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he last day of autumn arrived in a swirl of icy mist that cloaked the lowlands and the sea in silver. From the high purchase of the great hall Zhou gazed down on a scene that would have filled him with peace and wonder in another time and place. Today he was exhausted and could no longer hide from defeat. He had tried everything he knew, used every resource available to him. A day had not passed that he had not bent his mind or will to saving his apprentice.
Kazuma was standing nearby, his pale blue eye perpetually staring through the scar that scored the right side of his face. His characteristic smirk was gone. Hunched in his black leathers and lace, the necromancer reminded him of an old carrion bird as he perched with his arms folded over the back of a chair. Behind them Ebony sat on the couch sipping tea. Despite her bright Elonian print caftan and calm expression, Zhou’s eye for small details noted that her hand was shaking.
“How did it go?” Zhou prompted, knowing the two necromancers had labored through the night. He had not held out much hope for the secretive ritual, but Pendaran had been borne back to his bed asleep, pale but otherwise unchanged. He had not asked them to elaborate on what they had done, but he sensed it involved bringing his apprentice to a state near death in the hope of driving out Haodrim. They were running out of options and things he would have forbidden two months before now sounded reasonable.
“It didn’t work,” Kazuma replied, “I’m sorry.”
“He held up well,” Ebony offered. There was hesitance in her voice, as if she wished to say more but also wanted to spare him.
“But?”
‘Grenth’s hand is upon him now,” Kazuma said softly, a genuine sadness in his voice.
It was like being punched in the gut. Zhou staggered. Kazuma grasped his elbow and guided him gently toward the couch.
“I’m sorry,” Ebony repeated.
“How?” Zhou croaked.
“The amuridan is destroying him,” Kazuma said, “In the condition he is in and at the levels we are having to maintain it, it’s ripping him apart from the inside.”
“He is in a great deal of pain,” Ebony said quietly, “He hides it well. The truth is, we could not complete the ritual without killing him. He is not strong enough.”
“Does he know?” Zhou asked.
“He does now.”
Ebony came to sit beside him as he wept. At some point Lemony arrived and sat with him. Her face was wet with tears and the two of them somehow ended up clinging to one another.
“He deserves to live,” Lemony wept, “It’s not fair.”
Zhou squeezed her gently, wondering how she had managed to live so long without learning that fairness seldom entered into the equation.
“No, it’s not,” he agreed after a while.
“Shikai needs to save him,” Lemony sobbed, “She shouldn’t have left you. She shouldn’t have left any of us.”
“Please, Liang Meng, do not speak of her. She is gone.”
“Why?” Lemony wept.
Anger and despair vied within him. As he drew breath to tell her to stop, a racking cough came from Pendaran’s room. Lemony sprang to her feet and hurried away. He rose and followed her, frightened by the deathly sound.
Pendaran was sitting up but leaned over the side of the bed as if he feared he was about to vomit. It was one of the more unpleasant side effects of the amuridan and, as a result, there was always a bucket positioned at his bedside. When they arrived, he lifted a trembling hand to wave them away until the fit had passed. He looked small and helpless that morning, his ribs quivering under his pallid skin, the scars ugly and monstrous upon his flesh.
At last he lay back against the cushions and panted, closing his eyes as his jaws tensed against pain. Zhou could no longer deny that his friend was suffering terribly, that every waking minute was misery and it was no longer possible that things might improve.
“I want to see my daughter,” Pendaran croaked, “Please.”
Zhou nodded and moved to find a servant but Lemony stopped him.
“I’ll do it,” she murmured, “Stay with Pen.”
Ebony and Kazuma followed Lemony out of the room and closed the door. Zhou folded his arms feeling alone and useless.
“Stop,” Pendaran said quietly, coughing painfully as he leaned back and closed his eyes, “You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“There may be something else I can try…”
“No,” Pendaran sighed, “I’m tired, Master. Sit with me and hold my hand. I want to tell you something before I am no longer able.”
Zhou numbly sat on the bed beside his dearest friend, the man he still thought of as son and brother. He took his left hand and wept as Pendaran’s fingers tightened lovingly over his.
“You believe you have failed me, but you forget who I was before I met you.”
“I have not forgotten.”
He felt Pendaran’s eyes upon him. Zhou could no longer contain his grief. A terrible sound came from his throat. His heart was breaking.
“Please don’t sorrow for me so, Master.”
“You’re too young, Pen,” Zhou wept, “So much potential and your soul… so beautiful. A part of me will die with you.”
“No, Master, a part of me will live in you. You gave me the gift of redemption and now you are redeemed.”
“You are too generous, Pen.”
“How is that, Master? Before I met you, I was destined to die alone, forgotten and unloved. You gave me a reason to live, you showed me the power that lay asleep within me, you taught me to love again. I am grateful.”
“Pen,” Zhou wept, “I was supposed to comfort you and now you turn the tables on me yet again. I wish there was something I could do.”
Lemony arrived with Sabina clutched in her arms. Just when Zhou thought his heart could not ache any more, he watched as Pendaran clutched his little daughter to his breast and nuzzled her, a gesture of such loving tenderness he lost himself once more to grief.
“I’ll miss you, my little one,” Pendaran said to her softly, “Zhou, please promise me my children will be alright?”
“I’ll make sure they want for nothing, Pen, I promise.”
No one moved as father and daughter gazed upon one another. The little girl’s hand grasped Pendaran’s nose and chin, a small peal of laughter bubbling from her lips as he feigned an attempt to escape. Then he closed his eyes and his head fell back. The servant who had followed Lemony into the room fetched up Sabina before she rolled free of Pendaran’s slack grip. The child shrieked in fear and was drawn weeping from the chamber.
Lemony was already at Pendaran’s side clutching his hand, her lips moving quickly as she uttered prayers for him. He coughed and winced in pain as she eased him onto on his back and stroked his face tenderly.
“How long?” Zhou whispered.
“Soon,” Lemony murmured, “I need to find Mabane and make sure he gets a chance to say goodbye.”
Zhou nodded and drew up a chair beside the bed as Lemony departed, leaving him alone with Pendaran. He went through a mental list of rituals and rites, grasping at straws. There must be something left to try, something he had failed to consider. Someone had already given her life to preserve him and if he failed now, he failed not just Pendaran but Teleri and his children as well.
“Gods, I plead with you. Grenth, do not covet my apprentice; I would go in his stead. Holy Lyssa, grant me the knowledge and wisdom to save him. Please.”
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