Chris Pierson - Spirit of the Wind

We will reopen tomorrow.

— Tika and Caramon Majere

Inside, the taproom was almost empty Clemen, Borlos and Osler had gone home shortly after Tika and her daughters returned. Little Ulin had started to cry when he woke and saw Moonsong’s scarred face, and Laura and Dezra had offered to take him home. The girls stayed at Palin and Usha’s house that night, knowing their parents would want to be alone.

A few lonely candles glowed in the tavern, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Caramon and Tika sat at a table by the darkened fireplace, across from Goldmoon and Moonsong. The old Plainswoman sat quietly, her eyes shining in the flickering light, as her daughter told of Riverwind’s last quest and the fall of Kendermore. As she spoke, Caramon bowed his head sorrowfully. Tears crawled down Tika’s cheeks.

“When the house collapsed on top of me, Stagheart pulled me from the rubble. We escaped into the tunnels,” Moonsong said. She paused, taking a sip from a glass of wine Caramon had poured for her. “The fire left me as you see me now. I would surely have died, but the kender saw to my wounds and carried me away through the forest. I remember nothing of that journey, save the kender’s cries when they saw Malystryx on the wing. They were terrified. But she turned back when she was nearly upon us, and I knew Father had succeeded.

“The next thing I remember, I awoke in Balifor, in the kender camp. We had made it safely out of the Kenderwood. Stagheart was with me-he had stayed at my bedside for days, waiting for me to wake. Later, Catt came to visit me. I didn’t understand her pity when she looked at me… not until I asked her to bring me a mirror, and I saw what I had become…

Moonsong’s voice broke, the right side of her face creasing with bitterness. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. Goldmoon rested a gentle hand on her arm. For a time, the Inn was silent, then Moonsong shook her head, angry with herself, and lowered her anguished gaze back to Caramon and Tika.

“Stagheart didn’t look at me that way, though,” she said softly. “Looking in his eyes, I could almost believe I was whole again-at least in my body. Nothing can make me forget the hole inside me where Brightdawn used to be.

“We stayed in the camp for two weeks. I must have been visited by a dozen healers. They treated me with poultices and salves, herbal draughts and vapors. Slowly I recovered, but I knew it would still be some time before I was well enough to walk.

“Then one day I heard shouting outside my tent. At first, I thought the dragon had returned-we were not far from the Kenderwood, and I feared she would fall upon us and burn us for spite. But I soon realized the kender were crying out not in fear or panic, but with joy. I asked Stagheart to go find out what was happening. I thought, maybe, that somehow Father had survived, and had finally caught up with us.

“It wasn’t Father, though; it was Kronn, and he was alone. He came to visit me in my tent and told me what had happened at Blood Watch. We had won, and Father and Brightdawn had bought our victory with their lives.

“The kender threw a party that night. They danced and sang until dawn. I didn’t feel like celebrating, though. Then, in the morning, I had visitors: Kronn, Catt, and Giffel. They thanked us for what we had done-not just Stagheart and I, but Brightdawn and Swiftraven. Then they gave me this.”

Moonsong reached into her pack, which rested under the table. After a moment, she pulled a smooth, white object from it and set it on the table. It was a small bust, carved from bleached wood in Riverwind’s likeness. It captured the old Plainsman’s stem face and kind eyes perfectly. Caramon felt a rush of hot tears as he looked upon the sculpture.

“Kronn crafted this from one of the Kenderwood’s dead trees,” Moonsong stated, her voice thick with tears. “Mother and I would like to take it to the Last Heroes’ Tomb.”

“Of course,” Caramon said. “We can do it tonight when we’re done here. I’ll take you there.”

Moonsong tried to smile, then lapsed into silence, staring at the bust. It stared back at her, proud and serious.

After a while, Tika cleared her throat. “What happened after that?” she asked. “What became of the kender?”

The young Plainswoman blinked, startled out of her reverie, then nodded and went on. “They did what kender do,” she said. “After Kronn returned, they didn’t stay put much longer. Before another week passed, most of them packed and set out on the road. Most, but not all-Kronn stayed behind, with a thousand of the kender who had fought at Kendermore. Catt pleaded with him to come along, but he refused. ‘The ogres took many of our people as slaves,’ he said. ‘We’re going to try to free them. And then there’s Malys-she’s beaten for now, but she won’t be stopped. Someone needs to keep an eye on her, though, and make sure she doesn’t make too much of a nuisance of herself. And maybe, one day, someone will defeat her for good. When that happens, I want to be here.’

“So we left him there and set out on the road. The morning we left, Catt and Giffel were married. They led the Kender Flight north, and Stagheart and I went with them. I still wasn’t well enough to walk, so they carried me along with the other wounded.”

Moonsong paused, sighing. “It wasn’t an easy journey. You can imagine what people’s reactions were, when they saw thousands of kender headed for their villages. We were driven out, even attacked. We went on up the coast, but everywhere it was the same.

“Along the way, of course, our numbers dwindled.

“Then, when we were traveling through a mountain pass just beyond the Great Moors, we heard what sounded like an army coming the other way. The kender were afraid, thinking someone had sent soldiers to stop us from going on. Giffel went to scout ahead so he could sound an alarm in case of trouble.

“It wasn’t trouble at all, though; in fact, it was just the opposite. One of the messengers Father had sent out before the Flight began-a young kender named Blister Nimblefingers-had made it to the Knights of Solamnia. The Knights had sent a brigade to escort the Flight to Coastlund, where there were ships waiting to ferry them across the straits to Hylo, the kender homeland in Northern Ergoth.

“Stagheart and I remained with the Flight until we reached Estwilde,” Moonsong concluded. “By then, my wounds had healed enough for me to walk, so we left the kender and headed south through the hills, then across the New Sea. We returned to Que-Shu in the springtime, bearing word of what had happened.”

“But I already knew,” Goldmoon said softly.

Caramon and Tika looked at her, surprised. “How?” Tika asked.

The old Plainswoman reached into the neck of her pale blue tunic and pulled out a small, silver-steel medallion shaped in the form of two teardrops, joined end to end. “I gave this to Riverwind the day he left our village for Kendermore,” she said. “On the day after Mark Year-the day he died-a sudden impulse drew me to the Temple of Mishakal. I went inside and found this upon the altar.”

Caramon and Tika stared at the Forever Charm in mute wonder. A silence settled over the tavern. After a while, the old Plainswoman tucked the medallion back beneath her tunic.

“We would have come to Solace sooner,” she said apologetically, “but there was much to do. Among my people, the time of mourning for a chieftain lasts a full month. There were feasts, ritual hunts, funeral games to oversee. And there was also the wedding of my daughter and Stagheart of Que-Teh.”

“Wedding?” Caramon blurted, astonished.

Moonsong nodded. “We were married on the first day of summer.”

“Where’s your husband, then?” Tika asked.