Terian waited a moment before responding. “Do you have regrets?”
“I have shame,” she said, looking at the stone wall to his side, afraid to look him in the eye. “For a few things. A sense of being used against my will that makes me furious in the night, wakes me up sometimes—as if I needed aid in that regard.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “But mostly … I have secrets. I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want anyone to know me, to know what I did.” She blinked and looked at him. “So, yes … I suppose I do have a few regrets.”
“Whatever happens, you are welcome here,” Terian said, and she felt a slight sense of warmth. She’d visited her old home a few times, seen her mother and father. They had been … solicitous, though distant, but growing less so given time and circumstance. Her father, in particular, seemed to be warming to her again, apparently surprised at how his daughter had turned out, and how much sway she had in the new order of things. “Here in the palace, here in Saekaj or Sovar, wherever you choose. This is your home, if you want it to be.”
She lowered her head and fixed her gaze on the wall. “I’ve lied to nearly everyone I’ve ever met. And these secrets I carry …”
“Are yours,” Terian said, firmly. “And you need not fear your past, nor for your future, not in these caverns. Darkness doesn’t rule here anymore, and the only disguise you need place upon yourself is one of your choosing. Hide or do not, but do not fear it either way. You are welcome here, and your secrets are your own, and if I may aid you, all you need do is ask.”
She felt some of her worry about the future melt away at his words. She thought about it often—where she could go, what she could do, but never came up with satisfying answers. I am welcome nowhere else. I am wanted nowhere else, and these worries I carry with me—all I carry with me—would be cause for fear should I be caught. She looked up at the man in the old knight’s armor, and his eyes were warm in a way they’d never been before, in a way she’d perhaps only come to expect from … well … the one who wore the helm before him.
“Perhaps I will stay,” Aisling said, nodding her head slowly. The bed was soft, after all, and the road ahead was paved with its own sort of trouble if she left. “At least for a while …”
95.
J’anda
“You’re not going to say anything to anyone else before you leave?” Zieran asked. She no longer shared his quarters in the Gathering, the need for that particular illusion gone with the death of the Sovereign those months past, but she remained close by nonetheless and had come to him a few times in the night when he awoke with a hacking cough, the years of his life lost catching up to him more quickly now.
His bag was already packed, cinched tight, and light, with only a few things inside it—a spare robe, some extra sandals, and a little food. “I don’t know what I would say.” He hefted it on his back. It felt heavy, but when he took up Rasnareke, his staff, it suddenly felt light and easy to manage, like a feather on his shoulder. “I have worked with Aisling, with Terian, with the others for months now to make things stable. Now that they are, I see no reason to spoil the peace with any sort of … awkward farewell.”
“You are the head of the Gathering of Coercers, J’anda,” Zieran said with a trace of regret. “You are a man born of Sovar who rose to the tops of Saekaj and helped reform this place—and furthermore, you are the leading exemplar to show others that they need not fear being different in the way that you are. Not anymore.”
“I think the point is made,” J’anda said with an airy sigh. “Terian has given his word on the matter and emptied the Depths of those accused of my particular crime. Nothing more need be done on my end, and for my part,” he looked at the rock walls around him and felt a tightness in his chest, “I don’t wish to spend however many days I have left under the ground, no matter how light it is here now.”
Zieran nodded her head, her youthful skin folding at her cheeks as she smiled weakly. “It is your life, as you say. I only regret that you do not feel welcome to stay here among us to the end.”
“I spent a great many comfortable years feeling uncomfortable about this place,” J’anda said, drawing the strap of his sack tighter on his shoulder. “I feel fortunate that events have left me without a trace of those fears—but neither do I wish to spend my last days here, I am afraid. And so I bid my friends goodbye in the only way I know how—by saying nothing at all.”
“It’s a poor way to go,” Zieran said quietly. “To tiptoe out under cover of night like last time.”
“Ah,” J’anda said, and started toward the door, “but you see, this time I do not need to hide my face, at least.” He pulled open the door and blinked in surprise.
His students were lined up in the hall like an honor guard, not quite at attention, but stiff enough that the sign of respect was obvious. It was a salute for a spellcaster, he knew as they raised their hands, and he blinked as he started his walk, pausing to nod in acknowledgment as his feet carried him out of the foyer through the double stone doors, which the students forced open for him—
And revealed a street packed with people on either side, an avenue cleared from the door of the Gathering to a lone, small procession in the middle of the cobblestone road … waiting just for him.
“I could not let you leave in such a way,” Zieran said from his shoulder. “Not again.”
He kept his face a taut mask, trying to hold back the emotion of the moment as the crowd broke into cheers. He looked out among them on either side and saw the faces of the well-heeled of Saekaj and the slightly more ragged of Sovar, though they looked better now than they had just a few months ago. Gone was the atmosphere of starvation and deprivation, and he could see it and hear it in the way they cheered his name as he made his way to those standing ready to meet him in the middle of the street.
“I heard you were leaving,” Terian said, Kahlee upon his elbow, standing even with each other as the equals they were. He looked good in Alaric’s armor, J’anda thought once again. It suits him. “And I couldn’t just let the occasion pass in quiet ignominy.”
“So you decided to pass it neither quietly nor ignominiously,” J’anda said, looking at the streets, which were lined on either side with … thousands of people. Tens of thousands, perhaps. He blinked in astonishment at the sheer number—
“Last time this man left our home,” Terian said, and the crowd quieted in an instant, as if on command, “he was forced to do so in the dark of night, hiding his face, in fear for his life.” Terian removed his helm and his black, wavy hair slid out, and his eyes locked on J’anda’s. “Never again. J’anda Aimant … you are always welcome here.” He turned and spoke in a booming voice that seemed to echo off the very high ceilings of Saekaj itself. “Make way for a true hero of Saekaj and Sovar!” He laid a hand on J’anda’s shoulder, and pressed an envelope into his fingers. “Safe journey, my friend. A wizard waits to take you …” the white knight smiled, “wherever you want, though I think we both know where that will be. And if you end up there, I’d be much obliged if you could deliver this message to Cyrus.”
“I will … see what I can do,” J’anda said, and looked at the crowds lining the street, their colorful attire like a rainbow on a sunny day. “And thank you. For making this place … welcome.”
Terian smiled, and J’anda started his walk, the sound of raucous excitement turned loose around him. Cave cress petals were flung in his path, and the crowds cheered like he was a conquering hero returned to them. J’anda Aimant walked down the streets of his homeland as the sound of celebration paraded him forward, basking in the deafening cheers accorded a hero, and leaving him with no illusions about how the dark elven people of this place felt about him now.
96.
Terian
Terian Lepos sat in the quiet of the throne room, with none but his wife to attend him, and found himself smiling into the light that shone into every corner of the room around him.
“What are you grinning about?” Kahl
ee asked, sitting in the throne next to him. It wasn’t often that they did this, simply sitting here in the silence. There was, after all, always someone to see, someone’s problem to smooth over, some matter to attend to. Rare was the quiet moment like this, when Terian could simply sit in his padded chair (it was still somewhat uncomfortable) and stare at the lit corners of a room that until a few months ago had been shrouded in shadow.
“I was just thinking about the way things used to be,” Terian said truthfully, glancing over at Kahlee. She wore a wry smile, the sort he still loved about her. “And how they are now.”
“And what about that made you smile?” she asked.
He looked down at the armor that wrapped him from chest to boot and felt a tremor of sadness at the thought of its former wearer. Gone perhaps, but never forgotten. “The idea that things change. Sometimes for the worse, but … sometimes for the better.”
She gave him a canny look. “Which part of that amused you?”
He smiled again. “Perhaps I simply felt … a giddy sense of hope.”
“You? Giddy?” She placed her hand over her heart and batted her eyes at him in mock surprise. “The greatest white knight in all our land? I can hardly believe it. It hardly seems a fitting disposition for such a man.”
“Believe it,” he said and rose from the simple throne from which he helped rule the whole of the Sovereignty. She matched his movement and extended her hand, and he took it in his, delicately.
The darkness is gone, hopefully forever.
Thank you, Alaric.
“Where are we going?” she asked, almost playful.
“I can think of a place to while away some time,” he said, not without a little playfulness himself.
“Hrmm,” she said and let his hand fall from hers as she walked ahead of him. “Well, follow along, then, Sir Knight …”
And at this he could not but smile and follow his wife along the path she set, never straying from it the whole way out of the throne room.
Epilogue
Aisling
The surging pain brought Aisling’s mind back to the center, back to the moment, as it rose to crescendo in the darkness. She sweated against the mattress, bringing wet fingers up to her face and wiping them there, still afraid to cry out, knowing what it would bring. She held it in as long as possible and then let out a scream that echoed down the halls of the Grand Palace, letting her pain flow out of her in one long breath, a surrender that brought little relief.
The door thumped open a moment later and brought with it Kahlee, eyes blinking away sleep. Terian was at her shoulder, just behind, absent his usual armor, though he had his axe in hand. Kahlee gave him an unsubtle look. “Put it away, fool—and get the midwife.”
“Right,” Terian said, dropping the axe carefully from his shoulder. He stood there only a moment more, stupefied, before he said, “Right,” again and ran down the hall.
Kahlee approached the bed carefully, nightgown sweeping about her as Aisling grunted out in pain once more. “How are you feeling, dear?” Kahlee asked.
Normally, Aisling found Kahlee to be one of the most easily tolerable people she had ever come across. “How do you damned well think I’m feeling?” Aisling growled, unable to keep her absolute aggravation at the mere sight of the woman’s face from bleeding out.
“I think you’re about to give birth,” Kahlee said with more sensitivity than sarcasm for once, which annoyed Aisling somehow so much more, but before she had a chance to respond, another terrible, racking pain hit her and she was forced to grab her pillow and throttle the life out of it until the agony passed.
“Found the midwife,” Terian said oh-so-helpfully as he came back into view with a woman who was short and squat as a tree stump.
“Get … out …”Aisling said to him between breaths.
“Right,” Terian said, repeating himself and irritating her all in one. But thankfully, he did leave, which was fortunate for both him and his stupid face, which she found herself quite sick of.
“You’re going to need to push when I tell you to,” the midwife said, and Aisling found herself looking sidelong at her dagger, which rested on the stand next to the bed. Kahlee caught her looking and neatly slid it out of her reach, prompting Aisling to grunt, then moan as another wave of pain rolled over her.
It felt like hours of torment, of agony, and her assorted curses were many and varied. Kahlee and the midwife took it all in stride, it seemed, like spongy objects that soaked up her bile with aplomb, and that was perhaps the most irritating bit of it all—save for the pain, of course.
When it all passed and was over, she was left with a bundle curled quietly in her arms. She stared at its face—his face, she corrected—in silent amazement. The lines, the cheeks, the closed eyes … she could not recall ever being in the presence of a baby before, at least not since her own childhood, and it filled her with a sense of awesome wonder and terrible, gut-wrenching fear.
“What are you going to name him?” Kahlee asked. Terian stood at her shoulder now that the fuss was over, peering down at the child she cradled in her arms.
“I could make a suggestion, if you’d like,” Terian said with a smirk. His face annoyed her less now, but not much.
“I don’t think so,” she said, staring at those closed eyes. The baby’s lips puckered, skin paler than her own, caught somewhere between pink and blue, a bizarre combination worthy of the mix between the shades of his parents. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something, eventually.”
Kahlee hesitated, almost held something back, but then spoke. “Should we … prepare a note for the father?”
Aisling stared at those closed eyes again, her gaze drifting over the sloped forehead and dark patch of hair that crowned the child’s head. She’d pondered that very question for a long time, for all the months since she’d found out. She wondered how she’d feel in the moment, and found—most curiously—she felt exactly the same now as she had before, when she’d originally made the decision.
“Cyrus must never know,” she said, and she caught the twinge of regret in Terian’s expression, but it passed like a cloud on the wind, and she returned to staring at the baby without giving it another thought, focusing instead on that which she held in her arms—that last secret which belonged to her and her alone.
Cyrus Davidon (and Terian) returns in
WARLORD
The Sanctuary Series, Volume Six
Coming Late 2015!
Postscript
So here we wrap up my little diversion/excursion into Saekaj and Sovar, following a very unexpected split from the main storyline caused by the inclusion of Terian's father as the dark knight Cyrus and Vara killed on the bridge in Termina way back in Volume Three. That was never originally supposed to happen, unlike much of the series, which had been plotted out in advance. It certainly has led some interesting places, though, but now we find Terian in a most unexpected locale and in an even less expected role. It's all good, though, the story adapts, and I think – if you're a fan of Terian at all – you'll be glad to hear that he's back in WARLORD (As I write this, I am presently about 45% through with the first draft and it's going swimmingly).
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Cheers,
Robert J. Crane
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Editorial/Literary Janitorial duties performed by Sarah B
arbour and Jeffrey Bryan.
Final proofing was handle by Jo Evans. Any errors you see in the text, however, are the result of me rejecting changes. This story is translated from the original Arkarian, people, make some allowances.
The cover was masterfully designed by Karri Klawiter.
Alexa Medhus and David Leach did the first reads on this one. I also owe many thanks to Alexa for additional customer service help in dealing with bothersome questions that I am simply out of the patience to answer.
As always, thanks to my parents, my kids and my wife, for helping me keep things together.
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
The Sanctuary Series
Epic Fantasy
Defender: The Sanctuary Series, Volume One
Avenger: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Two
Champion: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Three
Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four
Sanctuary Tales, Volume One - A Short Story Collection
Thy Father's Shadow: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 4.5
Master: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Five
Fated in Darkness: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 5.5
Warlord: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Six* (Coming in late 2015!)
The Girl in the Box
and
Out of the Box
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Alone: The Girl in the Box, Book 1
Untouched: The Girl in the Box, Book 2
Soulless: The Girl in the Box, Book 3
Sanctuary 5.5 - Fated in Darkness Page 41