All the Broken Pieces

((background to this scene:  Lanthriel was killed in a skirmish when he blocked an attack aimed at Took.  Took has an emotional break-down, and Kala and Vahaadi are so devastated they can’t even come to grips with what has happened.  Ultimately, it’s Vahaadi who convinces the other two that they will have to burn Lanthriel’s body to keep it from being desecrated by ghouls (flesh-eating wraiths).  He prepares to burn the body, but Kala insists that she do it.  She sets his body aflame and then the three leave, unable to bear looking back.

Sometime later, the group finds itself once again in mortal peril.  Just as Kala is about to meet her maker, Lanthriel appears and saves all of their butts.  But he’s changed…He doesn’t speak, and blue light glows eerily from his eyes and still-open wounds.  For the first time, Kala fully grasps that it isn’t fire that she conjures from her hands, but anima—raw life force—a vestigial power still remaining to her from her past life when she used the power to conjure guardian spirits.

Lanthriel, has, in essence, become a sentinel.  He responds readily to directions Kala gives him, stands, moves, fights as Lanthriel once did, but is otherwise surreal and inhuman.  His strength is crucial to the survival of their group, but the husk of Lanthriel disturbs Kala, Took and Vahaadi.  All of them have had such complicated relationships with him: to Kala, he was a guardian and the closest thing she had to a friend; to Took, he’s an enemy-turned long-lost brother and a martyr; and to Vahaadi, he’s an unrequited love, a lost friendship, and a source of deep shame and confusion.

I doubt I’d canonically kill Lanthriel off, but I think the other characters would need something that drastic to grow from.  But Vahaadi, I felt, would really need closure, more so than the other two.  Before Lanthriel’s death, he and Vahaadi had had a bitter fight because Lanthriel was so furious to find out that it had been Vahaadi’s spell that had driven Took to hunt and attempt to kill Kala, and all that time, Lanthriel had cared for and defended him.  I think Lanthriel himself was also really struggling with the sincerity and depth of Vahaadi’s affection for him.  Lanthriel was tormented by the idea that part of him actually wanted to reciprocate Vahaadi’s attention, but wasn’t sure if it was due to pity or actual interest.  Then, to find out about Vahaadi’s malevolent nature just made all of Lanthriel’s confused emotions blow up and he lashed out at him pretty severely.  Before either of them could make it right again, Lanthriel died, leaving Vahaadi to hold all the broken pieces…  ))

Sure that Took and Kala had at last drifted off to sleep, Vahaadi stirred from his bedroll.  The Sentinel, as the group now called him (for none could bear to call him by his name) hardly acknowledged his approach.  Vahaadi knelt before him, his gold-gleaming eyes searching the cool blue light that glowed from the Sentinel’s.  It was hard to block out the image of the flickering light and replace it with Lanthriel’s eyes as they’d looked when he was alive.

“Ehric…” Vahaadi said softly, as if by saying his name, he could bring the man back to life.  The Sentinel’s eyes seemed to move, but he said nothing.  Vahaadi sighed, and looked up at the sky.

“What would you think if you saw what had become of you?” Vahaadi mused aloud.  “Even in death, you’re still protecting her.” He lowered his gaze back to the Sentinel’s face and smiled wanly, but his eyes shone with envy and sadness.  “When I first understood what she’d done to you…I was angry, Ehric.  But I know she didn’t mean for this.  And…I’m glad you’re here.  Even like…this,” he confessed haltingly.

The Sentinel shifted his leg slightly, making Vahaadi’s heart skip a beat.  That tiny motion was so lifelike in its insignificance that Vahaadi wanted desperately to believe it was an indication that somewhere, somehow, Lanthriel was listening.  Vahaadi drew a shaking breath.

“I loved you,” Vahaadi said miserably, and was dismayed by the way all of the strength went out of his voice, leaving him only with a whisper.  “I still do.  I still love you.  Even now that you’re dead, it won’t go away,” he said this through clenched teeth, rubbing his temple and squeezing his eyes shut.  “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m…I’m so sorry.  I never wanted to make you angry.”  When he opened his eyes, a single tear from each escaped.  He let them fall while he tried to breathe slowly, and stared at the Sentinel’s quiet features.

He drew a steeling sigh, then carefully reached out and touched the Sentinel’s face. Moved by its warmth, Vahaadi shifted his weight and tenderly kissed his mouth.  He was aware, abstractly, that he was sharing this kiss with a corpse and not Lanthriel, but the anima that flowed through Lanthriel’s body made him feel so lifelike that there even seemed to be a steady heartbeat.  Vahaadi drew back, just far enough that their faces were still touching, and he could feel the Sentinel’s breath on his lips.  A second kiss, and Vahaadi lost his resolve altogether.  He pulled himself closer, close enough to pretend Lanthriel was holding him, and inclined his head against the Sentinel’s chest.  He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t stay long with the Sentinel, unwilling to allow Kala and Took see him fall apart like this, but he no longer cared.  Lanthriel had lived for Kala, and died for Took.  All that was left to Vahaadi was this—a few small hours in the dark of the night, listening to the breathing of his reanimated corpse.  He swallowed, trying to ease the tightness of his constricted throat, and listened to the soft rustling sound of anima burning in the Sentinel’s chest where a heartbeat ought to be.  For a moment, a beautiful, wretched moment, the emptiness felt wider and more excruciating than ever, yet simultaneously more bearable.

“Vahaadi.”

Vahaadi started, his heart leaping into his throat.  He looked up at the Sentinel, who continued to gaze impassively from blue-lit eyes over Vahaadi’s head.  Vahaadi scanned the Sentinel’s face, and then glanced over his shoulder.

Lanthriel was standing there, looking on with a sober yet gentle expression.  Vahaadi twisted so that he was properly facing him, but couldn’t find the strength or will to stand.  It was as if ice water had suddenly filled his stomach.  He tried to speak, but could only manage a breathy shudder.

Lanthriel—the real Lanthriel, with his pupil-less gray eyes and the faint flicker of expression in his face—stooped down to Vahaadi’s level.  Vahaadi at last found his voice.

“Ehr—Lanthriel…” he said, trying to stem the upsurge of emotions welling in his breast.  Among them, fear, sadness, shame, relief…he didn’t know which seized him most strongly.  “You’re—alive?”

Lanthriel shook his head.  “No longer.  A spirit, only,” he replied.   He held out his hand and Vahaadi, hesitantly, reached out to take it.  His fingers brushed nothing but air.  The sensation of nothingness struck Vahaadi.  The pain in his chest suddenly sharpened.

“You’re really dead,” Vahaadi rasped.  His grief quickly gave way to humiliation that Lanthriel’s spirit had returned to see Vahaadi in this way with the corpse. Perhaps that was why he had appeared.

“Lanthriel—I’m sorry—“ he began, but Lanthriel waved his hand.

“Shh…It’s me that should be apologizing.  That’s why I’ve come.”

“What?” Vahaadi said, taken aback.

Lanthriel sighed and nodded.  Looking away from Vahaadi, he began to speak in a thoughtful voice.  “In this state, I’ve been able to see things more clearly.  I can see what motivates people.  For Took, it is anger.  For Kala, it is conviction.  For myself, it is duty.  For you…” he turned his eyes back on Vahaadi.  “It is pain,” he said softly.

Vahaadi’s lips parted, but he couldn’t summon any words.

“It goes much deeper than I knew.  It goes beyond me, even beyond what Took has done to you.  You’re so hurt, you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be whole.”

Vahaadi could feel his eyes stinging.  His breathing became thinner and ragged, and he had to fight the desire to break down.  “I’m weak,” he whispered.

“Vahaadi.  Look at me.”

Vahaadi slowly raised his head to meet Lanthriel’s gaze.  Lanthriel said firmly, “you are stronger than you know.”

“I’m not!  I’m pathetic!” Vahaadi spat, startling himself with a sudden rush of anger and despair.  “Look at me!  I’m resigned to curling up with a DEAD BODY just to find the will to keep going.  I sold my soul to a sorcerer for a pittance!  I burn with lust for men who won’t have me and I lie awake at night thinking of how I wish I was dead but knowing I’m too cowardly to end it…”

“But you’re much more than that, too,” Lanthriel insisted, cutting off Vahaadi’s furious lament.  “Where you’re wrong is in thinking that I, or anyone, can make you whole again.  You keep looking to others to heal you, when you have so much healing power in yourself.”  He moved closer, his voice low and fervent.  “You’re not broken beyond repair.  You’re not weak.  You’re not insignificant.  And you are not alone.  If you remember nothing else from our meeting, remember that.”

Vahaadi sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to understand what Lanthriel had said.  Part of him felt invigorated, but part of him felt ever more discouraged.

“But…how?” Vahaadi asked.  “How can that possibly be true?  I don’t even know what any of that means…”

“That, you must seek out on your own.  Look inside yourself, Vahaadi.  Look past the scars and the broken pieces and find what’s left of you.  I promise you, it’s there.  I can feel it.”  He lay his ghostly hand on Vahaadi’s chest, and though Vahaadi didn’t feel anything physically, it was almost as if something inside his soul resonated in response.  Vahaadi breathed, wondering at the sensation.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t have seen it there sooner myself,” Lanthriel said quietly.

“Perhaps it takes being dead to know things like this,” Vahaadi said, trying to smile.

“Perhaps,” Lanthriel replied, and there was a look of regret in his eyes.

At a loss for words, Vahaadi’s eyes trailed to the ground where their hands rested near each other.  Vahaadi moved to touch Lanthriel’s hand but hesitated, remembering the empty sensation that had greeted him the first time.  Lanthriel watched him.

Vahaadi exhaled softly, resignedly, and met Lanthriel’s eyes.  “I love you,” he murmured, in a voice that was both earnest and defeated.

“I know,” Lanthriel said softly.

Vahaadi looked at him, waiting, even daring to hope that Lanthriel would say what he wanted to hear, but it didn’t come.  But, Vahaadi abruptly thought, the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice—it was accepting.  Lanthriel was no longer angry or repulsed or torn.  He knew, and he accepted, without scorn.

“May I ask you a favor?” Lanthriel asked at length.

“You wish me to protect Kala,” Vahaadi responded.  For once, his words regarding the girl did not drip of spite.

Lanthriel’s lips twitched, as if he had almost smiled.  He shook his head.  “Not Kala.  She’s seen to her own protection already.”  With this, he sent a glance over Vahaadi’s shoulder at the Sentinel.  He looked both impressed and ever so slightly perturbed by the sight of his own re-purposed corpse.

“It’s Imrien,” he continued, meeting Vahaadi’s eyes again.

Vahaadi blinked.  “Took?”

“I’m asking a lot of you, I know…but he is more fragile than he would like to believe.  And you, you, of all people, know that very well.”

Yes, Vahaadi did know.  He had spent almost three years watching Took try to hide his weakness.  But in its place, he’d substituted ruthlessness and cruelty.  Vahaadi’s face contorted into an incredulous expression.  “I’m not about to die for him like you did, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, no—he’d never forgive you for that.”

“Not that that would change anything,” Vahaadi said sullenly.  “He already hates me.  And with good reason.  He’d probably think it perfectly fair if I was killed saving him.”

A look passed over Lanthriel’s face that Vahaadi struggled to read.  “You might be surprised,” he said slowly.

Vahaadi peered at him curiously, but Lanthriel did not illuminate further.  Instead, he lifted his gaze as if something had just piqued his attention.

“I have to leave you now, Vahaadi,” Lanthriel said, standing.  Vahaadi jolted to his feet.

“No, please…don’t leave,” he pleaded, reaching out as if he could catch Lanthriel by the sleeve.  He knew even as he made the gesture that it was useless, so his hands hung empty in the air and Vahaadi clutched at the spirit’s gaze instead.  “I—“

The words “need you” froze on his lips when he saw the calm, cautionary look in Lanthriel’s eyes. He exhaled silently, allowing the words to die.  Deliberately, Lanthriel extended his hand and touched Vahaadi’s chest once more, and Vahaadi breathed, feeling the soft stir within.

“Remember.”

A breeze tumbled through the trees, building to a full force gale.  Vahaadi flinched as grit stung his eyes, and reflexively lifted his arm to block his face with a small grunt of discomfort.

When the wind had abated, Lanthriel was gone.

Vahaadi blinked numbly, staring into the space Lanthriel had occupied.  He let his arms fall limply to his sides.  Collecting himself, he stole a glance behind him at the Sentinel, who remained seated just as before: stoic, statuesque, and eerie, with smoldering blue eyes gazing vacantly into the distance.  The real Lanthriel was long gone.

He turned and carefully made his way back to his bedroll, but paused as his eyes fell on the sleeping forms of Kala and Took.  Kala, accustomed to sleeping outdoors, was comfortably burrowed in her bedding, though even in sleep she still wore her permanently calculating expression.  Took, on the other hand, was shuddering.  Vahaadi stooped beside him.  It was hard to believe that he was cold, given that the evening was so mild, but Vahaadi was reminded forcibly of the sorcerer’s physical frailty by the way the moonlight bathed his gaunt features. Vahaadi retrieved the blanket that had been shaken off by Took’s fitful fidgeting and pulled it over him.  Still, Took continued to breathe uncomfortably, and Vahaadi noticed that his scarred left hand occasionally twitched with spasms.

Wondering if he was perhaps enduring a nightmare, Vahaadi lifted his hands to his mouth and breathed into them, warming the metal of his rings and bracelets with the fiery heat.  Cautiously, he placed his hands on the blankets over Took’s shoulder, guiding the comforting warmth into the young man’s body.

“Carum ser assah,” he breathed, repeating a phrase Lanthriel had whispered soothingly to him long before.  Vahaadi did not know what it meant, but knew it was a Wharndgardian phrase.  He felt Took’s spindly chest expand, hold, and then slowly relax.  The knit in his brow eased.

Vahaadi waited a moment to see if Took would stir again before sitting back on his legs.  “Sleep well, Imrien,” Vahaadi said, smiling vaguely at the unfamiliar taste of his former master’s true name.

A soft breeze caressed his cheek.