Garin didn't have to wait long for the rest of his party to rise. With the battle from the prior day still fresh in their minds, all were eager to be on their way and leave behind the forest of Fornkael. He tried to restrain his poor temper before the others, not wishing to seem a sulky boy. Particularly not on the day that was possibly his yearsday, when he should be even more fully a man.
Tal, in contrast to Garin, seemed in high spirits. He grinned and clapped shoulders everywhere he turned. If he was concerned about an ambush, he hid it well behind his tomfoolery. Garin caught himself watching him resentfully before he forced his gaze away. Tal still seemed to be avoiding him.
But he wasn't alone in his censure. Kaleras, too, received no comradely slap on the back or even a cheery greeting. And as the aged warlock watched from his perch by the fire, he seemed in as poor a mood as Garin.
What fine company to keep, he mused as he took his own seat.
When everyone had risen and begun easing their empty bellies on the same poor fare as the night before, Falcon finally initiated the conversation they had all been waiting for.
"So, Tal. You were saying last night…"
Garin looked up from the fire to watch his former mentor. Tal kept a smile perched on his lips, but something moved behind his eyes. He wondered what secrets he kept. Of the first of them, at least, he had some idea. His temper began to simmer again, but he kept a tight lid on it.
Finally, Tal shrugged and made a careless gesture. "We'll have plenty of time for me to spin a yarn — and for you to explain your own journey. But what we must focus on now is how to move forward."
"Move forward." Helnor repeated the words with a frown.
Tal nodded, somber now. "I did not come to the East simply to see the sights, pleasant though they have been. I have a purpose here that I have yet to complete."
"Here he goes again," Aelyn muttered, loud enough for all to hear.
"Now, Aelyn, let's not have any more of that." Falcon stood, gaining the posture of one about to make a speech — or at least the trouper's impression of an orator, to Garin's eye. "We all knew Tal's intentions for heading into the East when we began this expedition. We have known of the tome written by that old Nightelf sorceress and the things it implied. Tal has a destiny, if you will, one that he must fulfill for the good of all — both here in the Empire, if a collection of tors and trees can be given such a name, as well as in the Westreach."
"Oh, I'm sure you want that to be true," Aelyn sneered. "But let's be honest, bard — for all your grand dressings of this purpose, what you truly want is a fine stanza to finish your song."
"Aelyn," Wren said, warning in her tone.
"Everyone, please."
Though Ashelia spoke softly, Garin looked around with the others, and the conversation quieted. No longer did she seem the doting lover she had been the day before, but had returned to her role as the company's leader.
"We cannot quarrel among ourselves, now most of all. Tal is right — we must decide our course, then set to it. As eager as we all are to understand what has occurred, full explanations must wait until our next camp."
As she said it, the others in the company accepted it. Garin felt himself swayed in that direction. But the injustice of the moment, that Tal would so easily hide his secrets, became too much for him.
"One explanation can't wait," Garin said, trying hard to prevent his voice from cracking with restrained emotions. "I need to know — we all need to know — why in the red hells Tal spared a Soulstealer. An Extinguished who just tortured Wren!"
As the company looked first at Garin, then Wren, and finally Tal, he felt a flush of satisfaction. Mender. He would prove just how poorly suited the name was.
Tal looked around at his friends, allies who had risked life and limb to save him from his folly, and knew he dreaded what was to come.
He sighed and leaned forward onto his elbows, staring into the morning campfire. When he had gathered his thoughts, he looked up and met Garin's gaze. Barely repressed emotions hid behind the lad's eyes, emotions he had hoped never to see again.
The pangs of the past never really fade, he thought wistfully.
"You're right, Garin." He spoke softly at first, then raised his voice. "I did spare an Extinguished when I might have killed him. You all have seen that my sorcery has grown since Elendol. I began to tell you how it affected me at the beginning of my travels. But I have not yet told you how I was healed."
Tal sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled it. The others sat in silence, an anticipatory audience on the edges of their makeshift seats. Falcon's dream, an errant thought flitted through his head.
"After I was thrown into the river, I woke in a cave on blankets that were not my own. Rising, I discovered a fire outside and a man sitting at it. To my surprise, a Gladelysh elf was my rescuer. I had not expected to see any Reachfolk in the East, much less an elf. He introduced himself as Pim."
"Pim." Garin twisted the name into a curse. "Wren and I met him, too. You know what he told us? Stay away from you, or he'd kill us. Doesn't sound like such a helpful fellow, does it?"
Tal glanced at Wren and winced at her wrinkled brow and spinning eyes. The young woman looked as if she barely restrained her own outrage, her fists were clenched in her lap. He wondered what torments Pim had subjected her to. His own anger flared at the thought, but he set it aside. It could not serve any purpose just then.
"We ignored him and came for you anyway," Garin continued, biting off every word. "Pim caught us. He would have made good on his promise. So why did you not kill him, Tal? And don't give us some long, rambling tale. Just tell the Silence-damned truth!"
Tal looked to the others. Aelyn seemed amused now, enjoying the tarnishing of Tal's image. Kaleras bore the revelation with only a twitch of his eyelid. It was enough; Tal was well aware of how much the warlock hated Yuldor's servants. Falcon looked eager, as did Rolan, bard and apprentice both caught up in the drama of the tale. Helnor scanned the woods around them, as if wishing he could be roaming them rather than attending this ill-fated discussion.
And Ashelia — he did not yet dare look at the woman next to him, fearing what he would see in her eyes.
Instead, he shrugged. "This can only be explained through a long tale. Our journey together, Pim and I, the experiences we shared, the things he said and did — every one of those was a reason I did not harm him back in Naruah. But if you must have a short answer, it is this: he saved me once, then twice, then three times. This last salvation returned to me my sorcery, untainted. Sorcery I will sorely need if I'm to make good on my intentions. If he were still a true follower of Yuldor, why would he assist the very enemy who might depose his master and god? No — I can only believe his words. Whatever Pim's other intentions, our goals are aligned where the Prince of Devils is concerned."
Garin's brow was still furrowed, and his expression was mirrored on the faces of many of the others. Tal finally risked a glimpse at Ashelia and found she looked at him not as he feared, but with an odd thoughtfulness. He wondered what she made of his actions.
Must think me as much a fool as everyone else does.
"You can never trust an Extinguished, Tal. You should know that better than anyone."
Tal turned to Kaleras, who had spoken. The aged warlock met his gaze with a flinty stare of his own.
"Sometimes," Tal said quietly, "your bitterest enemies become your closest allies. You, Kaleras, should know that better than anyone."
The man held the stare a moment longer before looking away, his jaw working.
"Enough with the aphorisms, Harrenfel," Aelyn cut in. "As fond as we know you to be of them, they do little for your cause. I speak for us all when I say no matter how you've been duped, we will never trust an Extinguished."
Tal looked around at the others. Garin and Wren certainly looked inclined toward Aelyn's opinion. Kaleras' position was clear. Falcon appeared to be sympathetic, while Helnor seemed to have opted out of the discussion.
/>
And Ashelia…
"You let him go free."
He turned to fully meet her gaze. But instead of the condemnation he expected to see, he beheld something else entirely.
"Yes," he replied softly.
"Just to spare his life?"
"Not just."
He hesitated. As difficult to swallow as the rest had been, he knew this might be the hardest bit yet. But Ashelia seemed ready for it.
"Why did you do it then?" Rolan piped up, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
Tal looked at the boy with a wan smile. "Pim has hinted at things I must know if I am to challenge Yuldor for the Worldheart. And he implied that an alliance awaits us, should we seize upon it. An alliance with the Emperor of the East."
Everyone stirred in response. Before they could speak, Tal held up his hands and spoke over their murmurs.
"He wants me to meet him in Kavaugh, the Empire's capital. There, he'll make his proposal, which I can only assume is to rebel against their god."
"It is a ploy," Kaleras spoke through the other's mutters. "He seeks to lure you into Yuldor's clutches without a fight."
"I'm not inclined to agree with the warlock, but you force me to," Aelyn said with a sidelong glance at Kaleras. "This is mad even for you, Harrenfel."
Helnor gave a sigh audible even through the arguing.
Ashelia stood, drawing all eyes to her. "You are forgetting something," she said, "something you cannot. We trust Tal. We trust his judgment."
"That might be too far a stretch," Aelyn muttered, though he fell silent at a look from his House-sister.
"If we trust him, then we must trust what he says now. He has judged this Pim to be an ally. Would not one of Yuldor's closest servants be a valuable one? We do not know what we will face atop Ikvaldar; we need any assistance we can find. Even if it comes from one who was once an enemy."
Ashelia turned to Tal then, and he met her eyes. He wished he could convey all the gratitude he felt just then. Yet he had a feeling that, somehow, she knew. She gave him a small smile, and he returned it.
"Then it sounds as if our destination is clear," Falcon said brightly. "We go to Kavaugh."
Aelyn and Kaleras did not look convinced, but Wren appeared mollified, even intrigued. Tal cautiously glanced at Garin and found his gaze smoldering still. But none objected outright to the bard's statement.
Rolan stood and exclaimed, "To glory then!" He beamed at Falcon's approving laugh, and even those scowling had to smile.
Tal grinned with them. "I wouldn't go that far, lad. But we'll venture eastward all the same."
A Legend’s Legacy
Garin silently endured Wren's chatter throughout the day's ride.
"…Never would have believed it, would you? The things he did! He called up a storm and wasn't the least bit breathless! I summon a wind shield and am left wheezing like I ran a Halenhol footrace." Wren paused to frown at that; she was never fond of any ineptitude in herself. "Damned World's blood, or whatever it is that makes him have sorcery like that. How do you get it? Was he born with it? Or can we all come across it, like you with that cursed pendant?"
"I wouldn't recommend trying it," Garin replied, his first words in nearly the entire ride.
He could practically hear her eyes rolling. "Don't be such a drag, Garin. If there was something that could give you power like Tal's, wouldn't you take it?"
Garin thought of the Song. Perhaps I already have it, if only I knew how to wield it.
"It almost killed him," he pointed out.
"But it didn't, did it? And now look at him."
It was his turn to roll his eyes. He knew better than to reply.
Thus did the day's travels proceed. Their path was straightforward, if always inclined upward. Though not all had been convinced by Tal's belief in the Extinguished being an ally — Garin among them — they all agreed that heading east was the only path forward. According to the map, they would soon be out of the forest of giants and heading into Valankesh Pass, which roughly translated as "the Gap in Paradise." That corridor would take them, at last, through the bulk of the Empire's middle range, the Valanduali. From there, Kavaugh lay two score miles to the east, and the path to Ikvaldar, where Yuldor supposedly waited, turned south. It was at that point that they would have to make their final decision.
Garin snuck glances at Tal throughout the journey. His earlier anger had faded to a dull, pulsing throb, but had yet to entirely abate. Perhaps if Tal had approached him, he might have felt differently. But Garin only rarely caught him looking his way, and never with a smile.
I saved your life, he thought to the man. I carry your sword. I was supposed to be your protégé, whatever that means. And now you won't even talk to me.
He fed his resentment with every slight he could remember, while Wren continued to sing the man's praises in his ears.
They reached the edge of Fornkael as the sun sank behind the mountains. It had become necessary to stop before darkness, as setting up camp had become a lengthy process, due to the need to lay more significant protections against the Nightelves and any Ravagers who stumbled upon them. Garin did his assigned chore of making the campfire. After collecting the fuel with Rolan, he ignited it with sorcery. The Song, only slightly roused by the simple cantrip, hummed in the back of his head, and Garin listened to it as he stared into the flames.
He sensed someone approach and stand over him. Expecting it to be Tal, he didn't turn and acknowledge him, but pretended to be unaware he was there at all. Let him wait, he thought savagely.
"A sorcerer should always be aware of his surroundings."
Garin looked swiftly around. It was not Tal who stood over him, but Kaleras. The aged warlock seemed weary from the day's travel, yet he carried himself with pride. Such unbending resolve — it was something Garin could only dream of possessing.
"I knew you were there," he countered. "But the wise sorcerer chooses when and how to reveal his knowledge."
Kaleras' lips pressed into a thin line. Despite his mood, Garin managed to return a smile.
"We will practice sequences once again," the warlock said after a moment's silence. "You must be able to call upon the spells and patterns without thought, reacting appropriately to each situation. Instinct is developed through practice."
With each word, Garin found his dread growing. And though he had never denied Kaleras anything before, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Kaleras. I can't. Not tonight."
He bit off the other words threatening to spill out. He could not even meet the warlock's penetrating gaze. Among all those in their company, Garin thought he understood Kaleras best, and that the man knew his struggles in a way none of the rest could — none but Tal, at least.
But he could not bring himself to confess what occupied his mind that night. And so silence spread between them, foul as East Marsh air.
"Very well," the warlock said at length. "If you prefer your former tutor, you are welcome to him. You and I will discontinue our lessons."
Garin startled and looked around, but Kaleras was already striding away, a slight limp in his gait. He could only stare at the warlock's back as he retrieved something from his saddlebags.
What in Silence's name just happened?
Before he could pull apart the bizarre interaction, however, someone else blindsided him.
"He's not an easy man to speak with, is he?"
His gut clenched at Tal's voice, but Garin tried not to show it. Slowly, he turned back to the fire and studied it, pretending as if he hadn't heard.
It didn't work. Tal sat down on the ground next to him with an audible sigh.
"I should know," his old mentor continued. "I should know, best of all."
Garin still ignored him, listening and waiting.
Tal sucked in a breath and exhaled his words. "But anyway, I thought we might have a talk, you and I."
That didn't warrant a response. Garin gave it none.
"I woul
d have approached sooner. But I thought it better if it was a private conversation."
Garin glanced up. Despite the company's usual practice of gathering around the campfire at night, he noticed the space was now conspicuously empty. Yet he didn't doubt the others would be listening in from their tents or from among the nearby encroaching trees.
Tal cleared his throat. "I think I owe you an apology."
Garin finally looked over. Tal was turned toward him, half his face revealed by the dancing flames. A few strands had worked free of his ponytail and were limned by the firelight. The white and gray tresses along his scalp glowed dully in the night.
"You do, do you?" Garin looked away again. He was acting the child, he well knew, and just when he should be more of a man. But how could he do anything else?
"Thing is, lad, I'm not sure what exactly you want me to apologize for."
Lad. Lad was what he called Rolan, who was just a boy. The Song, droning in the back of his mind, spiked in volume with his surge of emotions.
He whipped his head back around. "Don't call me lad."
Tal looked startled. His infuriating smile appeared as if to hide it. "Alright, if you want. Sorry."
"Sorry, are you? I thought you didn't know what to apologize for."
Tal cocked his head. "I don't. Care to enlighten me?"
"Well, maybe that's part of the damned problem."
"What problem?"
"You. Everything with you."
Stop it. Act like a man. Garin fought down the overwhelming anger and tried to put rational words to it. Tal was silent, patient as ever, which only made the task more difficult.
"We risked everything for you," Garin continued, emotions barely restrained. "We came after you into the East — the East, of all the devil-smited places! And what do you do? Try to avoid us at every turn."
"Avoid you? Garin, I never knew you followed."
"What about in Vathda? Where were you hiding when we were looking for you? I know you were there — I heard your voice."
"Vathda?" Tal frowned, no sign of a smile now. "I was a prisoner in Vathda. You were there, looking for me?"
An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3) Page 32