the last farewell
Ten contemplated the softly glowing feather in his hand. His heart well and truly sore this night, he thought about calling Callas as she'd told him he could. "I suppose it couldn't do any harm, could it?"
His large thumb stroked the edge of the grey feather. "I wonder where you are tonight, Callas de Navarre. I wonder if you're having an easier time than I am. Though, to hear your story, the answer is probably no." His mind on the dilemma of the young priestess, he almost missed the first flicker of the light coming from the feather.
The next flicker was longer, and the next, unmistakeable. The priest didn't understand what was going on as he watched the light in the feather flicker, and then dim.
And then it went out completely.
Sorrow tore at his heart as he understood what the flickers had meant. Her voice came back to him. If it stops glowing, then I'm beyond the reach of any magic to call me. At that point, a few prayers for my soul would not go amiss.
"Ah, Callas." The priest's voice was low and rough. He drew his thumb once more across the edge of the feather, and began to wrap it back in the scrap of linen he kept it in. But then...that was odd. It was glowing again, shedding a soft silver light.
"What...?" The feather's light flickered, brightened a bit, and then burst into a light bright as a lantern, bright enough to illumine the darkness around him.
A shadow formed behind him, and he turned, hand dropping to his weapon. But the form was familiar, though he'd seen her only once, the sharp features unmistakeable. "Callas? What are you doing here?"
She raised her finger to her lips. "No questions, Ten. I'm not supposed to be here, but I heard you call. I wanted to let you know that I'm all right. Things have...changed. It may be several weeks before I can talk to you again, but my sister Gemma may be able to answer some of your questions. For now...know that I'm all right." Her smile was gentler than he remembered it being.
She stepped back, beginning to fade into the darkness. "Goodbye, Ten. You will see me again."
He called sharply, "Wait!" but she didn't heed him.
And the priest was left with only the brightly glowing feather for company, and his own thoughts.
********
Ten gave a half smile and ran a thick sausage finger and thumb up the full length of the quill, feeling it brush against the tips as it sprung back into place. The cleric put it back in to its linen scarf and folded the fabric over before closing it amidst the pages of his own journal. Ten's eyes squinted with the soft smirk and he spoke at a mouse's whisper up into the darkness that otherwise encompassed the room. "Be safe, good Callas. Shade and sweet water to you. Stay whole until Pelor smiles on our next meeting." The imposing warrior-priest sniffed once inaudibly and shrugged his shoulders with the barest crunch of leather and mail. He wicked a dewdrop touch of moisture from the corners of his eyes and smiled ruefully. "Mayhap next time you'll try not give me such a scare. Take care, my friend."
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