By Andrew Getting A tale of Larisnar
For those who prize strength and honor, the Deverenians have a great fondness for mirrors. Perhaps they enjoy reflecting upon old war wounds, the honorable conquests of their enemies. They would never preen like some pompous nobleman of the west. Their legends will outlive their flesh, so why care for its appearance?
This mirror is of Deverenian make, but one in Andover would be expensive. Its chipped brass border betrays its age, almost certainly from before the last war.
I stare into faintly familiar eyes, tilting my head into the morning light that streams from the bedroom window. I shake my hair out of my face, and lean closer to the glass. I spread my fingers along the skin around my right eye, just below my horn, but the crease I spy before me is no illusion. Yes, I’m certain that the Deverenians lie to themselves like that quite often. I just don’t have that kind of time.
My bones ached when I awoke. They still do, just enough that I only notice it when I think about it. I half-turn from the mirror, then look again. I am bare to my waist. My muscles still toned, but... yes, not as they were even last year. I grin a little, remembering my father at the riverside. I flex my arms, then square my shoulders. I try to ignore the stiffness.
“You look fine,” she half-groans. “Come back to bed.”
I bow my head and peek into the mirror, to the pale hip just edging from behind the red sheets. I look away suddenly. “Of course I look fine,” I say, touching the glass, “but this old man’s ready to retire, whoever he is.”
“Don’t say that,” she pouts. “My husband’s not a man to mock. Whatever you and I may feel for each other, I love only him.”
I smile, closing my eyes. The stiffness in my bones is gone, just like that. “He must think of himself as a lucky man.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” She sighs melodramatically. “Something greater than either of us was at hand, uniting us together forever.”
“Fate?” I ask, and laugh. “Did the seers divine your love on a reading of the bones? The chirping of the birds that revealed you to be under his spell?”
“You know better than to even say that,” she says, her calm voice still stinging me in its rebuke.
I bite my lip. “Do... Do we have to talk about this now? After last night, I’m just glad to see you again.”
“I know. It’s like part of me was gone while you were.” She hums to herself tunelessly.
“Of course, I suppose that was true, but it also changes nothing.” I catch the stranger in the mirror frowning, and relax. No need for more lines. “This war cannot last forever. I can still win it.”
“Not without sacrifices, my love,” she answers. “And not with me at your side. You know that.”
“I know,” I whisper, and the man before me is suddenly haggard again, his shoulders slumped. “If things had been different...”
“...then we would have never met,” she continues for me, “and magic or no, I’d never want that. For all the pain this has caused us, that’s part of us, too.”
“Then why?” I ask. “Why fight me?”
“You know the answer to that, too,” she says softly. “It is what is right.”
“No,” I say, avoiding the stranger’s gaze as I shake my head. “If only they stopped fighting, we would only take their sick, their dying. They're old. Those whose times had ended anyway.”
“For a while, I’m sure you would, but you have met the High Queen’s court. Would only a handful wish to live forever, with the rest gracefully laying themselves in the dust?”
Her tone is insistent but gentle. “How many would die so that we would not? This is a war that will never end, my love, not until the one side or the other is dead forever.”
“They waste their lives,” I growl.
“And you have spent fifteen minutes worrying over the inevitable,” she retorts. “The High Queen would likely say you’re wasting your time now, speaking to me.”
“You know I don’t think that,” I offer quietly.
“I know, and I also know that their soldiers speak with their wives just as you and I speak now.” She pauses for a moment. “You were so beautiful when you spoke my name the first time you saw me. I could spend forever in that moment.”
“Would you do it again? Knowing what you know now?” I ask her.
“Of course, though I’d try harder to persuade you to me,” she answers.
“Maybe it’s just the magic that prevents me from listening to you,” I suggest. “Maybe if we severed the spell-” I stop in mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of my own words.
“You tried that already,” she says soothingly. “And we both remember how badly that turned out. No, I think we should stop thinking of what might have been, and consider what to do with this day, and every day after that.”
I stare at the man before me. “The first time I saw you, all I could think of was how young you were.”
“Flatterer.” She laughs like breeze caressing wind chimes.
“It’s true,” I say. “It was like one of the old stories, of the Endless Sorrow or the Well of Blood. A beautiful princess saves her prince, and all I could think was that you’d be a widow before long. How cruel a fate, for you to love and lose so quickly.”
“Ah, but that’s not the case, is it?” she asks teasingly.
“No, I suppose not.” I shake my head.
“What will you do with today, then?” she asks, the sunlight glinting on her face now.
I close my eyes, shutting out the mirror’s cruel taunts. I am strong. “Today, I will rally my men, and lay siege to Andover again. I will deliver its keepers to my queen.”
“So you made your choice, then?” Her voice hinges on the edge of tears.
“I made it last night, just after you fell asleep,” I admit.
“I see,” she answers. “I suppose that I shall spend the day in bed, then.”
I step backwards twice, and sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand is cool beneath mine.
“You do that.” I tug at where the sheets are still white, and tuck them in above the redness along her neck. Leaning over, I plant a kiss on her forehead, just between where her horns meet, then I slide my thumb and forefinger down her eyelids.
I stand, plucking the shortsword from the endtable. “I’m sorry. I wish this world had been worthy of you,” I tell her. “I wish I had been worthy of you, Alia.”