hand. He had not even noticed until now. Her hand felt very soft in his old, rough mitt. Gentle and strong was her grip. Almost as if she were leading him.
“Ah, so you come at last. Welcome old friend. Welcome.” The tall man stepped out from nowhere. He was as tall as the old warrior but slim and lanky under his heavy, multilayered robes. His hair was the darkest dark one could imagine. His eyes a deep red. As more stepped out, they all had the same clothes, the same appearance.
Raven black hair, deep red eyes, sharp small ears. Skin a shade too dark for a normal human but then, they weren’t exactly normal were they? They were called bruns by most. Druids by some. Healers by all. They were a nomadic race and they always seemed young.
This one was named Aren. The old warrior had been a young man when he had first met him and here he was, still the same while the old warrior had aged considerably.
“You are looking well.” Aren winked. The old warrior snorted but couldn’t hide a small smile. “So it is time?” The old warrior nodded. “Good. Good.” Aren smiled a genuine smile. “It is about time my old friend. We knew you were coming to us with a surprise. And here she is. How are you Adala?”
The old warrior frowned down at the child. Adala? Was that her name? If so, how did Aren know her? What was going on here? He tried to pry his hand away as gently as possible, she gripped it tightly with hers. Both of hers.
“Hello weird one.” She smiled up at Aren. “My earth father and mother are gone. And… Tumbles as well.” Her sky blue eyes turned up to meet the granite stare of the old warrior’s. The confusion and mistrust that he felt had to be showing.
“None of that my old friend. Adala just happened to run into us once when she was a wee lass. We helped her as we helped you. There is no plot here against you man.” Aren laughed. A few of the others joined him. “After all these years of life, you could actually distrust us?”
“He’s going to fall.” The nightmare stated it matter of factly, her concerned eyes on him.
The old warrior was confused and angry and about ready to protest when he felt his legs finally give. After so many hard miles. A life time of travel on them. They had finally given out. Being a warrior from birth he had known some day they would. Today was that day.
Instead of falling flat out, he was helped gently to the ground by the nightmare… Adala? … as well as Aren and two women he had not heard come up behind him. He blinked as their faces began to darken.
“So the time has come my friend. Are you truly ready to leave? Your wounds, as you know old warrior, are fatal. We can not heal them. But then, you did not come here for yourself did you?” Aren smiled gently, touching the old warrior’s face. His hand was very soft. The warmth coming from it was something one always remembered and longed for.
These people, these kind souls, were earth bound angels as far as the old warrior was concerned.
“He brought me. You should have seen the fighting on the way Aren, sir.”
“Hush Adala. None of that sir nonsense here. It makes me feel old.” He smiled down at the old warrior. “Doesn’t it… sir?” That brought a weak smile to his face. So what if the nightmare… Adala… so what if she knew the bruns? It didn’t matter if she would have found them, or more to the point they her, in the end without his aid. He had set out to do it and he was done.
He was tired. So very tired.
“He fought other people, vampires, a giant, trolls, rivens even a giant green cat to get me here.” The nightmare was holding his head in her lap now. His granite eyes narrowed at her. Giant? Trolls?
“I’m sure he did. I’m sure he did.” Aren smiled gently at her, touching her check with a fatherly fondness the old warrior had never known. No one had touched him that way as a child. Thus, a warrior from birth.
“He never… touched me… in any of those places you warned me about either. He saved me.” Those sky blue eyes that saw too much, knew too much, were now holding his own. They filled him with a strange feeling he had not felt before. It was not lust. No. That was for women he bed. This was a kind of…longing? Something new at the end. Something he wished he would be able to take with him.
He longed to take this new feeling with him even though he knew, as all warriors did, that when the flesh was cold, the body empty, there was nothing but darkness. A shame he discovered this new feeling only at the end. However, being a warrior, he had known this day would come.
Warriors had to accept that to become true warriors.
“I’m sure, Adala. He is a very kind man.” Aren laughed. “Well, in his own way. Strict morals. Iron will. A man we treated many times just for those very reasons. And now at the end, he brings you to us. Not himself. Fighting off death itself to bring his own body here? No. No. Yet a child he had never seen before. He struggled through all this pain just for you. He worries for you. From such an iron cold, heartless murderer that would rape the dead… yes old friend, we have heard the tales and know your true deeds are not what is told. What a warrior has to do on the field. We know the truth from the lies.”
“But–”
“It’s ok Adala. We know what he did on the battlefield was not what he did outside battle. He never struck a woman outside battle. He never raped or murdered. The rumors however, so many rumors. You are quite the legend old friend. Quite the legend. Now what are we to do with you?”
The old warrior just looked into those deep red eyes. What could be done? Even if he could talk, at this point he felt himself growing cold. The end was near. He knew before he saw the beautiful nightmare, knew hours before that, knew he was done. His last battle had been grand. He had left behind countless corpses in that one battle alone.
He had left behind stories that would be told for years among the true warriors. No one would know his name, but everyone would remember him. Standing till the end among his dead fellows striking down man, woman and beast that dared attack him. Then, vanishing into the smoke. They’d tell tales of him as some kind of mythical being himself. Untouchable.
But no one was untouchable. No one was immortal. He had felt the wounds build throughout the night and knew he was done.
However, in the end, instead of dying on the field as he had been destined to do, he had looked into the sky blue eyes of a nightmare and had been driven here.
What could be done Aren asked? What could be done?
That was easy. Die.
He stopped fighting to keep his old, granite eyes open and let them finally close. He doubted if he could open them again if he tried. The old warrior was content in a way. He had lived his life to his code and his last mission, his last goal that had sprung up and driven him here, was achieved.
He felt cold death begin to roll over him as his life’s blood emptied onto the soft, mysteriously colored ground the bruns seemed to take with them.
Death, at last, had come.
Just as it was meant to. Just as every warrior knew it would.
Death, the unbeatable foe.
“Not exactly, old friend.” Aren’s voice seemed far off. “Not exactly.” The old warrior shivered as warmth flooded through him, drowning him in its glow. “Adala needs someone. She needs you old friend. And whether you know it or not, you need her.”
The old warrior could not move. Could not speak. Besides the warmth that filled him, he felt something… change. Something was happening to him. In all his years, in all his experiences, he had never felt this before.
“Destiny brought you to us that first time old friend, destiny brought Adala to us as well. Now, despite all the odds, destiny has brought you two together and even more clearly, to us. You do not want him to rest yet do you Adala?”
“No.”
“Can you protect him? Can you watch over him? Do you want that burden?”
“Yes.”
The old warrior growled. Or tried to. Burden? How could anyone ask a child to carry such a burden? What did he mean by that? A burden? How?
“You heard it old friend. So…sleep.
And when you awaken again, sooner than you’d like, you will understand.”
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