Karissa's Tale: A Price Paid

As of 4/2/98

By Donald Stotts

The room was dingy and drab: a bed cobbled together from a mixed pile of wood; a second-hand dresser atop which sat a ceramic basin and pitcher, as well as a two-foot square mirror - cracked, of course; two straight-back chairs; a brass oil lamp that hung from a chain attached to the ceiling; a chamber pot; and a rug so threadbare that it would not have made a decent wintertime cloak.

It was all too typical of its type, easily found in inns present in almost every clime, in almost every realm. Only the persons gathered inside the chamber were atypical, obviously born to better trappings, yet possessed of an easy familiarity with their surroundings that seemed to indicate each had been forced by circumstance to call such a place 'home' on more than one occasion.

"Dost thou wish me to beg forgiveness, to say I am sorry?"

Aulkarissaleigh N'Qol'Teriss stared daggers at the armored man, her breathing labored, her body almost shaking from restrained energy. "I wish thee to BE sorry. I wish so very much for thee to be sorry for thy hand in all that happened. But 'tis a vain hope, is it not? Thou dost stand resolute in thine own convictions, content in thy belief that thou didst what was necessary."

The man sighed. Burly of build - with a mustache of coarse, slate-gray hair that curled down beyond his lips and covered his chin - the human warrior presented a formidable presence, despite the fact that he clearly was decades past his physical prime. One hand found the pommel of his broadsword, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm. "The needs of the many are paramount to a ruler's decisions. Though it pierced my soul as though by the sharpest barbed shaft, duty dictated mine actions, and those of his lordship."

Karissa laughed suddenly, a short, sharp burst of sound. "Words of convenience, a shield to succor thee, to salve whate'er pangs of conscience arise in the dark of night, when man or woman must contend with their inner demons. Why, e'en thine own hand knows the truth. An old habit, uncle, one which betrays the festering sore of guilt within thee."

She turned toward the elf, ancient even by the standards of his youthful-appearing race, for lines could be seen around both his eyes and mouth, signifying the multitude of centuries that must have passed since he first trod upon the earth. "And what say thee, Perimedes? Art thou not he who taught, 'an impasse is naught but a course of action that hath yet to be determined.' What of thee?"

Perimedes straightened. His hands sought out the imperfections the action caused in his robes, smoothing the fabric, causing the garment to shimmer as if it had been spun from threads of gold and silver. "The deliberations of his lordship were full and measured," he offered, his tones a delicate tune of perfect pitch and sonorous effect. "No other course of action offered the same possibilities to the Lord's Alliance. The Mnoethen spoke truly when they did set this course in motion. If thou wert not so consumed by self-righteous indignation, thou wouldst know the cost suffered by all whose hearts thou hast touched. They mourned as if thou wert the victim of some calamitous death."

The dark-haired beauty turned away, catching sight of herself in the mirror as one moment stretched overlong into the next. There was an almost ethereal quality to the young woman: high cheekbones; a face fair and unblemished; violet eyes that betrayed her Mnoethen birthright, though she was as much human as elf; all framed by a mass of lustrous brown hair so dark as to appear almost black in the limited illumination provided by the oil lamp.

"Almost; many times," Karissa whispered finally, her eyes narrowing as she turned back to study the two men. "As for cost, what know thee of the true price of this matter?"

"War is e'er fraught with peril and loss, daughter of my brother," Arngrim said. "And doubt not that 'twas an engagement of utter conflict, though not with blade and bow and blood."

"Oh, 'twas not bloodless," the brunette spat. "Ne'er believe that the cost involved not its measure of pain and sweat and blood. Aaahh, but thou wouldst know little of that, secure behind the tall walls and fearsome stone towers of Caurgil Keep."

"Aye," the armored man growled in his gravelly voice, reminding the woman of a wolf ready to pounce. It had been the same from the time she was but a stripling. "Caurgil Keep remains secure, as do those whose lives depend on it continuing to be a bastion 'gainst depredations by folk foul and wretched; a beacon 'pon which goodly people can base their lives, their hopes. 'Twas thy sacrifice that allowed it to remain thusly, for thou didst provide us time to plan, to act in proper accordance with design, to great effect and benefit to those pledged to his lordship's halls. Not an easy task, we know. But still doth thee live, despite thy travails."

Karissa crossed her arms, each hand hugging its opposite shoulder. "Aahh, but secure within the bosom of that hope thou dost proclaim so readily, or devoid of it?"

"Anger clouds thy judgment, Quelwyn's daughter," the elf remarked, outwardly serene, though some glimmer in his eyes betrayed him as he looked at Karissa and her uncle. "Thou art rightfully upset by our sudden appearance. We shall make arrangements for lodging this 'eve. In the morning, we shall speak again, when thy temperament is better suited for discourse."

"My disposition shall not improve by the morrow," Karissa said. "Still will I be furious, as will I next week, next year. The days when I will relent to emotional manipulation are long passed. Burned out is that path to my cooperation, consumed in a conflagration that nearly cost me spirit and soul as well as the breath of life."

Perimedes's unblinking gaze studied the half-elf woman for several long moments. "Time will provide the testament to that opinion, Quelwyn's daughter."

A look of mock surprise drifted across Karissa's face. "Really? Dost thou truly believe I will put aside all that hath transpired in the name of duty and honor, forgiving thine actions with a quiet grace befitting the daughter of Anselm Foe-Reaver and Quelwyn Qol'Teriss? Dost thou truly believe that one day more will impart 'enlightenment' 'pon my poor, addled senses? I tell thee that one day more will do naught but allow me to remember a few choice remarks I did forget to level at thee in the heat of the moment."

Arngrim stepped forward, concern dueling with steadfast determination evident on his face. "Thine anger is a burden I can weather if it will ease thy troubled spirit, but say not that thy travails hath consumed thee wholly; close not the portal by which amends might be met, for the sake of mine own children, who love thee as a sister, e'en as I profess my love for thee as a daughter by blood of mine house."

Violet eyes met those of the man unflinchingly. "A troubled spirit? Thinkest thou that some madness hath claimed my mind? No other options present themselves to thee? Ask instead if I am despondent, indignant, hurt, angry, bitter, enraged, incensed, or simply drunk. Of the whole of that list, I tell thee that madness hath no claim 'pon my soul, nor am I the victim of excessive drink, though I may well be enticed along the latter path given this unwelcome interruption."

The elf sighed heavily. He gestured to the warrior. "Come, weapon-master, let us depart. Much hath transpired, as our beloved Karissa did say. 'Twill not be solved in its entirety this 'eve." Perimedes turned and opened the door, holding it so that Arngrim might preceed him.

"Know this, daughter by blood," the gray-haired warrior announced suddenly, "ne'er hath I forsaken any cause that would benefit either those of mine house or the noble family to whom I am pledged. Ne'er shall I turn away from thee. If I must war for thy heart, thy spirit, thy forgiveness, I will engage such a conflict willingly."

The door closed behind the two men. Aulkarissaleigh N'Qol'Teriss stared at it for a long time. She cried for a period longer still.

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