To a writer, creating is a joyful excursion into the unknown. When I created Je’hir’s world, I didn’t know where it was going to take me. I had a theme, recover, and a blank canvas. I prayed and began writing. There are times the words don’t flow, and the action seems frozen. Writing For Honor was one of the time the words spilled easily onto the page. I hope you are enjoying the story. If you missed Part 1, go back. Part 2 will make no sense without it.
Je’hir put on a burst of speed and sprinted toward a steep rocky outcropping. If Elder Ka’nir learned he was still trying to patch the hole, he would lecture Je’hir. You must release this absurd need to recover your family’s honor. It is beyond saving. Je’hir had heard it all many times before.
“One last chance. Have to make this count.” Je’hir’s breath wheezed in and out, his leg muscles protesting the effort as he clambered up the incline leading to the rocky cliff. Soon, empty sky lay before him. He pushed off the final rock at the edge of nothing and snapped his wings open.
Tilting, he caught a swift updraft—just what he needed—and spread his wings to take advantage of the rapidly rising air. He glanced over his shoulder. Ma’nir, shook his fist, shrinking in the distance.
“Woo hoo,” Je’hir shouted, his body riding the currents like a leaf. He turned his focus to the sky dome above and adjusted his trajectory to the right a bit. The upward drift began to slow. “Alright!” Je’hir’s wings pounded against the air, strong and rhythmic; all the energy he had conserved riding the wind now released in his bid for the breach. Another minute, two, three. His outstretched hands slammed into the smooth, polished sky-dome. The shards he pressed into it sliced and burned as they fused to the surface, melting, oozing, sealing the black hole.
Exhausted, he drifted on semi-spread wings, catching the updrafts then floating downward, until he touched down near the village—stumbling but happy. He tilted his head and focused on the spot where the rift had been. Unblemished sky met his gaze.
The dome was intact once again.
Je’hir whistled as he strode into the village, his head erect, shoulders thrown back. Though he had expected an enthusiastic greeting from the tribe, pats on the back, and congratulations for his heroic deed, no one paid him any mind. Normal daily tasks and conversations took place as if nothing of note had happened.
Icy fingers traced his spine when Elder Ka’nir’s stern voice called out. “Je’hir. Je’hir. Come with me. We need to talk.”
Je’hir entered Elder Ka’nir’s tent. Ma’nir sat near the elder’s fire, a smug grin pasted across his ample face.
“I hear you are attempting to fix the breach again,” the elder said, his brows drawn together, and his mouth set in a stern line. “You’ve been told to stop. What’s been done can’t be undone.”
Je’hir’s jaw sagged as he attempted to form speech from the jumble of his mind. “Bu … but … but…” Warmth flooded through him and he knew his cheeks were probably flaming. He swallowed.
“I didn’t attempt anything. I succeeded. The breach is fixed. I’ve regained my family’s honor.” Je’hir clutched at the pride of what he had achieved even as he felt it slipping away like nothing more than an illusion.
“The sky-dome may be whole again, my boy, but you have changed nothing.”
“How can you say that Elder Ka’nir? I…”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Je’hir, though commendable, your actions cannot change the facts. Your father created the rift. He was a traitor and will be remembered as such.” Elder Ka’nir drew in a deep breath through his nose then released it with a huff. “And your mother … well … her Elvish blood has polluted your very form and brought shame to your family. Now, report to Di’nar. She has need of firewood. Be quick about it, boy.”
Je’hir swallowed his tears as he stomped toward Di’nar’s tent, mumbling to himself. “It doesn’t matter what Elder Ka’nir thinks. It doesn’t matter what any of them think.” He had achieved what he set out to do—repair the breach in the sky-dome. But even more importantly, he had won the battle in his heart. From this time forward, Je’hir would treat his parents’ memory with honor.
Well, that’s it for now, folks! Happy reading!