“Very well, General,” Alric said with a tight smile. “Until then.”
***
The Celenest streets were bustling with their normal midday mania. Visitors and caravans crowded the cobblestone roads so densely it was almost dangerous to travel anywhere on foot. People went about their normal lives as if nothing was happening in the outside world. They had no fear of the Imperium buildup on the borders, or of the growing talk of imminent invasion that floated from ear to ear in the temple. The average citizen was willing to focus on frivolities like the forthcoming Snowfall Festival or more practical matters like stockpiling for winter.
Ignorance really was bliss.
Krystia cantered just off the main street in the town square to give herself a bit of breathing room. She had stabled Oren a few blocks away at one of the many such stalls for eagles, griffons, and other popular aerial mounts among the upper class. Her horse, a white Numenese thoroughbred named Yuar, had been waiting at the stable for her return this afternoon. He had been a gift from Tevek when she’d turned sixteen, and he had always been a loyal friend.
Right now, though, her mind wasn’t focused on either of her animals or even on the people passing her. All she could think about was Sovan’s words and the memories he had awakened from the deep recesses of her mind.
You are a murderer. For months Ethan had been hounding her about her capacity to fight and kill. She was not a soldier or assassin; she was a healer and spiritual guide. She barely knew how to hold a sword, let alone face down enemies in hand-to-hand combat on the battlefield. He doubted her ability to walk up to her king and kill him in cold blood—it was as simple as that. He didn’t think she was mentally prepared to do anything requiring sacrifice or pain. If only he knew.
You are a murderer. Deep down, Krystia agreed with Ethan’s lingering doubts. She wasn’t involved in his little scheme to overthrow her government or take power. She wanted to defeat the Crell, yes, because it was the right thing to do—the moral thing to do. For centuries now the Imperium had been a blight on Torsia, a nation of power hungry despots, slavers, and conquerors. Inaction validated their ways. But none of that meant she wanted to kill Areekan or lead Solaria’s armies as some romanticized warrior queen and emancipator.
You are a murderer. All she really wanted was to free the Unbound. On one hand, it was a simple matter of equality and social justice. These people had committed no crimes, yet they were forced to spend their lives in prison. But on the other, she knew, it was almost more about her than them. If she could manage to build a successful life for herself helping people, why couldn’t they? Was there something unique about her, or had she just been given a chance they had not? Was Sovan right? Had they all been corrupted by powers they couldn’t control? Were they doomed from birth to live in confinement for the protection of everyone around them?
You are a murderer!
“Excuse me, my lady.”
Krystia glanced up. Yuar was still casually sauntering towards the temple, but she hadn’t been paying attention to anything in front of her. Standing less than five feet away, saddled atop a beautiful brown Rivani draft, was a young Knight of the Last Dawn.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said, “but are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied with a smile. “Sorry, I just got a bit distracted.”
He smiled back. He had to be about her age, with a round face, pudgy nose, and bushy brown eyebrows. His accent placed him as Ikaran, the wealthy land of merchant lords on the southwestern coast of Torsia.
“Are you…uh…heading to the temple?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m a priestess there.”
“I thought so. The robes gave you away.”
She glanced down at herself. She had been so distracted that she hadn’t even realized she’d managed to change herself before setting out. She had ditched the black-haired wig she used at the Asylum and had already donned her white-gold robes. It wasn’t like her to be so distant. She took a deep breath and calmed herself.
“My name is Krystia, Sir…?”
His face reddened slightly. “Oh, not Sir, not for a while probably. I’m just a squire…Squire Belek Talroy. You can tell by the symbol on the tabard.”
“Ah, well, Squire Belek Talroy, perhaps you would like to escort a lady back to the temple?”
“Uh…sure. Yes, sure. Absolutely.” He brought his mount in stride with hers and smiled awkwardly. “This way…I think.”
Krystia giggled and allowed him to lead her back to the temple. Even if she hadn’t been a telepath, she would have been able to sense his mild infatuation with her. She was tempted to toy with him further…but then Sovan’s voice popped back into her head. You enjoy allowing men to believe they’re in control even while you’re the one pulling the strings.
She winced and turned away. He had been right, of course. He had been right about everything…
“Have you heard from Tev—er, Highlord Dracian?” she asked, hoping to distract herself. “I was away all day yesterday and I’ve been waiting for news.”
“We have,” Talroy said. He pausing for a moment and eyed her robes as if he wasn’t quite convinced she was privy to this information.
“The Highlord and I are old friends,” she soothed him. “He actually bought me Yuar here when I turned sixteen. He saved me at the Isen Siege during the last war. I was only eight, but we’ve been close ever since.”
Talroy smiled and seemed to relax a bit, probably having mentally confirmed who she was with others in his order. “He is a great man. He and Dame Devarath were ambushed twice yesterday. But they both survived.”
“Twice?”
“They were attacked by a demon,” he explained. “Then last night a group of Zarul agents stormed the rebel compound. He is alive, but wounded…and we cannot speak with him.”
Krystia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“His bond to Maeleon is broken. We don’t understand how, but one of the Crell Imperators was someone able to sever the link.”
Krystia’s mouth went dry. She had never heard of a channeling technique capable of severing an Ascendant bond; she didn’t even understand how such a thing was possible. But if the Crell had learned and mastered such a technique…
“He can restore the damage, right?” she asked.
“I certainly hope so,” Talroy whispered. “He plans to return to the Dawn Citadel and undergo a new Binding Ritual. With Maeleon’s blessing, his connection to the Aether should be restored.”
“I certainly hope so. I can’t imagine…”
“Neither can I. If the ritual doesn’t work, Sir Alric will take over the Dawn.” The young man’s face twitched. “He is a good man, but…well, I believe the order needs its rightful Highlord.”
Krystia nodded. “So do I.”
Talroy drew in a deep breath and seemed to push the thought aside. “Sir Alric is dispatching a group of knights to Lyebel in a few hours.”
“Are you going with them?”
He shook his head. “No, he doesn’t believe I am ready for front-line duties just yet. He wants me to get to know this city and learn more about Solaria.”
“Ah,” she added noncommittally. “Do you know if General Iouna is in town?”
“Yes, he is. He and the other Legion Generals met with the Council this morning. He convinced them to send Solarian troops along with our knights.”
“Good,” Krystia said, smiling. At least something had gone right. She had only been gone a day, and she already felt woefully out of touch. She needed to talk with Darius about a lot of things anyway, and now she knew he would be in a decent mood. Slowly but surely, the Council was starting to come around; Ethan’s demonic attack must have been the added inspiration they needed. Maybe they could swing the Council to vote for greater offensive action before winter.
Which raised the important question in her mind—what was she going to do about it? If war did come, Ethan would wish to commence with
his plan. He would want her to eliminate Areekan and take charge of the Alliance…but was that what she wanted? Could she actually bring herself to kill the man who had taken her in and protected her even if she believed it was the right thing to do?
You are a murderer!
Krystia squeezed her fingers so tightly around the reins that her knuckles turned white. “Thank you for escorting me, Squire,” she whispered. “But I know the way from here.”
“Um…sure,” Talroy managed. The temple was still a few blocks away, but he clearly wasn’t willing to argue the point. “Good day, priestess.”
“Good day,” she replied, pressing forward. She closed her eyes and struggled to hold back the tide of old memories of her parents, but they soon flowed free regardless.
The tears weren’t far behind.
***
Belek Talroy leapt to his feet as Sir Patrick Lavonde entered the Last Dawn’s temporary command post inside Celenest. Lavonde was Sir Alric’s prodigal squire-turned-knight; he had spent the better part of five years training with the man. Talroy had been the next in line, and thus far he had found it impossible to fill Lavonde’s boots. Sir Alric loved to inundate Talroy with all the reasons why Lavonde would have done something faster and better. It was both annoying and frustrating, but Talroy imagined that was probably the point.
“Ah, Patrick—good,” Alric said, glancing up from a set of reports General Iouna had given him. “I trust your men are prepared?”
“Yes, sir,” Lavonde replied. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and a thin moustache. He was in his mid-twenties, though sometimes he liked to pretend as if he were fifty.
“Good. I’d rather be waiting on the Solarians than the reverse.” Alric stood from his desk and walked in front of his two subordinates. “With the situation changing in Lyebel, I’ve decided to make a few adjustments to our plans.”
Lavonde raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
Alric sighed and his voice lowered. “There’s no guarantee the Highlord’s powers can be restored, and in the meantime we find ourselves quite vulnerable.”
“You don’t think Maeleon will accept him in another Binding Ritual?” Talroy asked.
The two men eyed him as if they had forgotten he was there. “I hope he will, Squire,” Alric replied, “but there is no guarantee. Such a thing has never happened before. And even if the ceremony is successful, Tevek won’t be able to coordinate us for at least a week, perhaps even longer. We can’t afford to have that type of lapse on a mission of this importance.”
Lavonde nodded. “I agree, sir. What has the Conclave recommended?”
“I’m taking command of the Dawn until the Highlord’s powers have been restored. If the ritual fails, we shall congregate and select a replacement, but until then we have agreed he should be considered incapacitated.”
“Congratulations, sir.”
“There’s nothing to congratulate me about,” Alric said pointedly. “This is an action born out of necessity, nothing more.”
“Of course, sir, I meant no offense,” Lavonde replied. “Does this change our current mission?”
Alric shook his head and paced to the window. The room didn’t have much of a view of the city, but it did overlook the arboretum in the center of the palace grounds. “The mission will go on as planned, but I do have special orders for you when you arrive.”
“Of course, sir.”
Alric remained silent for a long moment before glancing back. “I want you to order Dame Devarath to return to the Citadel.”
Talroy tried not to let his concern show on his face. Lord Alric didn’t care for Elade—that much was hardly a secret. But why would he want to replace her on the mission? As far as they had all been told, she had been the one who had ended up defeating the Crell leader and ultimately saving the lives of the people there. Knowing what he did about her, Talroy imagined she was already scouring the city for the demons on her own. He wouldn’t be surprised if she stamped out the entire infestation herself before reinforcements arrived.
“I…yes, sir,” Lavonde said, clearly a bit surprised by the request. “If I may ask, is there a reason you haven’t informed her yourself?”
“It’s better for her to remain focused on the task at hand until you relieve her.”
Talroy frowned. As explanations went, that one seemed pretty weak. “Can I ask your reasons for withdrawing her, sir?”
Alric turned and gave him a pointed look. “Remember your place, Squire.”
“With all due respect, sir, it was just a question,” Talroy said, trying not to sound defensive. “The Highlord has told me many times to ask questions freely.”
“I’m sure he has,” the older man said dryly. He spun around and faced his squire, his expression firm. “I’m concerned she may jeopardize our mission there or our relationship with the Solarians and the rebels—maybe even both. I can’t imagine they are reacting fondly to the presence of a vaeyn.”
“Highlord Dracian never suggested there were any problems,” Talroy pointed out. His voice sounded a bit meek to his ears, but he made the effort to hold himself rigid.
Alric smiled thinly. “I’m afraid the Highlord’s judgment in regards to Dame Devarath is a bit…muddled at times. He may have accepted her for what she is, but others will not. Her presence is an instability we cannot afford, and certainly not in a situation this delicate. The land may very well face a devastating war in the next few weeks, and we are going to need allies wherever we can find them.”
Talroy glanced downward. He had never been particularly good at meeting his mentor’s “eyes of judgment” straight on even when he agreed with him. And here, he most certainly did not.
“Do you have a problem with that, Squire?” Alric asked, stopping only a hair from the younger man’s chest.
Talroy tried to hide a deep breath and then locked eyes with the man. “I do, sir. That seems like a tacit acceptance of Solarian racism. We should be challenging them, not placating their biases.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.” He tried not to swallow too obviously. “I also know Dame Devarath would never intentionally jeopardize a mission.”
“Because she is your sparring partner? Against my wishes, I might add.”
Talroy shook his head. “Because the Highlord would not have taken her with him if he did not have faith in her,” he said. “She is a Knight of the Last Dawn, recognized and supported by the Conclave. I have faith in my sister, sir.”
Alric maintained his glare for what seemed like hours before finally smiling wryly and turning away. “You will make a fine knight someday, Belek,” he said sagely, glancing to Lavonde. “But for now, you’re just going to have to trust me. I don’t doubt the Highlord’s intentions, but his emotional attachment has corrupted his judgment. Galvian rebels will not be willing to work with a vaeyn, not in the long term. Patrick will be far better suited to lead this mission.”
“Your loyalty to your comrade is commendable,” Lavonde told Talroy with an earnest smile, “but you have to be willing to see the bigger picture here. You can call the Solarians and the Galvians racist if you like, but the reality of the situation is that we’re going to need them as allies. Right now that is more important than one knight’s ego.”
Talroy remained silent. He didn’t buy their arguments, of course; they were glib rationalizations for bad behavior. But he had spoken his piece, and at this point there wasn’t anything else he could do. He was just a squire after all.
“I’m not going to hide the fact I opposed her entry into the Dawn and her subsequent knighthood,” Alric said, weaving his way back to the desk. “But this is a practical decision. I’m also concerned about her willingness to disregard orders. Her disobedience at Serogar nearly cost two knights their lives.”
Lavonde grunted. “An act for which she was never disciplined.”
An act which saved the lives of two children, Talroy countered in his mind. He hadn’t been there at the time, but he
had spoken to the knights she had “abandoned” during their mission. They both said she’d left them to save a pair of frightened and defenseless children from the hands of demonic cultists. Neither held any grudge for her actions once they learned her reasoning. But Sir Alric had never seen it that way, apparently.
“Yes, well, as I said, the Highlord has an attachment to her,” Alric said with a sigh. He turned to Talroy. “A lesson for the future, Belek. Never let your infatuation with a pretty face blind you to the realities of the situation.”
Lavonde smiled for a moment, and shared a meaningful glance with Alric. After a moment, his expression sobered. “She may resist your orders, sir.”
“If she does…” Alric trailed off, tapping his fingers on the desk. “We’ll make a note of it. The Conclave will discipline her ourselves if we have to.”
“As you wish, sir,” Lavone said. “Is there anything else?”
“Not for the moment. Hopefully the Solarians arrive soon and you can set out.”
“We should be leaving within the hour.”
“Good luck, then, Patrick,” he said warmly. Lavonde nodded once in return, glanced briefly to Talroy, and then left the room.
Talroy watched him go and tried to ignore the burning in his gut. He offered Maeleon a silent plea to return the Highlord’s powers. If he didn’t…well, Talroy feared for Elade’s future. He feared for the Dawn’s future, in fact. They depended upon Highlord Dracian’s wisdom and temperance. Without it…
Talroy sighed and shook his head. Gabriel Alric was many things, but he was not Tevek Dracian. The two men were old friends who had shared many battlefields together, but Alric had never been shy about hiding his annoyance with the Highlord’s methods. He believed the proper place for a Highlord—and for squires—was sitting comfortably behind a desk while younger men and women took to the field of battle. It seemed almost…cowardly. Especially for a paladin.
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 41