Sentiment

"It is ridiculous to attach sentiment to objects. They are, after all, simply objects. They only have the value we assign to them. And when we do, then we make ourselves weak. Give others an opening to exploit."

The words echoed in Jariel's head as she stared into nothing, her gaze unfocused. She remembered her younger self saying those words. Dismissive. Arrogant. Yet here she was, decades later, shackled by the same.

Thin shafts of red-tinted light speared in through the murder holes in the wall of the guardhouse, picking out broken weapons strewn upon the floor. Beyond the open doorway, soldiers marched in perfect unison up and down the winding mountain roads, a hapless prisoner screamed in the distance, and shouted orders floated through the air.

The humdrum of a regular Mhaldorian day was lost to Jariel, however, as thoughts of the past occupied her mind. Flashes of memory began to blur together: reporting to him deep within the Great Rock, drawing her bow on his command in a raid, laying out a precious blueprint on his office table. A peck on his cheek at a dusty roulette table, soon followed by a clinking bag of golden winnings.

The Mhun sighed, turning away as the dark walls of the guardhouse came into focus. She hadn't thought about him in a long time. He had been gone for many, many years. But a recent conversation had brought to mind her link with him - one she had taken great pains to forge over many years. A link that had persisted through his dissatisfaction with the Baelgrim, his defection to Ashtan, and his eventual return.

Yet there was one thing the link might not survive: the erosion of time.

Another old acquaintance had resurfaced recently, and she had paid him a visit as a courtesy. She'd found him in the dingy shop just off the crossroads that he liked to frequent. They'd started reminiscing about older times, older friends, and by the end of it - out of the blue - he'd presented her with a fine silver earring set with small diamonds.

She recognised the accessory immediately: an earring of Sinope, enchanted to allow a wearer to travel instantaneously to the person wearing its partner. The gift had earned a blink from her - the only way she showed surprise - and she'd asked why. It was an expensive artefact and it was an honour to be trusted with it, especially since their paths rarely crossed these days.

The Rajamala had shrugged, his feline eyes unblinking. "I prefer to give them to friends than use them for a combat advantage."

Of course, he could afford it now. And since he was deep in slumber most of the time these days, it probably made no difference one way or another. But it had set her to thinking about her own earring, and the holder of its twin.

She reached up, fingers brushing over the silver arrow-shaped earring thrust through her earlobe. Dissatisfied with the standard earring design, she'd hired a skilled jeweller to create a unique pair: a silver arrow for her, and a coiled black adder for him. Individually, the accessories spoke of each their characters; together they symbolised many things about their relationship.

Jariel still remembered the surprise on his face when she asked if he would be her mentor, and again when she presented him with the earring. He'd worn it immediately, of course, and even activated it to see if it worked as advertised. It did, and the familiar tug on her ear had saved them both from many a difficult scrape. Sometimes to escape death on the battlefield, and sometimes if he just didn't feel like walking from the temple to the guardhouse.

But he was gone now, had been gone for many years. She hadn't felt her earring move in so long, she forgot it was there most days. He was unlikely to return any time soon. So her earring, for all its power, was now...just an earring. Decorative. Useless.

It was less than advantageous for it to remain such. And yet...she hadn't seen a need to change it. She knew she was stalling. Trying to delay the acknowledgement of time's passing. To recognise the apparent. To...move on. Keeping it left the door open to a -maybe-.

Would he have laughed at her sentiment? She wasn't sure. To the wider world he was nothing but ruthless and practical; yet she knew that he did harbour leftover attachments to those who should have been less than footnotes in his legacy of blood and malevolence. Who would ever have thought, after all, that he was once blessed by the Goddess of Beauty and Love, of all things?

Another sigh escaped her lips. He would've been secretly pleased, she thought, if she'd kept the earring's connection to him. He wasn't above vanity in that way - far from it. But if he were still the General, he would have seen it also as wasted potential for more dynamic uses to serve Evil.

Slowly, she took the arrow out of her ear, brushing a gloved thumb over its silver length as it sat in her palm. A deep sense of loss briefly overwhelmed her. Time had taken so many she cared about from her, and it was as if dying a slow death all over again to sever one of the last remaining links she cherished; not least of which was that it was one of the most important.

She pushed down the painful flare of melancholia in her chest as she threw a last, regretful glance towards the silent emptiness of the guardhouse. She knew better than to think his Baalzadeen would ever beckon her in from the gates again, or that another of his soulspears - probably one he'd harvested from a corpse she'd brought him - would go flying at an adjacent threat to her once more. Where once his stallion's emerald flames held the shadows at bay, now she had only darkness and memories as companions in her lone vigil. It had been that way for decades.

But she would always be his honest protege, and he would always be her honest mentor, regardless of what physical evidence remained - or not - to acknowledge that fact. The bond had survived his abandonment once before, against all odds. It would persist through time, too, even if only in her memories. That would have to be enough.

It was time. He would have told her the same thing.

Anguished yet resolute, Jariel pressed her thumb deep into the earring before she could think twice, finally mustering the courage to whisper the ritual words that would seal its fate. The silver earring flashed once in her hand and was joined by a new, familiar weight. Looking down at the intricately carved black adder, the thought of it vanishing from his ear was an unexpected, forceful blow that robbed her of both breath and rational thought. An eternity passed before she was able to draw a shallow, shuddering gasp; she closed her fingers slowly over both accessories, the physical action mimicking the sluggish re-forming of her shattered composure.

Even in his absence, he lived up to his once-mantle as Suffering's mortal leader. A final lesson, a last gift. The wry thought brought a wan smile to her lips in the darkness of the guardhouse, a slight dulling of her grief's razor-sharp edges. He would have been so pleased with himself.

But all things came to an end. The mantle had to be passed on.

There were few enough in the world that she would ever have severed this connection for, and deep down, she thought he would have considered her choice a worthy successor. He might even have liked him. Not that that mattered any longer, but it was still a small comfort to her to imagine his approval. He'd always enjoyed picking out the proteges with promise, particularly on the battlefield, and this one was no less than a prodigy - nor any less important to her than he himself had been.

Suddenly yearning for connection, she cast her awareness out into the ether, searching until she found a familiar, resolute presence. As their minds linked, recognition quietened a measure of the turbulence in her heart, a soothing salve upon a burning void.

[My son.]

[Hail, mother.]

[I...have something for you.]