There is no greater aspiration than to forgive those who have hurt you. For usually that pain they have inflicted is unintentional or a result of their own failings. Very rarely is it because they are purely wicked.

Book of Prayers 13:2

"I can't commit any of our troops to the expedition you're proposing."  Scouring the details of the map, its smooth and carefully drawn lines depicting all the lands ranging from the ocean to the west until the mountains far to the east, Gwen Havarston returned her answer.  "Nor can I risk placing any of our spies and operatives in prominent danger by guarding and sheltering you during this undertaking."

Both Reane and Sayra noted how the elder rebel's demeanor overshadowed the cleric standing in her shadow.  In her white robes, the slump of the younger woman's shoulders and the way she seemed detached from the conversation, did not speak to her being the actual leader of this Rebellion.  Sheala, off in the corner picking at the underside of her fingernails with the tip of her dagger, had the same impression, even though she wasn't overly engaged in the banter and planning.

Commanding this meeting was the natural province of the older woman.  Assembled and crammed into Gwen Havarston's makeshift headquarters, she continued to assimilate all the information gathered since these strangers had come upon their encampment.  The eyes of the rebel commander showed how she used her years of experience to process the data and formulate a response with calculated efficiency before laying out her plans.

With a finger of her own, Sayra called attention to the mountains on the easternmost edge of the map. "The Tear of Earoni would tip the scales of this war in our favor, you must understand that?"  Her words were initially directed to the woman denying their request, then she followed up with an appeal to the still pale cleric. "You understand that, don't you?"

 "I do," Daphney said, more than a hint of deference to her counterpart now being verbalized.

Not even a day after finding no relief in confronting Anthony, the cleric had thrown herself back into her normal duties.  Despite Sayra's appeal for her to rest, Daphney forewent the advice.  Begrudgingly, and all things considered, even Sayra thought perhaps such was ultimately the best prescription for the broken heart and the pain from it etched on her face.  Even though it was unspoken, there was a palpable tension between the cleric and the seer that had played out up to this point of the meeting.  Although neither directly addressed it.

Gwen stepped back in to the conversation with a fluid ease, regaining the reins of the discussion. "The problem is that no one knows if the fabled artifact is even real."

"It's real," Daphney said under her breath, finding a small amount of courage to do so.

That drew an unmistakable look from the elderly, but forceful, woman.  "Do you guarantee me this, Seer of Denang?" Gwen Havarston turned her attention to Reane who had been delaying saying much of anything during this conversation.   "Have you seen it?" The elder rebel folded her arms.

While Reane prepared to speak, Sayra fed Sheetah a small bit of dried fruit while the blue dragon stood upon its hind legs on the table.

"I know what I've seen," Reane said back to her. "I know that if we do not venture east and seek whatever is buried within the Mount of Carnak, the world dies."

"Your answer is interesting.  Not once did you tell me you have actually had a vision of the Tear itself being used to save the world."

"I do not think now is the time to go into a full dissertation on how visions work. How they are interpreted and—"

A raised hand from Gwen told not just Reane, but everyone present, how little she desired a lecture.  "What I am saying is there are a great many unknowns.  Some of which I am concerned may be being interpreted to suit particular desires and goals.  I knew your mother many years ago.  She aided our cause once before deciding to leave the Rebellion behind.  So I am also well aware of what is seen and what remains unseen, thus requiring imagination and passions to complete.  Believe it or not, I've had this conversation before. Which is why I ask the questions I do."

Daphney found her voice, stronger this time.  "I believe we ignore the Seer's advice at our own peril, Commander Havarston."

A raised eyebrow was Gwen's response that preceded her words. "Forgive me, Revered Cleric.  But allow me to ask the obvious question.  If the Tear is as powerful as everyone claims, and so important to our victory, how come it wasn't used to defeat Lord Hedric and prevent Hitithe's fall after he united the Crimson Thrones centuries ago?  Shouldn't we not even be in this predicament?"

"There are a lot of stories about—"

"Spare me the history lesson.  I'm aware of them.  Tales of arrogance, corruption, and uncontrollable power that could not be used by anyone without destroying the world make for nice fairy tales.  But ultimately they serve only as a means to easily explain away this all too serious question."  Gwen returned to studying the map.  "The facts are, that there have always been disputes about whether the Tear was something real or not. No one has seen it, not for several hundred years. I agree that the old scriptures talk about its vast power, but the ancient texts are also rife with symbolism. In one place it is mentioned as a stone of translucent blue.  In another, it is a hammer to be wielded by a warrior in war.  There is another verse where it is referred to as nothing more than one's own faith, and also elsewhere as a physical liquid stored in a vial.  Sadly, the Tear of Earoni may only be a legend that comes from people wanting to believe that salvation can be found in something other than their own ingenuity."

"If you're not going to help us—" Reane countered, but found herself as the next to be interrupted.

"I didn't say I would not help you. I think it's worth a gamble. I'm not some unbelieving heathen after all." Gwen leveled her eyes upon Daphney. "Although some might believe so. I'm just practical. And it's more about not having the troops at our disposal than not wanting to help and see if the legends are true.  We have to maintain strategic positions and not run around opening up new fronts in a war we are already perilously close to losing.  I have had to do a lot of things I would find distasteful should I discover others doing them."

"And I think we can all appreciate that. We'll take the troops we came with. Traveling light might be our best bet, anyway."

"We could use those soldiers, few as they are, here."  Gwen made her own request now.  "Especially the elves. That little trick you folk do? Walking in and out of the Fairy Realm? Could be very useful to our campaign."

Sayra summoned her pet onto her shoulder, Sheetah taking up the position loyally. "The Fairyways are shut to us at the moment. We've tried to access them, but something has corrupted the link. I sense the influence of the House of Iilas in this matter."

Gwen nodded, acknowledging a rare point of agreement. "The dark elves are treacherous." She pointed again to the map, this time to the west. "We've had several attacks to deal with lately. But they seem to be sticking close to the traditional elven lands rather than advancing too far out to assist the Empire."

Sayra agreed. "It is where their link to the Fairyways will be strongest. However, I believe as we move east, their influence will fade and allow us to access Undulhava. I've already sensed their presence waning as we have moved further away. And there are still many Vessary Blossoms out there to serve as tethers."

Sheala, having remained silent up to this point, chimed in.  "We're wasting time. We could have been well on our way east by now." No one had dared divulge to the commander of the Rebellion's troops, or the cleric, the recently revealed relation of her to the general commanding the Imperial Armies.  The understanding was that such knowledge could complicate things more than they needed to be.

"While I appreciate the eagerness, Ambassador, there is more planning that goes into a war than just tossing the pieces all over the chessboard and hoping they fall into the right places. The best we can do is promise to keep General Nightwing's forces occupied as best as we can here in the west and help your journey to the east in that way." Gwen traced her finger across the map. "Your best route is this one."

Sheala was not the only one astute enough to notice the imaginary path being drawn passed through a narrow area shaded red. But she was the first to question the meaning of it.  "Red ink usually isn't a friendly sign."

"Mours Canyon," Reane said.

Gwen drew her invisible line once more, and again through the same area. "Go north, and you're in heavily Imperial controlled territory. South? You'll hit the same. Mours Canyon is a strategic pinch point that has held up against the Empire since the fall of Hitithe."  Gwen pointed to a location in the sea of red. "The Towers of Mours are excellent fortifications. Hard to assail from the air with dragons, because of the curvature of the canyon walls, and the ravine is narrow enough that it is hard to maneuver large numbers of troops through without being lined up for the slaughter.  It's also the only opening for twenty leagues in either direction through what remains of the Sagon Wall."

Daphney sighed, preparing to add further information. "The problem is, Mours Canyon is controlled by zealots.  A rebel faction currently led by Lagos Dunn. We've tried to ally with them, but they apparently are under the delusion they've been divinely sanctioned to be the lone survivors of this war and to repopulate the lands once the end times pass."

"Sort of violates the whole concept of 'end times', doesn't it?" Sheala asked.

"I'm not going to pass judgement." The slight smile Daphney formed at the recognition of the comment wasn't able to go unnoticed.  "Some people might suggest seeking salvation in a rock is a stupid idea as well. But, the point is, since you're heading that way, we want you to deliver a message to them and negotiate an alliance."

"They don't sound all that friendly."

Gwen jumped back in.  "You are an ambassador after all, are you not? Not only that but also your lineage is important.  Technically you are the last remaining member of the Royal Fimmirran bloodline, considering your mother was King Turon's sister.  That makes you Queen of Fimmirra based on the rights of succession."

Those words slapped at Sheala, bringing up something that she hadn't really pondered.  "Queen of a dead island and a deceased people."

"But a queen, none-the-less.  There are Fimmirrans out there.  Not all were on the islands when General Nightwing devastated them.  These people are zealots, as the Revered Cleric said, but they are also direct descendants of Fimmirran settlers from nearly five centuries ago.  Along with also being supposedly this prophesied Child of the Storm? We're hoping that they'll listen to you."

"I don't claim to be anything other than me," Sheala said.  "And I didn't ask to be designated savior of the world."

A hand from Reane on her friend's shoulder calmed her down, then the captain took over the conversation. "Look, we can deliver this message for you. But, in exchange, we're going to need something from you. You can't expect us to help you without you helping us."

"I've already shown you the path to take."

A gentle shake of Reane's head was the emotional response to that claim.  "Yes, a path that benefits you and right through territory as unfriendly as all the rest by the sound of it."

"What do you want?"

"Like we said before, we will need some access to your rebel network of safe houses.  Like it or not.  And guarantees that we will receive any aid and supplies we need when we need them. Especially once we move east of Veer and the Great Northern Road.  I don't want to be carrying a writ or one of those silver rings, though.  We'll be too deep into the lands wholly controlled by Imperial forces to be caught with something like that on us."

"I told you, I can't put our network at risk."

Reane shrugged.  "Then we can't deliver the message or negotiate an alliance on your behalf. And, dare I say it, but I think we can probably find our way around Mours Canyon without too much trouble, thank you."

"Really? Do you think?"

"I'm willing to go a whole fivedays out of our way if need be."  Reane squared up against the military commander of the Rebellion.  "Plus, I've got a few tricks up my sleeves."

"And yet, here you are, asking for my help."

"Look, I don't think we're asking for too much here. Considering that after the war, you're going to want the fruits of our labor.  The Tear of Earoni belongs rightfully to Hitithe.  Do this for us, and you and I can have a little talk. In private. I'll give you some sage advice. Deal?"

Gwen tapped her finger on her lip.  "I assume this 'advice' entails information about visions you've had and that will assist us in the war?"

"It does."

"Then it's a deal."

Reane wasn't surprised by how quick and firm the acceptance was.  She didn't need to be a seer to know how to persuade people.  Knowledge was power.  "Shall we then?  No time like the present, right?"

Gwen was around the table, her arm draped over Reane's shoulder with a speed that could only be described as she didn't need to be asked twice.  And her demeanor certainly lightened as the two went off, chatting light-heartedly all the way out the door.

Sayra gave Sheetah another snack.  "I am going to talk with my husband.  Ittan believes that any of our people who survived likely fled to the northern continent through the Fairyways before they were shut off and wants to seek them out.  It would be good if they did, and if we can gain their assistance."

"I agree," Daphney said.  "The elven people have always been great at survival.  And, as wonderful allies, their assistance would be welcome."

"Then I take my leave as well, Blessed Cleric of Earoni."  Sayra bowed and followed the other two women out.

"Is it true?" Daphney spoke as a shiver raced through her body once her and Sheala were the only two remaining.  "Are you the Child of the Storm?  The one of which legends speak?"  Daphney was caught between examining the mountains shown to the east on the maps left behind and the conversation now begun.

The words stopped Sheala in her tracks.  She'd wanted also to take her leave as well and not deal with any questions.  But she was not to be so lucky.   "I don't know.  Everyone keeps talking about how I'm this magnificent symbol."

"I know the feeling."

"I guess it's possible," Sheala said.  "Honestly, I don't care about any of this.  I just want a shot at Lord Hedric once this is all said and done."  The red-head drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword.

"We'd all like to take him out.  His reign has been a terrible blight upon once sacred and holy lands."

"Maybe, but but not like I would."

"Why's that?"

"Unfinished and lingering business."  At first, Sheala thought the vagueness would suffice.  But when the words sounded flat and evasive, even to her, she decided to add more of them.  "He killed my parents.  Well, his soldiers anyway, but under his orders.  And he stole my life."

"I hate to break this to you, but Lord Hedric's reign has resulted in the death of a lot of people's loved ones.  You are not alone in that plight, nor in your pain."

Sheala shook her head at the statement delivered with far too much calm for her liking.  "I'm not in the mood for a lecture.  I'll take the pain he's caused me and visit it back upon him a thousand times over."

"The Child of the Storm indeed has such potential.  But revenge is often a blinding light.  It has led more than one sane man to the rashest of decisions."  Daphney said those words not just for Sheala, but for herself as well.  For her own heart was drifting dangerously with such thoughts towards Anthony and Reane.

"You're not the first person to tell me that."

Daphney brought her eyes up so that the two women could lock gazes.  "I do hope I'll be the last, however."

"Like I said.  As long as I get a shot at Lord Hedric."

Daphney frowned and then forced a smile.  "The depths of winter should be letting up soon.  It will be much easier to travel once it does in about another week.  We'll resupply your party and you can begin the final leg of your journey and quest to end this war."

"The Rebellion's assistance is greatly appreciated."

"I will see that Gwen provides to you what was promised.  But there is also something that I do need to know from you.  And it has nothing to do your current quest."

Sheala's lip curled into a sneer.  The former thief wasn't so daft as to not know where the conversation was headed.  "I don't want to get involved in this whole situation with you, Anthony and Reane."

"I am not asking you to."

"Then what?"

"All I want to know is one thing. Will she treat him right?"

Sheala sighed, not wanting to answer the inquiry.  "I'll be honest with you, you're probably asking the wrong person when it comes to relationships. I haven't exactly made the best decisions in mine. But, if you're asking me whether or not Reane is a good woman? She is."

Daphney gave only the slightest nod, focusing everything she had towards the map on the table.  "I just want him to be happy."

"I don't know that any of us ever really are." With those words, Sheala confronted her own growing regret with where her own relationship with Brentai had gone. She just didn't know how to salvage it at this point, or if it could even be.

There was silence that filled the gap between Sheala's words and the ones Daphney would follow them with.  They seemed to be little more than a means to exit the conversation, even as they dripped with thinly veiled disappointment.  "I wish you nothing but success, Child of the Storm.  Our people eagerly await the return of the Tear to them."