Moments

Moment of Choice - Part 5

Fires blazed beside the lone aravel, its roof creaking in the mountain winds as the sail whipped forlorn in this alien world. Moldan prodded one pyre to coax a few flames free, then shifted to the second, while a few humans watched from the sidelines. One of the merchants folded up her shop while holding a solitary watchful eye on the jolly dalish elf. I shuddered from the glare no one would dare turn upon me anymore, but Moldan wiped it away like a spiderweb. He kept three small sticks jammed in his mouth, and yanked out two to call to me, "Lethallan!" The third stick garbled his words, but it seemed important it remain trapped below his tongue.

I stepped into the light of the fire, the warmth failing to reach my face. Moldan glanced up at me, then passed over one of the sticks. I accepted it but sighed. The tinder match, enchanted to strike in any weather, was highly unnecessary. But Moldan waved me towards the final pile of logs. "You already have two fires, what do you need a third for?" I asked.

"Thought Rhodri'd bring back something worth eating, and if not, Eria was scheming up an idea for forging."

"Well ,neither are here now," I said, folding my arms and tapping the end of the match against my shoulder.

"Ain't no reason to not be prepared," Moldan said, then waved me towards the logs. Reason ran scarce today, but arguing with the man was about as wise as trusting Rhodri to not accidentally shoot you in the back. Moldan had tented the final logs inside one of our few traveling pits. I fished out a piece of bark, shredded from one of the paper trees native to the north, and snapped the end of the match off. Fire, in the purple hues of magic, jumped from the stick to the kindling. Watching it take for a moment, I breathed upon the bark, then dropped it below the logs.

"Figured I couldn't do it anymore?" I asked, rising as the first of the logs burst into the oranges of fire.

Moldan chuckled, "Course not, who forgets how to light a fire? Just didn't feel like doing it myself."

I shook my head at the poor lie, but was in no mood to challenge it, "As you say."

That was apparently even funnier, the old story teller whacking his knee from such a laugh. "This has been a thing and then some. Whoever thought da'assan would grow up to wear the big britches with shemlan, ordering 'em around on high like some king of theirs?"

"I -- you know that's not how this works."

Moldan's right milky eye rolled to me, "Aye, wanted to make sure you did too."

"Subtle," I sighed. A snap echoed from inside the aravel, as if someone cracked apart a small corner of the veil to harness just enough power to warm a teapot. My brother called it a waste of magic even as he did it himself. For a moment my hand throbbed from the energy draw, the anchor skipping a beat from the fade back to this world, but it faded back to sleep.

Moldan glanced from the sound back to me, "Been in to speak with your mamae, yet?"

"I don't have a mother," I repeated the old mantra, as bitter as ever, "I have a Keeper. We all have a Keeper."

"Sure, sure, should still go and talk to her."

My hand wandered up behind my neck, trying to rub away the worry building behind it, but I froze, a blush rising as I realized where I picked up the habit. Moldan busied himself with his prodding stick, mashing the logs into the pit to kick out higher flames. Summoning a strength I didn't need to face down the ancient magister, I stepped towards the Keeper's aravel.

Before my fist could bang against the door, Moldan spoke, "For what it's worth, Lethallan, the clan did miss you."

"I don't know if that helps or not," I spoke plainly. Moldan only chuckled at my pronouncement and returned to his stirring. Rapping twice upon the door, my mother's commanding tone ordered whoever was beating upon her landship to get inside. Turning the handle carved out of shed halla horn, I slipped open the door.