Movement drew his eyes to the pointed plateau of rock that extended beyond the keep and hung over the lake. He soon recognised the red cloak of Inara Galfrey gently blowing in the wind as she stood by the jagged edge. Swiftly, if quietly, the ranger made his way down and left the keep behind to meet her on the plateau.
“Inara?” he called softly.
The Guardian briefly regarded him over her shoulder before returning her gaze to the horizon. “It’s a strange feeling,” she said, as he joined her by the edge, “to know that I can fall and he won’t catch me.” Inara peered down at the drop. “It suddenly feels like such a long way.”
“Perhaps you don’t need to be caught,” Asher posed.
“I have heard this speech,” she interjected. “I know my own strength. I still command a level of magic many would envy and my skill with a blade puts me above most. I’m set to become the ruler of the biggest kingdom in Verda. My words will carry across the realm and it will be reshaped because of it. I know I don’t need to be caught,” she echoed. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to be.”
Asher’s gaze lingered over her sharp features a moment longer. She had come a long way in a few weeks; even the timbre of her voice was a display of her inner strength, a strength Athis had helped her to build through the years.
“I think it’s you who will need to do the catching now,” Asher replied. “Only it isn’t a single person relying on you to be there.” He half turned over his shoulder, a gesture to the rest of the realm behind them.
“Then it’s a good thing I will have help,” Inara said, giving him a glance.
The ranger responded with a light shrug. “Avandriell and I will always be around. As will Gideon and Ilargo, I’m sure.”
Inara bit her lip. “I wouldn’t count on them being around too much. I have a feeling Gideon and Ilargo are destined for the west.”
Asher nodded his understanding. It didn’t surprise him either to think of the pair returning to Drakanan or even Erador having spent years in that land.
“You don’t need reminding of your allies,” he said. “Nor the troubles that still lie ahead of you,” he added, referring to the colossal task of putting the realm back together. “Your name, your deeds, your loss… history will note them all. And ever will Athis the ironheart be regarded as the greatest hero of the Fourth Age. But, again, you know all that.”
“What is it I don’t know?” Inara asked with a hint of irritation.
Asher turned to face her. He could see the cavernous hollow that Athis had left in her, a place where his love had once burned with abandon. It was the same kind of love Asher could feel every second of the day emanating from Avandriell. It was like air for his lungs.
“You are still fiercely loved,” he told her, turning the half-elf’s blue eyes on him. “And not just by Vighon, but by so many more… including me,” he added before the lump in his throat prevented him. “Nothing will ever replace Athis’s love, but there is so much more love you have yet to experience.”
Inara wrapped her arms around him before any tears could streak down her face. “I couldn’t save either of them,” she wept in his embrace.
Asher held her close. “You weren’t meant to,” he whispered. “The choice was theirs. You only did what had to be done. What no other could.”
Inara squeezed him, reminding the ranger the elf in her was much stronger than him. “Thank you,” she uttered.
It wasn’t long before Vighon arrived, as if a sixth sense had told the northman his love was in need of him. Asher took his arm back and happily accepted a kiss on the cheek from Inara. He left them there, high above the world and returned to the warmth of The Dragon Keep.
The ranger passed the early hours of the evening with the hottest and most satisfying bath of his life. He informed Avandriell that she had seen the last of him, for he was never leaving the bath nor the comforts of the keep. That was until a knock graced his door with a message from the king of Illian.
Now, walking through the halls of the keep, Asher came across Galanör and Aenwyn as they exited their room.
“Summoned to the throne room?” Galanör enquired, falling in beside the ranger.
“You too?” Asher replied.
The elf nodded his response and glanced out of the passing window. “Where is Avandriell?”
“She wanted to go down and see the dwarves,” Asher told him. “She’s grown fond of their… culture,” he added with some amusement and a shrug. “I’m never going to get used to seeing you with only one blade,” he remarked, as they turned down the next passage.
“Imagine how I feel,” Galanör agonised, his hand reaching for his belt. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something all the time.”
Never one for idle chat, Asher was glad to reach the throne room only a minute later. The chamber looked to be in the middle of decoration, but the servants had all left before completing the job. Instead, the throne room was occupied by only a few, if a powerful few.
The ranger met Gideon and Faylen with a nod, but he hesitated when faced with Reyna, Nathaniel, and Doran, all of whom now inhabited stations that required more respect than a simple nod of the head. Rather than look like a dithering fool, Asher gave them all a bow.
“Asher.” Reyna said his name lightly and bowed her head in return, though Nathaniel looked somewhat awkward about the whole affair.
The same could not
