The monster jerked with its remaining tentacles. They flailed in the water loosely, like it had been struck by lightning. Terian paused, and watched, preparing to defend against whatever next blow it might strike.
Sareea’s sword split the skull vertically as she pulled it free. The blade glowed with blue, cold fire. The most powerful spell a dark knight can wield—the Cold Flame of the Darkheart. Her face was lit by the light of the blade and he could see a cruel satisfaction in the twist of her lips.
The squid jerked one last time and began to fall, loose tentacles hanging in the water like leaves drifting down from a tall tree.
Terian watched it fall wordlessly. He and the others—the survivors—kept watching until it vanished into the depths of a crevasse, swallowed up by the darkness that had borne it.
Chapter 33
Seventeen Years Earlier
“There is no greater triumph,” the voice of the instructor intoned, “than to follow the will of the Sovereign and defeat his enemies for him. In the time that Sovereign is gone, his tribunal is his voice in these lands, and to obey their command is to please the Sovereign himself greatly.”
Terian listened as Cidrack Urnetagroth spoke. His low voice echoed over the Legion of Darkness class, the faint whispers of two students in the back row not nearly enough to distract him from Urnetagroth’s lesson. The aroma of candles burning in the darkness was enough to distract Terian from the smells of his class, the blood and sweat after a day of exercises.
“Excuse me, Cidrack,” came a familiar voice from behind them. Terian turned, his eyes falling on his father standing at the entrance to the classroom. “I hate to interrupt.” Terian could tell from his father’s tone that he did, indeed, not wish to.
“By all means, come in, Lord Amenon,” Cidrack Urnetagroth nearly fell over himself bowing. “Your presence is no interruption at all. What humble service may we provide for you?”
“I have come for my son,” Amenon said, the sloped brow and the slant of his eyes showing the rarest of moods—joviality. “If his absence will not be too much imposition, I should like to take him home early for the day.”
“By all means,” Urnetagroth said, bowing again. “Our exercises for the day are complete, and he is at your disposal.”
“Excellent.” Amenon made a come hither gesture to Terian, who was already scrambling to his feet, the sweaty smell of his well-worn training armor wafting up at him as he moved. I won't be sorry to be rid of this armor once I've graduated; it smells like it's been worn for eighteen generations. Which it probably has.
“Attention!” Urnetagroth shouted, and Terian stiffened to attention with the rest of the cadets. Urnetagroth brought his hand sharply to his breast then saluted in a gesture that was instantly carried out by every single cadet in the room. The sound of steel gauntlets clanging against breastplates echoed in the small classroom. When each finished, they held stiffly at attention, Terian included.
“As you were,” Amenon commanded, with just a trace of amusement. “Thank you, Cidrack.” Instructor Urnetagroth bowed his head once more, but remained at attention until Terian and Amenon had left the room.
“That is respect which cannot be bought by any merchant,” Amenon said as they walked under the arching gate of the Legion of Darkness. Terian glanced back to see others peering out the windows at them. Not every day that the foremost graduate of the Legion comes back to visit these hallowed halls, I suppose. “Try to pay in coin for it even in that whorish city of Reikonos, where any virtue is up for sale for the right price and you’ll fail to find it cheap—if it all.”
“Yes, Father,” Terian said. His mop of hair was still damp from the afternoon sword exercises, and as he walked he felt the place on his leg where some idiotic fourth year had tried to force the dull training sword into a chink in the armor. Terian had rattled his helm for him, loudly and forcefully enough that he’d stopped before doing much more than causing an ache.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come to get you early,” Amenon said once they were through the gate and into the city. They passed through the square in silence, and it was only on the other side of it that his father spoke. The midday crowds had receded from the madness of morning, and now only a faint stream of servants, buyers and pedestrians remained.
“Of course, Father,” Terian said, nodding. He walked in step with his father as best he could, his shorter strides forcing him to hurry along.
“I had some time, and I wanted to show you something,” Amenon said with a mysterious smile.
What could that be? Terian wondered—but he did not ask.
They went in silence until they reached the manor. Upon entering, Amenon nodded to each of the servants holding the doors for them. “This way,” he said to Terian, gesturing toward the stairs.
“Are Ameli and Mother here?” Terian asked, hesitating by the staircase.
“No,” Amenon said with a shake of the head. They ascended together, their boots echoing through the silence of the manor. Terian halted at the door to his father’s study. “Well,” Amenon said with that same hint of a smile, “go on.”
Terian paused and waited for his father to nod once more, then turned the knob of the door. It opened silently, and he pushed hard against the stone doors to make his way into the study.
Standing before him was a suit of armor, dark and beautiful. Spikes jutted high from the shoulders, and the helm was crowned with spires that reached half a foot higher than the crest of the helm. The metal was shaded and looked nearly black in the darkness. Terian stared at it, openmouthed.
“What do you think?” Amenon asked.
“It’s … amazing,” Terian said, looking at it. “The perfect armor for a dark knight.”
“It will be yours,” Amenon said. “When you complete your training and have finished your sacrifice.”
Terian felt a ripple of hesitation. “The sacrifice …”
“Yes?” Amenon asked, and there was a change in his voice.
“What is it?” Terian asked. “No one will tell me.”
“Nor should they,” Amenon said stiffly. “And nor will I. The soul sacrifice is the binding and defining ritual that marks us as dark knights and as true servants of the ethos of our kind. While I cannot speak to its particulars, you will face it before too much longer—and I am certain that you will be equal to the test.” He straightened. “Which is why I have already procured this armor for you.”
Terian stared in awe at the armor. It truly is beautiful. “I hope I do not fail you, Father.”
“You have lived up to every one of my expectations thus far,” Amenon said stiffly, and Terian saw a hint of a smile as his voice loosened. “I could not ask for more. Continue to do what you have done, and I have no doubt you will find yourself wearing this armor soon enough.” He leaned toward Terian and gave him the hint of a smile. “Just be willing to do everything that is asked of you, and you will never find yourself in a place where you fail my expectations.”
“I will, Father,” Terian said, and he kept his hands at his side to keep from touching the armor covetously. “I will not fail you so long as it is within my power to keep from doing so.”
Chapter 34
“We swim down and recover the body,” Grinnd said. They were on the surface now, swimming and sputtering and treading water. “We drag the thing up and cut it open and pull Verret’s remains out. From there, you can patch him back together and cast the resurrection spell—”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, my friend,” Dahveed said. He was treading water next to them, calm, slow, motions keeping him afloat. “He’s gone, Grinnd. Even assuming we could recover him, without a boat I couldn’t do the work of stitching him back together. I’m sorry.” He did sound genuinely contrite.
An uneasy silence settled over Grinnd. “I want to maim that thing further.”
“I can’t stop you from doing that,” Dahveed said, looking at Terian. T
erian caught the implication—But you can.
“We need to get back to shore,” Terian said. “It’s several miles of swimming.”
“I want to rip that thing up,” Grinnd said, and Terian caught him taking a breath to submerge.
“Belay that,” Terian said, and Grinnd looked at him with a fury that was utterly out of place on the warrior’s face. “We return to shore. Now. If the master healer of Saekaj says he can’t bring Verret back, then he’s truly lost. We’re not. We get back to shore and make our report. Immediately.”
Grinnd let a long, furious sigh that made it look as though he were restraining a rage about to be turned loosed on Terian. “Yes sir,” was all he said.
“Easier to walk to shore, I think,” Bowe said, hovering above the dark waters once more. With a wave of the druid’s hands, Terian felt lightness surge through his body and lift him from the waters. He dripped, dark spots falling back to their home on the surface like the rains of the Perdamun.
I failed. Verret is dead. Terian ran a hand over his face, mopping the water off of him. And that thing—
“The shore is this way,” Sareea’s light voice said, jarring him out of his thoughts. For once, she looked unamused. She started off in that direction, and after a moment Terian followed. Still leading me.
Terian looked back to confirm that they were all still with him. Bowe stood as stiff and straight as if he’d not been in a battle at all, but was on a parade ground somewhere doing nothing more than standing at attention. Grinnd sulked and it was a sad thing to behold. Terian watched the warrior as he slunk, head down, expression still burdened by fury. Grinnd cast frequent looks back at the water behind them, muttering so low that Terian could not hear him.
Xem, on the other hand, was leading the way, ahead of even Sareea. He cast furtive looks back, and Terian wondered at why until he remembered he had not seen Xemlinan at all during the battle. Hiding? Is he now ashamed?
Dahveed clapped a strong hand on Terian’s shoulder, startling him. It was wet and made a suctioning noise that sounded disturbingly like something being eaten to Terian’s ears. “Is that the first man you’ve lost under your command?”
“We lost others in Sanctuary,” Terian said, and the world seemed shadowed around him, a bleakness as the spell of the Eagle Eye began to fade. He hesitated. “But never directly under my command.”
“It is a hard thing sending people to their deaths,” Dahveed said, and the weight of experience rang through his words.
“If Verret were here, he’d say we did our duty to the Sovereign,” Terian said, letting his voice harden. “That any losses necessary to the mission were simply the price we pay for our service. I can’t see him quailing before the sacrifice we made.”
“He might have said things differently knowing it was him that was being sacrificed,” Dahveed said in a hushed voice.
“No, he wouldn’t have,” Grinnd said from behind them. Terian turned to see the warrior stalking along, arms swinging at his side as he walked with a fury. “Terian has the right of it. Verret would never back down from paying the ultimate price. You’re talking about a man who did his time in the Depths still praising the name of the Sovereign. This is the way he would have wanted it.” Grinnd sent a searing glare at Dahveed, who merely bowed his head in acknowledgment. “And I won’t ever believe anyone who tells me differently.”
With that, Grinnd brushed past Terian to head to the fore. Terian watched him go, watched the warrior break even with Sareea Scyros and then outpace her.
“He doesn’t like the sound of truth,” Dahveed said. “I’ve seen many a man falter when the pain starts. Suddenly they don’t believe as hard in what they’d professed. A dark and jagged-toothed end to all your days? I can’t imagine anyone staring into the mouth of that without a moment’s consideration for what they’re doing. It’d take a man rooted deeper in conviction than any I’ve ever met to meet that fate without a second thought.” Dahveed turned to him with a smile. “Have you ever met a man who lived with such certainty?”
Terian stared at Grinnd’s retreating back. “I can think of only one.”
Chapter 35
The ride back to Saekaj was long. Terian scarcely noticed the bumps save for the last one when the carriage parked under the portico of his father’s house. The door was opened before he could gather his thoughts and do it for himself. He stepped out and adjusted his armor. His underclothes were barely dry from the swim, and they had a hardness about them like they’d crusted over.
The stink of the Great Sea was still upon him as he stared at the front door to the house. He could taste bile and dank water on his tongue, as though he were about to vomit up its depths right there on the walk. Compose yourself, fool. This is a message to be delivered. That MUST be delivered.
Duty.
He took his first step, then another, and another. The door was opened for him by the coachman, and Terian found himself standing in the foyer, imagining his still damp clothes dripping upon the floor. They did no such thing, but he still felt as though he were staining the place by his mere presence.
“Ah, good, you’ve returned,” Guturan said, passing through the room from the kitchens. “Your father awaits you in his study.”
“Does he?” Terian asked, more musing than serious.
“He does,” Guturan said, the meaning of Terian’s words passing him by. “He waits with great anticipation.”
“I doubt it,” Terian said, taking a faltering step toward the stairs. “He knows it’s me coming, after all.”
Every step was a lengthening nightmare that felt like years. Terian let his feet land softly against the rug stretched over the stairway, heard every clank of the metal boots on stone as he ascended. So why does it feel like I’m climbing down to the dungeons? I didn’t know Verret, not really. Haven’t known him in years. He was just a hardass on my father’s team, not a friend of any sort.
His death does not warrant my own.
Does it?
Terian reached the heavy stone doors of the study with shocking alacrity. He stood before them, cowed. His eyes took them in, and he could smell the faint scent of the fire burning within. He raised a hand to knock and hesitated. What do I fear more? What he’ll say? Or what he’ll do?
He brought his hand down and struck the stone cleanly.
“Come.” The voice of Amenon Lepos was crisp and clear. He has no idea.
Terian entered the study, not bothering to close the door behind him. He made his way to the center of the room, standing before the desk. The fire crackled off to the side, the sound of words burning. So many words. So many empty words. How many empty words have my father and I exchanged? Well, at least these will be full …
His father looked up at him, taking him in with one good appraising look. “Did you solve the problem?”
“Yes,” Terian said. “But—”
“There are no ‘buts,’” his father said crossly. “Either you have completed the task set before you or you have not.”
“I have completed the task set before me,” Terian said.
“Very good,” his father said with a nod. “Then I have another matter to discuss with you—”
“And Verret is dead.” Terian heard his voice crack like a whip turned loose on a vek’tag.
His father, for his part, raised only an eyebrow. He crumpled the parchment he held in his hand, let the crackle of the paper fill the air. “How did he die?”
“Not well,” Terian said. His every syllable was flat. “He was shredded by a sea monster of some sort.”
Amenon appeared to ponder this. “We have never had any such creature in the Great Sea before.”
“No,” Terian said. “We have not.”
Amenon sat there, his armor giving him a look of stiffness that Terian suspected was reflected below the surface of that armor. “A mystery, then. It either snuck in from the depths of the earth and chambers below … or was brought there
by someone.” He stood, staring into the fire. “A matter for another time,” he said abruptly, and tossed the parchment into the fire. “We have other things to discuss.”
Terian blinked. “Like Verret?” His voice was hoarse, and it came out accusing.
“There is nothing to discuss as relates to Verret,” Amenon said. “Are there any remains to be sent to the Depths for composting?”
“What?” Terian almost choked. “No, there was nothing left—”
“Then we will have a standard sending ceremony for his family in a few days,” Amenon said. “As befits a man of his station.”
“A—sending ceremony?” Terian asked. I cannot believe what I’m hearing.
“You know he was of far too low a station to have been laid to rest in the Tomb of Heroes—even assuming there had been anything left of the man,” Amenon said. His tone was all business, and his eyes were back to studying the next piece of parchment.
Terian started to argue, started to protest, started to say, You’ve known him for a hundred years and he’s followed you everywhere you’ve asked. But his gaze fell upon the red gem upon his father’s desk and he went silent. Of course. “The path of duty,” he said.
Amenon looked up at him from where he sat, face inscrutable. “Sacrifices must be made in the name of the Sovereign.”
Terian laughed, but it was a mirthless, joyless sound. “I actually thought you were going to be angry with me.” He focused in on the red jewel. “I should have known differently.”
“I will never fault you for doing what needs to be done,” Amenon said. “Even when the cost is high.”
Terian started to turn his back but stopped halfway. “I should have known.”
“Yes,” his father said. “You should have remembered. There is no sacrifice too great to be made in the name of duty. Or family.”
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