~My apologies in advance for the font size change halfway through the post. I've tried editing it in all the ways I can think of, but nothing seems to work. :-(
Saying goodbye for the final time to someone who was larger than life itself is a task that appears impossible. It is something that one avoids thinking about, hoping that somehow that day will never come. And yet, the mind tells you it will. The question is, how do you go on?
A tall, slender woman carefully picked her way along a narrow, dangerous footpath winding to the top of a forest-covered mountain. Her journey was made harder by the wrapped bundle she carried under one arm. It appeared to be made of cloth, wrapped around a wooden pole a bit shorter than something one would use for a spear. To the eye, it was plain and impractical. But, something that was interwoven into Mekara's life was the knowledge that the truth often lay beneath a surface that tricked the eye of the careless observer, and thus was revealed only to those who truly cared, those who took the time to learn.
In the distance the crashing roar of a waterfall gave the reason for the humidity in the air. Shade fell across the path as the trees blocked the sunlight. To one side there was a dangerous fall down the steep side of the mountain. Mekara paused and looked back, and then she looked forward. Momentarily she closed her eyes. Her garb was well-made, but simple, the uniform of an officer with a practical mind. Unthinkingly she shifted the position of the burden she carried before continuing her upwards climb. Her hair was brownish-blonde with glints that caught in the sunlight, and currently it was intricately braided down her back. Only the most keen-sighted would have thought to wonder why it covered her ears, concealing the delicate upswept points that were one of two obvious physical traits that she was not human. The other was her eyebrows, slightly darker than her hair, also curving upwards slightly towards the ends. Like her mother, like her father, Mekara combined traits of both races as she moved with the feline surefootedness and jungle grace of her Ylijumalat father. Combined with the lethal efficiency of her Rihannsu mother, Mekara was in many ways unique, the leading edge of a new generation.
Wind blew through her hair lightly, a refreshing breeze as she continued her solitary path. Moving as silently as Mekara herself, a shadow moved in the darkness of the forest, rarely approaching the patches of brilliant sunlight.
Mekara moved with the walk of someone who had a definite purpose. "It has been far too long..." she reflected to herself. "I should have done this long ago, but I suppose I could not admit... that she would never return again."
In life, Ael t'Rllaillieu had commonly been known as 'Jade.' She had lived through more than most people cared to imagine, seen both the bright and the dark sides of life, and risen to the pinnacle of achievement. Yet, she never sought the limelight, instead preferring anonymity. Imperial commander in the Galae Fleet division, Grand Master of the Jedi Order on Coruscant, governor of a planet, assassin, spy... but always a warrior following the Way of D'era, living for Mnhei'sahe. She had lived a life of sadness, finally after many years finding happiness with her husband, Nyyrikki Tuoni, after their first, initially stormy meeting. The fiery, petite warrior had hated him with an icy-cold loathing...at first. The road for both of them together had been hard, one culture crashing into another and both trying to learn how to live together, something they had finally achieved because they both thought it worth the effort. And now... though Mekara tried to emulate them both...they were gone...and she was left.
It was hard to imagine the short, barely five feet tall, woman with the magnetic green eyes revealing her vibrant personality and the will to fight on, as the still, calm woman who had been laid to rest with the quiet state that she herself might have approved of. In her heart though, Mekara remembered the quiet smile that had curved her stony cold lips framed in their last sleep. Though perhaps it wasn't quite the death the warrior would have chosen for herself... or maybe happiness and Nyrrikki had changed her mind over time.
Mekara did not know, and that was not for her to decide. What she had to do, was fulfil the demands of culture, history, tradition, and Mnhei'sahe. Cast out by her own people for attempting to bring honour back into society, Ael had taught her daughter her past, her history, respect for her family, and the things she must never forget. If she listened closely, Mekara could almost hear the firm, dignified voice of her mother answering her own childish question about why she had stood up to the Praetorate. "Ahr'lhonaema ihirer hotaessraei hwiunaier iarr'voi ortaihkhevha na sienov." (It is cowardice to be reluctant to take up the sword for a just cause.)
Now, the years themselves could have proven that Mekara had sincerely sworn her oath to live the path of Mnhei-sahe. At her waist, next to the disruptor in its holster, antique sheathe held the knife that had accompanied Ael throughout her entire life, the famous honorblade that many had put a price on well-knowing that a Rihanha would never be separated from that blade while alive. It had never left Mekara since she first laced it to her belt, and its presence was as reassuring and comforting to her as it had been to her mother.
Finally, the path was less steep as the summit was reached, and the trees gave way to the sun. Stepping aside from the path, a quiet pool could be seen where the water was not yet in its outraged form before it reached the falls. Close to the water's edge was a tree, almost solitary. From its age, it seemed to have weathered many storms. Mekara slowly unwrapped the cloth bundle she had carried with her. As the heavy fabric unrolled, upon the blood-green background was stitched in precise, careful embroidery of the strong Rihannsu calligraphy, four letters in black and gold. Keeping her features calm, though she swallowed with difficulty, Mekara stepped forward in the last rite for the dead, according to thousands of years of tradition.
With the cords she had brought for the purpose, Mekara lashed the carefully wrought pennant to the tree, smiling sadly as the wind whipped it out to its full length. As the cloth flapped in the wind, she looked steadily at the four letters, blinking as if to keep back tears, even though physiologically crying was impossible for her. "My deepest apologies, mother. Many should be here...all those who clamoured for your death...all those who laid prices on your head... you truly were the t'liss, the bird-of-prey... when they attempted to cut your head off, your talons never released their death-grip on the necks of the corrupt ones." Mekara's voice was low and quiet, not breaking the splendid harmony of the beautiful scene, wild and untamed, dangerous in its own right.
Slowly, she drew herself to her full height, and spoke four words aloud...a name. "Ael." Her mother's character name, followed by her place name, then her House name, "t'Rllaillieu." At length, another, the name many people had known her as, "Jade." Finally, in a whisper that only the wind could hear...her mother's fifth name...the name so private that it was known only to her mother, her father, and lastly, herself. And then, in the time-honoured fashion of the Galae Fleet, Mekara saluted the pennant as it whipped in the wind, right hand palm out to view, then placed against the chest in a fist, followed by a curt bow.
And then... almost as she had come, Mekara turned...and walked away, down the path she had previously used, returning to her life and her active living out of the ways of her mother, as she would have wished. She suddenly closed her eyes, it had been as if once more in front of her she had seen the almost ageless beauty of her mother, black hair upswept around her head, green eyes brilliant in the light, and her final smile of approval upon the work of her daughter. The approval of the commander, for the centurion. The approval of a Rihanha, for a fellow Rihanha. Upon impulse, Mekara stopped and looked back, then unsheathed the honorblade at her waist and held it high. The sun glinted off the blade, then quickly she made a shallow cut across her left palm, only a few drops of blood on the blade before resheathing it. She had showed it to its owner for the last time...always remembering that the blade of honour must see blood before it was hidden again. Then... she returned to her path...leading to the future...to the stars... but always Mnhei'sahe.
That name-flag would stand for years...until after Mekara herself had begun a different journey... but one other had been a witness... padding silently out of the trees, the four-footed feline predatory vornskyr that had been Jade's pet for many years, won in a duel, stepped into a watchful place at the foot of the tree from which the flag hung. There, Selaya sat down on her hind legs, her poisonous whip-tail curled around herself, her long pointed ears twitching slightly, and her eyes gazing into the distance. Untamed, the predatory feline had had a strange acquaintance with her mistress...both of them alike in so many ways...untamed, deadly, restless...fighting... and so the vornskyr became the silent watcher...
Even though Jade herself was gone...Mnhei'sahe lived on, in the person of her daughter...and the others who had not succumbed to the quiet lies of the Praetorate...those who had risen... and joined the fight.
"Thei'nnaenahrat draaomel na leih, mrht p'tned-pra'krsh thei'mnyiekher draes mneihma'eyevha ihfvehkh'nra uae s'mnhei'sahe'hel." - Nnerhin tr'Liemha
("You may carry off from an army its commander, but you can never force the humblest man of virtue from his Mnhei'sahe." - Nnerhin tr'Liemha)
The humans have the legend of a strange bird, the Phoenix. Only seen once every hundred years, it dies in fire...but from its ashes, the new Phoenix is born...
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