Kindle Notes & Highlights
“You don’t mince words, do you?” “Not with minds like yours. Why would I? Besides, I’m not a politician and the gods forbid I ever become one. There is fault in what you’ve done – what we’ve both done. The question is, can it be justified in hindsight?”
I’ve come to realise that in a way, I was already dead – cut off from the feeling world by my own desire to protect myself and others. Why not live? Why not feel each day and what it brings, and if it should end, then at least my friends will remember me. Something of me will endure, if only in the minds of others. Does that sound selfish to you?”
The time for words is over. Our Apologists have achieved nothing. Eternity to a human who is doomed to death is too great a temptation to be bothered with questions of ethics and morality.”
As you already know, we cannot crossflesh from Arimal to elf unless we are completely free of unnatural elements.” “Naked you mean.” “Yes. Travelling alone also means I cannot carry a saddle, a squarrig, not even a simple harness. Should I try to crossflesh, it wouldn’t work.
Ortalan huffed, leaned back against the boulder Feldar sat on. “Not love. I’ve always felt as if my life was not entirely mine, that my time in the world was always anecdotal. I have always owed myself to other things. Ruling a land, commanding an army, fighting the enemy. I never felt permanent enough, steady enough that I could give my heart to anyone, even if I had found someone. But make no mistake, Feldar. I know what it is to love. I’ve seen it enough times, its consequences.”
There was something oddly calming about being the lowest ranking warrior. No responsibility, no decisions to make, no guilt should they be the wrong ones.
She would miss Benzir and Feldar, fret for their safety, but somehow, she knew they would look after each other in their own way. Feldar would protect Benzir and pretend he was doing no such thing, while Benzir would assure Feldar he knew he wasn’t.
No one is perfect, not Ezrah, not Feldar. But I sometimes wonder if we were made to err, so that we can continue to learn. But what if those mistakes are not perceived? What if we ignore them and tell ourselves they never happened? An immortal life, full of unseen mistakes, is a path that leads nowhere. Only the analysing mind, the accepting mind will learn, move forwards and be better, stronger.
“Your failure to acknowledge the merits of others is your mind reminding you of your own perceived shortcomings, an attempt to chastise yourself, not others. Your animosity towards Feldar is you, telling yourself that you could not fulfil your own duty, because he did what you could have, had you lived. Your need to lead, to command, is the leader you should have been, the one you deserved to be, that should never have been held back by those who deserved it less.”
But then he reminded himself of what he had done, of how he had reacted – his self-pity and pathetic regrets. He had been weak where he knew he had once been strong, and here he was, wanting to rant, needing to control himself, hating everything, especially himself.
“Behold the mercy of gods, Ortalan. Contemplate the clemency and good will of the Mothergod. She wishes to save her world, knows that saving Naz’arán is the only way to save herself, for all the Elven Worlds are connected, in ways you may not comprehend. And a mother knows no limits before the protection of her children. No mercy, no clemency, no Squaria Feldar, however dear he is to her. There is nothing more ruthless than a mother.”
Hatred is a warrior’s nemesis. Never use it on the enemy before you. Instead, allow the love you hold for those behind you to guide your killing hand.
“And there it is. I was warned. You come here with airs of grandeur but remember, you’re nothing but a base warrior, Feldar of Naz’arán.” Feldar stepped closer to her, anger sharpening his features. Benzir tensed beside him. “Nothing but a base warrior? Mind your words, captain. No warrior is nothing. Every warrior is a brother or sister, a fighter, a loyal spirit ready to die should you command it. The least you can do is love them for it.”
Feldar shivered. The temperature was dropping, and he and Ezrah were half naked, waiting to crossflesh once more, ready to fly to war. He turned his sour gaze on his companions. “Aria might have thought things out a little better. If she can turn an elf into an Arimal, could she not have conjured the appropriate clothes to appear instead of forcing us to show our shiny white backsides to the entire world.” Tensari wheezed. “Call it divine mischief but get used to it!”
