ring should help you avoid at least some of the harm you might encounter.
When you speak of your victory to your family, especially to your late father, please extend them my compliments. You have a shining future ahead of you, I am certain, and it has been my honour to know you.
I ask that you deliver what remains of my possessions to my niece Sand, with one exception:
Grovnaidel.
You have been my loyal and trusted companion throughout my years as Questor, and have served all the Questors before me with the same loyalty and devotion.
If my comrades -- my friends, the Warriors of the Five Elements, will do me one more honour, I ask that they grant you the request that has lived in your heart as soon as you have returned to the lands of Greer.
Let me see, let me see. Should I say anything more?
Please give my best to the honourable opponents we faced in battle -- and yet survive -- and to the Guardians of the Phoenix. And to Marythsan and the Emissary, I suppose. Should I ask them to say hello to Kiang Zhen? We never did share that cup of tea.
I do hope the Guardians of the Phoenix will remain as a force for Good.
What else? I feel there should be so much more to say, but it escapes me. Slipping away.
Oh, yes. Please have the body of my familiar, Rach, buried along with mine. I suppose that's it. He is so stubborn; he says he will join me on my final journey, and I lack the strength to cut our bond.
Yes. My body. My family has worshipped Mirarae, goddess of the moon and justice, for generations, but she has no priests in Tien Xia to hang my body in a tree for the elements to claim. I have therefore entrusted my burial arrangements to the priesthood of Qi Zhong, whose ways I have also followed; the lord of good magic and medecine has been kind to the Greer Questors who visited this land before me.
I really can't seem to think of anything else. Was there anything else? Let me bore you with a quote of Mirarae's faithful, one we often throw at each other for burials.
Fate -- or was that time? Let's say it's time. Time is a wheel, and the wheel turns away but comes again; mayhap we shall meet again somehow, but for now, this is
Goodbye.
"So," Grovnaidel says, once Asha and Zakarras have read the letter. "So. May I have your answer, please? I do not wish to seem uncaring -- had I a heart, it would bleed -- but I have fought and suffered alongside the Greer Questors for so long. I want us to finally have the reward we strove for. So... please."
The sword cane's voice breaks on that last word. It does not sound as if the blade would cry, but rather as if it straining under extreme weariness.
"You've my support, Grovnaidel, the treasury of the tournament shall provide means to lift the curse on land Greer. And if it doesn't, well, I do need something new to keep me busy now that the revenge business is finished and Questor seems a fine enough occupation. What say you Grov, do I make a suitable traveling companion for you? I've none of the charm or class of the old man, but I'll fight that curse with the health Simon was denied!"
"I thank you," the sword cane says. "And I will let you carry me hence. When the treasury opens, I will stand in for Simon, and hopefully, we will find what we seek."
Tears roll slowly down Asha's cheeks as she touches the still form of Simon and even briefly lays a hand on the spider curled upon his chest. "Oh, Simon," she murmurs, letting the grief fill her, "my oath is still yours." She looks as though she would like to say something more, but the sobs carry her words away, leaving only the aching silence of loss in their place.
Once informed of the situation, Poog frowns.
"That am no problem," the goblin says. "Poog am able to make him come back. Show Poog where him body am, and Poog am casting spell so we can go get reward."
Downstairs with Poog, Zarina had no idea of what had transpired upstairs. Once filled in, she nodded, and frowned slightly. "He achieved his goal. He had a good and honorable death. His letter tells us he knew it was coming. It might be best to simply let him go, Poog."
"That am stupid. Magic am bringing him back," the goblin insists.
Asha scrubs at her cheeks before shaking her head. "I don't think it will work this time, my friend," she tells Poog.
"Fine. It am meaning more treasure for Poog, then."
The goblin harrumphs irritably.
Stupid humans. Why die when there's no reason to?
"It does not," Grovnaidel speaks, its voice like iron. "Simon's interests will be represented by me."
"Hmmph. You am sword. You no am needing treasure. You am acting up, you being stuck in stone! Poog am cursing you so you am not being pulled free until some king am wanting you!"
The goblin glares at the talking sword.
For a moment, Grovnaidel is silent. Then: "Do not to speak to about curses, Goblin! I have seen the earth itself shiver in torment as a curse its ! Natural beasts turned to monsters fit to make demons , screaming their horror out with their ! "
The whole sword cane hums violently in Zakarras' hand, almost as if the blade were trying to draw itself and leap at Poog...
Do I really have to stop a fight between a goblin and a sword, Zarina thinks as she shakes her head.
For just the slightest of moments, as the sword hums Zak thinks, he is just a goblin, then his mind reasserts itself, No, NO, it's Poog! My stalwart companion from the tournament!
"Grovnaidel!" Asha snaps angrily. "Control yourself! You have had as long as the rest of us have to get used to Poog! Simon's wishes will be honored" - and she turns a sharp glare on Poog as well - "but you will maintain the dignity your master so carefully displayed in his honor, or I swear to the Rose I will see you reforged into shoes for a manure cart's mule! Do you understand me?" Asha is trembling, her dark faced flushed enough to be almost black.