Of Heroes and Happenings

The Perfect One, Chapter 11

Though the Wilderwalkers were their usual jovial, almost carefree selves, something about the dinner party seemed . . . off, somehow, to Gareth. They'd only arrived in town that afternoon and hadn't bothered to drop their gear at their lodgings. Thus, everyone was armored still, and dropped laden packs along the dining room wall. None of that was unexpected for the Wilderwalkers, perhaps, but what was out of the ordinary was the apparent strain between Brightly and the rest of the group. It was as if the group's leader had been dethroned by Talya, the half-elven ranger.

Gareth was almost certain that he'd seen a look of pity or sympathy in more than one expression when various members of the group looked at Gareth. Jokes fell flat, as if everyone was overcompensating for something. Laughter sounded forced at times, as well. Unlike any other evening they'd dined together, no one expressed any future plans.

Even Talya's pet pseudodragon was out of sorts. Heth had never snapped at Gareth before that night, and wouldn't go to Windy at all when she tried to offer a treat, which was most unusual. Talya blamed something Heth had eaten, but Gareth had never seen anything that could make the tiny copper dragon growl at someone before. Usually, Heth was a rather sociable little shoulder jockey. Instead, she curled up in Talya's lap and hid under the table.

It was almost a relief when the dessert plates had been cleared away and Brightly invited Gareth outside for fresh air, the way he always did after dinner. The two of them were in the habit of taking a walk after dinner on nice evenings to look at the stars before returning to join in a round of whatever Windy had decided to play with Talya and the others. That evening, instead of turning out the gate as usual, however, Brightly angled them around the house and down the back lawn. They made it to the iron benches that curved around the spreading oak tree.

"I've enjoyed our time together," Brightly said without preamble.

"Well now, that sounds an awful lot like 'goodbye'," Gareth tried to tease. "The evening's only half over!"

"Yes, but my time here in Cinderfell is all spent," Brightly returned in a voice devoid of mirth. "I've been recalled by the head of my order. She wants me to serve beside her with an eye toward becoming the head myself, one day." Brightly loosed a tight sigh. "I've already said my farewells to the rest of the group, but I wanted just one last evening with you before that."

"You could stay." Gareth hated himself for the pleading in his voice, hated that he was just only noticing that Brightly carried his pack with him.

"I took a vow," reminded Brightly. "Pelor calls and I must go. I'd ask you to come, but I shall be within the inner sanctum of the temple, where you'd never be allowed, so I'd still never see you."

"So that's it then?" Gareth felt numb, unable to think, to process what was happening.

"I'm afraid so." Brightly's voice was calm, nonchalant. He could have been telling Gareth that the gravy boat at dinner was empty, rather than that Gareth's entire world was tumbling.

Gareth forced a smile and a shrug. "Well, alright then. It's been fun while it lasted."

Brightly looked at Gareth keenly. "You're sure you're alright?"

Of course, Gareth wasn't 'alright'; he was dying inside. What was wrong with him, that no one he loved ever seemed to stay? Still, he couldn't let Brightly see the way he was crumbling inside, so Gareth maintained his trademark, carefree smile and voice. After all, it wasn't Brightly's fault that he was being called away, so it wasn't fair to blame him, to pour out a breaking heart in front of him. Gareth had known from the start, what Brightly's vows as a paladin had been. "I'm fine," he insisted in a carefully assuring tone. "After all, we each find comfort where we may in this cold, dark world, not so? The world is how it is."