by Curtis, Greg
“Goblin shite! You've been killing more people?” She hissed it at him as if frightened that someone might overhear. But it was the middle of the morning and they were the only two customers in the alehouse. Even the innkeeper wasn't around. Carr was out in the back room working on his brewing.
“Fighting as a soldier should to defend his people, but yes.” He couldn't keep the smile from his face. It might be wrong but it was still a happy memory for him.
“You've helped to start a war. Thousands of people are dead.”
“Thousands were already dead as they invaded the land. Their bodies are strewn across the wastes like fallen leaves. And tens of thousands more are alive because they have stopped. Besides, these new dead were soldiers taking the coin of those foul priests and dusky elves determined to murder and enslave everyone in the wastes. They needed to be stopped and I've been helping to do that.” She might not be happy with what he'd done but he was.
“Sweet Mother!”
She seemed upset. By what he'd done and by what he thought of his actions. And then a thought struck her and she stared at his pack. More accurately she stared at the quiver attached to it, and the arrows in it. The arrows that were fletched in the manner of the dusky elves.
“You've been killing Dicans.” It was an accusation levelled straight at him as if he'd committed a crime.
“Killing no. But filling them with holes whenever I can, yes. Tearing their faces apart too.” And every one of those accursed priests he had buried his arrows or his claws into was a triumph as far as he was concerned. Of course, it wasn't so good having to wash the blood off his claws.
“That's still wrong.”
But if it was so wrong why was she still hissing it at him? She should have just yelled it for the whole alehouse to hear.
“It's better than letting those black hearted priests and their brutal soldiers wander the wastes killing our people at will.” Dorn really didn't understand why she was upset by it. If she worked for the glowing woman she was a wildling in the end. She should know where her loyalties lay.
“They murder our kind. Tie us to great stakes in the ground and burn us alive. Have you ever seen a wildling burn? Die in screaming agony? All because his blood carries a gift? I've seen hundreds die like that. Maybe thousands.” He let the bitterness of his life flow with his words.
“If a few of those accursed priests walk around for the rest of their lives with a limp, a ruined face or can't use an arm or an eye, if they have waking nightmares, it is merely the least of what they deserve.”
“That is not the way!” Sena hissed at him. She looked angry, almost to the point of stamping her feet and yelling at him. “Not of a true elf!”
“It's my way.” He stared at her surprised that she could truly object. “Besides, as I've never heard of true elves I'd guess that their way got them all killed. Perhaps by the dusky elves?” It was the only thing he could think of that made sense. If they had as much power as the glowing people had had and yet they'd died out, it could only be because they were complete pacifists. Unable to raise a fist when their enemies fell on them.
Sena he noticed, didn't answer him. Whether that was because she didn't know or because she did and she couldn't face the truth he wasn't sure. But he was sure of one thing. He had done what was right and necessary and he would not regret it. It had taken a long time to come to that understanding, but now he knew it was right.
He had found an altar to Zylor in Woodton only a few leagues from his home, and had spoken a prayer and made an offering there. He had hoped for an answer to his pain. To the question of whether he had committed a crime. And what he should do to atone. He'd heard nothing back. Received no answer. But in time he'd realised that maybe that was an answer in itself. The God of Justice was silent on matters of self-defence and war. And in the end Dorn had not started the war. He had not invaded their lands. That understanding had brought him a little peace.
“And think on this. On the unfair charge your precious Lady laid against me. If I had not killed Rodan three of your number would now be in slavery to the dusky elves. Marian, Lorian and Petran. More would likely have joined them as he was planning on capturing as many as he could on the way to the temple. And many others would be dead because he was a wildcast of lightning and there are always some that the dusky elves cannot use. Shifters like me, spellswords and the like. He would have murdered them as he tried to murder me. He was after all a dusky elf.”
“I could have left them to their fate. And you know what would have befallen them at the hands of those murderous shites. I chose not to abandon my people. Would you truly prefer that I had abandoned them?”
And could she really imagine that it would have been better? He didn't know. But he couldn't read the expression on her face. Shock maybe. Denial and a little bit of horror for what he had done.
Sena said nothing though. She just stared at him for a while before looking away, choosing to stare out the window at the town and the people walking by instead. Dorn said nothing either, not for a long while. It was best he thought that calm return to both of them. But in time he remembered that she had come to ask a favour of him, and he owed her an answer.
“Tell your scholars that they are free to come and study the shrine. Their guards too. As long as they remember to hide their tracks and let no one know that anyone lives at the old fort.”
“Thank you.”
“There is no need for thanks. It is simply the right thing to do.”
“Besides, when your scholars examine the shrine they might perhaps pay attention to the fact that Xeria's statue shows the goddess carrying a sword. It is not wrong to defend family and friends. To defend your home against invaders. You might want to mention that to Lady Sylfene.”
Dorn got up from the table, done with his half finished ale and deciding that in the end even a roast pork meal wasn't worth staying for. Not if it was going to have to be eaten while he was still being accused of crimes.
He grabbed his pack, swung it over his back and strode toward the alehouse door without a goodbye and without looking back. Let her think what she wanted he decided. That was her right. But he had done what was right and he would not be condemned by her for it. But he stopped just before reaching it, realising that here he had a chance to do something he had not been able to do before. Something that had been denied him as he had been denied entry to the temple. He turned back to her, knowing that he could not let this go no matter how angry he might be.
“One more thing. This is not in any way a bargain or a deal. Your scholars will be allowed to visit my shrine regardless of what you do or don't do. However I would ask a boon. A simple kindness between people. My family is lost to me. I do not know whether they live or not. Or where they live. I do not know where to begin looking.”
“However they are wildlings, and in many places wildlings know other wildlings. Also many wildlings have been called to the temple and they may be among them. My father is Beran Clearwater formerly of Lampton Heights, a summoner. My mother is Matilde Clearwater formerly of Lampton Heights, a dream walker. And my younger sister is Terra Clearwater also formerly of Lampton Heights, a wildcast of light.”
“I would ask that those who now call the temple home be asked if they have come across them and can tell me where they might be so that I might know they are safe. And that they will allow me to seek them out.”
It was a mistake asking her. Dorn knew that the moment the words left his mouth. The moment he saw his visitor lose her upset and let a calculating expression grace her face. The larcenous look of a trader who thought she had made a good deal. He tried not to cringe when he saw it.
“Of course I will ask. It would be my honour.” But it wasn't about honour or even doing the merciful thing. He knew that. She thought his request was a bargain regardless of what he had said. And she thought that if she could find them she would have some form of hold over him. A tool by which she could hold sway over him from now until hi
s last breath. And the terrible thing was that he knew she might be right. He would have traded his soul for that information. Even though it was a boon he was asking for and not a deal being made, he would find himself trapped. If she found them then forever after he would find himself in her debt, unable to refuse her anything.
And she would ask things of him. He dreaded the thought of what she might ask. But he knew it would begin with his begging for forgiveness from the Lady Sylfene. She was of singular purpose in that for some reason.
His life he guessed as he thanked her politely and then finally left the alehouse heading for the tanners to see if his vest was ready, had just become interesting again. But if they could find his family then it was worth it. Even if he had to plead for forgiveness from that damned glowing woman.
Chapter Twenty Five.
Sena was troubled as she spoke with Lady Sylfene. Troubled by what she'd learned from Dorn and more by what she should think of it.
Dorn was turning into a monster. A killer. Many of those he had attacked had surely died. Many more would never recover. And the fact that he did not kill them directly did not change that. But at the same time there was a war going on, or there had been. She and the others had witnessed the terrible results of the battles that had been fought, and seen the dead littering the ground. Dorn was right; many of those who now called the ancient temple of Balen Rale and the city of Terris Lee home were alive because of him and others like him. He was a soldier fighting for a cause he believed in.
And the terrible thing was that when he spoke she felt something of the strength of his convictions. Almost as though there was a righteousness in his actions. His belief was powerful. And it wasn't his alone.
Then there was her brother. He had said the prayer and awakened the shrine as he had been tasked. But he was keeping something from her. Something he would speak of only to Lady Sylfene. And that was something he had never done before. That troubled her.
More worrying still was the anger she had felt among the wildlings. It was the same. Now that they were gathered in numbers and feeling safe, the fear was disappearing to be replaced with anger. Many of them had suffered losses. Lived lives of intolerable fear and suffered terrible cruelty for reasons never of their own making. The bitterness and anger was growing from that.
They were learning to fight as well. Learning that lesson too well in her view. Thirty wildlings had now been shunned like Dorn. Sent away because they had killed on the way to Balen Rale. And more would follow. She knew it. The Lady did too, which was why she had offered clemency to Dorn. And why she had been upset by his answer. Not by his words, they amused her. But by his actions. The war he fought. That he was still fighting.
She was not angered by it Sena thought. She feared it. She understood that he rejected the offer because he admitted to no crime. That he felt his actions had been justified. And perhaps they had been to some extent. Certainly he had not brought the war on himself. He had not brought the Dicans to his home. But what worried the Lady, or at least what worried Sena was that if he accepted that his actions were justified, he would assume that they would continue to be. That he would grow in violence. That his killing would never end. Violence begot violence. It was a disease, and one that no wayfarer could ever engage in.
They had seen that in others. They had seen it most terribly when Timmis, a wildcast of fire, had burnt down the Dican temple in Badenscroft, the capital of Alador. He had set fire to it while the priests were inside, and he had made sure with his firestorm that they could not escape. Over a hundred people had died in that blaze and not all of them were priests. Then he had travelled on and now more Dican temples in the realm were burning. There was no end to the rage that dwelt within him.
War was a terrible path to walk. They should not be walking it. None of them. But Dorn was right. He had not started it. The war had come to him.
“Lady?” In time Sena began to worry when the Lady would not speak. Would not tell her what she thought of her report.
“The Dicans have attacked the temple a second time?” It wasn't the question Sena expected. But the Lady was the high priestess of Xeria, so perhaps she should have.
“Yes. When we were there in Little Rock we heard more stories of what had happened. Of terrible beasts killing and maiming the soldiers. Of priests with their faces torn apart. Of war machines burnt. And before I had spoken with Dorn and we visited the shrine itself, we saw the scorch marks all around. We also found the remains of the giant war machine they had brought to destroy it.”
“Machines to do war! Truly even without magic and lacking the knowledge of the elves these humans have become dangerous people. Others have reported that in their war with the dusky elves they are prevailing. Driving the dusky elves back and back. Builders defeating warriors. Such a thing cannot be imagined.”
But it wasn't just their technology that was aiding the humans Sena knew, it was a simple matter of numbers. The humans outnumbered the dusky elves by at least four to one. But she didn't mention that to the high priestess. It wasn't the time.
“In any case he has discovered a powerful weapon in the battle. This white wrath strikes at the very heart of the Dicans. It destroys their faith. And as his priests lose their faith Dica himself is weakened. This knowledge must be passed on. Please see to it that every wayfarer knows of it and every dream walker with the power to send at distance as well.”
“Of course.” Sena nodded to the Lady understanding her reasons perfectly. In battle against soldiers the white wrath was a terrible weapon that should never be used. Not when it would break them and leave them running in fear through dangerous lands to die. But against the Dicans in their temples it was something else. Against people whose entire existence was devoted to bringing fear to others in the hope that their god would keep fear from them, it was the very essence of justice. It was a fitting weapon. It would undermine their faith.
“And what should we do about Dorn Lady?”
“About Dorn?” Lady Sylfene stared at her in confusion as if she had said something strange. “Why should we do anything about him? He has agreed to allow our priests to visit the shrine without protest. His actions have protected the shrine on two occasions. He has brought us a weapon of surpassing value against our people's enemies. And since he has joined neither our cause nor the Temple of Xeria it is not our place to judge him. We have nothing to do, save perhaps to ask after his family. Would you have us do other child?”
“I would have him stopped. What he is doing is wrong. It is terrible. And he destroys his soul as he kills. He must be stopped for his own good. For the sake of peace. Before nothing is left of the man save a monster.”
“Yes. I keep forgetting.” Lady Sylfene stared at her closely, studying her, perhaps considering her words. “In many ways I keep seeing your people as the triumph. The greatest of the four races that my people have become. You and the wood elves. Between you, you embody many of our most cherished beliefs. You serve our highest virtues. But you are both damaged in your own ways. As incomplete as the dusky elves and the humans. And blind to your failings.”
“The wayfarers serve peace, but for the wrong reasons. You serve it because you are afraid of war. You cannot face conflict. You would rather run and hide than speak for what is right. But you cannot run forever. Sooner or later there will be nowhere to run to.”
“Dorn is right. The Mother does carry a sword, and with good reason. Conflict is a part of life. Struggle is part of the design. And when you run away from it, you run away from life. This is why your people are dying.”
“You should embrace the worthy goal of peace because it is right. Not because you fear conflict. You must always be willing to stand for what you believe in. And sometimes when it is the only way, you must fight for it.”
“I reconsidered my judgement of the child not because he is innocent. He is not innocent and even he does not believe he is. If he did he would not feel guilt and confess to crimes when he should n
ot. I reconsidered it because he is at war, as are we all. And he knows the need to fight. To protect his own. His home, his kith and his kin. And the one that he killed was both kin and kin slayer. The judgement was harsh and hasty, made so by his own belief in his guilt, right or wrong.”
“I reconsidered it because as your brother discovered he is somehow connected to the Mother. There exists between them a bond of some sort. Something of the love perhaps that exists between a mother and child. And if the Mother regards him as a child then who am I to judge him as an outsider?”
“In time I will judge him anew as I must. I will hear all the evidence and pay far less attention to the child's own thoughts. It is clear that he cannot adequately assess his own burden of guilt. I will listen to the Mother's heart on this matter. And when I listen I will note that whatever crimes he may have committed he has done so because he believes he is fighting for kith and kin. He is confused, the path is unclear before him and he has surely done wrong, but he still tries to do right. He tries to do as the Mother wishes.”
“When you judge him Sena you should remember that as well.”
“And you are right. Dorn's soul is at risk. The souls of all those who fight for what they believe in are at risk. The anger and hatred may consume them. But what will save them all are two things. The love of family. And the wisdom of the divine.”
“Ask after his family, and we will hope that they survive. If they do bring them here and bring him word. It will ease his anger. And now that you and your brother have spoken the proper prayers at the shrine of the Mother, perhaps she will bring him a little wisdom. After all a man cannot live for years in her home and not learn a little of her way.”