Barrett's Trip to Limbo

Pain. Sheering, burning, white hot pain. That is what Barrett felt as he touched the mythallar, waking from his unconscious state for but a moment. The pain wracking the last breaths from his body, the last energy from his ki. This is how it ends.
But then, the white hot just turned to white. He feels his body rising up, into the darkness but surrounded by light. Higher and higher. Is this the afterlife? Is this what it feels like to take your place alongside so many others who have fought and died valiantly in Valkur’s name?
Below him, the Roaming Isle. It’s sparkling waves crashing against the cliffsides. All bathed in gleaming white light. It has never seemed so beautiful as it does right now. Soaring and flying high above the sea, above the Sea of Moonshae where he perfected his ability to sail. Then over Oman’s Isle, its lush green jungles almost staring back up at him. Finally, he crosses over the peaks of Moray, then hovers over a small, non-descript island, not much more than a rock really. He feels his body slowly descending to the surface, everything still bathed in bright white light. As Barrett’s feet touch the surface of Atheston, he doesn’t feel the pressure of gravity. He is on the ground and can walk but still feels somehow… above.
The small hut stands right where Barrett remembered it but now it is bathed in shimmering light. A small pot steams above an open campfire and the smell of a fresh stew wafts under Barrett’s nose. Slowly, Yelqen emerges from his hut. He stirs the stew, apparently unaware of Barrett’s ghostly presence. With a large wooden spoon he slowly brings some to his mouth. A slow slurp and a pleased look, it is obvious to Barrett that the soup is delicious.
Barrett stands nearby and watches as the tortle slowly goes about his business gathering a bowl and a napkin, filling the bowl with stew, obviously forgetting a spoon in his tent and then, finally, sitting on a log near the fire to begin to eat. Slurrrp. Yelqen is a slow, loud, and messy eater. Barrett can’t help but crack a smile at the tortle as he watches him slowly eat his stew.
After a few minutes pass, Barrett realizes he’s been staring too long and turns to leave, to explore some other new area, when he hears Yelqen’s low voice, “I really wasn’t expecting you so soon, Master Thunderwood. Won’t you please take a seat.” Without waiting to see if Barrett seats himself, the tortle continues. “Quite the journey you’ve had, to get here. And to think, a sailor turned tavern-keeper would find himself the hero of a story such as this. Quite the journey indeed.” Yelqen continues telling anecdotes of Barrett’s journey to this point. He laughs at the funny moments and wanes somber for the conflicts. Before Barrett even realizes, Yelqen has recounted most of Barrett’s life after leaving the Roaming Isle barely missing a single detail.
“Hehe. Well, good times and bad, good times and bad, Master Thunderwood. But, I have bent your ear long enough, I suppose. There is someone here to see you. Ok!” he shouts towards his tent. “Thank you for your patience, you can come out now, lad!”
Emerging from the tent, Barrett sees what appears to be some sort of ranger. A bow across his back, sword in a sheath and several daggers strapped in various places indicate this fellow is ready for whatever might come his way. He wears a long cape of green lined trimmed with a brown leather of sorts. As he lays back the hood a mop of blonde hair explodes. The ranger cannot be but 12 or 13. Barrett suddenly recognizes the boy’s face, thought it seems much older than he remembers. Ander Blackwood strides to a log by the fire and takes a seat. He picks up a stick and pokes the fire and Barrett instantly sees the boy he once was underneath his new armor and weapons. After a long pause, Ander looks up, a single tear on his tear-stained cheek. “Hi Barrett. I had to see you. I still need your help. I can’t do this alone. Please, tell me, do you want this…” he gestures at the beautiful sea bathed in golden light, “…to be your end?”
Barrett instinctively knows that all of this is real...and yet it's not "reality" as he's known it.  He's pretty sure that mundane things like time and distance don't follow the same rules here, although he guesses that even here there are some set of rules.  He'll figure them out as he goes along, he supposes.
He looks again at the boy, fixing this new image of him in his mind's eye.  It is going to take some getting used to.  Along with the sword and some other adventuring gear, Barrett sees a hand-crafted war club hanging by a lanyard on his belt.  Upon the ironwood club is carved the totem of a bear.  Barrett remembers carving this one, and a matching one, for Ander and Maran ages ago.  Or so it seems.
"Do you want this to be your end?"
Such a direct question, yet one with layers of subtext and meaning.
He walks to Yelqen's stew pot, absently pulling his mess kit from his pack.  A raised, questioning eyebrow directed at Yelqen receives a confirming nod, so he ladles a few spoonful’s into his bowl.  Then, turning his back to the tortle and the boy, he carries the steaming bowl to the edge of the plateau and the unobstructed view of the sea.
He's not aware of being hungry, but having something to occupy his hands has always given his mind better focus.  While on lookout duty at the top of the mast head, he would practice tying knots without looking down.  Keeping his eyes on the sea, but letting his hands autonomously do their thing, keeps him mentally alert.
"Do you want this to be your end?"
Between sips of stew - which more than delivers on the delicious promise made by the rising steam - he contemplates the beauty of the golden sea.  Everyone thinks of the sea as being blue, but it’s not always that way.  It can be nearly any shade of green closer into shore.  It’s often grey and murky when the weather is about to turn nasty.  He’s seen it a vivid yellow during a violent squall and darker than ink under a night sky.
But this light, this golden light, turns the surface to his favorite color.  When it’s like this, the wave thrown out to either side of a ship moving under full sail is like a fountain of pure sunshine.  It makes him smile.
He’s a little surprised he can smell the salt on the breeze this far up the mountainside, but then again, if time and space follow different rules here, maybe the wind does too.
"Do you want this to be your end?"
He’s always known he wanted to return to the sea after serving the Brothers of the Roaming Isle for a time.  How much time?  Well, he assumed that was up to Valkur to decide.  And maybe Valkur has decided.  Maybe that’s what this offer is…Valkur’s invitation to spend the rest of his existence (or however time works here) sailing and exploring the everchanging sea.
“That would be nice, I think,” he says aloud through a mouthful of stew.  The wind picks up a bit, causing his tunic to flutter a little.  The sound reminds him of the flapping of sails as a breeze freshens across an open expanse of water.  “It would be very nice indeed.”
Then he notices, after several spoonful’s of the delicious stew, that without a sense of hunger, there is no real sense of fullness.  Odd.
"Do you want this to be your end?"
He thinks for a moment about how he got here.  He knew that hovering over the mythallar during the fight was risky.  However, with Tabitha and Z down, Ely disappeared, and Dhann wounded and pinned by Drezlin, Barrett felt his best option was to harass the wizard from the rear, drawing attention and danger away from his friends.
So why had the mythallar betrayed them all and killed him?  It seemed to be hurting and helping Drezlin just as much as it was helping and hurting his friends.
It doesn’t really matter, he decides.  Maybe the mythallar was never on their side in the first place.  Maybe they let themselves romanticize that it needed them to save it, when all along it didn’t need them…and didn’t need saving.
"Do you want this to be your end?"
The question pulls his mind back to the present.  The present…what does that even mean?  Did that battle really happen only a few minutes ago…or was it years?  Is it still going on?  Did they win, or are his friends on their own islands with their own visions of tortles right now?  Does any of it really matter anyway?
He looks out again at the rolling ocean, still bathed in that radiant, golden light.  It doesn’t matter, he decides.  He, nor his friends, were really going to change the course of history – that’s just more romantic nonsense.  In the end, it is all an exercise in futility.
He blindly scoops for another spoonful, but his spoon finds only the bottom of an empty bowl.  Futility.
With the stew no longer serving as a distraction, he turns and walks back to the hut.  He looks to Yelqen, contently slurping his own bowl of stew.  Ander still sits, awaiting Barrett’s response.  How long was he over there eating that stew and looking at the ocean?  A minute?  A year?  An eon?
"Do you want this to be your end?"
“Yes,” Barrett answers, casting his gaze back out over the golden sea and catching the smell of the salt again on the breeze, “I very much want this to be my end.”
Barrett is a little surprised at how easy the words fall from his lips, but he knows in his heart this is the truth.  He inhales another deep breath of the salty air and it feels good.  It feels right.  His eyes trace the flight of a cormorant winging overhead, then watches as the seabird departs out over the golden ocean, chasing the setting sun.
There’s a deep peace at having said it aloud…and yet something is still nagging at him.  Something else that must be said.  But having reached this state of peace, he is reluctant to say it.
As he looks back to read Ander’s reaction, his eyes fall on the hand-carved war club with the bear totem.  The club gives him the courage to continue, pushing him past his own desire for his own happy ending.
“However,” he says with an unforced smile, locking eyes with the lad, “I promised you, your brother and the rest of the Trollmates - and your mother - that I would help you as long as you needed me.  So, if you still need me, and if Valkur wills it, I will go back and continue on.”
“All I ask is that as soon as my help is no longer required, I can return here, in this form and to this place, to finish out my existence in peace.  If I’ve earned it.”
Just finishing a mouthful of stew, Yelqen finally looks up after listening carefully to the exchange. "Young man," he says kindly to Ander. "As you know, our ways are of honor and duty. Do you think it wise or honorable to ask more of this man who has already given literally everything?"
Ander sits in silence for quite a while, poking the fire and looking much more like a young boy than his warrior garb would let on. Finally, he looks up at Barrett. "You said 'if Valkur wills it.' I don't really understand the gods very well. But, Valkur sent you here to complete a task. I think, maybe, I came alone and interfered." He finally looks up again and now tears are streaming heavily down his cheek. "You need rest and it is not fair of me to ask more from you. He picks up his club again and, through tears, "I know I can count on your friends. I know they're ready. But... I will miss you." He stands, and runs to Barrett for an unexpected hug. Before Barrett can say anything else, Ander runs into Yelqen's tent from which a flash of light can be seen as Ander returns to wherever he had been.
Yelqen smiles and directs Barrett's attention to a small boat which has just appeared, floating just at the edge of the island. It is jut the right size for one person with only one sail. While she isn't gilded in gold, she shines as though she is. Yelqen walks with Barrett toward the boat and beckons for him to board.
Barrett boards the boat, and with a few last words for Yelqen, turns it away from the island and sails it across the air, down to the golden sea and toward the setting sun in the distance. He has earned his rest.
As Barrett floats through the sky, high above the water, he is surrounded by a golden light. It reflects so brightly off of everything, his tunic, the sail, the unmoving oars. The air around him is warm and pleasant and the smell of the ocean below is fresh and almost intoxicating. With eyes closed, he begins to sink into a deep meditative state until everything around him, leaves his perception. He is now truly, and utterly alone. But, instead of fear or loneliness, this instills in him a true sense of peace.
The boat continues to sail onward, slowly dropping in altitude until it settles onto a shimmering sea of gold, orange, pink and purple as if it forever reflects the beauty of a sunset.
As Barrett continues to meditate, he reviews his life. His training, his friends, his homes old and new.  Oddly, he is able to recall every event from his life in very specific detail from the moment of his birth all the way through to his death some 200 years later.
He's certainly seen and done a lot.  The time before he was a sailor was pleasant, but...domestic.  Mundane.  He never felt completely at home with the elves, always looking for a bigger adventure.
During his life at sea, he had certainly found the adventure he craved, but there was always something else missing: purpose.  The adventure would fill him up for the moment, but without an overriding purpose, it left him unsatisfied and empty and ultimately started him down a darker path.  A path that was interrupted by a storm at sea...
The ten years on the island, at the monastery, had certainly shown him his purpose.  But towards the end he could feel the adventure itch starting to grow again.  So it was with great anticipation that he set out, under orders from Abbot Tank and Friar Stardust, to go out into the world to serve as Valkur directed him to serve.
With his new crew, he had found not only adventure again, but this time there was purpose welded firmly to it.  And something else: friendship.  That is why, even though the idea of sailing these magical seas was appealing to him and ultimately what he wanted, he had offered his help to Ander, and the others, if Ander decided he still needed him.
The boat continues to float, unaided by wind or oars. When Barrett finally opens his eyes, he sees Yelqen, the old monk-tortle sitting in the front of the boat staring at him in silence.
Finally, Yelqen speaks: "You have been at sea for a year now. You have mediated and processed so much about your life. You have, I believe, rested. The boy brought this to me, for when you were ready to return."
He holds out his scaly hand and, inside it, you see a small seed shaped object, glowing brightly in white.
"You must swallow this. It will not be pleasant and I'm afraid I've nothing to help you wash it down with. Your journey back will be hard and you will be diminished for some time after you return. Such is the way of these things. But, after you recover, you will find yourself with new perspectives and you will understand more about the world around you and how ki flows through it all.
"Be sure of your decision. You are again at a cross roads. You can, if you choose, give the seed back to me. You will continue your sailing until you reach Valkur and your material life will end. Or, swallow this and you will be able to return. The choice is yours, once again."
A year?  Barrett reflects on this.  A year doesn't feel right.  It can't have been more than a few hours...but at the same time, it can't have been less than a decade.
Finally, he nods to the ancient tortle.  Time is funny here.  And ultimately, what did it matter any way?  One thing was true; he did feel rested.  One of the reasons he was sure he was rested was that the adventure itch had started, ever so slightly, to return.
"If Ander gave this to you, he must still need me.  I promised him I would help, and help I will."
Barrett takes the seed and admires it for a moment, holding it up against the darker part of the perpetual sunset sky between his thumb and first finger.  There are a few stars twinkling there and for a moment, the seed seems to blend in with them, forming the missing piece of a constellation which vaguely forms the shape of a tree.
He knows he has a choice...but does he really?  His purpose is clear, he's got the itch for adventure and he has friends who need him.  There may be a choice, but it's an easy one to make.
Taking the seed, Barrett places it in his mouth and swallows, hard. It does not go down easy but, well, it is done. He looks at Yelqen who scowls a bit, "I'd hoped you'd choose rest. But, it is done. I will see you again, that is certain but, for now, farewell, Mr. Thunderwood. And may Valkur's blessing lead you to victory." He smiles one last time then scrunches his eyes as if something terrible is coming. You wonder why he would make a face like that and then, the pain hits. If feels as if your insides are ripping their way out of your body. For a moment you think that perhaps you've been tricked somehow. You look down to see a small crack forming in your abdomen. It gets longer and stretches up your chest. Now you feel it too. The pain rises up your neck and to the side of your face and then the crack opens wide. White light bursts forth from within it and begins to wrap around the outside of your body. The pain is unbearable as you see your entire body essentially turn inside out but where gore and entrails should be there is only light escaping from the inside. It quickly takes over the rest of your body and wraps you in light and finally the pain stops. Barrett, it appears is no longer. In his place, on the boat, is a small white seed. Yelqen picks it up and somehow, you hear, "Valkur's blessing, young one."