by Sarah Hawke
Rohen glanced between the girls, still in shock. “Sehris…”
“I’ve known the truth for a long time,” the dark elf said, gently brushing her fingers through Delaryn’s hair.
“You…what?” Zin repeated, mouth agape. “How is that…do you have any idea what would happen if the other Keepers found out?”
“Of course I do!” Sehris said, swiveling her violet eyes to glare at him. “That’s exactly why we kept it secret!”
Zin swallowed and shook his head. “Watcher forgive us,” he breathed. “This is…”
“She couldn’t go to the Galespire, Adrien,” Sehris told him as she held Delaryn’s hand again. “The Keepers never would have spared Delaryn. They would have put her to the torch right then and there!”
Zin glanced between the two girls, still paralyzed by the revelation, before he swore under his breath and spun away. It took him almost a full minute before he finally spun back around. “Do you have any idea what this means? If anyone learns the truth—”
“They’re not going to learn the truth,” Rohen said, grabbing his friend’s shoulder. “And to be honest, right now we have bigger problems.”
“The people will blame her regardless,” Sehris said. “The rumors were already spreading through Dorelas before we left. The instant Galavir told us the news, everyone was convinced that the Chol must have been drawn by the daughter of the Winter Witch. They believed the gods were punishing Thedric for showing mercy to a heretic.”
“All of which helps the general’s cause even more,” Rohen said.
Zin pursed his lips as he turned to face Delaryn. “Then we have to tell everyone that you’re alive. You’re still the High Queen. You could—”
“I can’t do anything,” Delaryn snapped. “If the people learn that I’m alive, they’ll just be more convinced that I’m responsible for the Chol. They will assume I orchestrated the whole thing to avenge my father and take over Darenthi. Galavir will become even more popular.”
“She’s right,” Rohen lamented. “We can’t tell anyone that she’s alive or that she’s here. Not until we find help.”
“Help?” Zin asked. “Who in the bloody void do you think is going to help?”
Rohen pursed his lips as a harrowing silence fell over the tower. He strode back across the chamber yet again, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides as he tried to think through the possibilities. Between his anxiety, the fire, and his incessant pacing, he was starting to sweat despite the frigid temperatures outside. He took off his cloak and tossed it on one of the empty workbenches.
“Do you know where Galavir is now?” he asked.
“Probably still coordinating with his other officers,” Zin said. “Major Thorne arrived a few hours before you did. I believe he was planning on leading a scouting patrol north in the morning.”
Rohen nodded and turned back to Delaryn. “We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes us and—”
“What is that?” Sehris asked.
Rohen frowned and followed the dark elf’s violet eyes down to his belt. He belatedly realized that the wraithblade dagger was still glowing faintly in its sheath.
“Oh, the Lord Protector gave this to the king,” he said, drawing the short blade. “He had the artificers forge him a wraithblade.”
Zin frowned. “I thought Templar were the only ones allowed to carry them.”
“So did I, but apparently Kraythe made an exception.”
“That’s strange,” Zin murmured. “I doubt the Lady Seeker will be happy when she finds out. She might even declare it an act of heresy.”
“At this point, even she will have bigger problems to deal with,” Rohen said. “There’s something wrong with it, anyway. The damn thing has been glowing ever since we left Whitefeather Hold even when there aren’t any Chol nearby.”
Sehris shook her head. “That’s because it’s not a wraithblade.”
Rohen paused. “What?”
“It’s not a wraithblade,” she repeated. “The aura is completely different.”
She approached him and inspected the dagger more closely. After slowly tracing her gray fingertips over the runes, she shook her head.
“This enchantment is useless,” Sehris said. “It isn’t strengthening the steel, and the blade can’t disperse into the Pale. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was a forgery.”
Rohen turned and shared a concerned glance with Delaryn. “That’s…odd,” he muttered. “Are you certain?”
Sehris arched a black eyebrow and saucily placed a hand on her hip. “Who do you think you’re talking to here?”
“Sorry, it’s just…” Rohen shook his head. “I don’t understand. How could this not be a wraithblade? Thedric wasn’t treating it like a ceremonial gift.”
“I don’t know about that, but nearly all the power woven into these runes is focused on exaggerating the strength of its Aetheric aura,” Sehris said. “Like I said, it almost seems like a forgery.”
A warning tingle prickled the back of Rohen’s neck, and he turned his head to share another quick glance with Delaryn. He could tell from the sudden shift in her expression that they had shared the same dark thought.
“You say the aura is strong,” he whispered. “How strong?”
Sehris shrugged. “If I hadn’t been distracted from working on the forge, I probably could have sensed the Aetheric echo from several hundred feet away, maybe more. Someone with less experience could easily mistake it for a powerful Avetharri artifact.”
Rohen swallowed as the tingle in his neck transformed into a full-blown shudder. “If you could sense it from a few hundred feet, how far do you think the Chol could sense it?”
The dark elf glanced up from the blade, her violet eyes widening in recognition. “Quite far,” she whispered. “Miles, at least.”
“Maiden’s mercy,” Delaryn breathed. “The blade—Thedric was holding the blade when the Chol came for him in the keep!”
Rohen stared down at the dagger—the dagger that had been given to the High King by Lord Protector Kraythe.
“That’s why most of them went after him and not me,” Delaryn went on. “It’s a lure, don’t you see?”
“No,” Rohen whispered. “Why would the Lord Protector want the Chol to attack Thedric?”
“I have no idea, but only he could have requested the construction of a new wraithblade, even a fake one,” Zin said, his lip twisted in horror.
Rohen shook his head and nearly dropped the dagger. He had a hard enough time believing that a man like General Galavir could do something like this, but Lord Protector Kraythe…he wasn’t a petty, power-grubbing noble. He was the Voice of the Guardian! He was a Lord of the Tel Bator! He had spent his entire life protecting the people of Darenthi from demons and Chol.
“No,” Rohen repeated, his mouth suddenly dry. “Lord Kraythe wouldn’t do something like this. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he lure the Chol to the castle and get himself killed in the process?”
“He’s not dead,” Zin said.
Rohen’s heart stopped midbeat. “What?”
“He escaped with General Galavir on the griffon,” Zin said. “I thought you knew…”
“Oh gods…” Delaryn gasped.
Rohen stumbled backward and nearly dropped the blade as he remembered Kraythe’s words. Thousands of Templar have died in Darenthi’s defense over the years, yet so many tharns, generals, and even Tel Bator priests act like we don’t exist until the Chol crawl out of the mountains every few decades. I would rather be haunted by the faces of the dead than forget the sacrifices they made on behalf of the living.
Rohen tried to swallow, but his mouth was too parched. When he had been sneaking to the chapel to meet Delaryn, Lord Kraythe had still be awake. Ostensibly, he had just been out on patrol, but what if he had been on his way to the battlements outside? What if he had been on his way to the stables to grab a horse?
“Rohen!” Delaryn cri
ed out.
He blinked and glanced up to see both she and Sehris clutching their heads. The dark elf set her jaw in stone and squeezed Delaryn’s hand.
“The Chol,” she said. “They’re coming.”
10
The Culling
The thundering blast of a war horn bellowed throughout the fortress, though Sehris could barely hear it over the Godcursed keening inside her skull. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to focus just like she had been taught. Blocking the voices out entirely was almost impossible, but according to her instructors she should have been able to diminish them to a background whisper.
So far, she was more convinced than ever that they were full of shit.
“Damn it,” Zin hissed as he rushed over and clutched her arms. “Are you all right?”
Sehris pursed her lips. “Just…just give me a moment.”
She had mastered the ability the weave magical barriers at a young age, and she tried to visualize the same process in her mind. If she conceptualized the Wailing like a blizzard, perhaps she could seal out the cold just like she had done with Zin and their horse on the way here…
Or perhaps not. The voices were simply too hard to ignore, but she did manage to reduce their volume. Now it felt like she was at a party with too many people talking rather than in a choir filled with too many voices singing the wrong notes.
“Try and focus on one thing at a time,” Delaryn said, touching Sehris’s cheek and turning her head so they could look in each other’s eyes. “Like you’re peering through a tunnel.”
Sehris nodded and concentrated upon her friend’s face. Somehow, Delaryn had only grown more beautiful over the past few years. Her icy eyes were still the prettiest things Sehris had ever seen, and she really wished the two of them could have had some time alone…
“Is it helping?” Delaryn asked.
“A little,” Sehris said, smiling. Delaryn’s powers had manifested at a very young age, far earlier than the vast majority of human sorcerers. The two of them had worked to conceal her powers from the very beginning, and part of the reason Sehris had come forward and offered herself up to the Galespire had been to draw attention away from Delaryn as quickly as possible.
Still, it was strange to think that in the here and now, Sehris was the one receiving advice on matters of magic. She had learned more than she ever thought possible at the spire these past few years. What techniques could Delaryn have possibly learned on her own?
“This is bad,” Zin muttered as the war horn bellowed through the fortress again. “What in the bloody void is going on?”
Rohen stared down at the glowing dagger in his hand. “I can guess.”
He cupped his hand around the pommel of his wraithblade as he turned and dashed to the door. Sehris followed as he cracked it open, and her eyes were greeted by a sprawling sea of chaos on the other side. Here in the inner bailey, officers scrambled to organize their soldiers while servants scurried toward the main keep. Past the secondary wall in the outer courtyard, archers sprinted up the stairs to take their positions on the battlements, pikemen rushed toward the gate to brace for an attack, and siege crews dashed to the trebuchets on the walls to ready the mighty weapons.
“I can’t believe this thing would lure the entire horde,” Rohen whispered. “The Dretches, maybe, but not the Anointed. If they’re attacking, it’s for a reason.”
Zin glanced between his friend and the dagger. “Well, you are the Templar. What do we do?”
“We need to get to the barbican,” Rohen said. He swallowed heavily and glanced at Delaryn. “Galavir will send someone to fetch Zin and Sehris if they don’t head out there themselves, and I should go and help them. We need to find you a place to hide.”
“You two should get her out of here,” Sehris told him. “If the Chol are going to attack…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence for the others to hear the rest of her words. If the Chol are going to attack, this whole place might be reduced to rubble. No one who stays here will be safe.
“There’s nowhere for us to go,” Delaryn said, shaking her head. “Besides, we’re not leaving you.”
“No, we aren’t,” Rohen agreed. “But Delaryn needs a place to hide. If we bring out the arrows Sehris has already enchanted, I doubt anyone will even come in here. She should be safe.”
“I think you’re right,” Zin said, pointing to the crates stacked along the wall. “And if they do, you could hide back there, at least for a while.”
“I don’t want to hide!” Delaryn protested. “I can help!”
“You can’t and you know it,” Rohen told her. “If anyone recognizes you…if anyone sees you channel the Aether…”
“He’s right,” Sehris said, turning and squeezing the other woman’s arm. “You should stay here out of sight.”
Delaryn scowled in frustration, but she eventually nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she muttered. “Then you should go—all of you.”
While Zin began grabbing as many quivers of enchanted arrows as he could carry, Rohen stepped over to Delaryn and placed his hand on her cheek. Sehris could see a thousand unspoken thoughts and fears rippling between them, and she wondered what the two of them hadn’t said about their journey.
“We’ll be back soon,” Rohen said. “I promise.”
***
According to the numerous scouting reports Rohen had read a few days ago while he was in Tor’s Crossing, the Chol horde that had sacked Rankarth and drifted east toward Lake Hollanshir was relatively small, at least by historical standards. The Pact Army had been expecting to clash with two or possibly three thousand Godcursed elves at most—a terrifying force, to be sure, but still easily containable with sufficient manpower and proper strategy.
Obviously, the scouting reports had been wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Maiden’s mercy,” Zin breathed. “Look at all them all…”
Rohen’s throat constricted when he finally ascended the steps and peered over the western battlements. A human army would have been almost invisible from this distance in the middle of the night, but the Chol were not. Their glowing eyes were pinpricks of haunting green light, almost like an angry mob marching with thousands upon thousands of tiny candles. The horde’s monstrous growls and piercing shrieks echoed across the walls like a hundred packs of coyotes baying into the darkness.
“How the fuck did the scouts miss this many Chol?” Zin snarled. “Doesn’t someone teach your griffon riders to count?”
“They aren’t our riders,” Rohen said. “We just loaned the army a few griffons.”
He had read the reports in Tor’s Crossing, but he hadn’t actually been present when they had originally been given. Someone could have transcribed the first-hand accounts incorrectly, or they could have intentionally altered the reports to make the threat appear less severe. He couldn’t imagine why anyone in their right mind would wish to do such a thing, but then again…
The Lord Protector couldn’t have anything to do with this, could he? What could he possibly have to gain? He’s a war hero and a respected man, but it’s not like a Templar could ever become king. The Tel Bator stay out of politics as a matter of principle.
Rohen closed his eyes and shook his head. Whatever had or hadn’t happened—whoever was or wasn’t responsible—the truth would just have to wait. The Chol were here in force, and he was the only Templar in the fortress. The Order had been founded for this very purpose. One way or another, it would be up to him to hold the line against the darkness.
“It looks like Galavir is up on the turret,” Zin said, pointing behind them to the northwestern tower on the other side of the barbican over the main gate. “I should speak to him while he’s trying to organize the defenses.”
Rohen nodded and followed Zin and Sehris as they dashed across the wall. The chaos engulfing Rimewreath had only grown more intense over the past few minutes; none of the soldiers had been expecting battle for some time yet, a
nd the officers were clearly having trouble organizing men used to fighting under different banners. The entire Pact Army was far more patchwork than anyone wanted to admit. Not all the duchies—let alone the houses within the duchies—had the same level of equipment, training, or experience. In time, a skilled leader like General Galavir might have been able to organize this sack of cats, but now…
Now it may have already been too late.
“Wait here,” Zin said, holding up a hand when they reached the stairs leading up to the turret. “And keep your hood up.”
He bade Sehris to follow closely behind him. The mere sight of her terrified every soldier they passed; her purple cloak was like the fin of a shark scattering everyone around her. It was imperative that her Keeper always be nearby.
Thankfully, no one seemed to care about Rohen just yet. The extra furs he had taken from Dorelas covered his brigandine quite nicely, but if anyone did try to order them around, he could easily brandish his wraithblade. The rank and file men wouldn’t recognize him or care that there was an unannounced Templar in the fort. If anything, they would probably be heartened by his presence.
Rohen kept his distance from Sehris and Zin but still shuffled close enough beneath the turret that he could eavesdrop. His hearing might not have been quite as sharp as a full-blooded elf’s, but it was still sharper than most humans. The trouble was trying to concentrate over the shouting soldiers and shrieking Chol…
“…arrows should be enough,” Galavir was saying, his deep voice sounding harried but still in control. “If they want to throw themselves against the walls and save us the trouble of marching them down, so be it.”
“Sir, there are thousands of them out of there, maybe tens of thousands!” one of the griffon riders was saying. “We can’t—”
“These walls have withstood worse many times,” the general interrupted. “Now I realize you apparently failed to notice three quarters of their fucking army during your last flight, but did you spot any siege weapons while you were out there jerking off on the back of your bird?”