by Alex Lang
“Yes… and if the inquisitors decided to burn all those with raven-colored hair tomorrow, would you then blame that mop upon your head, or would you blame the persecutors?
“I… That’s not the same.”
“I don’t understand your ability, but it is a gift. It allowed you to strike back, it gave you a path to achieve your vengeance, yes? How many others can say the same?”
Kyris turned away, gazing off in the distance. “I suppose you’re right, but—”
“But you’ve made a promise to your sisters.”
Kyris nodded. “It’s not just the promise. I cannot endanger them anymore.”
“And that brings me to my offer. You join my cause, follow my orders, and I shall give you three things.” Caldir held up a finger. “First, House Curunir still wants your head and will continue to hunt you. I will ensure they trouble you no longer.
“Second…” He added another finger, then unwrapped the bundle he’d been holding to reveal the broken spear-relic. “The way I see it, this is mine. You should have come to me with this. The breach of trust aside, I will give this relic to you. And… I believe with time to study it, I can shed some time on your lineage if you are interested.” He handed the relic to Kyris.
“Third and last… You have the names of the Ormossan elders, but it will not be an easy task to convince any of them to heal Jahna. I will take care of this. I will ensure a properly skilled Ormossan is located and willing.”
Kyris gaped, overwhelmed by it all; Caldir’s rapidly delivered proposal and the significance of what was being offered, the last of which made his chest ache with hope. Kyris had thought hard on how he would make use of the list of Ormossan names, and there was no simple solution. Down that path, to those so powerful that more money held no appeal, he could only offer them one thing. And if he had to serve, Caldir was a better option than some unknown Ormossan.
“I thought you had no influence over the elders.”
“I don’t, but I know others, and I can make arrangements.” He met Kyris’s gaze. “So, that is my offer. Jahna will be healed. Your sisters will be safe. But you, you must serve.”
Kyris looked into Caldir’s tired eyes, wondering what had occurred that the man wasn’t telling him. “And what would I be doing?”
“Whatever I dictated,” Caldir said, without any of the blitheness that usually infected his speech.
Kyris had a feeling the tasks would be much different if he agreed to continue his relationship with Caldir.
He looked to Vigil and the glowing beacon, then back to the farmhouse, the light within, warm and welcoming. He heard Jahna’s faint laughter.
“I seek to entice, but I will not coerce,” Caldir offered. “You are free to refuse. If you do so, the horses are yours. My men and I will be gone by tomorrow, and you need never see us again. However, if you decide to do this, much will hinge on you—I would need your absolute commitment and conviction. There will be no going back.”
Kyris tightened his grip on the shaft of the relic-spear. “For how long would I serve?” Even as he asked the question, regardless if the answer was his entire life, he knew he would agree as long as it meant restoring Jahna’s sight.
“Until the Imperium rule no more, and… that may be far sooner than you expect.”
“How so?”
“Do we have an accord?”
Kyris held out his hand, and Caldir clasped it with his own, a brief expression of relief fluttering across his face but turning into one of resolve.
“What now?” Kyris asked.
Caldir gestured out towards the city. “Hmm. To start, I thought we could kill the archon.”