Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

The gnome hung his head, not meeting Hennet’s gaze.

Hennet looked from Nebin to Ember, and shook his head. He had suspected, but all the words had been spoken, and there was no recalling them. Even he had a task that called him, else he would just stay with Ember.

Before coming to New Koratia, the winning of the Golden Wand in the Duel Arcane had been his only concern. With the Golden Wand hanging at his belt, new goals and broader concerns moved into the forefront of his mind. A sorcerer born, he couldn’t gainsay his spirit of discovery.

“So, that’s it,” said Hennet. “Ember, of course the Order needs your strength right now. I apologize for bringing it up again. And, Nebin, you know I won’t deny you this opportunity.”

He paused, then continued. “I feel a summons, too. It’s my legacy. Something in me yearns for the Far North, where the tribulations of dragons are rumored. Like you, Nebin, I can’t resist seeing for myself the truth of my own heritage and power.”

The sorcerer sat back, looking at his friends. Ember was closer than he ever could have hoped, while the gnome was more reserved after Brek’s death, yet just as dear. Hennet fervently wished that Ember and Nebin would travel with him, despite his brave words to the contrary. He reflected on the nature of an adventurer, as he styled himself. It was dangerous, and lonely. Though still new to the life, he realized that chance-met companions on the road were the only buffer against solitude. He desperately wished they could stay together, but they each had a separate path to follow.

So be it, he thought. What was the line the bards sang? “Every good-bye is some tomorrow’s hello.”