Hold On

(1 Ivastaen 5119, Wehnimer’s Landing: Silvergate Inn)

There was an urgent knock at her door.

“Now that is odd,” she spoke to herself as she went over to see what was up.

“Lady, there is a messenger downstairs who has come for you. I have already called an empath. Please, come!” The man was in the livery of the Silvergate Inn, she knew him. Jonah. He was usually joking and cheerful. If the words had not already put her on alert, his manner certainly would have.

“Empath?” Her heart was caught somewhere between her thoughts, and none of them were good. She followed him quickly down the stairs and into the private lounge, scared of what she would find. Scared of what she would not find.

She saw the uniform first and cried out. As the empath shifted position, she could see the elf’s face, and it was not Aetheri. But the sailor was grievously wounded. He tried to sit up, the healer would have none of that. He reached into his jacket and spoke. Ragged breathing made him difficult to understand.

“Luxelle,” she heard her own name in Elven from the patient.

“I am Luxelle,” she softly spoke back to him in Elven, drawing closer.

He pushed the letter into her hands. Hers were trembling. His were under control and then the empath gave her a stern look and Luxelle quickly got out of the way, letting the healer work at her craft. The sailor sank back and relaxed under the tender, healing care.

She stared at the letter, recognizing Aetheri’s seal on it, instantly. She fought back tears.

“Do not borrow trouble ahead of time,” she remembered one of her Gram’s favorite bits of wisdom.

With that, she opened the letter, scanning it quickly. It was in Aetheri’s hand, she was slightly relieved, but looked worriedly towards the sailor who was being healed. The letter had details, including the name of the messenger.

“He is called Kryeck Wavestrider,” Luxelle tells everyone. “He was already wounded when he set out to deliver this. My husband …,” her voice began to catch, but years of training took over and she continued.

“My husband sent him here to be healed after he was injured defending an island and its people.” Then her voice trailed off and she read the rest of the letter. The news sounded dire to her. Supplies were low, replacements are few, and may not be there in time. Her fingers touched the paper where Lord Artie’s name, was, too.

“It seems they have a great plan to defeat their enemy, and then Aetheri, and all of them, can come home!” She announced this in a joy-filled voice to everyone. There was a soft moan from the patient.

“How is he?” She inquired about the injured elf.

The empath tilted  a single hand back and forth, wordlessly, then ended it with a thumbs up.

She reached for a very thin piece of vellum and began a letter to her beloved Aetheri.

My dearest,

Your sailor is being healed as I write this. He is in great hands, but I gather he may have arrived here in very poor condition. I read over your letter with no small concern, but I know that you and the other officers and Mage Captains will have an amazing plan to thwart this terrible pirate’s efforts. I will pray for your safety, your success, and your safe trip home.

I must keep this letter small so the messenger bird can get it to you, your sailor needs a few days to recover.

I will hold you to the promise of coming home soon. I pray the Lord of Dreams keep you from all harm. I have missed you so, and eagerly await news from you.

All my love,


She hastily writes a P.S. and then kisses the paper. She folds and rolls up the delicate paper the letter is written on, caching it in a tiny container, which she secures upon the messenger bird. Singing in high, mysterious sounding phrases at the bird, she holds it on her arm and heads out to the courtyard to loose him on his errand.

Then she bursts into tears and runs into the night to the Shrine of Dreams.

Author: GSBardess

A young bardess named Luxelle is currently learning her trade and hoping to one day make a name for her songs in GemStone IV. Follow along with her adventures in life and song.

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