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Ardiri sighed and leaned back against a tree, turning her weathered and wrinkled face up to the summer sun. She insisted on collecting the first of the summer berries herself every year, as was her right as head cook of the estate, but this year the minor task had been harder than usual. Age was creeping into her bones; she was nearly one hundred and thirty cycles old now, a truly respectable age. She was an Elder of the Clan now, a position she had never really aspired to, but one that she found rewarding in its own way.
“Aunt Ardiri!” a strong voice called from near the house, and she straightened up, moving to meet her only niece.
The years had been good to Fara. Now Alyt of her own ship again after serving a second term as Shai Alyt, she was a highly respected Warrior. Rumour had it that she would be nominated as Shai Alyt again in a few years when the current leader stepped down.
“What is it, child?” Ardiri asked, coming into a more reasonable speaking range.
“Dad sent me to find you,” Fara said, her eyes troubled. “I think Papa’s taken a turn for the worse.”
Ardiri sighed and nodded, picking up her pace slightly. They’d been expecting it for months now; the human Ranger was ancient by his people’s standards. It was probably only the slightly more advanced Minbari medical techniques that had allowed him to live so long; he was more than one hundred and twenty human years old. He had been fading swiftly this past winter, though, sitting in his chair by the fire and dozing off at random intervals when even just the year before he would have been out engaging in pitched battles in the snow with the Clan’s children.
It was as if, having burned brighter than a sun for so many years, the energy that had allowed him to change the universe had finally just burned itself out, a bonfire fading away to coals rather than a star going nova. It was not a glorious end for a Warrior as impressive as Marcus Cole had been, but Ardiri thought it was the end he deserved after a lifetime of hardship and struggles; to fade quietly in the arms of those he loved, his children and grandchildren by his side.
“Dad’s not taking it well,” Fara admitted as they entered the sprawling complex of buildings that housed the Star Riders Clan.
“Of course not,” Ardiri snorted. “Neither will you, when your husband’s time comes. Neither will I, for that matter. No one ever does. The way we Minbari love, how can any of us take such a thing well? But Neroon will remain strong as long as he needs to. My brother will never let Marcus see him fall apart, not like this.”
Fara nodded and remained silent. Ardiri felt for the girl; she remembered all too well watching as her own parents reached the end of their lives some decades ago. It had been difficult to watch Nerlin fade away, but it had almost been harder to watch Ardminn bear up under the strain with the poise she’d learned as a young girl in the temple. It hadn’t been more than a month later that they’d found her in their rooms, dead from no discernable cause. It was often thus with Minbari who died of age; their mates simply followed them quietly, without any medical cause. No one ever attempted to save such a person; at that point, death was the kindest option. Let them be reborn to travel another lifetime together.
“Neroon?” Ardiri called softly, entering her brother’s chambers and setting the basket of berries she’d almost forgotten she was carrying down by the door.
“In here,” Neroon called from the bedroom. Ardiri followed his voice, and stopped at the threshold.
“What is it?” she asked quietly, seeing the pale form on the bed breathing shallowly and intermittently.
“Nothing that can be cured,” Neroon admitted quietly, the desperation in his voice sheathed in an iron coating of control. “The doctor from the Anla’Shok facility has already come and gone. There’s nothing to be done anymore.”
Ardiri’s throat tightened with tears, and she came to join her brother’s vigil, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a human gesture learned from the man before them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be,” a halting whisper came from the bed. “I’ve had more time… than I should have. More than… I expected. And it has been… wonderful,” Marcus smiled up at them, green eyes still bright and clear in a face lined with the marks of age. His thick white hair, shorter now than it had been but still a wonder to his Minbari family, spread around him on the pillow. Neroon reached down to brush a strand of it off his forehead.
Marcus caught his hand in one that trembled slightly. “Neroon, it’s time,” he said quietly.
Ardiri turned away; this moment was not one she should witness. Whatever her brother and his human mala had to share in their final moments, they deserved to do so in peace. She made her way out to the sitting room and settled in to wait.
Lennier and Helacann found her there, their own steps slower these days than they had been when she’d first known them. Fara and her family came a moment later and they sat vigil for some time, each wrapped in their own quiet thoughts. The only sound was the occasional snuffle of a young child, Fara’s third, presented to them not quite a year before.
Neroon finally came out of the room, eyes shadowed with pain. “He wishes to see you again,” he said quietly. “All of you.”
They got up, sorting themselves into some kind of order. First the older grandchildren, hugging their human grandfather tight. Then Fara and her husband, spending some minutes by his side. They were smiling when they left, and Ardiri thought she saw an old familiar twinkle in Marcus’ eyes. She took her turn, leaning down to wrap gentle arms around the man who had become her brother.
“Take care of him,” Marcus begged her quietly.
“I will,” she promised. “Wait for him, wherever you go next?”
Marcus smiled. “If it is within my power, I will wait for him,” he promised. She bowed and turned to go, but he called her back softly. “Ardiri,” he began slowly, “When I first came… when I first asked to marry your brother…”
“Please, Marcus, don’t speak of those days,” Ardiri begged. Her behaviour back then had been shameful, resenting the young human and hating the change he brought to her world.
“No, I must. I… know that it was difficult for you to know me, in the beginning. But I wanted you to know… of everyone I have ever known… you are one of only two women I have loved enough to call my sister.”
Ardiri could find no words; she bowed as deeply as she could, and clasped his hand once before leaving the room.
Lennier and Helacann took their leave next, then joined her in waiting while Neroon returned to his mala’s side. Fara and her family would see to the arrangements; all that was left for the old people to do was to wait.
It was early the next morning before Neroon emerged again, some spark that Ardiri had never really noticed in his eyes extinguished. She wrapped her arms around him in a human hug, and he leaned into her strength gratefully. He did not weep; she did not think he would be able to for some time.
Helacann went to inform the Clan while she and Lennier helped Neroon back into the room. They arranged the Anla’Shok’s body, dressing him in the clothing Neroon chose. His isil’zha they set at his throat; Neroon had no need of it to remember his mala by and so it would be cremated along with the body. Neroon brushed his hair back carefully and gently clasped it in the silver clasp that Ardiri knew was an heirloom of Marcus’ family.
***
The funeral was held at sunset three days later, dignitaries and acquaintances gathered from all corners of the universe. Most of them had already been on Minbar, simply waiting; the event had been expected for some time. Marcus would not have recognized most of the faces there; the people he had called his friends were almost all gone now. Those who remained were there to honour Marcus of the Star Riders who had helped bring social reform to Minbar, or Marcus the Ranger who had carried out more successful missions in more war zones than any other three Rangers combined. They honoured the legend; only a small core group of the Star Riders Clan and a very few, very elderly outsiders remembered Marcus Cole the man any longer.
They played a Warrior dirge for him; Ardiri recognized it as the same one they’d played for her sister long ago when the Dralafi was lost to the humans. They played a human song she did not recognize that made Neroon’s controlled façade come close to crumbling; Ardiri would not ask what it had meant to them, but she was sure it had been special. They read pages and pages of his deeds, recited tee’la and poems from his own homeland, prayed for him according to his human faith and the faith of Minbar.
And then it was over, the dignitaries and Rangers off to the next crisis, the well-wishers trickling past her family until they were the only ones left. And then they began splitting off, the baby’s squall heralding the first departure. Finally only Neroon, Ardiri, and Lennier remained. Ardiri and Lennier bowed deeply to the simple casket and moved back, allowing Neroon to say his final goodbyes.
Neroon swallowed his emotions harshly, staring down at the simple casket that held the most important thing in his world. What could he say? Everything that mattered had been said a hundred times over, every day of their lives together. It had been in every word, every glance, every shared moment of laughter and every shared fall of tears. It was a ninety-year-long record of two lives combined in love, written on both their souls.
Finally Neroon simply bowed, laying the rose that had adorned Marcus’ altar for as long as he’d known the young human atop the casket. If Fara wished to continue the tradition, she could cut a new one from the bush that grew in the courtyard.
“Goodbye, my love,” Neroon murmured softly. “Until we meet again in a place where no shadows fall.” He turned away and did not look back as members of the Clan took the casket to be cremated.
***
Neroon walked along the old familiar pathways of the estate a few weeks later, leaning heavily on the cane that had once belonged to his Aunt Aalann. The rest of the Clan refrained from interrupting him, even though he knew well they watched from various locations as he passed.
He was just reaching the edge of the forest that bordered the living complex when Fara caught up to him. She’d grown into such a beautiful woman, he reflected yet again. He wasn’t sure what he and Marcus had done right in raising her, but it was obviously something. He could have asked for no better life for her than the one she currently lived.
“Dad?” she asked, falling into step beside him. “How are you doing?”
Neroon kept walking. “It’s funny,” he observed instead of answering her. “Nothing’s changed, but everything has. The universe keeps going; Minbar keeps turning, the crops spring up in the fields. But without…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.
“He was always going to die before you,” Fara pointed out gently. “He was human. But if it means anything… we all miss him. Not as much as you, but we loved him as well.”
“And yet life here goes on without him,” Neroon murmured, looking around at the fields.
“Yes,” Fara agreed. “But look around you. He’s here everywhere. The kids are playing human tag in the fields, the farmers are singing human folksongs, Aunt Ardiri is pressing the apples so we can have not-quite-cider this winter…” she trailed off.
“Everything keeps turning,” Neroon murmured again. His eyes, still sharp despite his advanced age, finally focused on his daughter. “Oh God, Fara,” he choked, unable to get the rest of whatever he wanted to say out. It was the first time in his life he’d called on Marcus’ human deity instead of Valen. The tears he’d held at bay for weeks finally came, flooding down his face. “Oh God. What do I do without him?”
Fara had no answer; she simply held him as he broke down and wept under the brilliant summer sun.
***
As if his emotional outburst had lanced away the fog in his mind, Neroon awoke the next day refreshed, feeling energetic in a way he hadn’t for years. Looking out his window he could tell it would be a beautiful day, and before the rest of the family was even awake he had slipped out of his rooms. He went dressed in his old uniform, the one he had worn when courting Marcus, and he took with him only the urn that held his mala’s remains.
He stopped in the courtyard for a moment, leaning down to breathe the scent of the exotic rosebush that grew there. He quietly spread some of the ashes he carried around the base of the bush; it was the only way he had of connecting Marcus to his ancestors, since he could not return the human to Earth to the small graveyard that held the remains of the rest of the Coles. It might have been his imagination, but he thought one of the new buds on the bush bowed to him as he stood creakily and walked on.
He took a flyer; in his youth he could have walked to his destination in a day, but now it was more of a challenge than he could face. He left the machine at the base of Sus’Torr, though, taking the last leg of his journey on foot. It was the same path he’d walked up with Marcus long ago when they were courting; what had been a treacherous climb in the deep Minbari winter was a pleasant hike now in summer, and some hours later he reached the plateau at the summit.
He could see forever from up here; it seemed as though he could see all of Minbar spreading beneath him. It was not the same Minbar he had known; he was one of the few elders left who remembered a Minbar before the humans had come, first as enemies and then as allies and now, tentatively still, as kin. He smiled looking down on it; it was not the same Minbar he had known. But for those who came after him, it was a better Minbar.
Sighing, beginning to feel the climb in old bones grown weary, he sat on the grassy ground and opened the urn. Marcus’ spirit had been too great in life to be confined; Neroon could not bear to confine him even symbolically in death. He held the urn out and allowed the ashes to blow away, caught on the strong updrafts of the mountains. Let his mala become part of the planet he had worked so long and tirelessly to protect. Let Marcus become part of Minbar, as Minbar had always been part of him.
It was almost time; Neroon could see the sun dipping towards the horizon. He smiled and turned, choosing a comfortable spot to sit and wait for his family to catch up with him.
As the sun dipped further and lit the top of the mountain with fire he saw, shimmering in the fading light, the image of a young Warrior holding his smiling ma’fela close as they watched a long-forgotten sunset from this very spot.
***
When Fara reached the top of Sus’Torr the next morning she sighed. Neroon sat against a boulder, his hand resting on the empty urn that had held Marcus’ ashes. His eyes were open to watch the sunset, and the expression on his face was one she could not really define. It was as though he had been burned away, in his last moments, until all that was left to be seen was the true essence of what he had been; honourable Warrior, soul-seeking priest, revolutionary, visionary. But above all, a man desperately in love with Marcus Cole.
They scattered his ashes from Sus’Torr a week later, but Fara made sure to keep a small bit aside to place beneath the family rosebush. Her father had, after all, been a Cole as well.
THE END