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MoM: One Who Masters Magic (Epilogue)


Travis

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Well, I am quite proud of this chapter. I took a 1000 word section of the first draft and expanded it into a full 6000 word chapter without fluff (at least, I don't think it is fluff). I think this makes poor Aitin a lot more sympathetic and full of a character, something that has been needed since he is, at least now, a background figure.

 

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Chapter 33

 

Throughout history, there are those whom the gods have preordained to do great things. Those men and women are given the blessings of the Tetrarchy themselves to fulfill quests and do great deeds in their name. Blessed are they who are called upon by the gods for while their path may be full of pain, their rewards are eternal.

 

— Great Heroes of Ages Past by Valsig Moortain

 

Dunsurt

South Equab

Kingdom of Terula

October 14

 

The great city of Dunsurt was sometimes known as the Capital of the East due to its size and prominence. It was, in truth, the capital of the Terulan Realm of the East, but that alone wasn't what gave the city its nickname. Dunsurt was a massive city in both size and population with extensive trade routes and fortifications to guard them. Its towering walls and the imposing keep at its center housed Lord Daenmoss Olbak and his garrison of an entire corps numbering over twenty two thousand soldiers. Dunsurt was also the home of House Olbak, the House that controlled most of the Realm of the East.

 

Prophet Aitin had been required to learn the histories of all the major cities in both Terula and Angvard while he was young. Not only did he have to know their pasts, but he needed to know their present place in things as well as which House controlled each. Such things were always useful to prophets in interpreting prophecies in proper context. It was always important to know which House controlled which cities and what their past interactions with other Houses were. Sometimes, if a prophecy foretold of great strife between Houses, but only gave clues enough to identify a specific region or city, the prophets would need to know the history of that region and who its rulers and rivals were. Only then could they make an educated guess as to the source of that strife would be or what might set it off so that they could recommend ways to prevent it.

 

On each side of gate was a large banner bearing the sigil of House Olbak, a white warship on a blue background denoting how the Dunsurti navy was the strongest in all of Terula. On the outside of those two were smaller banners showing the red crossed scythe and sickle of House Gavaste. House Olbak was a traditional ally of House Gavaste which had territory in the neighboring realm of North Equab around Hopenstad. The two houses had long banded together to protect themselves from Angvardi invasions and through that blood and sweat, were closely intermarried. Armies from both houses were among the largest due to necessity. Only a few of the Royal armies rivaled theirs in terms of numbers and skill. Even after peace with Angvard, such men were needed to ward off threats from the islands of Ragos to the east.

 

It wasn't the protection of armies or the rich merchants hawking their wares in the streets that drew the escaped prophet to this city, it was the extensive fleet of ships anchored in its harbor that brought him here. He needed to get a ship up to the Angvardi city of Lavisha over thirteen hundred miles north and going by ship was the quickest and safest way. Even counting the risk of an attack by Ragosi pirates who roamed the Casmeuric Sea with impunity, it was safer than a single man trying to cross on foot.

 

The largest issue facing him was a severe lack of funds. As it was, he had been just barely living off of the land as he traveled. A kind farmer had given him a spare blanket and some food in exchange for an afternoon of help, but generally, he kept to his own on the road. Coming into contact with others was dangerous even though most commoners would never be able to tell a prophet from an ungifted. A lone man traveling was a target for all manner of bandits, cutthroats, or thieves in the wilderness.

 

He had not come here without a plan, though. He knew someone in Dunsurt that could be persuaded to help fund his voyage if she could be convinced of the urgency of his task. Fenniel was a conjuror who healed minor injuries, made simple magical potions, and dabbled in basic alchemy. As a conjuror, she wasn't nearly as powerful as a mage, but she did have some of the magical gift that enabled her to make a living. Truth be told, she was only slightly less powerful than prophets themselves, and he thought that was perhaps why she was so kind toward them.

 

He had met her eleven years ago when she was training in Terula City. All of the gifted who received training in one of the adjunct branches of the College of Mages or College of Wizards repaid their education by serving in the ranks of Prophet's Guard for three months. After her education had been complete, Fenniel did her time as a guard for the Tower. Though she was over a decade his senior and had great authority over the prophets, she had been kind and compassionate towards him and her other wards. Unlike most of the guards, she tried to treat the prophets as human beings rather than threats.

 

One night when he was up late talking to her, she revealed that she had always hated mages and wizards because they looked down on a simple conjuror such as her due to their far greater power. Whether it was his ignorance or the sweet red wine from Sasevurg they had been sharing, he found himself relating to her and agreeing with her position. Mages and wizards were frequently used to guard the prophets and never missed a chance to flaunt their powers. In a quiet voice, she confessed that she never did like how prophets were locked up and closely guarded while wizards, with all their power, were allowed to roam free.

 

Despite returning to her home in Dunsurt, they still kept in touch. Aitin had nearly fainted in shock when he received her first letter because he had thought never to hear from her again. He had quickly written a reply and began what would become a regular series of correspondence letters. The Royal Mail was fairly efficient and was able to deliver a letter once every three weeks to a month despite the more than eleven hundred miles that separated them. Throughout their correspondence, they had to be careful because all outgoing and incoming letters in the Tower were read by the Prophet's Guard to ensure that no dangerous prophecies were getting out. If their true sentiments had been made public, they could be in great trouble. Aitin knew her well enough to catch hidden meanings in her words that let him know she still had the same feelings toward the prophet's imprisonment and disdain for the wizards who lorded over the magically gifted.

 

He had arrived at the city just as the bottom of the sun began to touch the top of the outer walls. It was chilly in this mid-autumn day, but Aitin was used to the cold by now after spending so many nights curled up in a ditch or under a tree wrapped in his blanket. The city was large, nearly as large as Terula City, so finding Fenniel was going to take a good amount of time unless the gods were with him.

 

He spent the next three hours asking the various merchants and citizens for directions, but Aitin finally found where she lived. He took a deep breath to calm his fluttering heart before knocking politely on her door. It was after dark now, so he didn't think she would be in her shop or running errands.

 

His guess was right when she pulled the door open and peered out at him with the light of the candle she was holding. "I am closed. Come back tomorrow if you need anything."

 

"Fenniel," he said with a crooked smile, "it's me, Aitin."

 

"Aitin? Aitin!" She flung open the doors and thrust a small candle toward him to give her a better view of his face. Her eyes widened in surprise and she quickly looked down both sides of the street to check if anyone was with him. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I need some help, Fenniel, and you are the only one I could turn to."

 

She hesitated for a few moments, then grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. "Get in here before someone sees you."

 

Once inside her small house with the door safely bolted behind them and the curtains drawn, he was able to get a good look at her. She was a handsome lady with beautiful brown hair that came down to the top of her shoulders. She might not have been a stunning beauty by most men's standards, but to him, she was breathtaking. Standing there looking at him, he couldn't help but remember what else had happened that night with the wine when she confessed her distaste for how prophets were treated.

 

By the time the Sasevurg wine was finished, it was growing late. There was no curfew in the Tower of Estar, but most prophets preferred to start the day early so things were pretty quiet within an hour or so after dark. They had been sitting next to each other in a private, rarely used study where they would not be overheard or seen. Fenniel had been talking about Dunsurt, the sea, and some of the things she liked to do there when she paused and looked intently into his brown eyes with her own vibrant green ones. She placed a hand on his thigh and flashed him a wide smile that made his skin grow warm. She then leaned forward and whispered into his ear something about being lonely this far from home. He hadn't quite understood what she was meaning until she stood up, took both his hands in hers, and led him back to her quarters. For the month that she remained in Terula City, they spent as much time alone together in each other's arms as possible.

 

Now, standing here in her own house, eleven years later, he could feel the same tumult of emotions washing over him. He didn't see or hear anyone else in the house, so his heart began to hope that she had never found a husband. In all these years, he had never been able to feel about a woman as strongly as he did in that bittersweet month spent with her. It had been truly hard for him to see her go.

 

Despite his pleas, she insisted that she had to return back to her home when her service in the Prophet's Guard was complete. With so many mages and other students in Terula City, there was no demand for her services so she could not make any money. Aitin pleaded with her to join the Prophet's Guard permanently, but she couldn't bear to spend her years guarding over men who she believed had done no wrong. Aitin had wept on the last day when they were together in his quarters. She didn't try to calm him, but held him close against her breast and ran her fingers through his hair. He fell asleep that way and, when he woke, she was gone.

 

"You should not have come here," she said, though the expression on her face lacked the sternness of her voice.

 

"I know," he mumbled in response. "I-I just couldn't turn to anyone else. I missed you, Fenniel."

 

She nodded just once before stepping forward and kissing him. She was tall enough that she didn't even have to tilt her head back much to reach him and her arms were still as strong as he remembered them.

 

When the kiss ended, she stepped back and wrinkled her nose. "It is good to see you, Aitin, but you sorely need a bath and a good shave. What happened to the smooth skinned boy that I used to know? When did you start wearing a beard like that?"

 

Aitin was glad for the tangled beard now because it hid the pink spreading across his cheeks. "I have been traveling a long time, Fenniel, and I don't have money for inns. The creeks are too cold for bathing unless I want to risk freezing to death. It got cold at night and fires were dangerous because they could attract the wrong people."

 

"That just will not do," she replied. "Here, let me get you something to eat while I prepare a bath for you. You look half starved."

 

The prospect of hot food and an actual bath was extremely appealing after weeks going without. He felt awkward having her serve him like this and couldn't just sit down at the table. He tried to help, but was only getting in the way, so Fenniel gave him a look and he found himself sitting quietly at her table without further complaint.

 

Once seated, he began to take in her small house. The main room was furnished with two chairs and a padded couch that he assumed she performed her healings on. There were several shelves full of various potions and charms that he knew she sold. There was a recessed portion of the house where he was currently sitting in that also contained a kitchen. There was another door to the side that seemed to lead off into a bedroom. It was larger than the quarters he had been given, but it was still cozy and well lived in.

 

Everything he saw fell in line with what he had always pictured her house. After his first sweep, he began to take things in a little closer, trying to identify as many potions and items as possible. Then, midway through his exercise, every muscle in his body stiffened and the hair on his arms stood on end. Sitting on a peg beside the door were two outer coats. One was cut in the common fashion for women, but there was another that was clearly meant for a man to wear.

 

He could not imagine why she would have a man's coat in her house. It wasn't from a guest because there was an extra peg for it and nobody else was here. Was there a man in her life that he didn't know about? Their letters often revolved around discussions of magic, but on occasion, she mentioned a few personal things. Even then, he was aware that there was a great deal about her life that he didn't know. He tried to keep himself from panicking. For all he knew, it was a brother or cousin who frequently visited and happened to forget his coat today.

 

"I see that you have a man's cloak by your door," he noted cautiously. "Are you expecting your husband to return soon?" That sounded a little strange, so he quickly added, "I would love to meet him."

 

Fenniel didn't respond immediately and Aitin couldn't keep his heart from racing. When she finally responded, it was with a heavy voice. "I was married once. He was a good man, but it was not meant to be."

 

Aitin couldn't help himself. "What happened?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could recall them.

 

"He died." That was all she said and Aitin didn't dare press further. "I could not bear to remove his coat, so it has hung there all these years."

 

He remained silent, embarrassed for his insecurity and angry at himself for bringing that hurt back into her life. "I am sorry. I never knew."

 

She gave him a forced smile, "It isn't your fault, I never did tell you. It just didn't seem right considering everything. Our time together was so short, I couldn't bear to mention it and burden you with my grief."

"I wish you had told me," replied Aitin. "But I understand why you didn't."

 

"Thank you," she replied. A few more minutes of silence passed before she sat a bowl of hot vegetable soup and bread before him with a glass of pear juice to wash it down. "It isn't Sasevurg Red," she said with a slight grin, "but it is sweeter than water."

 

Without having to force gratitude into his voice, he replied, "It is wonderful. Thank you, Fenniel."

 

She acknowledged his thanks with a wider smile. "I will go and draw you a bath while you eat."

 

Before he could even finish, she had returned. Heating water was not so difficult even for a conjuror, but Aitin knew she couldn't have gathered the water so quickly unless it was already there. They caught up while he finished, but the conversation was kept light. They had a lot to catch up on, though Aitin was careful not to broach the subject of the husband she had found and lost since they had last seen each other.

When the food and drink were gone, he yawned and stretched. She arched a brow and gave him a seductive look. "I hope you aren't too tired after your travels. It has been a great while since we have been together, I would hate to spoil it."

 

The first time she had approached him this way, he had been a young man of just eighteen years. Having been found by the prophets when he was but six, Aitin grew up in the Tower with very little contact with women. Fenniel had been the first to really show him any true attention and he had never regretted a moment of it.

 

"You are still interested, then?" he asked. His voice rose at the end and he kept his eyes on her own.

 

Fenniel sighed and pushed aside a strand of her brown hair that had gotten into her face. "My husband has been dead six years, Aitin. I have been alone here ever since with only your letters to carry me through those dark times. There are not many men who could ever live with a woman who can cast magic, even the small amount that I am capable of. My only other hope was to be able to bring in money and show them that I could provide for them. Without the wars, there is not so much need for my services. Healing potions and protection wards used to be the mainstay of conjurors. Few men would be interested in a woman who can cast magic and yet, is poor. As it is, I can only just barely keep myself fed."

 

Aitin shifted uneasily in his chair. "I am sorry, I did not know. You never mentioned this in your letters." He felt especially bad because he had come here asking for money. If she could hardly support herself, then how would she be able to give him silver for passage to Lavisha?

 

She waved his words away. "I did not want to burden you. It isn't like they pay you in that damned tower, so what could you have done?"

 

He reached across the table and clasped her hand in both of his own. "I could have done something, Fenniel."

 

"Not likely, but I appreciate your intent. There is no need to be so depressing, not now. Come, my sweet Aitin, there is a bath waiting for us." She stood up and, now holding onto his hands, pulled him behind her just as she had that first night.

 

"For us?" he repeated. Both of his brows went up at her inviting smile.

 

She bit her lower lip and gestured at the back door and the steaming tub of water through it with a tilt of her head. Aitin did not resist at all when she led him there and began stripping off is filthy clothes. The tub wasn't large enough for her to join him, but she did help him clean the hard to reach places…as well as a few that weren't so hard to reach.

 

A good bit later that night, the two of them rested comfortably in her bed. He was clean and had shaved with a handsome woman in his arms. For the first time in months, Aitin was at peace and felt safe. He didn't have to worry about wolves or bandits coming across him while he slept. Nor was he cold and hungry, but rather warm and content.

 

"I miss your touch," Fenniel whispered into his ear. "You were so young then, so innocent. Now, you have grown and matured like good wine. You are still sweet, but with far richer flavor and passion."

 

Aitin kissed her to hide another of the blushes she was so adept at bringing out of him. "There has never been another woman, Fenniel. I only ever loved you."

 

He could feel her stiffen against him for a moment, but it quickly passed. "You are a good boy, Aitin. No, you are a boy no longer; I shall call you what you are: a man."

 

He took a deep breath and started to say, "Fenniel, I wanted to—"

 

"Hush, my sweet prophet," she whispered again. This time, she placed one finger over his lips. "Do not spoil the moment. Just sleep, my dear Aitin. I promise, I will still be here when you wake."

 

He wanted to argue, but she wrapped her left arm and leg around him to pull him closer into her embrace. When she was satisfied, she rested her head on his shoulder and remained still. He held her in silence, gently stroking the smooth skin of her back with his free hand. Eventually, he fell asleep and dreamed of pleasant things.

 

 

 

The next morning, she was indeed still there in bed with him, just as she promised. He waited until she woke up before kissing her. They made love again before finally getting out of bed. She barely had time to dress and wash her hands and face with warm water before a young woman arrived seeking treatment for a minor burn.

 

Aitin remained out of sight while she conjured a simple spell to take the sting out of the burn and heal the damaged skin. After receiving a few coppers in return, she bid the woman a good day and closed the door behind her. Without pause, she went about preparing breakfast, again rejecting help when Aitin offered it. "You would just get in my way," she said with a playful smirk.

 

They ate some eggs and a few strips of bacon with tea before the next customer arrived seeking a potion or such. The next few hours went by with sporadic customers arriving, being treated or finding what they wanted, and leaving. The two of them rarely had more than a few minutes alone.

 

"You seem to be quite busy," Aitin said around noon.

 

"Blah, I have little problems with getting customers. Dunsurt is a large city with plenty of people that need things. The problem is that it costs so much for me to acquire the necessary ingredients for what I need. One would have thought that without Angvardi crossing the River or Ragosi storming our beaches, things would be readily available, but that isn't the case. Now, almost everything I need is being sent west to help the Unification Campaigns there. That has driven up the costs to where I can barely afford to sell any of my stock."

 

"How do you survive, then?" he asked.

 

She shrugged. "Mostly by my magic, such as it is. That is the only time I can ever make any actual coin, but that takes time and leaves me tired."

 

Aitin knew firsthand how draining healing could be. Even though it was hardly their strong point, all prophets were required to learn how to heal simple injuries just as they had to learn basic elemental spells. The Master Prophets wanted all of their students to be as well rounded as possible, even if most of their time was spent on prophecy and history.

 

"I need to go to Lavisha," he blurted out.

 

Fenniel's mouth dropped a bit in shock. "To Lavisha?" she muttered. "Why in the gods holy names would you want to go there?"

 

Aitin hesitated, but realized that he would have to tell her some time and now was as good as any. "I received a very special prophecy. It told me of a task that I must complete, a task sent by the gods themselves." He knew how crazy that sounded, but he had to convince her. "I know it sounds crazy, Fenniel, but it is true. I have never lied to you before, you know that. I am not lying to you now."

"Wha-what sort of task?" she asked cautiously.

 

He straightened his shoulders and sat up a bit taller. "I cannot tell you." At the look of hurt on her face, he hastily added, "I am sorry, but I cannot tell anyone, that was part of my instructions."

 

"Can you tell me what reason you would have for going to Lavisha?"

 

"Well, it isn't just Lavisha, but that is the easiest and safest way to get there this time of year. The Pausey Shoals are treacherous so the road to Goteip is safer than going by boat."

 

"Goteip? That is a very long way from here," she said in astonishment.

 

He nodded and sighed. "I have been all over, Fenniel. It has been a long few months, but I have finally been able to see a bit of the world, just like I always wanted to. I have been to Soothei, survived the Hensroth Forest, seen the fabled Temple of the Endless Seas, and spent a day in Klatasta. Before this summer, I had never dreamed of seeing any of those things."

 

She appraised him with a critical eye. "You have been busy, haven't you, my dear prophet. What have you been doing at those places?"

 

"I cannot tell you, but it is of the most critical importance that I continue north into Angvard."

 

"I believe you," she whispered.

 

He leaned across the table and said urgently, "You could come with me."

 

She jerked back as if struck. "What?"

 

"You could come with me. I may not be able to tell you everything, but nothing says I have to be alone all the time."

 

She shook her head. "You are speaking crazy things."

 

He waved his hands around her small home and shop, "Look at this place. "You said yourself that you are barely making a living here. Sell your shop and we can use the money to buy passage to Lavisha with some to spare. We can travel the roads together."

 

She laughed dryly. "And spend the cold nights in each other's arms?"

 

He couldn't stop the grin that formed on his lips. "Well, yes, that too. Think about it, Fenniel. You could leave behind this hopeless life and do something important. Historians will know our names and bards will sing of our deeds. Most importantly, the Tetrarchy itself will smile down upon us."

 

"Oh yes, because the gods care about someone like me," came her retort.

 

Aitin was hurt by that and didn't attempt to hide it. "Of course they do. Mewela loves all of her children both great and small. Come with me on this journey. I have been so lonely, having you along with me would mean more than you can ever imagine."

 

Her face had lost all traces of humor. "You are serious about this, aren't you?"

 

"As serious as anything I have ever been. I love you, Fenniel, I don't think I ever stopped loving you. Come with me and we can love each other for the rest of our lives."

 

For a second, she remained motionless without expression. Then, just as Aitin's heart began to drop, a slow smile blossomed on her face. "I would like that, my sweet Aitin. I have never been to Angvard, maybe it is time I did. All I ever knew was fear or hatred of the Angvardi, gods forgive me. Perhaps by going there, I can learn otherwise. I can think of nobody I would wish to do that with more than you."

 

Aitin stood up and leaned across the table to kiss her forehead in excitement and relief. "Thank you, Fenniel, my love. It might be a hard life, but it is one that is rewarding and will be far more meaningful than we would otherwise have."

 

She grabbed his chin and pulled his mouth to hers for a quick but fiery kiss. "Let me go out and see if I can find someone to buy this place. If I can't find an individual, I can always sell it to House Olbak, they are always eager to buy more property and have plenty of coin." She stood up and started toward the door. "I will also inquire about ships heading north. With winter on its way, there are several captains who are bound to want to get home before the worst comes."

 

"I will stay here," Aitin said.

 

"That is probably wise. I doubt anyone here would recognize you, but the last thing we need is for someone to see a runaway prophet." Before she went through the door, she gave him another kiss. This one was longer and sent warmth throughout his body. "Stay here," she said breathlessly. "I will return before it is dark. If the gods be with us, I will come with coin and word of a ship that can take us."

 

"I will not go anywhere," Aitin swore. With one last smile, she was out the door.

 

 

 

While he was waiting, Aitin busied himself by going through the house gathering things that they would need for a journey. Food, some of her potions, clothes, and a few amenities that he thought she might need were all placed on her table for packing when she returned. If they were going to go on this journey, he wanted to prepare better than he had been able to when he started. Back in Terula City, he had quite literally just the clothes on his back and a small piece of bread that a fellow prophet had been eating when the prophecy struck them all.

 

He was so excited that he didn't think his feet were touching the ground as he scampered around the house. For the last month since he left Maetop, he had been both dreading and dreaming of reuniting with Fenniel. He hadn't been sure if she felt the same things toward him that she had before and had always been afraid to ask. Meeting up with her last night had proven to be better than he could ever have hoped for. He hadn't expected to have someone coming with him on this journey, especially not someone whom he loved and loved him in return. Now, for the first since the excitement of adventure had died out shortly after leaving, he didn't feel that this journey would be a burden.

 

He was so occupied in preparing for their journey, he didn't notice the front door crack open. He only heard the sound of something wooden rolling across stone before his senses were overwhelmed with a painful burst of light and sound. He immediately fell to his knees with eyes squeezed shut and hands over his ears, but that didn't stop the burning afterimages or the ringing in his head. Through the pain, he dimly recalled the name of the charm that had been used against him: a Sunburst charm. That knowledge gave him no comfort because his many nightmares over the last few months gave him an idea of what was coming next.

 

He wasn't able to exactly see the three men in livery bearing the black gauntlet of the Order of Shalktra slam open the door and charge in with cudgels at the ready, but he did feel it when they reached him. Even though he was already on his knees, one Shalktra beat him across his shoulders with a leather bound cudgel until he was flat on his stomach. That man immediately got on top of Aitin and kept him pinned to the ground with an armor encased knee pressed between his shoulders.

 

A thin black chain was thrown around his neck while his arms were wrenched back and manacles were clamped around his wrists. He tried to resist and get his legs under him, but that only resulted in a bash across the head that had him seeing stars. He only thought to cry out when strong arms pulled him to his feet and began pushing him toward the door, but by then, it was too late. Yelling only got him a gag stuffed in his mouth.

 

He was pushed through Fenniel's door and into the street where he was forced to wait while a prison carriage made its way down the street to where they were. By now, there were no fewer than a dozen armed Shalktra all bearing the same black fist on their chests. There was not much hope for escape. Nobody in their right mind would interfere in his abduction when Shalktra were involved. A troop of Shalktra could rape a woman in a public square in broad daylight and not a single man would challenge them if they claimed she was some traitor, heretic, or Angvardi spy.

 

In desperation, Aitin tried to recall his lessons on elemental magic, hoping to summon enough fire or electricity to strike down his abductors and give himself a fighting chance. As his mind recalled the proper spells, he twisted the fingers of his manacled hands upward in hopes of directing the lightning against the chains holding them together.

 

As soon as he did, his head erupted in a spectacular amount of pain that blinded him. He would have fallen to the hard cobblestones that made up the street had it not been for the strong arms holding him up. He vomited, or rather tried to since his mouth had a gag in it. The sensation of drowning caused him to panic even more as he fought against the revulsion that came with swallowing his own vomit. Eventually, the need for air overrode his inhibitions and he swallowed.

 

"Stupid prophet," a Shalktra said with a cold, merciless laugh. It was the first words any of them had said since bursting into Fenniel's house. "We have an Amulet of Silence around your neck. Try to use magic again and you will be similarly rewarded."

 

What tiny amount of hope Aitin had vanished. An Amulet of Silence was used by the Prophet's Guard and a select few others such as the Shalktra to control those with weaker magical abilities such as prophets, conjurors, charmers, alchemists, and untrained mages or wizards. The amulet was actually a charm that sensed the buildup of magic within anyone who was wearing it and immediately sent a massive spike of pain straight into their head. One who was a trained mage or wizard could counter its effects with some effort, but a prophet such as himself was helpless against it.

 

By now, the prison carriage had arrived and a small crowd had gathered. Aitin's head hung low in shame and terror at being treated as a criminal by the Shalktra, but that didn't stop him from seeing Fenniel's face in the crowd. His eyes widened as he caught her eyes. He shook his head, hoping that she would get the message not to try to help him.

 

As if the gods had decided that all that had happened wasn't enough, he was petrified to see one of the Shalktra walk straight up to Fenniel and say something to her. Her eyes briefly flickered over to him before returning to Aitin. Without emotion, she nodded and the Shalktra walked back toward him with a smile on his face.

 

Aitin's world shattered at that moment. He was not so foolish enough to miss betrayal so blatant. He had never thought that the woman he loved would betray him to his enemies, but it was plain that she had. If there had been any hope still left in him, it would have fled him at that moment, but there was none. He was utterly defeated and crushed.

 

Two Shalktra began to drag him toward the carriage. When he passed by Fenniel, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. There was a hint of remorse in her voice when she replied, "I am sorry, Aitin. As much as I may hate what they do to you, it is necessary. You are a threat and you need to be sent back there where you can harm nobody."

 

Tears finally came and began streaming down his cheeks unabated. How could she do this? Had all of those moments alone in her arms meant nothing? Had the kisses been nothing but show? Were all the words she spoke against the Prophet's Guard lies?

 

Aitin and his escorts had reached the back of the carriage where he was hoisted up by two more men standing within its cage. The last thing he saw before a thick black bag was placed over his head was one of the Shalktra dropping a large leather coin purse into Fenniel's hands. So full was the purse that a few of the coins fell out into her hands. All were gold and quite large. It was a king's ransom that was more than most people ever even saw in their entire lives. He had no idea that he was worth so much. Despite himself and the situation he was in, he couldn't help but smile and feel a tiny bit of comfort that his love had at last found a way to sustain herself and live a comfortable life.

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numbering over twenty two thousand

Twenty-two should be hyphenated. No idea why, but that's what I've always been taught.

 

I liked the additional background between Aitin and Fenniel, and this was an easy to read chapter. Will the extra information given here be used/referenced again later in the novel? I think it needs to be to lend some weight to this chapter. I don't think I would take it out, but I think it would be of benefit to be used again later.

Member of Jnet Addict Club 12/05

Order of the Nocturnal

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Yes, it should be hyphenated, I just missed that.

 

And most definitely yes, this information will be used later on. Most of the interactions between Aitin and Fenniel are to help develop his character a little and will be referenced later. The stuff at the start will be important later in the next book when the Terulan Civil War breaks out. All of the mentioning of various Houses and their ties will be relevant when all hell breaks loose.

 

Did you manage to read the chapter previous to this?

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Why yes, yes I did :shifty:

 

Out of nowhere, Lorenez saw flashes of silky black hair and lush, red painted lips before him. He saw the curious red eight pointed star with the white swirls that she always wore around her neck. He could feel the warmth of soft hands on his chest and the curves of the feminine form beneath his own. He could see the rich, dark skin of her neck inviting him to kiss it. His nose was filled with the subtle scent of the spices that always surrounded her, the ones that came from her homeland and were so hard to find here. Eyes the color of honey bored into him with an intensity that took his breath away. Lastly, before they faded away, he saw a distinct image of a young woman, framed in shadow, alone with tears streaming down her cheeks. The woman was fleeing from dark shadows, but he could not make out what they were or what her face looked like. Try as he might, it was all covered in darkness. At last, everything swirled together and vanished into nothingness.

 

I think this section would do better without 'out of nowhere" at the beginning, and in italics to give it the feel of a flash vision or something. As it is, it feels like a paragraph that's been put in the wrong place until you've read to the end of it and gone through the next bit of dialogue.

 

He shook his head to clear it and drive away the tingle that ran down his back.

 

I think you mean 'drove', not 'drive.'

 

It had initially started as a joke, but it had no become habit.

 

Typo - now needs a w.

 

Good chapter too, and nicely expanded from the original. Interesting choice to 'invalidate' three branches of prophecy, but will they be shown to be invalidated, and what happens to their prophets, or is that just a sidestory?

Member of Jnet Addict Club 12/05

Order of the Nocturnal

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  • 2 weeks later...

Sorry about the long delay. This chapter has been finished for a while, but I didn't want to put it up until it had settled a bit. I have hit a sort of slump for now, but I don't think that will last long. I tend to write in cycles with something else in between to distract me and allow me to recharge. Sometimes it is a TV series, other times it is a game or a book series. Last was the entire Smallville series, now it is the Wheel of Time. However, usually, after I finish my temporary obsession, I come back hard with the writing, so I am not worried. I had to rework this chapter several times, especially since it is quite out of place from the original. Originally, I had most of these scenes taking place after the confrontation with Vekla about leaving. This time, I put it ahead and, since there has been a good deal of time that passed since his arrival (something not present in the previous version), I wanted to fill that with something. I have just finished the preliminary on the next chapter with most of the one after that finished. Chapter 36 will end the second section and we will be moving onto the third, titled: "Rescue and Repercussions." I have a LOT of changes and new material planned for that, so it will be most fun.

 

Note: I know Lord Horadin's speech is odd and doesn't quite make sense. I point that out right from the start (you will see what I mean when you read it). That being said, please do not point out grammatical or tense errors within his speech because they are intentional (language barrier is a killer, ya know?).

 

_______________

 

 

Chapter 34

 

Ka Kavero ka Tengraleth vostso sakte laengasi.

The Dance of the Blade heals many wounds.

 

— Kruish proverb

 

Clan Hall

Thwrud

Subeleth

October 24

 

"There will be no more discussion," Syler said angrily. "My word is final." He allowed for Delmonor to finish his translation before waving the petitioner away. The man who was even now being dragged out by two burly guards had been wanting to be given more time to pay off his debt. He had, as was every Thwrudil's right, been given a loan by Lord Saekoris to offset a poor season of crops last year. He was supposed to have sown and tended a field in the common lands last spring to help pay for that loan. The man had planted the field as he was supposed to, but he failed to care for it and the wheat had all failed. As result, he was not able to raise enough money to pay his debts.

 

The man argued that he had been sick and barely able to tend to his own fields much less his share of the common plot. Syler could sympathize with that as his own father was frequently sick and unable to work during his last days. Sometimes, the Elements guided things against men for reasons known only to them. Syler had the greatest mercy for those who were suffering.

 

However, what Syler could not abide was laziness and drunkenness. Since he was not familiar with the various people within the city, Syler frequently asked the city guardsmen and women who were familiar with the citizens in the city as to the nature of those who came before him. Three guards swore that the man in question frequented taverns and was often seen wasting his time gambling and smoking with his friends even during daylight hours. Before coming here, Syler spent every day from sunup to sundown working in a hot forge. He had no patience for those who squandered their life with gambling, games, or drunkenness.

 

Therefore, he had sentenced the man to forfeit part of his lands to be sold and the money used to pay off his debt. The man had been devastated as it meant that he would likely not be able to support himself or his family. Syler had sympathy for the man's wife and children, but their suffering would be due to the man's faults. He had dryly suggested that his older children join the army and that his wife find some way to make money, but he would not budge from his opinion. A man had to own his actions and if he failed that, then he had to pay to make it right.

 

It had been three weeks since he had the burden of the leadership of this clan forced upon him. He had no love for what he did, but that was part of his agreement with the Elements in exchange for Bronwyn's life. Just as that man must suffer the consequences of his agreements, he had to carry his end of the bargain by doing what he didn't want to do.

 

His mood had been poor those first several days and he made no apologies for it. His leg hurt and he was still furious at what had happened. The Krue had wanted him to lead, so he did and he was not afraid to pour out his wrath upon them. So sour was his mood that even Growald was generally cautious whenever he was around and Havert frequently tried to avoid him. Alltis, ever the peacemaker, made a few attempts to intervene and soothe over harmed feelings, but it was hardly enough. She eventually gave up and was content to stay out of Syler's way.

 

He snapped at Bronwyn just once. After the scolding and the stony silence she turned against him for two straight days, it was a mistake he did not make a second time. His surrender against her did not go unnoticed. After having partaken of a great amount of liquid courage, Growald joked that the only person in Thwrud that Syler was afraid of was the Kutii woman who shared his bed. Syler did not disagree with his statement, but Bronwyn wasn't the only person or thing he feared.

 

The wound Lord Saekoris gave him took two weeks to heal enough for Syler to walk without a cane. The Healer Woman—whose name he still didn't know—tended to him twice a day with such skill that he had no cause to issue complaint. She was disappointed that her potions were not more effective and seemed confused until he pointed out that if she had used magic on them, it wouldn't work against him. After hearing that, she gave a huff and put away almost all of her potions and herbs saying that she would have to make all new ones with more potent ingredients.

 

Now, the wound had closed up and a vicious white scar taken its place. He could walk on his own now, but he still had to be careful. The skin was still tender and he didn't want to tear it once more. The muscle itself had mostly healed, but the calf didn't quite feel the same. The Healer Woman said that it would take a few more weeks before he was completely recovered.

 

His foul mood and short temper actually turned out to be a mixed blessing because many of the Krue who were arriving from elsewhere in the Clan's Holdings were far more malleable after they started hearing the stories that spilled out from the Clan Hall daily. It started the day after he was forced to take power on his first day in what Havert jokingly called his court. The longhouse had been packed full of various men and women each wanting something or giving a list of demands. On both Vekla's and Growald's advice, Syler refused to acknowledge any of them until they pledged themselves to him. That seemed to work, especially when he muttered under his breath that it would be nice to have one stubborn minor noble who refused to submit stripped of all but his breechcloth and thrown outside. Delmonor dutifully translated what he had said. He had only been frustrated and meant nothing by it, but his guards took him quite seriously and carried out the deed without hesitation. Syler had nearly panicked when he saw that, but a thin smile from Vekla gave him pause. From that point on, nobody refused to swear allegiance and Syler was careful about joking around these people.

 

That wasn't the only reason why people began to fall in line. When it came to judgments over various minor crimes, Syler proved to be quite tough. He had always felt that a man should work hard if he was capable and had no sympathy for those who didn't or who felt entitled to steal from others. Thieves soon came to think twice before stealing anything in Thwrud after Syler ordered several of them to be flogged and forced them to repay thrice what they had tried to steal. If they couldn't pay, they were forced to work for the one whom they tried to steal from until the debt was paid off.

 

Drunken revelry was also not tolerated because Syler had seen all too often what came of it. Despite Growald's protests, or perhaps because of them, Syler decreed that public drunkenness would earn someone a night in the stockades. With an early winter on its way, all but the most foolish decided to stay within their homes if they wanted to get drunk. Various tavern owners were not happy and Delmonor was pale when he heard of the new dictates, but one look from either him or Vekla was enough to silence all opposition. The Inthaley's word was law and if they didn't like it, they needed only to look at what happened to Lord Yaegran and his supporters to remind them of that fact.

 

Syler started the most whispers for how he judged the man who had beaten and raped his wife for some trivial reason that didn't matter. When the bruised and bloodied woman was telling her story, Syler needed to glance only once at Bronwyn in order to make up his mind. While the woman continued, he couldn't get the image of his beloved wife sitting in that storage yard in Kubei, beaten and abused, out of his mind. Without any hesitation, he met the husband's eyes and declared that he would be summarily put to death by beheading. He even ordered everyone in the longhouse outside so they could witness it. He could not understand how any man could do something like that to his wife, no matter what she did. When the man's head had been thrust up on the end of a pike in front of the longhouse, Syler declared that any other man who dared to force himself upon a woman would die in a similar fashion. With fiery eyes, he also said that any who dared to beat their wife or any other woman would suffer a flogging and a week in the stockades.

 

Every night, a minor noble within the city by the name of Fredas Horadin would come to the Clan Lord's estate and tell Syler of news that he would not have otherwise received. Lord Horadin had somehow gotten Vekla's approval and proved to be one of Syler's greatest allies. At thirty-five years old, the man wasn't quite as old as most of the other lords, but he was intelligent and crafty when it came to politics. There was much that Syler needed to learn about the subtleties of politics, especially Kruish politics, and Lord Horadin seemed willing and eager to teach him. Oddly, Syler found that he didn't usually mind dealing with him, even if most all the other nobles made him want to scream and throw them into the streets.

 

Having Lord Horadin's support in private was refreshing in more than one way. Fredas was young and was what most considered to be a radical when it came to his ideas. Unlike most of the Krue, Lord Horadin had gone out in secret to observe the Sei and learn from them. It had been a decade since he had left Subeleth, but he still remembered the Common Tongue enough to be able to converse with Syler in it. He was nowhere near as bigoted against outsiders as the rest of the Krue which is probably why he was so quick to support Syler.

 

That contrasted entirely with Vekla and even Growald. Both were willing to support him in public out of a desire to maintain solidarity and prevent him from looking weak. However, in private, they chastised him for every decision they didn't agree with and treated him as a wayward boy. Despite the pledge of truce at the dinner table the night he arrived into Thwrud, Growald didn't hesitate to show his contempt for Syler's inexperience—though he only did so when Bronwyn wasn't around. More than once, Syler had stormed away from them and taken refuge in his chambers where not even Growald dared enter without his express permission.

Poor Delmonor had been caught in one of those arguments and didn't know where to turn. He stayed out of politics as much as possible, but as Syler's translator and chief bodyguard, he was constantly pressured to give his opinion. To his credit, he continued to express faith in his inthaley, but it was clear that he didn't have any desire to do battle with either Growald or Vekla.

 

Havert tried to add his weight in favor of his best friend, but that didn't go over well with either of them. If Vekla viewed Syler as a disobedient pup, she saw the redhead as little more than an annoyance. Growald didn't pay him much heed and on more than one occasion, ordered him outright to shut up using his authority as an officer in the Seinari.

 

Syler didn't care much what they thought of him. He was growing more and more tired of what anyone except Bronwyn, Havert, and perhaps Alltis thought of him. He might have included Lamastus in that category, but the Angvardi had been gone since the start of this particular situation. As far as he was concerned, all of the Krue and Growald could just live with him. They were the ones who put him into this situation so they would just have to live with the repercussions.

 

As time went by and Syler's leg healed, he began to relax a little more. Without him even realizing it, he had fallen into a routine. With familiarity came comfort and an improvement in his mood. He even caught himself enjoying evenings when he could sit in front of the fire with Bronwyn in his arms and a fur blanket wrapped around them both. It was a good way to end his usually stressful and frustrating days and he really began to look forward to it each night.

 

Syler noted the position of the sun and let out a long sigh. "That will be all for today, Delmonor," he said. There were several others who were waiting for Leydaethal, or the Lord's Judgment, but Syler was tired of this. His leg was hurting and the constant, dull pain gave him a headache. One of the few perks of being in charge was that he was able to decide when Leydaethal was over because, after all, he was the lord and nobody wanted to press him after he said he was finished because it was entirely within his power to make any ruling or sentence any punishment he desired. While Syler had let to lash out against any petitioner with an overly harsh punishment, nobody wished to test his patience after the reputation he earned in his early days.

 

Once the guards cleared the longhouse, Syler and his own escort went to his estate. He was about to go into the main hall when he caught sight of Saledaur Torrvel. The steward gave him a discreet shake of his head that caused Syler to groan. Vekla, Growald, or both of them were waiting for him, doubtless eager to give him some new piece of "wisdom" while telling him how he should do things their way. It didn't take too long for the saledaur to see how his master reacted to such meetings before he started warning him of their presence. Even though Torrvel could be annoying and too eager to please, Syler had come to like the man for that fact alone.

 

Rather than deal with either of them, Syler took a left and began wandering through the estate. It wasn't large enough to hide in forever, but if he was particularly clever, he could manage to spare himself half an hour or so of lecturing. It wouldn't take long for the two of them to start looking for him. Hiding in his chambers wouldn't help, either, because then they would know he was intentionally avoiding them and their reprimands only grew worse. The servants, doubtless thanks to Torrvel, wouldn't offer any help in tracking him throughout the estate, so that gave him a chance by saying he didn't know that they wanted him or claiming to have had other business in whatever room he found himself in. Normally, he would just pick a door at random and just stay in the room it led to.

 

This evening, he found himself in the estate's armory. It wasn't the largest he had been in by any means, but it still was interesting. The armory for the company from Sandrin was many times this size, but it was also meant for a hundred men. This armory was supposedly meant just for him and whatever guards he choose to equip, so its rows of weapons and armor were more than enough to impress him.

An idle thought slipped into his mind and he paused. Everything here was his to do with as he pleased, so what harm would there be in trying some of the armor on? He had never worn armor as fine as what he saw here and it might help give him the fortitude to deal with Vekla and Growald. At the very least, it might give him the illusion of protection against their criticisms.

 

He ran his fingers over several sets that were identical to the ones that his personal guards wore and started whistling a tune to himself. With one of these, he might be able to simply slip past the two unnoticed. He entertained that thought for a few moments before disregarding it. The guards would know and they would stop him, then he would look the fool. While these sets were well made and sturdy light armor, ultimately, they were not of interest to him.

 

Instead, he was drawn to a set of armor at the back of the armory that was put up on its own stand. This was something he had never before seen among the Krue. On first inspection, it looked like normal black leather armor, but it wasn't. There was metal in this armor and that was not something the Krue normally used unless it was mail. This was no mail, though, it was some sort of plate armor. The plates were smaller and thinner than normal, but were complemented with some of the hardest boiled black leather that Syler had ever seen. The leather covered almost all of the steel, but stopped along the edges allowing some of the metal to show. The leather, like almost all of the leatherwork made by the Krue, had ornately decorative but strange, extremely complex symbols embossed in it. The gold rivets that held the leather to the metal beneath were also arrayed artistically in a pattern that Syler couldn't decipher. The most prominent decoration on it were the two hasaun that each framed one side of the breastplate with their horns meeting just below his collarbone.

 

While the armor itself was beautiful, that wasn't what caught Syler's attention. Something drew him to them that he couldn't explain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could sense that there was something special about this set of armor. When he reached out to touch it, he felt a jolt of energy that coursed through his veins right down to his toes. He didn't know quite what made it do that, but he knew that he wanted this armor. It was as though it were beckoning for him, begging him to put it on.

 

He took his time in doing just that. As he put on each piece, he looked and felt every part to see how it fit and functioned. The armor was impeccably made and was probably finer than what the Seinari generals wore even without the magic imbued into it. When he finished lacing up the last greave, he stood up and moved around to gauge how it fit. It felt comfortable, solid, and most importantly, it allowed him to move freely despite being heavier than the leather armor he had worn when fighting Lord Saekoris.

 

The next thing he wanted was a weapon. There were plenty of weapons here so he would have a good selection. He quickly passed the spears and pikes and didn't spend much time with any axes. He focused in on the swords, the weapon of the elite. He might not be well trained in their use, but he had found one to be quite effective in the Temple of Kubei. He could always learn how to use it properly, but no respectable leader or officer would be without.

 

He couldn't find any swords that drew him like the armor, but he did pick one that looked sturdy and well built. It was a simple longsword, one that was longer and a bit wider than the swords he had seen the Kruish warriors carry. He swung it a few times to get the feel of its weight and balance and found that he liked it. The metalwork was solid with an encapsulated tang to prevent it from breaking. Its hilt was firm black leather that had been applied in a seamless fashion that Syler very much wished he knew how to craft. The fuller ran three quarters of the way up to the blade to reinforce and lighten it. It was still sharp, though not so sharp that it weakened the edge.

 

He strapped the tooled leather belt and the scabbard it held around his waist and paced around the room a few times to get used to its feel. When he was satisfied, he decided that he wanted to see how it felt in a good workout. If he was going to have to hide from Vekla and Growald, he might as well as have a little fun while doing it. Besides, they would suspect that he was in the estate first and search it thoroughly before thinking to go outside.

 

With a cautious glance down both sides of the hall, Syler crept out and stealthily made his way to the nearest exit. Once outside, he could move more freely. One of his guards snapped to attention and was about to call for others to form an escort, but Syler stopped him with a raised hand. He went off into the garden in the back of the grounds alone and found a fairly secluded courtyard that gave him plenty of room to move around in.

 

He didn't have any targets, but he didn't need any right now. Instead, he just started swinging the sword in the complex patterns he had learned back in Sandrin during those precious few hours he had been able to hold a sword. He practiced blocks, parries, different styles of striking, and more powerful swings. The armor took a little getting used to and slowed him down. He needed to wear it as much as possible so he could grow accustomed to its weight and balance if he was ever to be able to wear it in battle. It was almost startling to think of going into battle again, but Syler knew that such a day would come regardless to what he did. Only a fool would ignore what was coming.

 

An hour passed, then another and he was covered in sweat despite the cold in the air, but he didn't stop. He had the strength to strike with great power, but he lacked the finesse needed to accurately direct his blows. With an axe like what he had mainly trained in, that wasn't so important. All one had to do with an axe was to aim at the enemy's midsection or head and swing. As sword required more control to get its maximum potential because it wasn't designed to serve as a crude bludgeoning weapon.

 

As he labored, his moves grew more fluid, more precise, and more controlled. He began to see the moves in his head and simply did what he envisioned. It was odd, but there were times when he could have sworn that his hands were moving of their own accord. He was well familiar with muscle memory, but this was not quite that. It felt good, but it also perplexed him because he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was almost as though he was learning things faster and easier and he wondered if it had something to do with whatever powers he had acquired recently. Whatever it was, he enjoyed it and wanted to do more, so he continued until the sun was dipping low over the horizon.

 

 

 

Bronwyn had spent much of the afternoon as she normally did, taking it easy and recovering from her ordeal both in the Temple of Kubei and on the month long journey here. Even though Syler had healed her injuries, it would take a long time to regain her weight and recover her strength. With so much of Syler's time taken up by his duties as inthaley, she rarely saw him.

 

It helped that Alltis and Havert were frequently around. She hadn't been especially close to either before coming here. They had all three been left out of things for the most part and therefore had little to do but talk with each other. Alltis made some connections with some of the local women and Havert was frequently pestering the storytellers who spoke some of the Common Tongue, but generally, the two of them stayed in the estate with her.

 

As it grew late, she began to worry that she hadn't seen Syler since going to see him in the Clan House for lunch. She wondered what was taking him so long there as he normally returned before darkness. When she ran into Growald and was asked by him where her husband was, she immediately began to worry something was wrong.

 

After escaping the Seinari's presence, she found Torrvel and asked where Syler was. He gave a sly smile and said something about his master contemplating the burdens of his office, a code she had learned meant hiding out from Growald and Vekla. She went around the estate asking servants if they seen Syler, but none had. At last, she came upon a servant who claimed to have seen him outside and went searching for him there.

 

After pulling an extra coat across her shoulders, she ventured out into the night. A guard confirmed that Syler had gone into the gardens and hadn't exited, so she went straight there. She saw someone moving around in the farthest garden and cautiously headed that direction.

 

At first, she didn't recognize the figure running, rolling, jumping, and dodging around the yard with a sword in hand. When the man turned toward her and saw that it was Syler, her heart skipped a beat or two. She had seen him in armor only one time before and that hadn't been his best day. He had been confused, uncomfortable, angry, and overwhelmed with what was going on around him.

 

Not now, though. Now, he looked comfortable, happy, and sure of himself as he made swing after swing against invisible enemies with a determination that took her breath away. The armor he wore was magnificent and seemed to fit him perfectly. The sword in his hand gleamed in the brilliant pale light of the great moon Sor and the lighter red of Fedan had a strange effect on the gold in his armor. His defiant, challenging voice rang out as he charged time after time into the lines of whatever enemy he was envisioning. To her surprise, he didn't seem to be favoring his wounded leg at all. It was as though he was back to full strength even though she knew it still pained him.

 

He was so enraptured in what he was doing that he didn't notice her. That was fine with her because she was content to just watch him going about his paces uninterrupted. She knew that he had trained some with his militia back in his hometown, but she didn't know he was this good. He had been holding himself back during their flight from the Temple, probably out of concern for her wellbeing. She had been able to see the warriors of her village demonstrate their skills in the Contests and believed that Syler was a match for the best among them. Watching him was beautiful, but she could tell that he was oblivious to what was surrounding him and was wearing himself out.

 

As the hour grew late, the air became chillier and a shiver running up her back made her realize that Syler wasn't wearing any coats. He was just wearing his armor and was sweating from exertion. Fearing that he might stay out here all night and catch a sickness, she stepped into the clearing and called out his name. Syler jerked and nearly stumbled to the ground when he heard her.

 

"Bronwyn!" he said breathlessly. "What are you doing here?"

 

"It is late, you need to come inside," she said.

 

He stood there panting for a minute as he looked around at where he was. "I didn't know it was so late," he said at last.

 

"I like the armor, it looks good on you," Bronwyn couldn't help but say. "You never told me you were such a warrior."

 

Fedan's light accented the blush on his cheeks. "Thanks," was all the response he could muster.

 

She reached out and touched the breastplate and allowed her fingers to trace the designs of the hasuan on them. His chest was still heaving, but he remained silent and reached out to touch her cheek with a gloved hand. "You shouldn't be out here so late with this cold," she whispered.

 

"I just kinda got carried away," he said. Bronwyn could detect a bit of nervousness in his voice and in his eyes by the way he kept looking back and forth, but not directly at her.

 

"I know, I watched you," she admitted. When he frowned, she quickly added, "I was only there for an hour or so, but I couldn't stop watching you."

 

"Really? I didn't think I was that amusing."

 

She laughed softly, "No, you weren't funny. I had never seen that side of you before, at least not in a controlled sense. I saw a glimpse of it when you were fighting Growald, but nothing like it since. You were strong, completely focused on what you were doing, and, if I might say, very attractive. I wish I could see this side of you more often."

 

If they were in the light, she was sure his ears would be crimson by now. Though they had been close every night, they hadn't made love since the night he had healed her, since the night before he had to kill Lord Saekoris. At first, it was because of the wound on his leg. Later on, either he had been so angry over something the Krue wanted or she had been too exhausted. Seeing him here like this tonight had stirred that longing once more and she decided to act upon it.

 

With a smile that she knew from experience that he couldn't resist, she drew closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She stood up on her toes and kissed him despite his surprised expression. His responding kiss reflected her own desire and intensity.

 

 

 

Vekla was bordering on furious and all of the servants knew it. While they tended to avoid her gaze in the best of times, now they were scampering around frantically trying to get out of her way as she prowled the halls of the estate. When Lord Penion seemingly had not returned to the estate at nightfall, she grew suspicious that he was once again avoiding her in another of his childish games. She ran across Delmonor which confirmed that Lord Penion was present on the estate grounds, but the loyal lapdog had not been able to offer much help as his attention was focused on where he could get the next cup of ale or leg of turkey.

 

She shoved him aside in disgust and was about to continue her search of the estate when she sensed a small shift in the flow of magic. It was faint, causing her to cock her head slightly to better hear it. She had not expected to feel this particular magic so soon, but the Spirits moved at their own time. She froze and listened to the flow as only those attuned to sorcery could. For a few seconds it hummed with power that would attract the necessary attention for its mark. With one last flare of energy, the flow was cut off.

 

The edges of Vekla's mouth rose in a rare smile. For the flow of magic to end suddenly as it had meant only that the desired recipient had received it. She still didn't understand how he managed to do it, but understanding was not necessary.

 

The smile slowly faded from her face as she stalked toward the armory, intent on confronting Lord Penion. Her hand was on the armory door when she paused and reconsidered. Much was not known about the Majiyae Oretezu and how he would react to events in his life. Having just discovered the armor and the enchantments surrounding it, she was curious as to which way he would turn. Instead of going in the room, she retreated.

 

Syler emerged shortly thereafter resplendent in the armor meant for him and him alone. It was a slight shock seeing him wearing it. She admonished herself slightly for such a feeling, however fleeting it had been, because it was meant to be his from the beginning.

 

She buried her emotion and quietly followed him until he exited the estate. She watched through a window only long enough to determine he was heading to the gardens before whirling around and heading toward the front door. She would see what he was up to, but she didn't want to be followed. There were ways to get back onto the estate grounds without even the guards noticing.

 

The Sei lout, Growald, spotted her darted ahead to block her path. "Where do you think that boy went off to tonight?" he asked in his typically abrasive manner. Perhaps he thought that by winking at her, he was being co-conspiratorial or even endearing, but it wasn't going to work on her.

 

Spirits only knew why a crass creature such as this was selected to be the Guardian. In the three weeks she had the misfortune of knowing him, he had proven to be nothing but a boar in every manner. He constantly tried to manipulate Lord Penion against her and in favor of his own ridiculous notion of reclaiming the Sei Kingdom. Fortunately for them all, Lord Penion was not foolish enough to go asking for trouble when he had plenty enough where he was.

 

"Vangroos bwe set, gakrell," she snapped.

 

That only elicited a tsking sound from him, "Now there, missy, you should learn to have better manners than that."

 

The multiplicity of his annoying traits also happened to include a knowledge of the Sacred Tongue. She assumed it had to do with his being a Torelatat, but that made it no less bearable. Refusing to wait for him to profane her native tongue with his own crude accent, she switched to the Outsider's Tongue. "He is not in the estate. Even if he had been, I would not tell you of it."

 

"Not tell me?" The buffoon sounded hurt, though she knew it was merely a deception. "But we have so much fun together." If he was referring to the contempt filled arguments they often had with each other or with Lord Penion, then her understanding of the Outsider's word "fun" was entirely in error.

 

She snorted at that. "I have no time for you, stand aside on your own or I will make you stand aside." To emphasize her point, she held her hand up. Small arcs of energy shot between her thumb and forefinger.

 

If there was one thing she knew that got under his skin, it was threats of any sort. Normally, it caused him to become quite defensive to the point of aggression. One warrior who had given him some sleight which turned into a flurry of threats and shaking fists. That warrior and four of his friends ended up needing the healing woman, and all who watched thought they had gotten off lightly.

 

She was no half drunk warrior, though. She was a sorceress of the highest level, a fully recognized Mistress, a master of her craft, and entitled to wear the black. For some time now, she had been wanting Growald to give her a reason to squash him like a bug and humble him. It was only because of the blue Ritdenmarq he wore that she hadn't yet disposed of him. Even if Lord Penion might have use for him, she would only allow herself to be pressed so far before taking action.

 

The Sei had a strange sort of twinkle in his eye that made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking. For a moment, she thought that he might actually take her up on the challenge. Instead, with a flourish of his hands and an elegantly insincere bow, the Seinari backed away. "Very well, my mistress. Have it your way, then."

 

Leaving the disappointment of his meek reaction behind her, Vekla continued her purposeful march out of the estate. As soon as she was out of the watchful eye of the guards, she circled around and found one of the secret paths her father had showed her back onto the grounds. She was a mistress of the night with her black hair and robes, none would ever see her.

 

She crept up to where she heard the rustle of leather on metal and the singing of a blade. Working her way silently through the hedges, she caught sight of her target. He was whirling around in the twilight, lashing out with his sword in an incredibly complex pattern that seemed familiar.

 

Her breath left her when she realized what he was doing. It shouldn't have been possible, but there was no mistaking what Lord Penion was doing. He was dancing ka Kavero ka Tengraleth, the Dance of the Blade. There could be no mistaking it now that she knew what to watch for. He might not be doing it well, but he was indeed dancing it despite having no way to know how. She would never have believed it had she not been here witnessing it herself.

 

Her mind began to flash back to that time when things were not yet known and Syler Penion of Sandrin was merely another outsider. She had spotted an armed group of men racing toward the Sacred Forest on their inferior mounts and decided that the risk in engaging them was minimal. Her patrol was eager for battle and this encroachment was sufficient cause for her to act.

 

When they emerged from the forest and got closer, she realized that it was not one group of foreigners coming at them, but two. Curiously, one of those groups sheathed their weapons in the face of her charge. That alone would have given her pause until she realized that they were dressed as Sei and those following them were Easterners.

 

She was intrigued enough to redirect the attack against the Easterners, leaving the Sei to be interrogated. They had chosen not to flee while the Easterners were slaughtered, not that it would have mattered either way. When she choose to strike out at the lone Easterner, one of the Sei had decided to foolishly intervene.

 

Upon further reflection, perhaps it had not been foolishness at all that guided his hand, but rather fate. Her fireball left him untouched and changed her life forever. Once the Bolteros revealed himself, she knew that destiny had indeed touched her.

 

When it became clear to her that Syler was the one who she and her ancestors had been waiting for over two thousand years to come, she had known what difficult road was ahead of her. She knew what role Lord Saekoris would have to take and grieved for him even as they rode to Thwrud. She had wished that it wasn't true, but his display of raw power when saving his woman was proof enough to even the most jaded of observers. Nobody simply gained access to the Immortal Realm that easily and never alone. It normally took an entire circle of elders to allow someone to gain access to the Spirits, but he did it on his own and seemingly on his own terms.

 

After he was sent to this very estate, she had been left to spend her last hours with her father. For a time, she had considered pleading with him not to sacrifice himself, but she knew he would not listen. He was set in his purpose, just as she was. Despite that, knowledge, it was still hard to let go of him. She had been in many battles, killed many men and women, and had seen friends die, but she didn't want to lose her father, the last of her family.

 

Even as the two of them returned to the house she had spent her early years in, he kept exhorting her to remain true to what purpose they both had. He was to sacrifice himself to teach the Majiyae Oretezu how to not just absorb spells, but to reflect them. Even more importantly, it was his intent to set Syler upon his destiny. Should Syler slay the Inthaley of Thwrud in such a manner, he would confirm himself to all gathered that he was indeed the Majiyae Oretezu. Prophecy had dictated as much and there was no escaping it. It was also critical for him to sacrifice himself so that Syler could take his place as leader of Clan Thwrud and start his path to greatness. The end of Lord Avenil Saekoris' journey would be the beginning of Lord Syler Penion of Sandrin's.

 

Before he was to die, her father wanted to impart one last gift to the Majiyae Oretezu and for that, he needed his daughter's skill with magic. They had gone into the armory and used his own armor for the incantations. It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done. As a sorceress, Vekla was very familiar with the arcane arts of enchantments and imbuing objects, so that was not difficult. It was not even challenging to etch the time consuming symbols into the hardened leather.

 

The difficult part had been what she was imbuing the armor with.

 

Lord Saekoris had once been a mighty battlemage. He was skilled not just in the art of magic, but also in traditional combat. He had vigorously defended his clan from all threats and earned a reputation as a fierce warrior that helped protect Thwrud from other clans even after he grew too old to ride on patrols. More than one man had thought to challenge him for rule and fallen before either his magic or his blade. Lord Saekoris knew this and wished to make use of that knowledge once again.

 

In one last act of sacrifice and devotion to prophecy and the purpose chosen for him, he gave up his knowledge of fighting and swordplay. With Vekla's help, they imbued his armor with all of his skills, his strength, courage, and his experience. Each piece was filled with his own essence and power at his own expense. He was more than willing to give of himself so that the Majiyae Oretezu might benefit from it. There was not a moment of hesitation or an ounce of doubt in him while they worked.

 

Her father had insisted that she not lead Lord Penion to the armor, but allow him to find it on his own. She didn't understand why, but he had made her swear to it. At first, she had been worried that he wouldn't ever find it, but he assured her that he would be drawn to it on his own. Once he found it, he would slowly use his ability to absorb spells to take in her father's skills. The more he used it, the more he would draw upon them and the more powerful he would become. It wasn't a permanent transfer, though. As soon as he stopped focusing or took the armor off, he would retain only a little of the skills he was now displaying in the courtyard. He would have to learn like any other, though the armor would help guide him and perhaps save him when he was in danger.

 

The irony that she found him practicing in this secluded garden courtyard was not lost upon her. This was the very spot where her father often went to be alone. It had been his refuge, one of the few places that none dared enter without his permission. It was as though Lord Saekoris' spirit were guiding him to this very spot and driving him to use the armor he had left behind.

 

With intent curiosity, Vekla remained hidden where she was watching him to see if he would refine his skills. She hadn't been disappointed. Though his first half hour had been sloppy, he was absorbing her father's abilities with alarming speed. Within two hours, his form and execution had the skilled precision and grace of a true master.

 

Even if he didn't seem to notice it, she took note that he was no longer favoring his injured leg. It had been said that ka Kavero ka Tengraleth was a balm to the soldier because it placed their mind and body at harmony with the worldly elements. She wasn't so sure about it as she had never experienced any sort of great benefit beyond extra focus while practicing it. Regardless to her opinion, Lord Penion's leg seemed to be bothering him no longer. She wondered if he had subconsciously tapped into some element of her father's healing skills that had been imbued into that armor, but she wasn't so sure. He hadn't put his knowledge of magic into the armor, only his skills in traditional combat.

 

Vekla immediately noticed Bronwyn's arrival even though Syler himself was too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice it. She had silently willed that the other woman not interrupt him and was glad when she didn't. Sitting there allowed the sorceress to contemplate Bronwyn's role in things.

 

From what Syler had said about the Elements during his visit to their realm, it was clear that the Kutii's purpose had ended. Yet, despite that, he had intervened and saved her life at great risk to his own. He wouldn't say exactly what he had to do in order to accomplish that, but she wasn't sure it was for the best. Everyone had a purpose and when they deviated from that, they ran contrary to the natural order of things. Her father had devoted his life to his purpose as the Ulaen Fequilbat and sacrificed himself when the time came as he should have. She had similarly devoted her life to being the Rebastaq and made her own sacrifices. She had done so willingly, but it was difficult to do, especially now.

 

Something her father once said came back to her. "You cannot force the One to bend to your will, Vekla. If you try, his power will overwhelm and consume you. Best to step aside and follow him from behind, guiding him only when necessary and never running contrary to his path."

 

He had said those words after a particularly embarrassing and humiliating interrogation. Even though she spent most of her life away from him studying with the other sorceresses, he knew her well enough to sense when something was wrong. She was bound never to lie to her lord, so when Lord Saekoris had inquired as to the nature of her discomfort, she had been forced to tell him.

 

When he heard her confession, a rare look of sadness crossed his face. He rested his hand atop her head and held it there for a long time. He did not cry outwardly—he never did—but she knew that he wept for her. To her relief, he did not try to convince her of the foolishness of her dreams. He merely warned her that the road she choose was to be a hard one full of uncertainty. She did not mind because she had set what she wanted to do.

 

That had been before she met Syler Penion of Sandrin. Now, she knew that it was too late and that she had been a fool. Lord Penion was not the man she had expected, but even that could be overlooked with time and patience. No matter what she wanted, though, it would never be as she had hoped, all because of her. To say that she was jealous of her would not be accurate, but it did sting some.

 

At twenty-nine years of age, it was likely too late for her to reverse her course. She had chosen this path and she would carry it out to its final destination. Looking back, she wished she had never taken the first steps along this road, but the foolishness of youth could not be undone. She had resolved herself to be alone, but that wasn't too bad. At least this way, she could fully devote herself to guiding and even protecting the Majiyae Oretezu as he clearly needed to be. His future was full of danger and he would need her skills to have a hope of surviving.

 

Vekla was pulled out of her memories by Bronwyn's calling her husband's name. She watched while the two of them spoke briefly, then embraced. She turned away just before they started back toward the estate, hand in hand, because it was too painful to watch any longer.

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While Syler had let to lash out against any petitioner with an overly harsh punishment

 

I think you mean 'yet' instead of 'let'?

 

THde section where Syler discovers the armour and puts it on seems longer. Did you add anything/much in there, or is it just my imagination?

 

In the three weeks she had the misfortune of knowing him, he had proven to be nothing but a boar in every manner

 

I could be wrong, but I think you want bore instead of boar for this. Definition 5 seems to be a better fit for what you're trying to describe here: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/bore

 

Nobody simply gained access to the Immortal Realm that easily, and never alone

 

I think you want a comma where I've put it in bold.between easily and and.

 

I really like this, and I think that having it here will work better in the long run. It will also give Syler some precedent for actually being and acting as a Lord, having shown him sitting in judgement over civil matters, and using his own personality and morality as a basis of his decisions.

Member of Jnet Addict Club 12/05

Order of the Nocturnal

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Yes on the let/yet mixup.

 

No on the next. I definitely meant "boar" as in:

http://www.greatnorthernoutdoors.net/stuff/contentmgr/files/1/7adb613f8a9c85c2898f4358b3495aac/misc/boar.jpg

Honestly, I believe that describes Growald quite nicely in both appearance and in attitude (especially from Vekla's point of view).

 

Yes on the comma as well, I will get that fixed in the master document ASAP.

 

I had another section like this later on after coming back from getting Karusa. It had some similar stuff with him ruling and changing things, but I wanted to start slowly. Right now, Syler has little actual power and most of what he does have comes from fear of Vekla (I explain in a short time). He can't make the sweeping changes he wants to make because he doesn't have the support and, at this point, he doesn't know what he wants to do or how to do it.

 

And yes, I did add a little to the armor part. Not much, but a little. I put more into Vekla's description of what was going on and how that worked, so if that was what you were talking about, then yes, you were right in that I added to it.

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Not sure how you think bore is better than boar. Bore may mean to punch through, but calling someone a boar (or rather, pig) is quite a common saying, especially in this time period and location (evergreen forest). It is like calling someone a pig, but in this time period, it would be a boar since that is what they called wild pigs who were rude, grumpy, undomesticated, violent, dangerous creatures.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Yea. Okay, there is an explanation for this that I put up on DA, but I forgot to put it here.

 

Long story short: I have decided that I must cut the material in the first book once more and push even more into Book 2. Instead of three parts, the book will have only two and be roughly 40 chapters. That also means that the material you saw in the first draft will be pretty much the entirety of the second book as I am ending it with the Battle of Thattos and the effective end of the Kruish Civil War. The book as it is was getting far, far too long (longer than any of the Wheel of Time books) and so I shall make a trilogy into a quadrilogy.

 

Along with reading the Wheel of Time, I have been in one of my off cycles regarding inspiration and motivation. As I may have mentioned before, I tend to get in phases where I focus heavily on a single thing for a month or two. That can be a video game, a particular TV series (that I have the boxsets for), a book series (such as the Wheel of Time), or writing. I had a small spurt of writing inspiration a couple of months ago after watching Smallville, but that faded and was replaced by reading the Wheel of Time. Fear not, though, I am already feeling a major writing inspiration coming on and will be finished with the WoT tonight. With this new decision to divide the books, I need to rework the last few chapters a bit so they can provide a proper ending and transition into the next book and without motivation, it makes it hard to do that right now. I hope to have a new chapter within three days and am hoping on a major spurt that will see ten to twelve chapters added or edited in the next month.

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Chapter 35

 

  • Duty can be a bitter thing to swallow.
     
    — Unknown

 

Clan Lord's Estate

Thwrud

Subeleth

October 25

 

It was time.

 

When he woke up that morning, Syler could feel it in his bones. He had stayed here in Thwrud for as long as he felt comfortable doing it. If they were going to meet Lamastus before the end of the month, they needed to leave now. Even on hasuan, he wasn't sure that they could make it in time, but he meant to find out.

 

The sun had not yet showed itself and Bronwyn was still asleep beside him. Syler disentangled himself from his wife's arms eliciting a quiet moan from her before she faded back to sleep. He quietly put on his clothes and an outer cloak. In the early days of living here, servants had desperately tried to wait on him, dress him, bathe him, and do everything for him but chew his food. After the first day, he had threatened to flog the next man or woman who tried to touch him. On the second, he banished all servants from his and Bronwyn's chambers whenever either was present on threat of the same.

 

He noticed that his leg was feeling much better than it had in some time. It was still a little sore and he had seen the white scar before putting his pants on, but it felt almost whole. Instead of a sharp pain shooting up and down his leg whenever he put his weight on it, he only felt a dull ache. He didn't know what caused it and didn't much care because it made what he wanted to do much easier.

 

It was now nearing the end of October and he needed to get to See Sei before Lamastus gave up on him and started back. He decided to put on the armor he had worn last night, and it wasn't entirely because Bronwyn said she liked him in it. He had no illusions that there would be plenty of people who wouldn't want to see him go and might even try to stop him. He wanted to present as strong and powerful an image as he could to dissuade at least some of that opposition. No matter what anyone said or thought, it was time to find his sister and Elements help anyone who tried to get in his way.

 

 

 

Bronwyn woke with a start, immediately noticing her husband's absence like a cold chill that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She nearly always woke before him simply so she could enjoy the sensation of his arms around her or seeing his face when it was so peaceful and relaxed. In the last few weeks, sleep was the only time when he didn't look as though the cares of the world were upon his shoulders.

 

That he was missing this morning was concerning enough even without the sense of anxiety that had been surrounding him this last week. His dreams over the last several nights had been increasingly centered around finding his sister. She knew this because what he dreamt, she saw with as much clarity as though she were staring at them through a window of the purest clear glass. She could see, but that glass wall prevented her from touching or interfering, even when Syler broke down into tears over the bloody body of his sister.

 

She sat up and shivered. Her lips curved downward and wrinkles formed between her eyebrows. Was that his dream…or was it mine? The difference was important, extremely so. If it had been his dream, then it was nothing more than his subconscious mind playing into his fears and hardships. If it was her dream, then…

 

No, it could not be. It had to be one of his, just like the others. Ever since the Temple, she had been linked with him so closely that she couldn't tell her dreams from his—assuming she even dreamed any longer. Even if it was her dream, that didn't mean anything. Almost all of her dreams were just that.

 

The door to their room opened and her head shot up expectantly. When she saw it was just a servant, her shoulders sagged.

 

The servant, a young man, nearly dropped the linens he was carrying and turned beet red. His head dropped straight down as if there was something extremely interesting on the floor that needed investigating. "[i am sorry, my lady, I believed you had departed with the master as you always do,]" he said in a quivering voice.

 

There was a slight smile on Bronwyn's face as she remembered how Syler had exiled all of the servants from entering the chambers while either of them were present. He was rather fickle about people preening over him even to the point that it was hard for even her to care for him when he needed it. She didn't mind the servants herself because she knew they were simply doing their jobs and conducting themselves according to what was expected of them, but he was stubborn and felt people should do things for themselves.

 

That smile quickly turned into horror as she realized that the man's reaction was due to more than fear of being whipped. His terror was due to the fact that she was sitting up in bed stark naked and exposed in front of him. She let out a squeak as she quickly pulled a sheet up to cover herself.

 

"[it is not your fault,]" she said hurriedly. "[Go now and return in half a turn. Do not mention this to any and I will hold my tongue.]"

 

He quickly bowed low and then scrambled out of the room, closing the door behind him. With cheeks still slightly warm, Bronwyn got out of her bed and dressed as quickly as she could. It would not have been any issue had the servant been a woman, such things were commonplace. But for a manservant to have seen his master's wife uncovered could be cause enough for him to be executed should the master desire. Not that she expected Syler to order any such thing, but the poor man wouldn't know that. Syler hadn't really been his normal self since coming here, but had been a colder, harder version of the man she had fallen in love with.

 

Putting aside what had happened, she emerged from their chambers clad in a dark green wool dress and a cream colored fur shawl. With purposeful strides, she set out to find her husband and see what was so urgent that he had to wake so early. Along the way, she tried to keep her eye out for the hapless manservant so she could reassure him that he was not in trouble, but he was nowhere to be found.

 

Her exploration eventually took her to the stables where she heard her husband's voice. She turned the corner of one of the servant's houses and saw him standing with his arms crossed in front of a rather furious looking sorceress. Even without her traditional blue and black face paint, she looked terrifying enough to set water on fire. Knowing her skills with magic, Bronwyn assumed that she likely could do just that if she wanted to. He was wearing that splendid armor from last night like he had been born in it and was no less threatening than she.

 

They were in the middle of an argument and neither looked like they were going to back down. "Yes, I am," Syler was saying. "I will not see my sister in the hands of the Sua and Angvardi."

 

"You cannot go," she said firmly. "I forbid it."

 

Syler's brows shot up. "Oh really? Since when did you become the inthaley? It was you and your father who put me into this position, so now you have to live with it. You wanted me to act like a lord so now I am. I am deciding that I will not remain here while my sister is in captivity."

 

She blinked once, but stood her ground. "There are responsibilities here that you must see to. Your power is not entirely solidified and there are dangers."

 

"No," said Syler defiantly. "I don't owe the Krue anything." Bronwyn had seen him like this a few times and knew that not even the power of a master sorceress was going to make him budge.

 

Vekla apparently either didn't realize that or thought that she could break through his stubbornness. "You are our lord and protector, the welfare of this clan is in your hands."

 

He vigorously shook his head and made a slashing mark in front of him with his hand. "I didn't ask for it, nor will I accept it if it means I cannot get my sister. I have agreed to stay as your leader, but I have conditions for my cooperation. If you don't like them, then I will leave and never return."

 

"It is your destiny," replied Vekla matter-of-factly. "You cannot escape it even if you tried."

 

Syler gave her a thin smile and leaned toward her. In a quiet, cold voice, he told her, "The Elements themselves tried to force the notion of 'destiny' on me and it didn't work. I sincerely doubt that you have what it takes to top them."

 

For the first time, Vekla looked unsure of herself. Bronwyn couldn't but help feel a small smidgeon of sympathy for her because she knew what it was like going up against his stubbornness. Unfortunately for the sorceress, she didn't possess the power that being Syler's wife and having his love gave her.

 

Vekla stuck her chin up and retorted, "Prophecy has made it clear what you will are and will do, Syler Penion of Sandrin. Your future lies among the People."

 

"I have read nothing in prophecy that says I can't go and find my sister. I defied the gods I believed in so that I may have a chance to rescue her." Showing a complete lack of concern for what he was doing, he jammed his forefinger straight into Vekla's chest just below her collarbone. "I will cut down anyone who tries to get between me and Karusa."

 

Vekla's eyes narrowed as she tried—and failed—to swat Syler's hands away. Without her magic, she was not nearly as physically strong as a blacksmith who spent his days pounding at hot steel with heavy hammers. "I forbid this foolishness," she said in a voice dripping in acid. "I cannot let you go and get yourself hurt like a crazed fool." She tried once more to remove Syler's finger, but when she could not, she settled for grabbing his wrist in a white knuckled grip.

 

Syler's voice took on a tinge of darkness that Bronwyn had never heard before. "I have endured your manipulations long enough, Vekla Saekoris. Do not stand there and pretend that you care one bit about happens to me, it is against the law to lie to your lord." She gaped openly at him, though her eyes were full of danger and barely restrained fury. He wasn't finished, though, and Bronwyn winced in sympathy for the other woman when she saw the stubborn anger on his face. "I am quite finished with you and Growald tugging me in different directions. I am tired of playing by your games and doing what you wish me to do rather than what I need to do. You made me inthaley, so now you must learn to live with that decision even if you don't like it."

 

Vekla's dropped back down and she spoke in as threatening a manner as she could considering there was a man poking her in the chest and glaring at her. "Do not presume to threaten me. Inthaley or not, I am a Sorceress of the Black, recognized in Krue Vael. Even inthaleyin listen to when one of my rank speaks."

 

"I don't care what others do. I am not like your other lords and I don't care what you are. You cannot stop me, sorceress, not without killing me and we both know you aren't going to do that." With a jerk of his arm, he violently broke Vekla's grip. Before she could react, he had grabbed both of her forearms in a grip of steel. Syler's biceps bulged as he lifted her a few inches off the ground and simply held her there at eye level.

 

Bronwyn gasped as Vekla's hand darted for the knife on her belt, but the sorceress stopped herself before she pulled the blade free from its sheath. With visible strain on her face, she remained calm and glared into Syler's unblinking eyes even while her face began to turn red with humiliation. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her right eye twitched with the effort of restraining herself from taking a direct action against her lord that would truly doom her. Her black braids were a fury of motion behind her as she struggled in vain to get free without striking at Syler.

 

Bronwyn ran across the small yard to her husband's side crying, "Syler, what are you doing!"

 

"Stay out of this, Bronwyn," he growled through clenched teeth without taking his eyes off of Vekla's. "This is something that needs to happen."

 

Realization dawned in Bronwyn's eyes and she realized what was happening now. This was more than just a disagreement over whether Syler would go after Karusa. It was a challenge between the two of them to see who was really the one in charge. Vekla, the mighty and feared sorceress, was facing off against Syler, a man who was perhaps the most stubborn Bronwyn had ever seen. Just as what happened with Growald, both needed to figure out who was going to be the leader and who would follow. Unlike with how she dealt with Growald, Bronwyn didn't think her interfering would do anyone any good here.

 

Vekla remained stuck in Syler's grasp with her feet hanging a few inches in the air, but she refused to break. Even if her struggles ended, she too was stubborn and determined to do so regardless to the humiliating position she found herself in. She might have had enough restraint not to lift a hand against her inthaley, but that didn't mean she had to submit to him meekly now that he had challenged her so directly. Sorceresses were a prideful lot and extremely dangerous if threatened or pushed.

 

Syler was not so angry that he didn't realize this. Though his voice lacked none of the determination that it held before, it was softer when he said, "Lord Saekoris trusted me to take over his position, Vekla. If you truly believe he was a wise man, then you must believe he would have wanted you to follow my lead just as you followed his."

 

Vekla's head twitched slightly at the invocation of her father's name. Her eyes were still narrow with fury and her lips were pursed in defiance. Her hand fell from the hilt of her knife, though, and for that Bronwyn was glad.

 

Seeing her continued opposition, Syler grimaced and added, "Think, Sorceress, if you force me to cast you aside, then you will not be able to guide me. All that you worked for until this point would be for naught. Would you be so prideful that you would leave me alone simply because I refuse to let you lead me around by the nose?" he scoffed. "I thought you were wiser, more dedicated, and more true to your word than that." That last part was cold, biting, and without a shred of mercy, but he did not seem to care. He was as hard as steel and was not going to back down one bit.

 

After several long seconds of silence, the air went out of Vekla's lungs and her body went limp in Syler's grip. For the first time since he had grabbed her, her eyes drifted downward in defeat. Seeing this, Syler nodded and set her gently back down on the ground. As soon as his hand left her forearms, she took several steps back while a quiet hiss escaped her lips.

 

Syler stood tall and triumphant in his black and gold Kruish armor. When she looked back at him, he began issuing his commands as though he had been doing it all of his life. "I will be going after my sister. I may not be an experienced warrior, but I am no fool. I won't be going alone, nor will I leave Thwrud without leadership."

 

He crossed his arms as he continued, "Havert shall remain behind as my gaelkadrada." Discussions with Lord Horadin had revealed that whenever an inthaley had to leave his seat of power, he left behind a gaelkadrada to speak in his stead. When he had asked, he was told it was a brother of the soul, but that it also had something to do with a voice somehow. Syler wasn't completely sure of its meaning, but he took it as a sort of regent or representative. "I trust him completely and he knows what I would want done. Lord Horadin will be here to advise him. I will be going with Delmonor and ten of his finest warriors as escort because while I don't want to be defenseless, I also want to avoid confrontation out there. Growald will also be going along in case we need his connections with the Seinari. If you want to join us, I suggest you get yourself ready because we leave in two hours."

 

Without even pausing to hear her response, he pivoted smartly on one heel and marched off back toward the estate proper. Bronwyn stood pale and aghast at how her husband had behaved and briefly debated whether or not to go to Vekla to smooth things over or follow in his footsteps. She turned to follow, but Syler was already halfway back to the estate. Hiking up her dress, Bronwyn rushed after him leaving the sorceress behind.

 

 

 

Leaving Vekla behind had not been easy. Syler knew that she was a dangerous individual and someone he definitely did not want as an enemy. It was more than her danger that made him hesitate. She had even saved his life at least twice and probably a few more times that he wasn't completely sure of. There had been a hushed report about some minor nobles having turned up rather murdered in a rather gruesome fashion in their own houses. He suspected she might have had something to do with that after her display in the Clan House that first night. He had no doubt that if she wanted to, she would easily be able to kill him even without her magic, but he didn't think she would.

 

It wasn't that he didn't want or need her as an ally, it was that he couldn't keep putting up with how she was running roughshod over him all the time. He had allowed himself to be cowed for too long by her and Growald and it was time for it to end. How could he call himself a leader and yet be terrified of his advisors while in his own house? He was the inthaley and it was time for him to start acting like it. He had put up with their nonsense for too long because he was too afraid of making a mistake. No more, though.

 

Maybe it was the improved condition of his leg, or perhaps the wonderful night he had spent in Bronwyn's arms that made him feel as good as he did now. He felt more like himself than he had since before the Shalktra had dragged his wife away in Kubei. His victory over Vekla put a bounce in his step and got his spirits up.

 

At long last, he was going to go after his sister as he had wanted to for months. He wasn't going to be skulking around alone or with Bronwyn, trying to hide from any random patrol and afraid of his own shadow. No, he was going after her as a Kruish lord atop a hasuan and with soldiers and a sorceress watching his back. Even more, when he found Karusa, they wouldn't be hiding out in the mountains, scraping for a living and hoping the Angvardi or some band of bandits didn't discover them. They had a place to go that was safe and would keep them sheltered from the Easterners. It was more than he could have hoped for at the start of this month.

 

Bronwyn caught up to him and gave him an undecipherable look while they walked. He knew she probably wouldn't understand and he didn't want to start a fight, so he said nothing.

 

"Were you going to tell me?" she asked a bit harshly.

 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You knew it was coming," he said. "Lamastus is out there waiting and we don't have long before the end of the month."

 

"Were you going to tell me?" she repeated. There was no mistaking the coldness in her tone.

 

"Yes, I was."

 

They took several more steps in silence before she replied. "When?" There was hurt in her voice. Causing Bronwyn any pain was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He didn't want it to be like this, but he couldn't leave his sister forever. She would get over whatever hurt she felt at not being told, but Karusa may not get over being a virtual slave.

 

He fought back another sigh and replied, "I was planning on finding you when Vekla caught me. I am sorry, Bronwyn, but this is something I must do."

 

The hurt in her voice didn't retreat at all. If anything, it only grew deeper. "You weren't planning on taking me at all, were you? But you promised me that we would never be separated again. You gave me your word, and now you would leave me behind here while you went into danger."

 

Syler kicked himself for not seeing it earlier. She wasn't hurt that he didn't tell her, she was hurt because he wasn't taking her with him. He stopped and faced her when he responded, "This is not going to be a pleasure trip, my love. As you said, it will be dangerous."

 

The hurt had now been joined by anger, "Don't 'my love' me, Syler Penion." Her hands were on her hips. "You gave your wife your word. I have never known you to go back on something you promised. Not once."

 

"I didn't mean you would be attached at my hip for the rest of our lives. Would you expect me to have you at my side even in battle?" She gaped at him, but before she could retaliate, he pressed on. "Yes, Bronwyn, I said 'battle.' I am a Clan Lord now and if everyone around here is right, I am something more besides that. Only an absolute fool would think that I was not going to have to lead men into battle now that things have started. Do you mean to join me when the arrows are flying and men are dying?"

 

She didn't quite seem to know how to respond, but that didn't stop her from snapping back at him. "I don't want to be left behind like some useless trinket," she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him. "You might be able to browbeat sorceresses around, but I took no oaths to serve you like she did. We are partners in this, Syler, and partners don't abandon each other."

 

Syler grimaced and took a small step back, hoping to get a little more distance from her. That didn't work because she took a larger step forward that put them closer than before. "What do you want me to do?" he exclaimed as he thrust his arms out in exasperation. "Do you want me to let you go with us even though you may get hurt? There is likely going to be fighting along the way and in fighting, people get hurt or killed." His voice broke and his throat clenched shut in fear. "Do not force me to see you lying on the ground bleeding again. I did that once, I don't know if I can do it again."

 

Some of the anger left Bronwyn's eyes, but not all of it. In a quiet voice just barely above a whisper, she replied, "Do you think it will be any easier for me here if you don't ever come back? I wouldn't even know what really happened to you. I won't be able to hold you when you are in pain and comfort you. You aren't the only one who has been forced to see the other lying on the ground covered in blood, neither are you the only one who has taken care of the other."

 

She grabbed him and buried her face in his chest. Even before Syler could wrap his arms around her, he could feel her heave in sobs. "I am sorry, Bronwyn," he said soothingly. "You are right. I am not the only one of us who has taken care of the other."

 

"Please don't leave me behind," she begged between sobs.

 

"I can't…" He could not say any more for the lump in his throat. He had only once seen her truly weep like this, and that had been after the unspeakable had happened to her in Kubei. It had broken his heart then and it was even more potent now.

They had always had a mostly agreeable relationship. Even during their first few days together, when they had been strangers, both had been courteous and accommodating out of a mutual desire not to have a miserable life together. They had a few arguments such as the one that happened the night the Shalktra came into Kubei, but most had been mild and both quickly apologized. For the most part, they got along well and laughed frequently as they faced life's challenges together.

He had made the mistake of lashing out at her once before in anger. The look on her face at that moment had been enough for him to regret it immediately. Her resulting silence and avoidance over the next two days was almost unbearable. He knew he had made a mistake, but his pride and stubbornness had kept him from truly apologizing. He had tried to make as though everything was fine, but she wouldn't even let him hold her at night as they had done every night together since the first fight with Growald. In the end, he could take it no more and broke down with an apology and promises never to speak to her like that again. She had stood tall, staring down at him on his knees in their chambers, and remained firm for several long, hard minutes. At last, when his frustration was enough to bring forth tears, her stony face softened and she pulled him up into a warm kiss that made her forgiveness clear.

 

If her angry silence had been enough to make him repent and all but grovel at her feet for forgiveness, seeing her weep against him like this was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. He might have done just that if his hands hadn't been wrapped around her. He simply could not bear to see her like this at all. It was a weakness that he knew he might one day regret, but at this point, he would do anything if she but asked. He would forsake any vow, every responsibility, and every duty if it would make her stop. That thought alone terrified him because included in that was his duty to save Karusa.

 

How had she come to mean so much? She was his wife, true, and he loved her, but Karusa was his own blood. He had thought nothing was more important than saving his only remaining family, but somewhere in the darkness of his heart, someone had come to mean as much or more to him. How could he even think about leaving Karusa? It was unconscionable as far as he was concerned, and yet, he was here willing to do just that if only it would stop Bronwyn from crying into his shoulder.

Should he consider himself weak for reacting like this? Some would say he was. They would say that if a man couldn't stand to see a few tears from a woman in order to do what needed to be done, he was not truly fit to be called a man. He also thought that there may be some who would say the opposite and would argue to the death that his willingness to do anything for the woman he loved was the ultimate sign of worthiness as a man. He didn't know which one was better and right now, he didn't care. All he cared about was making Bronwyn stop crying.

 

"What do you want?" he implored in a soft voice as he stroked her long, beautiful light brown hair. When she didn't immediately reply, his spirit and dignity broke. Looking up at the ceiling in desperation and fighting against the lump in his throat, he croaked out in a hoarse voice, "Tell me what you want and it will be so. Anything, my love, just please stop crying."

 

Syler held his breath, waiting for a response. He had began to see stars at the edge of his vision by the time she responded weakly, "Take me with you. I must go with you."

 

His heart dropped, yet he was strangely elated. At that moment, if she had demanded he stay in Kubei with her, he would not have had the strength to stop her. He would have still attempted to rescue Karusa by sending someone in his stead, but he didn't truly trust anyone else to get the job done. Maybe Havert could have done it since he actually knew what Karusa looked like, but he could no more part him from Alltis than he could now leave Bronwyn behind.

 

"Okay," he whispered as he kissed the crown of her head. "You can come with us, but you must do as you are told." She tensed in his arms, but did not pull away. "I am not going to risk you getting hurt if there is fighting. You do what you are told and you can come."

 

She tightened her grip around his waist for a brief second before stepping back to hold him at arm's length. "Thank you," she said between sniffles as she wiped tears from her face with the hem of her sleeve. "I promise I will do as you say. I don't want to ever be apart from you again, I don't think I could bear it."

 

He reached across the gap and wiped a newly sprung tear that escaped her eyes after she had wiped her face. With a loving smile, he said, "I don't want to be separated from you, either, but there may be a day when that has to happen."

"I know," she whispered. "Just not today, please."

 

Syler smiled sadly. "No, not today." He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. She tensed causing his brow to crease, but not for long. She gently grabbed his face, tilted her head back and pulled him into a long kiss that nearly healed the tear in his heart.

 

He didn't know how long they stood there in each other's arms, but it was not to last forever. "Bwet ley!" a voice called out from behind them.

 

With regret written plainly on her face, Bronwyn broke their latest kiss and smiled meekly at him. Syler was warmed by the sight of the color on her cheeks and rapid pulse of the veins on her neck. It felt good to be able to get that reaction out of her even with what was going on.

 

Even though he would rather have spent more time with his wife, Syler didn't have to force a smile once he saw the intruder coming toward them. Lord Fedas Horadin walked up at a rapid but measured pace until he came up alongside his lord. The man's long light brown hair briefly covered his face while his head was dipped in a bow. When he rose, Syler looked into his intelligent green eyes. So many others he had dealt with were hesitant to meet his gaze or, if they did, looked nervous and constantly shifted their eyes back and forth as if hoping to escape questioning. Not Horadin, he always met Syler's eyes without pause and held the gaze for as long as Syler was looking at him.

 

"Bwet ley o leya, if I might have a moment of your time." If he noticed how flushed Bronwyn was or how quickly she was breathing, he had the wisdom not to comment. Syler did notice that when he had addressed her, some color did touch his cheeks and his eyes were downcast. Syler thought he was a good man, sensitive to what was going on around him, but not one who would put aside business or things that were important unless it was absolutely necessary. If he came here now, without an audience, it was important enough for him to give him his ear.

 

"Lord Horadin," said Syler calmly, hiding all irritation at their interruption. He started to say "how can I help you" but caught himself before words came out of his mouth. He was still getting used to being a leader. It wouldn't do for a lord to constantly be asking how he could help others when they should be there to help and serve him. That was one of the few things that Horadin had agreed with Growald and Vekla on. "What concerns you?" he asked.

 

The Krue smiled briefly when Syler caught himself, but that didn't last long. "I have heard the most odd humor that you have made plans to leave Thwrud."

 

"'Rumor,'" Syler corrected.

 

Horadin blinked, "Fuswau?"

 

"The word is 'rumor' not 'humor,'" Syler explained with slight bemusement. "You heard a rumor that I was leaving."

 

"I thought 'rumor' meant secrets in your tongue, bwet ley," he asked cautiously.

 

Syler shrugged, "Not really, no. It means, well, bits of gossip you have heard. Stories, perhaps, would be another good way to define it."

 

"Then I have heard stories that you were leaving, is this true?"

 

"Yes, I am," Syler stated.

 

A pained look crossed Horadin's face. "I thought we had speaked of this. It is unwise of you to leave at this dangerous time."

 

"I know, and I am sorry that it has to be this sudden, but I must leave. We made plans for this. Havert is to be my gaelkadrada and you are to be his advisor."

 

The Krue didn't appear to be happy at all. He dry washed his hands as he responded nervously, "There are many things happening that need your attention, Lord Penion. I understand that Lord Jakaras has your trust and is loyal, but he is, well, bwet ley, he is…"

 

"Difficult," Syler finished when Horadin's voice trailed off. "I understand, my friend, I truly do. If anyone knows Havert's propensity for laziness, it is me. Nonetheless, he is the only non-Krue here whom I can trust, unless you think Alltis would be better."

 

The Krue blanched at that. "Lady Jakaras is a fine woman of high spirit and great sturdiness, but she is a woman and cannot be gaelkadrada. There are many reasons why there are no gaelfaeas."

 

"And why is that?" demanded Bronwyn with a sniff of indignation.

 

Lord Horadin bowed quickly toward her and said hastily, "I mean no offending, bwet leya, but many clans have had great…misfortunes when led by an inthaleya. It is ill fortune to be led by a woman. If her husband was particularly strong and loved, it may be possibles, but no with you, bwet ley." His eyes darted back toward Syler. "I fear your position is too fresh, too unprotected to allow for a gaelfaeas, especially one not of your blood or marriage."

 

Syler waved his hand in dismissal to forestall any further protests from Bronwyn. She generally did know the order of things, but on occasion, she could grow rather defensive about the strangest of things. He didn't have enough time for an argument, not if they were going to leave as soon as he hoped. "It does not matter, Havert is my chosen one, I expect you to serve him as well as you have served me. Do so and you will be rewarded upon my return."

 

Lord Horadin's head dipped once more. "I need no reward to follow you, bwet ley. If I may ask, when are you departing?"

 

"I leave in two hours if all is ready."

 

Air hissed between Horadin's teeth when he heard that. "There are many things that need your attention here, bwet ley. You cannot afford to leave so soon when things are this unsettled."

 

He was right, Syler knew. If he had any other choice, he would never have left until things were far more set and some of his plans had come to fruition. There were plenty of people who would be more than happy to oust him if given the chance, and it was hard to defend his position if he wasn't even in Subeleth. "I must get my sister," he said defiantly. "Vekla tried to stop me and I left her in the dust. I like you, Lord Horadin, but that doesn't mean I will let you or anyone else stop me from getting her."

 

He should have known that the other man would latch onto his comment about Vekla like a hawk. "What do you did with Mistress Vekla?" Lord Horadin asked insistently.

 

Knowing that he might as well as get it over with quickly, he decided not to avoid it. "She wanted to prevent me from going after my sister by attempting to assert authority over me." His voice hardened as he continued, "She overstepped herself so I put her back into her place and reminded her that I was the inthaley, not her."

 

With a mixture of bemusement and pride in her voice, Bronwyn quipped, "He picked her up like a child and held her in the air kicking pointlessly until she backed down."

 

At Horadin's stricken look, Syler hastily added, "I did not hurt her, but I hope it will be some time before she challenges me again."

 

Horadin swallowed audibly and said with a hesitant voice, "I do not believe it was wise to offend her, bwet ley. She is your most powerful ally. Without her, you would certainly be dead now. Why, after hearing what happened to Lords Baganeth and Faredel, many who were considered plotting against you recanted of their disloyalty and are firmly under your control."

 

"So that was who she flayed and burned," mumbled Syler to himself. Louder, he said a phrase he had heard many times here, "Neith fos, fos." What is, is. "There is nothing to be done about it now. I trust that you will make do in her absence. I know there are many who do not wish to be led by a foreigner, but that is not their choice any longer. Fate has put me in this spot, any who can't accept that will be cast aside." He drew a deep breath and said with as much authority and confidence he could muster. "Do what must be done, Lord Horadin. If there is any doubt, spare their lives, but do not hesitate to imprison any whom you suspect. I will deal with them all when I return."

 

In the face of such a direct command, the Kruish noble could do nothing but bow and say, "As you command, bwet ley."

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I am sorry for the delay. I have been busy and consumed with other details. I meant to have Chapter 36 finished by now, but my inspiration has been directed elsewhere, to the Epilogue. Right now, all I have left is Chapter 36 and the Epilogue because Chapter 37 is already finished and, at this point, that is the last chapter of the book. As a reward for your patience, I am going to post a bit of the Epilogue. It offers no spoilers for the last couple of chapters, so fear not in reading it (you will see why when you do).

 

I am to go out big with this Epilogue and leave a LOT of questions behind. The difficulty in writing this is that I must often pause and think just to work out how all of this works and what I do and don't want to reveal. It is not easy because I have very specific things in mind for the Immortals. I don't want to reveal too much too quickly, nor do I want to throw out everything without giving myself a stool to stand on in the future. I want to be able to unleash surprises in later books and be able to point back to this as groundwork so it doesn't look like I am pulling things out of my backside. I believe that when I get around to revealing the rest of what I have written and intend to write in this Epilogue, you will be thoroughly impressed and left eager for more.

 

 

_______________________

 

Epilogue

 

Hall of Strakuuvindor

The Immortal Realm

 

Suella was careful not to let her eyes wander as she stepped into the sacred Hall of Strakuunvindor, meeting place of the Katei'mindosh Protectorate. In all of the Immortal Realm, this was the one place where any of the Protectorate were welcome and harm could befall none. At least, that was what was supposed to happen. Sometimes, things went wrong, as had happened when the vile Crusos had offered grave insult to Kama'uel, the Most Deprived of the Stoics. Kama'uel had been wroth with fury and chased Crusos out of the hall with a scourge.

 

She felt no fear in entering this place, not with the mighty warrior Erastmus lumbering beside her with his usual threatening gaze challenging any who would hold it. Even among immortal Immortals, not many wanted to risk his wrath, even if a few might be able to challenge his strength. She had to constantly remind herself that there was no reason to feel fear or intimidation, not here of all places.

 

Yes, the various races that made up the Protectorate were supposedly at peace and not to prey on each other, but there were always…disagreements. Immortals couldn't be killed, but they could have great pain inflicted upon them and they could be bound, even if it was against the Treaty to do so to a fellow Katei'mindoshi. Those who encroached where they were not welcome often found themselves wishing they hadn't.

 

She had never been a warrior and was counted among the weakest of the Elements. Just as Mewela of the Tetrarchy would never grace a battlefield unless at the greatest of needs, neither was it Suella's purpose to strive against the Deta'takame, the forces of Chaos. Her strengths lie in compassion, healing, and the caring of mortals. Few of their number could spend any amount of time in the Mortal Realm and she was one of those. That meant that she had some measure of respect here, though she was nowhere near as respected as Erastmus or Maegamus. Those two were among the mightiest of all of the Element's warriors and had earned great glory in the struggle against the Deta'takame.

 

Her affinity for mortals was why she was here before the Great Council. Against all odds and completely to her bafflement, she had been the one fated to be the guardian of the mortal known as Syler Penion. Each of the Immortal Races had multiple of their number constantly walking among the Mortal Realm searching for the Master of Magic, the Prophesied One, all hoping that they would be the one who could guide and direct them. Nobody, not even the most mighty Tantis of the Tetrarchy, knew where he would come from. Only the Voice knew that, and the Voice had chosen not to reveal it to any as low as the Immortals.

 

It had been to her absolute shock to discover that one of the Sei boys that had attracted her eye had revealed himself to be the Master of Magic himself. When she first encountered him on that stormy night in the hills, she had seen in him something that spoke of an unique life. The Elements were always gifted at seeing what might come from mortals and she was no different. In him, she saw a man of singular character who would be strong, a great general or a powerful lord. Never had she thought that he would turn out to be the One they all sought. Before finding out his true destiny, she had preserved his life or guided it along a better path, even if he didn't know it. It had not been until his powers activated and he was Realized in the place mortals called Kubei that she and all of the Realm knew what he was. At that very moment, all of the Immortal Realm shook with power as the Voice revealed the presence of the Prophesied One to all.

 

When she heard the Voice's words, Suella knew it was only a matter of time before being summoned before the Great Council. She had only been here twice before, and neither time had been exactly pleasant. This time, though, it was almost guaranteed that she would be held to task and examined carefully by the Council. She feared what they may decide, though she would stand firm in her beliefs no matter what.

 

"Relax, Suella," said the deep, almost gravelly voice of Erastmus. "I am here and you could ask for none better to stand at your side save Salgeus himself, and I would fight him for an era for your sake."

 

She smiled at his kind words. Truth be told, she had never been particularly close to the hulking warrior until their encounter with Syler Penion. She had not expected the dark skinned champion to care about a mere mortal, but he had been drawn in to her encounter and reveled in any chance to bring Crusos down a notch. The two had been running a feud for a great amount of time, though she did not know what started it.

 

"I know you are here," she replied softly. "It gives me great comfort, but we both know that you cannot defy the will of the Council."

 

He looked down at her and, with fire in his eyes, replied, "Do not fear for your safety when in my presence. Even if it meant an era in bondage to the Deta'takame, I would stand at your side. You have great honor and great valor, even if you do not see it."

 

As much as could be possible, Suella blushed. "I thank you for your kind words, Erastmus. I don't know what I did to earn the attention of one as mighty as yourself, but I do not count your friendship lightly."

 

A strange look crossed the warriors face, but he said nothing. Instead, his fierce gaze passed over the gathered Immortals once again as if seeking out possible threats. After he was satisfied, he moved aside and allowed her to enter the foyer.

Both of them stood there until being summoned to actually enter the Hall. One as humble and weak as herself would never presume to demand that the Hall bend to her will, so she would wait. Erastmus might have gotten away with barging in, but he did not wish to cause a scene that might make things more difficult for her. All of the Lords Immortal were present and that wasn't a good sign at all.

 

The great gold doors that led to the Hall cracked open ponderously and a single figure cloaked in radiant gold emerged. Suella forced herself to keep her head held high and not shrink back at the sight of Gatekeeper Zah'elios. The towering Daedash was truly a terrifying being to behold, even Erastmus tread lightly around him. With skin and raiment that glowed with brilliant radiant light, it was difficult to look upon him for long. In his hands was a double sided spear that stood twelve feet tall, though next to his nine foot height, it wasn't so awkward looking. On one end of the spear was a point of pure light; on the other was a tip of abject darkness.

 

"Suella of the Elements," he said in a booming voice, "you have been summoned before the Hall of Strakuuvindor." His eyes fell upon the dark skinned warrior standing next to her. In a much lower, almost threatening voice, he added, "Erastmus of the Elements, you have not been summoned."

 

Erastmus rested his hands on the pommel of the sword at his side and set his jaw. "Nonetheless, I am here."

 

Zah'elios did not seem amused in the least. "You will remain here."

 

With a shake of his head, Erastmus replied, "No, where Suella goes, I go."

 

"You presume to dictate terms to the Hall?" Zah'elios said imperiously.

 

"Call me inspired by the Master of Magic," replied Erastmus with a mocking smile that didn't do anything to change the hardness in his eyes.

 

"It is not permi—." For a second, the Daedash's radiance seemed to dim slightly as his voice trailed off. Suella was about to ask if something was wrong when the brilliance returned to its previous level. When he spoke, his voice seemed resentful, if not a trifle angry. "It seems the Hall has granted your request to accompany Suella of the Elements."

 

Without giving any acknowledgment or gratitude, Erastmus gently took Suella's arm and guided her around the Gatekeeper and into the Hall itself. Once through the gold doors, they entered an entirely new environment, one that showcased the glory of the Immortal Realm in a way not seen anywhere else.

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Alright, I FINALLY got the inspiration to complete Chapter 36. I had known that it would introduce the priest Ansee and include Raella setting off for Terula so that I could carry on my closing theme of departing for "adventure" (Syler's is next chapter). However, I had no idea how to do this and still had no clue until I sat down tonight and started typing. I was in a kinda mischievous mood for part of it, and I think that shows quite clearly. This chapter was a blast to write and is, in my opinion, one of the best fitting chapters in terms of character interaction and what happens. I go through a good number of emotions and moods all in fairly rapid time, but I think that is part of the fun. Raella has been an extremely underused character and I had hoped to remedy that a little in this second draft. I managed to get in a chapter with her in the Temple, but that was mostly as a way to explain the Way's view of creation. Unfortunately, the opportunity didn't truly present itself until now and I am very glad that it did.

 

So, just a heads up: right now, I am planning on ending things at Chapter 37 and with a rather long Epilogue (that rivals many chapters in length). I won't rule out adding another chapter somewhere if I feel it is needed, but I am quite pleased with how this is turning out despite my earlier reservations. The epilogue really did it for me, but this only further helped it. Maybe I am totally missing the mark, but I am pretty darned proud of this chapter. Sure, it is going to need some smoothing out as it is essentially rough draft material, but still, I am pleased. The rest of the book is finished, so I only await you reading them before I can post them. Tomorrow, I think I just might start on the Prologue to Book 2: The One Who Confronts Fear.

 

 

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Chapter 36

 

And so it shall be that the One shall depart from his first throne and journey west to face his Third Trial. In concurrence, the heir of the star graced mountain and the thrice forged crown shall journey south to the land of her forefather to face the First Trial that stands before her.

 

— prophecy of I am an idiotand Asemon, 310 3E

 

Temple of Eternal Remembrance

Angvard City

Angvardi Empire

October 25

 

Ansee Endarn had always loved travelling. It was so exciting and allowed him to see new places and meet new people that he could help minister to their souls and guide them along the Way. One of the very few regrets he had about becoming Princess Raella's personal priest and spiritual guide was that he had to give up his circuit and the villages that he so loved visiting. A large part of his current duties now centered upon remaining in the capital and making himself constantly available to her should she need any counseling on matters of the soul. He had few other duties to tend to, though that singular one kept him in one place most of the time.

 

Though, on second thought, if he hadn't become her priest, he would never have been able to travel to Terula. Even though Unification demanded a blending of all peoples and nations, the truth was that the priests were more loath to do so than others, even soldiers. Ansee couldn't understand why, but even when presented with the ability to mingle with Terulan priests, his fellow Angvardi made every excuse to beg off. He supposed part of that came because both held to different Tetrands and were not too eager to place themselves under the jurisdiction of the foreign High Priests. Ansee didn't much mind being under the authority of a Terulan archpriest because, ultimately, they were all seeking the same thing.

 

He started this day early because there was so much to do. Even before the sun peaked over the horizon, he was up at his daily prayers. When those were finished, he put on his blue robes of Mewela and went to the public altar to his patron goddess to offer up incense and perform at least a few blessings in her name upon those who would gather at this early hour.

 

He was lighting the last of the incense when he felt a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. Turning calmly, his eyes widened at the sight of High Priest Hassell, the mortal voice of Mewela the Former. Ansee quickly lowered his head and said respectfully, "How may I serve Your Holiness?"

 

Hassell spent a few seconds appraising him. Though the High Priest was only a few years older than Ansee, he had risen through the ranks and been selected by the Tetrand to fill the position of High Priest thirteen years ago after the death of High Priest Grazam. In truth, Ansee was the oddity. At his age and with his reputation and experience, many thought he should be at least a head priest if not an archpriest. Ansee had been offered Elevation before and while the thought of overseeing several temples was appealing, he had turned down the offer and insisted on remaining a regular priest. His superiors had wondered why that was and were not exactly happy with his decision, but nobody could force a priest to accept greater responsibility than what they felt they could take. Ansee was careful who he told the reason he was happy where he was. If he had become a head priest, he would have been forced to leave Raella and he couldn't do that, not after serving her since her birth.

 

"Priest Ansee," Hassell said when he was ready, "I came to ensure that you were properly prepared for your journey."

 

Ansee remained bowing as he replied, "I have said my prayers and burned my incense. I seek only the blessing of Archpriest Onath before going to the Princess."

 

Hassell gave him a small nod. "There is no need to seek the archpriest. I will give you blessings for your journey."

 

"Thank you, Holiness." He kept his head bowed as the High Priest went through the sequence of ritual blessings in the name of the Tetrarchy and the goddess Mewela. It was rare that one as high as Hassell would give a blessing to any as low as a humble priest, but Ansee would not turn down such an honor even if he had a choice.

 

When the blessing was complete, he felt a hand beneath his chin raising his head. He did not resist and soon found himself staring into warm brown eyes remarkably similar to his own. Hassell's face was etched with worry as he said, "Take care on your journey, my son."

 

"I will," assured Ansee.

 

"These are dark times, dark times indeed. The prophets believe they have uncovered a dire warning and threat against the throne of Angvard. The guard has been doubled, but I fear that there is no way to escape prophecy."

 

Ansee hadn't heard of this before. His heart quickened and his eyes widened. He didn't know what to say to that, so he murmured, "I see."

 

The High Priest's eyes hardened and his voice took on an edge. "The princess is important to us. There are privileges that my office enjoys, privileges that allow me to know things others do not. I am forbidden to speak of them, but I can say that I believe Princess Raella is absolutely crucial to our victory in the Coming Darkness."

 

His grip on Ansee's jaw tightened almost to the point of causing pain. "Listen to me, my son. The princess' life will be threatened and you must not hesitate to protect her. There are many things that I wish would not be, but I have no power over the will of the Tetrarchy."

 

He released Ansee from his grip and pulled out two objects from beneath his ornate blue vestments. The first was a letter sealed with the High Priest's Seal. "I am loathe to give this to you, but the time for hesitation is past. This is an official Writ of Absolution signed and sealed by myself. There may be a time when you must do things that may not be in accordance to what you have been taught. You must be willing to do anything to protect the princess, even killing. If you must lie, cheat, steal, deceive, or kill, so be it. As long as it is with the purpose of protecting the life of the princess, I have absolved you of all sins. No man who adheres to the Way may lay hands upon you with that in your hand, not even Terulans. Take it, my son."

 

Ansee's hand was trembling when he hesitantly reached out to take the letter. All of this talk about killing and danger was almost more than he could handle. By the gods, he was not a young man, why was the High Priest laying this burden upon him? He loved Raella as the daughter he had never had, but this was something utterly unexpected. He didn't know if he could do what the High Priest was asking him to do.

 

But Hassell was not finished. He held something else in his hands, a pendant. It was shaped like an odd, eight sided star attached to a gold chain. The shape was divided into four quarters, each with a different color: red, blue, green, and white. He recognized the colors of the Tetrarchy, but not the pendant itself.

 

"This has been handed down from one High Priest to another for generations untold," Hassell explained. "When I ascended, I found it in my new desk, locked in a drawer that had not been opened in many years. There was a small letter with it, but you do not need to know such things. I believe that I am to give it to you for a purpose that I pray will be made known to you in the future. Keep this close, and tell nobody that you have it. I don't know what it is, but I know that it is ancient and important."

 

He placed the pendant in Ansee's hand with regret etching his wrinkled face. "I am sorry, my son, to place such a burden upon you. It was not my choice, but the will of the gods. Remember, not all threats come in the form of a knife in the dark or an ill spell, sometimes words are just as deadly as steel or magic. Don't let a smile and warm words lull you into complacency. Go now in peace but expecting war, and protect the princess at all costs."

 

With nothing else to do but comply, Ansee scrambled to his feet and hastened out of the small chapel. The letter and pendant were clutched in his hands, though he wished he could throw them away. He wasn't an adventurer, nor was he particularly versed in combat or politics. He was just a simple priest who wanted to help as many people as possible. The High Priest's words terrified him more than he had been before.

 

* * * * *

 

Raella had spent the day scampering from one room to the next, running up and down the halls of the Palace in a most undignified manner. Few in the Palace commented because they were too busy preparing for the trip to Terula for the winter. Some of the younger servants and guards even smiled at the overly enthusiastic princess and saw no reason to dampen her spirits. It was like this nearly every year when she would go to see her father and spend the colder months in a more comfortable environment.

 

This was one of the few times when things were so chaotic that she was able to get away with almost anything. There were no lessons, no petitioners, no practicing, and no expectations for her to make appearances or go to fancy dinners with nobles who needed placating. She had taken extra care to prepare all of her things and made sure that her retinue was assembled and ready. Whatever wasn't already packed and waiting in the courtyard ready to leave was being handled by her servants. She was free and intended on making good use of that freedom.

 

If her mother had caught her, though, she would be in for a rather uncomfortable "conversation" that would likely leave her sitting tenderly for the next couple of days. Empress Celienna took a very dim view of outward expressions of joy or "immaturity." For her, the only appropriate emotions a ruler could openly display were anger, reserved benevolence, or satisfaction when her plans succeeded. Even being of age and a lady in her own right was not enough to spare the princess if her mother felt she needed correction.

 

That didn't bother her, though. Her mother was constantly surrounded by guards and attendants that gave her plenty of notice whenever she approached. There were a few of the nobles and officers that might report her, but even they hesitated to earn the enmity of the woman who would eventually have absolute control over their lives and fates.

 

"Come on, Ellie," urged Raella as she began her raid on the kitchens. It was a time honored tradition of hers started when she was seven and had far more free time and fewer obligations. Every year, during the chaos resulting from the preparations to travel to Terula, she would sneak into the kitchens and make off with whatever sweets she could find. It infuriated her mother whenever she was caught doing such things, but the sheer pleasure of being able to act like a normal child, even for a few minutes, was well worth whatever punishment she received. Now, eleven years later, she was off once more to pillage the pantry when the stakes were even higher. In her mind, just because she was now eighteen and supposedly a proper lady didn't mean that she shouldn't continue the tradition. In truth, the added risk only made it more enjoyable.

 

"Please, Princess," pleaded a huffing Ellie as she scrambled around the corner in pursuit of her exuberant ward. "You are too old to be doing this. It isn't proper!"

 

"Posh," retorted Raella with a sly smile. "I may never get a chance to do this again, so I am going to enjoy it one last time." She stopped outside the kitchen doors and waited impatiently for Ellie to catch up. When the maid finally caught up, Raella put her finger over her lips to command silence.

 

"Now," she whispered, "you go in and provide a distraction while I make off with the sweets."

 

"But this is too dangerous."

 

Raella grinned mischievously. "Of course it is, and that is what makes it so much fun, right?" As the heir, she was most certainly prohibited from doing anything that might be considered dangerous. She understood the importance of remaining safe, but that didn't mean she had no urge for adventure and fun. These raids, in the kitchens and in other places, were about the most dangerous activity she was allowed to experience. That meant that each moment, each rapid heartbeat, and each whispered word were to be savored.

 

Sweat dripped down Ellie's forehead as she shook her head violently. "No, that is what makes this insanity."

 

"Shhh, do you want them to hear us? Now, do as I say and it will all be okay. It isn't like we haven't done this before, right?"

 

"But—"

 

"No 'buts' today, Ellie. You are my maidservant, so you do as I tell you, right?" Well, it wasn't exactly that way, but Raella could be persuasive if she needed to be and she believed that Ellie truly did love her as her own. After all, Ellie was the same age as Raella's mother and she had been taking care of her since she was born.

 

Throwing her hands up in surrender, Ellie rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, we are doomed!"

 

Raella's smile only grew. "Okay, dry your forehead and provide that distraction."

 

Muttering something about doom and being cast out onto the streets—as if Raella would ever let that happen—Ellie wiped her brow, straitened her skirts, and took a deep breath. When she was ready, she entered the kitchen and began playing her part as a distraction so Raella could slip in and make off with the goods.

 

"You there!" Raella heard Ellie say in her most patronizing voice. "Where is it?"

 

She had to envision the confused look on the nearest cook's face, but hearing the confusion and hesitation on the poor man's face was fun enough. "Where is what, mistress?"

 

Ellie let out an indignant huff, "What do you mean, 'where is what?' Are you completely incompetent or do you have cheese stuffed in your ears?"

 

The cook's voice grew slightly more strained, "No, I—um."

 

"Oh stop standing there like a lout and get on with it!" snapped Ellie. "I don't have all day. There is a journey to prepare for, you know, and we will be leaving shortly."

 

"But what, er, what did you need?"

 

There was the sound of something clanging to the ground and Raella almost giggled at the thought of Ellie flailing her arms around in exasperation and knocking something off a counter. The woman did have a habit of doing that when she was angry or flustered or, more importantly, wanted people to think she was either of those. "Of all the…" the maid moaned. "The Princess' lunch, of course. Do you expect the one and only heir of the Unified Kingdoms to go hungry just before traveling thousands of miles to see her most beloved father?"

 

"Um, no, mistress, we don't—But there was no request…I don't, I mean," the poor cook was now beyond hopeless. For a moment, Raella felt a pang of sympathy for the man, but she always did find a way to make it up to all of the victims of her raids one way or another. Even as a mere princess, she had a good deal of influence in certain matters and it wasn't all too hard to get scullions, stable boys, or even armorers a little time off or a few extra coins. After all, it was only proper to reward them for providing her some much needed amusement and relief.

 

"Well, get to it!" Ellie almost shrieked. She and Raella had spent years carefully crafting her image into that of a fearsome and demanding woman to the point that most of the palace staff feared her. Ellie might be as mild mannered and pleasant as any woman could be when with her ward, but she didn't let others know that. It spared them both a great deal of heartache and toil if everyone believed the rumors of her tyrannical rule and violent temper.

 

There was a mass scramble as numerous bodies snapped into motion all at once. They might not know what the Princess had wanted, but it didn't matter. In their panic, they were all eager to do anything so as to avoid the wrath of Ellis Dantorum. After a minute or two of her poking and prodding and generally creating mass confusion, the entire kitchen was in an uproar from the Mistress of the Kitchens down to the lowest scullion.

 

When the time was right, Ellie gave the prearranged signal by saying, "Well, it is about time someone started doing things right."

 

Trusting her partner in crime's timing was right, Raella ducked into the kitchen and all but raced for the pantry. She had to be careful to avoid the pan that had been knocked over in Ellie's storming, but all of the kitchen workers were busy inside and none caused a scene when seeing her. Normally, if she ever did actually go into the kitchens, each and every person there would stop what they were doing and all but beg to do her bidding. It was great when she wanted food, but the added attention made actually making off with the sweets rather hard to do. Ordering them to look away took all the fun away.

 

She sometimes did suspect, on some years, that her mad scramble was sometimes intentionally ignored by the cooks and assorted help. Three years ago, she had jumped in too early and ran smack into the back of one of the cooks. She had let out a startled gasp when she saw the princess and Raella thought the entire raid was done for. To her surprise, the cook gave her a single bow and hurried across the kitchen and hollered at the attendants to work faster. Two days later, she encountered that same cook who gave her a very purposeful wink with a smile on her face.

 

Even if they did expect what was going on, at least they had the grace to let her have her fun. There was so little of her life that was actually hers to do with as she pleased and they kitchen staff seemed to sense that. She was always nice to them and they seemed willing to indulge her on occasion as result.

 

This year, though, she didn't think anyone saw her during the four seconds it took to dash into the pantry. Since there were so many coming and going from it, the door was open. That wasn't so bad because the pantry twisted around a corner allowing her to hide quite well as long as nobody entered the pantry. It was Ellie's job to make sure nobody did and she had to trust her partner once again.

 

Behind her, Ellie's indignant voice provided even further cover. "Did you—did you actually mean for the Princess to eat that?" That resulted in even more scrambling and clanging of spoons against pots and bread pans scraping against the stone ovens.

 

Once safely inside the pantry, it was only a matter of grabbing everything that looked like it was covered in honey or cinnamon. She did and quickly filled both a large basket and her mouth with the tasty treats. There were so many goodies that she wanted to take, but the basket was only so large and if she wasn't careful, she would leave a trail of dropped sweetrolls along her escape route and that would certainly get her caught.

 

"Did I say you could stop!" Ellie's imperious voice rang out above the din of the kitchen. "Get moving or you will be sent to cook for the dungeons!"

 

She had the loot, now it was time to make her escape. Risking a quick peek outside the pantry doors, she saw that that coast was clear. Despite the extra baggage of the freshly stolen loot, she raced to the escape offered by the kitchen door. Desperately trying to suppress a squeal of sheer exhilaration, Raella rounded the threshold to freedom at a full out run.

 

And ran straight into the imposing wall of metal and flesh that made up her mother's personal guard.

 

Raella's joy turned into sheer terror in the space of a heartbeat as she bounced off of the burly man and fell on her backside. The overfull basket flew from her hands and sent the incriminating bounty of her raid rolling down the hallway. The soft grunt of surprise from the guardsman was masked by Raella's quite audible gasp of horror.

 

Standing behind the quartet of guardsmen was Empress Celienna II who was not looking very pleased at all. In truth, Raella thought she had looked less angry when ordering a traitor's head lopped off. There was no denying what she had done, not with the evidence still tumbling down the hallway. She was doomed.

 

Her mother did not explode. No, that would be inappropriate even in front of her own guards. Instead, her face went as red as a fresh ripened beet and her eyes grew as hard as carbonized steel. Raella could see the vein on the left side of her neck pulsing and wondered just how long it would be before she could sit without discomfort. Maybe if she were lucky, she could get one of their mages or a wizard to heal her, but that wasn't likely. Nobody wanted to interfere in the empress' discipline.

 

One of the guards offered her a hand to help her up and Raella had no choice but to accept it. Her own face was probably as red as her mother's, though for a very different reason. She stood up and brushed herself off with as much dignity as she could for one in her situation.

 

"I believe," Celienna said with frost in her voice, "that you and I need to spend some time in your chapters…discussing what is proper."

 

Raella gulped and dearly hoped that Ellie would hear what happened and avoid stepping into the trap. "Yes, Mother," she murmured while studying her feet. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation and she doubted there would be too many words exchanged.

 

"A lady has no need to be traipsing around the kitchens making off with sweets." If she was going to start in now with this many witnesses, it was going to be bad when they got to the privacy of her chambers. "I might tolerate this from a little girl, but you are a grown woman now and you should know better."

 

Again, there was nothing else to say but a dejected, "Yes, Mother."

 

The empress snapped once and Raella jumped into action. She knew exactly what she needed to do and didn't hesitate. Making an about face, she started off for her chambers with as much proper grace as she could manage, all the while knowing that her mother and guards would follow. Every step was agony, and not just because her cheeks were still enflamed and sweat was trickling down her spine. It was humiliating, true, but more than that, she had been caught. She had never been caught in one of her raids by her mother. True, some had been less successful than others, but never in front of the Empress herself.

 

They continued through the circuitous grand hallways that her mother always said were meant for proper ladies. Raella knew them all by heart, even if they did take longer to get anywhere than the servant's pathways. It was rarely acceptable for a servant to be seen going about their business, so they tended to stay to the shadows and the maze of smaller hallways that ran through the palace so that proper nobles and guards would not be hampered in the richly decorated grand hallways.

"Princess Raella," a strained voice called out from one of the servant's halls as her procession marched onward.

 

She briefly considered continuing on, but that may earn her even more stripes for being rude. She came to a stop and turned to see who had called her name. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the familiar and friendly features of Father Ansee. Things could hardly get worse. Now, even her personal spiritual mentor would see her shame.

 

Father Ansee scrambled up and waved away the curtsey she was preparing to offer. Angvardi priests of the Way never bowed to any but their own superiors within the priesthood, not after the War of Lost Prophecy. Still, that didn't allow him to ignore her mother. "My Empress," he said respectfully, "if I may address the Princess?"

 

None of the earlier frost had faded from her curt reply, "You may, Father."

 

"Thank you, Your Grace." He turned to Raella and said quickly, "Princess, there is something of great urgency I must discuss with you."

 

This was a truly rotten time. "My apologies, Father Ansee, but I—"

 

"I wish it could wait," the priest interrupted gently, "but I fear that there is no time for delay. The will of the gods waits for nobody, not even the Imperial Household."

 

"But—" Raella started, but already Father Ansee had turned to address her mother.

 

"My deepest apologies, my Empress, but it is imperative that I speak to the Princess alone. It is a matter of grave concern."

 

Celienna was clearly not pleased, not one bit. However, if she turned even one as lowly as a priest away, it would not be well received by Archpriest Onath or worse. The Tetrand had been increasingly touchy over the last couple of years, but it had grown far worse when the Sei malcontents massacred so many priests in Kubei. Even an incident as minor as this could turn into quite the headache for her in the future. It was the last thing she needed right before leaving the city for several months.

 

"Very well," the empress said after a few moments of thought. "Will this take long?"

 

Regret poured into Father Ansee's expression. "I am afraid that it could take a good deal of time. Fear not, Your Grace, I will ensure that she is ready in time to depart."

 

Celienna's jaw clenched in consternation, but she had already consented. "See that you do." To her daughter, "Do not think your actions will be forgotten."

 

Raella gulped once more as her mother continued down the hallway with her head held high. It didn't take long for her to be left alone with Father Ansee. "Come along, my child," he said as he gestured for her to march back the way she had just come from. She did so willingly, knowing that each step was one step away from her own chambers and fuming mother.

 

She meekly followed the priest for a few minutes, barely acknowledging anyone else as they went by. It wasn't long before she could guess at their destination as being one of the small chapels held for private ceremonies or worship by someone in the palace who didn't have time to go to the Temple. Father Ansee had seemed rather insistent about whatever it was that he was so eager to speak to her about, but it must be serious if he wasn't willing to address it as they walked.

They arrived at last, though they weren't alone when he opened the doors. At first, she wondered if he was going to try to go to another chapel in hopes that one would be empty. Then, she saw who the other person was.

 

"Ellie," she squeaked breathlessly. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Exactly as I told her to," Father Ansee answered.

 

Raella frowned despite herself. "I don't understand."

 

"It isn't too difficult to understand once you know that Mistress Ellis ran into me shortly after you…mishap outside the kitchens. She pleaded with me to do something to rescue you and I felt obliged to grant the dear woman's prayers."

 

Tears of gratitude blurred Raella's vision as she ran to hug her maid. "Thank you, Ellie," she sobbed. It didn't bother her to behave like a child in front of Father Ansee. After all, it was hard to maintain propriety around a man who knew each and every one of her sins and failings. She had nothing to hide from either of them, and she couldn't say that about anyone else in all of Teladia.

 

"I couldn't just let you take the fall for that, dear," Ellie murmured soothingly. "I know what waited for you if you and the Empress got to your chambers, so I sent Father Ansee through the quickest of the servant's hallways so he could catch you in time."

 

Raella pulled back to arms length and asked, "But, how did you find him so quickly?"

 

"I was looking for you," the priest said. "It wasn't too hard to figure out where you would be, not with it being lunchtime on the day you depart for Terula."

 

Sometimes it wasn't a bad thing to have someone know of all your sins. "Thank you, Father Ansee." She let Ellie go and took a couple of steps back toward her priest.

 

"Now, what have I told you about when we are in private?" Father Ansee said with a mock scowl.

 

"I am sorry, Ansee," Raella said with lowered eyes. He hated it when she called added "Father" to his name. It was a necessity in public, but when they were in private, he wanted only to be called by his first name. He gave her the same courtesy, too. He said, after all, that it wasn't fair for him to ask to be addressed informally if he was going to keep calling her "child."

 

"You are forgiven, Raella."

 

"So you came to save me?" She could hardly believe it.

 

"Yes, from what I know of your mother, you were headed for a most unpleasant experience. It won't do for you to be unable to sit right when we are about to head out on a long journey."

 

Raella's cheeks burned again at the mere thought of the embarrassment she would have experienced if that news got out. Yes, it was a good thing that Ansee was sworn to secrecy concerning all things they discussed. Even then…

 

"You lied to Mother," Raella gaped.

 

Ansee shrugged, "Not entirely. I do have some rather important things to tell you and I don't think it would be wise to delay. I also suspect that it will take a good deal of time to explain, too, and I fully intend on having you ready before it is time to go on your journey. In fact, I think that I just might have to hold you until just before it is time to depart."

 

Raella couldn't help herself but to throw her arms around his thin frame in a tight hug. "Thank you, Ansee. I cannot tell you what that means to me." With his plan, there was no way for her mother to have the time to discipline her. Even more importantly, there was not enough privacy on the road for her to be properly disciplined and her mother wouldn't risk doing it in the presence of others. Sure, she was going to suffer for this, but at least it wouldn't be as severe.

 

"I cannot tell you how much you mean to me," Ansee replied.

 

"To us both," added Ellie. "I'd take the stripes for you if I could."

 

Raella knew that Ellie wasn't merely saying words just as Ansee wasn't exaggerating, but it felt good to hear them say that. She let Ansee go and took a few steps back to try to compose herself. "Look at me," she said while wiping her nose on her kerchief, "how foolish I am."

 

Compassion colored the priest's voice when he answered quietly, "Not foolish, not at all. You get all too few times to be yourself. Each time you can is precious indeed. Your mother is harsh, true, but I believe she truly means well. She wants to shape you and prepare you for your destiny, and that won't be easy. Fear not, you never need to worry about hiding things or being stiff and proper around the two of us."

 

"I know, but, well, it is just hard. Everything is building up and getting worse and worse. I fear that everything is going to come crashing down on us all."

 

Ansee looked somber almost to the point of being stricken. "Raella, my sweet child, I wish that I could comfort you, but I have some rather disturbing news to tell you. Perhaps we had better sit down, it could take a while."

 

When he had finished relaying the events of his meeting with High Priest Hassell, he sat back and let out a sigh of relief. Raella could tell that carrying the burden of those dark words had not been pleasant. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it herself, but danger was nothing new to her. Every few months, there was some sort of threat against her person and assassins were a constant problem. Even then, having some petty noble angry with her was nothing like having prophecy warn of impending danger.

 

She took a deep breath of her own and let it out slowly. "Well then," she said, the first words since Ansee began. She was surprised at how calm her voice was. "I guess things have indeed come crashing down."

 

"Yes dear, it appears so," muttered Ellie.

 

Cautiously, Ansee asked, "What do you want to do?"

 

Raella held her chin up defiantly and said, "Exactly what I am supposed to do. We go to Terula and meet with my father. My life has always been in the hands of the merciful Tetrarchy, so why should I fear any more now than before? If the gods wish me dead, then there is nowhere I can hide, nobody I can run to, and nothing I can do to escape that. If it is not my fate to die, then the gods will protect me from all threats."

 

Ansee smiled warmly and inclined his head toward her. She glowed at his pleasure and the rare sign of respect. "This," he said, "is why I believe you will be a truly great Empress. Not twenty minutes ago, you were being marched off to a rather stern strapping as meek as a lamb. Now, when you face death, you embrace the gods and show yourself a strong and mature woman."

 

The glow quickly turned into a blush. She wasn't exactly sure he would say the same thing if he knew her thoughts, but she didn't dare argue with him. "Thank you," she managed. This was more than enough to distract her from her narrowly avoided doom and she was grateful for it. The very thought of danger, secret meetings with High Priests, mysterious pendants and letters, and the promise of excitement nearly overwhelmed her. She always looked forward to travelling, but this was going to be something else altogether and it thrilled her to her core.

 

"Let us see this pendant of yours," she said.

 

Ansee started and looked a bit bashful as he reached into his robes to pull it out. "I am sorry, I should have showed it to you long ago." Both Raella and Ellie gasped when they saw the eight sided figure. He frowned and asked, "What is wrong?"

 

"That…that is just like my amulet," answered Raella incredulously.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Raella carefully took it from his hands and inspected it. "It is the same size, though I think yours is a little heavier. Every angle is the same. Mine doesn't have these pretty colors, it is just pure white. Other than those two things, I think they are identical."

 

"Where did you get such a thing?" demanded Ansee.

 

Ellie whispered, "She has always had it. I am not sure where it came from, but I noticed it just a few days after she was born. I guessed it was a gift from some noble and never thought about it since."

 

Raella was in shock. She had always liked the little pure white amulet and thought it was a sort of good luck charm. Her mother tolerated it because it appeared to be made of the finest ivory and such things were expensive this far north. "It cannot be a coincidence," she whispered, though she wasn't quite sure why. There was nobody nearby and the doors had been built specifically to ensure privacy. It just seemed the right thing to do.

 

Ansee let out another deep breath, though instead of being full of relief, it was consumed in worry. "I agree. I don't know how High Priest Hassell got this, but he certainly believed it to be important. I have no idea what it means, but it must mean something that there are two of them."

 

"It seems that we have a mystery to uncover," declared Raella. The initial surprise upon seeing the pendant had now been replaced with excitement over even more intrigue. "They could be magical, you know, something enchanted."

 

Ansee frowned again and scratched his chin absently. "I had thought of that, but it is not a comforting one. Magic can be dangerous, especially to those who don't know how to use it."

 

Raella laughed, "That won't be a problem. Mother has been after me for years to spend some time learning about magic. This would be a good time for me to take her up on that and go to the Wizard's College." It was true, but she would have to be careful. Since her mother was a mage and her father a wizard, they had always wanted her to learn more about magic. She had resisted because, when they were not careful, they sometimes let it show how disappointed they were that she was only a mere clairvoyant and not able to wield "proper magic." Because of that, she had grown to resent magic and resisted all of their attempts to study it. If she were to suddenly show interest, they may grow suspicious. She would have to be careful and make it seem that she didn't want to go even if she really did. More intrigue to make everything even more delightful.

 

"That seems like a good idea, as long as you are careful," cautioned Ellie. She knew about Raella's opposition to magic, though she wisely kept that knowledge to herself around others.

 

Ansee didn't seem entirely convinced, so Raella added, "It will be okay. The wizards in the College are the best there is and their library is extensive. I am not going to outright show them what I am after, but I think I can manage to get alone long enough to do some studying. Maybe they know what the shape means or maybe there is a way to detect what sort of magic may be inside them, if any."

 

The discomfort diminished, but it didn't entirely leave his body. He did relax a little, though. "Now," he said as he took back the pendant from Raella, "we have a few more hours before it is safe to leave. I think we should lay some plans and perhaps make some preparations. I can search among the Temple there while you do that. Ellie, you will need to watch out for anyone that might be suspicious of us. Servants can go places and see things without notice that the two of us could not."

 

"I think that is an excellent idea," replied Raella as her mind raced. "Here is what we can do…"

 

 

 

By the time the Imperial entourage left the gates of Angvard, Raella felt far more confident in her future. She had managed to avert disaster at the hands of her mother and, despite learning of danger to her life, make some plans with the two people in the world she trusted the most. Her mother still glared at her from time to time, but there was only so much she could do when surrounded by the First Battalion of the First Legion consisting of almost fifty-two hundred men, six hundred servants and camp followers, and a hundred minor nobles and courtiers. She was safe for now and they had plenty of time before arriving in Terula City to allow her mother's temper to cool off.

 

It was going to be a long trip. They would be able to make the eighteen hundred mile journey in two months if they were moving quickly. Normally, it took four months to make the journey since it was only considered polite to spend at least one night in the multitude of manor houses and noble's estates that dotted the road. It was all part of the seemingly endless cycle that the Royal/Imperial family had adopted. She was almost constantly travelling between the two great capitals and only rarely was able to see both of her parents together. Though they were married and did deeply love each other, her parents were constantly under great pressure from their positions so it was hard for them to leave their capitals. This trip was a rare occurrence for her mother because Celienna wanted to see her husband and hoped to present a show of unification in these dark times with the two of them together.

 

With the Unity Campaign and the signs of the approaching Coming Darkness, they might not take so long. They would have left sooner excepting there were many issues that required the Empress to remain in her crown city. If Raella had any say, they wouldn't spend so long in estates, even if it meant more nights in tents instead of warm guest rooms. There were answers in Terula to questions she desperately wanted to know about and that made it worth the extra hardship.

 

She was off to a grand adventure, that much she was sure of. When she was younger, she loved it when Ellie told her stories of heroes from the past and the marvelous times they had. To think that she could be facing one of her very own was exciting. There would be danger and there would be fear, but she was in the god's hands, now and always. She had yearned for excitement and adventure when she was girl and dreaded the thought of being stuck in a palace all of her life. This time, she just knew that things were going to be different. Life was taking a turn and things were growing so very interesting. She only hoped that on she would be able to remember all the exciting things that were bound to happen for the rest of her life.

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Even among immortal Immortals,[/quot]

Is this a deliberate double-up? I think that while it makes sense, there is probably a better way to make the same idea come across without the double up.

 

I like it. Especially the whole 'raiding the kitchen' part. I'm very curious as to how the pendant is going to come into play, though it does sound somewhat similar to the pendant held by Vekla and Lamastus.

 

On the note of the Epilogue...you've got the epilogue, and then chapter 36 afterwards, and you've also indicated that ch. 37 will also be posted....will the epilogue be moved then to the end of the book.....where epilogues go?

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Order of the Nocturnal

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Apologies, that wasn't the complete Epilogue, just the first quarter or so. I posted that because of how long it was taking me to overcome writers block on Chapter 36. In the book, the Epilogue will go at its proper place: the end.

 

As for that immortal Immortals, I believe it needs some fixin'. It will be done when I submit the full Epilogue.

 

That isn't the first mysterious eight sided pendant/amulet we have encountered. In fact, I believe it is the eighth we have seen or heard about, maybe the ninth. Raella herself has one, and that reminds me that I need to go and put in something regarding that (yes, I forgot she had it as she originally wasn't supposed to get one until later).

 

Now, onto Chapter 37, currently the last official chapter of the book. As with the last one, this is a setup stage for the journey that will consume much of the next book. If anything could be used to describe this chapter, it is CHARACTER EXPLOSION! I added around ten completely new characters with full descriptions and characteristics, many with unique personalities. The reason why I did this is because I wanted to expand my collection of named characters (that would be part of Robert Jordan's influence rubbing off on me) who will play various parts in the future. Some, like Delmonor, Relwind, and Jaquiil will be more prominent than others, and some will die in the next book. Nonetheless, I wanted to create a group that will from hence forth be called (OOC'ly) Syler's Delk'o'khas (fifteen ride out with Syler and Bronwyn plus Lamastus is added to that), or literally, Syler's Sixteen. They will become a sort of league of champions and trusted companions who will often accompany Syler and help lead his troops. They won't be immune to death. In fact, as will be revealed early in the next book, of the nineteen people (Syler's Sixteen plus Syler, Bronwyn, and Karusa) involved in this little adventure, only three will be standing at the end of the Coming Darkness. Throughout the next book, I will refer to them by name rather than "one of the warriors" and I will be having them all interact with each other. It will be an interesting experiment for me.

 

My hesitation and reservations about this chapter really concern whether it is wise to introduce so many new characters at the end of a book. I am likely going to take most of the introduction of the new characters and throw that into the beginning of the next book. If I do that, then this chapter is going to be a little light so I am going to need to expand it. I am trying to find something that I can put in that will enhance the story yet not be filler. I will ponder on it for a few more days and see what I can come up with. Nonetheless, here is the next chapter.

 

 

__________________

 

Chapter 37

 

All proper Krue love a glory filled battle that will likely as not end in their own deaths. They just can't help themselves when one comes around, so I doubt ya will have much problems finding volunteers for yer fool's quest.

 

— Growald of the Sei

 

Clan Lord's Estate

Thwrud

Subeleth

October 25

 

Two hours after his confrontation with Vekla, everyone was ready to leave. The cooks had prepared plenty of dried and sealed food that would last them for a month. The seamstresses had made sure everyone had enough warm clothes and canvas for their tents. Weapons had been sharpened by the smiths and armor was freshly polished or oiled. The hasuan had been groomed, fed, and saddled for those who would be departing.

 

He had hoped to spend some time alone with Bronwyn repairing whatever damage had been done by his not immediately asking her to come with him, but it was not to be. Even before Lord Horadin was out of sight, Gamot the blacksmith ran up to him asking about his armor and extra weapons. From that point on, it was a rush of different individuals all wanting his input and permission and orders on any number of things. Having never been responsible for anyone but himself, Syler had no idea that so much went into preparing an expedition, even one as small as what he was leading. There were questions about food, tents, clothing, healing supplies, weapons, armor, hasuan saddles, and countless other small details that needed to be tended to. His hasty commands had set the entire estate and probably a good portion of the city into chaos.

 

Since there was no way she was going to let him out of her sight, Bronwyn served as translator through it all, but it was not easy on her. He knew her well enough to see that she was barely holding herself together as it was. The fear of losing him had not entirely gone away just because he allowed her to come with him. He suspected that the only thing keeping her from breaking down again was the fear that he may change his mind.

 

The more he thought about it—with what little time he had to do such things in all the rush—the more he wondered if there wasn't something else going on with her that she wasn't telling him. They did not usually keep secrets from one another, but he was not deluded enough to think she told him everything. To be fair, there were many things in his life that he didn't outright tell her, but he couldn't think of anything he would hold back should she specifically ask about it. He wondered if he should ask her what was really bothering her, but he could never seem to find some privacy to do that.

 

Emerging from the front door of his estate hand in hand, the two of them stepped out into the mid-morning sun and beheld those who had been gathered to join them. Syler wore the heavy armor he had found, but also had a thick black cloak clasped to his shoulders. Bronwyn had managed to disappear long enough to change into an outfit of mixed brown wools that had divided skirts for riding.

 

Several people in armor were gathered in the front courtyard waiting for them. The street in front of his estate had been blocked off by dozens of his guards carrying spears or swords so they wouldn't be swarmed by the crowds of people interested in catching a glimpse of what was going on. Saledaur Torrvel was waiting by the door in his finest robes, gushing on about how the estate would be kept in pristine condition waiting for him to return. Syler paid him little heed because his focus lay in the various men and women gathered in front of him.

 

Delmonor was there in a freshly oiled set of leather armor and his massive double bladed two handed axe strapped to his back. His brown beard had been done up in two braids tied up with leather straps. He had an eager smile on his face, doubtless because he was happy to see some action and get away from the tedium of politics and translating.

 

Growald was also there, but he was not smiling at all. He had his Seinari mail shirt on with a few pieces of custom made leather that Syler hadn't seen before over it. He had his sword belted to his side and a small bracer strapped to his left forearm. When Syler's eyes met his, his frown deepened enough for him to wonder if the burly man was still sore about being given the slip last night. He didn't care what the man thought as long as he followed orders.

 

There were ten other warriors with those two, including, to Syler's surprise, a woman who might have been familiar though he couldn't place her. Motioning Delmonor over, he asked, "Who is the woman?"

 

He didn't need to ask before replying, "That is Relwind Hastor of Thattos, bwet ley. You spoke to her on the way to the inthadaeka after your Confirmation."

 

Now he remembered her. If Relwind noticed that he was interested in her, she didn't react but rather stood up straight and tall with the rest of the warriors. "Why is she here?"

 

The warrior grunted as he shrugged. "She won the right by fair combat, though I cannot say why a woman put herself through that trial."

 

Something in the way that Delmonor said that set off warning bells in the back of Syler's mind. "What do you mean, she 'won the right' through combat? What trial?"

 

"Each of these has proven themselves worthy of your guard by defeating other contenders in fair trials."

 

Syler did not like the sound of this. Dismissing the very thought that they had been planning on joining him, he focused in on the combat element. "So each of these have killed other Thwrudil to be here?"

 

Delmonor laughed and looked like he wanted to slap him on the back before realizing who he was talking to. "Of course not, bwet ley, do you think us barbarians?" Syler didn't feel like pointing out how he had come to be in this position. "They won in various duels involving skill of arms, accuracy with the bow, endurance, and combat with blunted weapons. These are the best ten out of four hundred and eighty-six."

 

Feeling a little better at that, Syler appraised the gathered warriors further. "Why would they compete to be sent out here with me? This is going to be a dangerous trip, not something fun or easy."

 

Delmonor looked at him with wide eyes as though he had lost his mind. "Many desired the privilege and honor of joining you on this quest to save your sister. Krue have not ridden out in force to rescue one of their own from kalklatin in generations. It is rare that any of the People leave the Sacred Wood, but this is near unheard of. If you had not personally selected me to join you, I would have been with them fighting for the right to be at your side. The honor and glory of such a thing will make each and every one of us legendary."

 

Syler snorted. "Great, so I have a bunch of glory seeking fools with me."

 

Delmonor shook his head emphatically. "No, bwet ley, these are the best warriors Thwrud could offer. To my shame, I must admit that I would not be part of them were things different. Each of these has proven themselves against other contenders and most have further proven their worth on battlefields. You could not be in better hands."

 

"We will see," muttered Syler under his breath. He glanced over at Bronwyn who remained stoically at his side with no sign of the emotion she displayed earlier. She knew better than to tremble or show any weakness in public because of the damage it would do to both her own reputation, but that of her husband's. Syler hated that life was doing this to them, but neither could afford to be anything but the perfect image of a strong, determined lord and his lady. Anything else would mark them as weak and only invite further problems and plots against them.

 

He offered his arm to Bronwyn and was relieved when she took it. "Introduce us to the men," he said at last.

 

Each of them had an aura of strength about them and most sported scars on their faces. There wasn't a single one that Syler would have wanted to have angry with him. By the way they wore their armor and hefted a varied assortment of weapons, they were clearly seasoned warriors. Relwind may have been the only woman among them, but she looked no less dangerous and perhaps a bit more so because of it. She wore a determined expression and held her head high with pride.

Since this wasn't a regular military unit, each man had been allowed to wear and carry whatever armor and weapons they were most comfortable with. All had at least one spear and most carried swords or long knives, but there were other weapons among them. They were hardly uniform in appearance or mannerisms, either. Almost every one of them had at least one thing to make them unique from the others.

 

The first, who went only by Pastal, carried a giant war hammer with a head that he guessed weighed fifteen pounds. When Syler commented on how difficult it must be to wield such a heavy weapon, he twirled the massive piece of steel as though it weighed naught more than a normal spear. Even under the mail shirt he wore under his leather outer armor, Syler could see the bulging muscles. Syler was a strong man and he knew from experience that Growald was even stronger. He wouldn't have put a single copper penny on the Seinari if he had been facing Pastal. The man looked like he could bend metal bars with his bare hands.

 

Another, Gombel Hastag, had a most impressive beard that he had actually managed to weave into no less than seven different braids. Despite the moderately heavy scale armor he wore, the man's skin was a patchwork of scars. He had a wicked looking eight flanged mace that Syler could see had almost as many scars and marks on it as the man who wielded. He also seemed to have a penchant for knives because he wore a belt that had half a dozen different knives stuffed in it and had more on his belt. When he heard his name spoken, he gave a proud and genuine seeming smile that revealed that he was missing his upper front two teeth.

 

Delmonor introduced the next warrior as Fenkrasko Rukal. At first glance, Syler could only picture him as one of the extremely vain and prideful lordlings from Havert's stories that always ended up being a complete fool and getting everyone killed. The man was young, but that wasn't a problem since most warriors were. It was his attire that made Syler think what he did. Fenkrasko wore almost stylish blood red and black leather with brushed steel polished to a shine separating the colors. The cuirass wasn't exactly normal for the Krue who preferred jerkins or brigandines over mail hauberks because of the added mobility. Syler was curious about why he would wear a heavier cuirass and especially one so awkward and brilliant as what he had on now because it seemed unlike the Krue as he knew them. Even the man's demeanor seemed to substantiate Syler's initial impression of him because, when he was introduced, he gave a strangely formal bow better suited among the Sei. His flourishing movements caused a few of the others to snicker, but nobody actually said anything aloud. His weapon of choice was a massive, two handed sword strapped to his back. Such a weapon was a direct contrast to the fluid motions of its bearer because swords of that size were normally meant for broad strokes that cut through opposition rather than avoiding it. Syler was forced to trust Delmonor that this man was a good enough warrior to have passed the trials and tests the others had to.

 

Syler actually stopped Delmonor during his hasty introductions to inquire further about a peculiar warrior who wore nothing but a thin, untooled leather jerkin. Through a hasty conversation, Syler learned that Wrendak had sworn that he would never wear armor because it was an unfair advantage to his strength and speed. Syler initially dismissed the man's claims as foolishness until Delmonor told him that Wrendak had fought in three inter-clan wars and had acquitted himself bravely with multiple kills in each. That seriousness was reinforced by the deafening lack of snickering during Wrendak's explanation. Unless Syler was mistaken, there was an eerie pale blue glow coming from the man's sword. It was just barely visible where the hilt met the sheath, but it was there.

 

Naedel Kadathil was perhaps the oldest in the group. Syler guessed he was in his mid-forties and looked grizzled and lethal enough even without an introduction. Delmonor introduced him as a sergeant and said that the hardened veteran had fought in numerous battles and skirmishes for two decades and was the only officer who had managed to join the group. He gave Syler the standard Kruish salute of a fist over his heart, but nothing more. There was no smile of acknowledgment when his lord passed by, just a blank face. He had two hand axes on his belt along with four slightly smaller throwing axes on a bandoleer strung around his shoulders. Syler might not have found the man's stoic attitude particularly endearing, but on the battlefield, he wouldn't be needing smiles and bows. If this man was an officer, then it was very likely he earned that position the hard way, and that would make him a valuable addition indeed.

 

Feldthas Maeothuq was a common enough looking warrior with an unremarkable beard and standard light Kruish armor usually found on mounted warriors. His hair was a shade of brown that none would notice in a crowd, even among the typically lighter haired Krue or Kutii. He wore a sword and long knife just most of the others. Syler's mind sort of wandered over the man until he met the other's eyes. He blinked twice and paused for a split second before continuing. He didn't know if anyone else noticed, but one corner of Feldthas' mouth rose a fraction. The man's right eye was brown which was unremarkable in any way, but his left eye was unmistakably blue. Syler didn't know what caused such a thing, but it was more than slightly unnerving so he quickly moved on to the next man.

 

Even Syler, with his limited knowledge of Kruish ways, knew that the most respected and honored Kruish warriors rode hasuan into battle. Baelkar Fondag was an infantryman and he made every attempt to proclaim that fact. Syler immediately recognized his heavier scaled armor dyed with the red that he had seen infantry officers wear. It was too heavy and cumbersome for mounted warriors who preferred lighter, more flexible protection. Even the man's weapon was there in defiance of the cavalry officers. He carried an eight foot pike that had the last two feet covered in steel with a nasty barb at its tip. It was a weapon designed to take down horses and perhaps even their larger hasuan cousins. Everything about the man was defiant, proud, and confident in himself, but not in an arrogant way. With the exception of Relwind, Syler thought he was the only other warrior here who wasn't part of the cavalry. What this man had to do in order to attain this honor must not have been easy, especially when Syler considered that infantry typically outnumbered the cavalry four to one among the Krue's hasuan dependant army. That only two from the infantry stood before him told him that they did not have an easy time against the cavalry despite their numbers.

 

Syler's brows went up when he noticed a thin, wiry man who looked almost diminutive next to the much larger warriors standing beside him. The man's face was ordinary without any real distinguishing marks on it. Even his light brown hair was a shade that was most common among the Krue. He had leather armor on, but there was not a single piece of metal anywhere to be seen. When asked his name by Delmonor, the man shrugged and said calmly that it was Jutimaen Zankhuel. As he said it, his hands did go to the twin short swords at his belt, but otherwise he made no other expression or gesture of acknowledgment that Syler's attention was set on him. Delmonor shrugged and mentioned that Jutimaen was one of the best scouts they had and was absolutely deadly within an enemy camp in either dark or light.

 

If Jutimaen offered almost no reaction to Syler's inspection, Adbaek Faqin made up for it with his beaming smile and enthusiasm. The man was literally bouncing on his heels and couldn't stop bowing when Delmonor told Syler his name. Syler smiled in bemusement when Adbaek's long sandy hair kept getting in the man's face, but the warrior didn't seem to notice. He stopped after several bows, but then proceeded to fiddle with his odd quarterstaff. The weapon, all of six feet long, was made of thick polished oak with half a food of steel on each end. At both points sat a metal ball the size of both of Syler's fists clasped together. Syler wasn't exactly sure how effective such a weapon was, but he could imagine that it would not feel pleasant to be hit across the head with one of those balls.

 

Standing off to the side and looking decidedly nervous was Healer Apprentice Jaquiil. Syler wasn't entirely sure about bringing along a healer, but Delmonor argued that he was more than a simple healer, but an Alchemist as well. Even with that low level of magical ability, he was valuable in multiple ways. Plus, Delmonor pointed out that the man was rumored to be an excellent cook. Syler could only sigh at the sparkle in his translator's eyes when he started mentioning the delicious foods that a man skilled in Alchemy could produce. He had never considered putting an Alchemist's knowledge of mixtures and chemicals toward cooking, but if the man was willing to join them then he was welcome. When he gave his permission, a look of relief washed over Delmonor's face. When Syler asked about it, he merely mumbled something about the Healer Woman threatening to force noxious potions down his mouth if he didn't persuade him to allow Jaquiil to join the expedition.

 

Looking sullen and even more dangerous than normal, Vekla was lurking around the rear of the group in the same black and gold leather armor and cloak that he had first encountered her in. She didn't meet his eyes when he approached, but kept her head down while fumbling with something in her hands.

 

"I am glad you decided to join us," said Syler. He was surprised that he genuinely meant it. Having a sorceress of her skills was going to be a major help.

 

Her head jerked slightly as if he had struck her. Still not lifting her head, she muttered quietly, "I am here to serve."

 

"Look at me," demanded Syler. She did, but not eagerly. "You are strong, Mistress Vekla, and I am glad of that strength. Remember to channel it against those who oppose us and not friends."

 

She clenched her hand tightly and nodded. Whatever she was holding must have been sharp because he saw a trickle of blood run between her fingers and down the back of her hand. She didn't react to it at all, but stood there with her unblinking brown eyes locked with his. "I am here to serve," she repeated.

 

Syler remained there for a few more moments trying to figure out what else he could do. Bronwyn gently squeezed his arm and he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with her here and now. He had to be careful not to shame her further than he might have already done. Whatever issues Vekla was having were too much for him to deal with right now. He made a note to himself to try to seek her out later in private to see if he couldn't mitigate the damage done to her pride.

 

He turned to the last of their party and saw that the grizzly Seinari was taking in everything that happened between himself and Vekla. A few steps brought him face to face with his former nemesis. "Growald, I am not surprised to see you here," he stated evenly.

 

"Yea, I told ya that I would come. You didn't think I'd let you go runnin' off and get yourself killed, did ya? I am your Guardian and guard you I will."

 

Syler nodded brusquely in acceptance. "As long as you remember who is in command, and that it isn't you."

 

That brought an almost sadistic smile to his face. "Oh, I do remember who is in command, Lord Penion. If we meet any of our countrymen, just let me do the talking or we might end up with enemies in front and behind."

 

Not even dignifying that with an answer, Syler stormed off to check on their mounts. It was high time they started off before they lost any more light. Delmonor led him to where fifteen hasuan were saddled with extra provisions. Syler frowned at that last part.

 

"I count fifteen saddled hasuan. There are sixteen of us riding out, with another two to be picked up on the way. How are Lamastus and Karusa going to ride when we have no more saddles?"

 

Delmonor looked abashed and mumbled something in Kruish below his breath. Kezkast, the head of the stables, answered in broken words. "Lamastus travel on hasuan. Bwet leya no can on ride hasuan now. Fadeas sek ley no ride also."

 

Syler didn't quite understand him and waited for Delmonor to explain. He did, but not happily. "Um, bwet ley, I may have forgotten to mention something important."

 

"What is it?" Syler demanded with a little anger creeping into his voice. "You were told that Bronwyn would be joining us an hour and a half ago, so why isn't a hasuan prepared for her. And what of my sister?"

 

Delmonor shoveled a little dirt with the toe of his boot and said hesitantly, "The two women cannot hold the reins of a hasuan."

 

Now there was no lack of anger in Syler's voice. "Why not?" he said through clenched teeth.

"It cannot be done, bwet ley—"

 

Syler rose the arm not held by his wife in the air to stop him from saying any more. "I don't care about traditions or practices. I am the law here now and I decide what is to be done and what isn't. Am I clear?"

 

Delmonor's head bobbed up and down rapidly, but his words didn't please Syler at all. "I do, Ley Penion, but it is not tradition that stops us or I would not have mentioned it."

 

Kezkast spoke up again, "Hasuan no allow, bwet ley."

 

"Hasuan don't allow it," Syler repeated coldly. "Delmonor, what is he saying? Out with it!"

 

A new voice interjected, "The hasuan will allow nobody who is not a tried warrior to hold their reins."

 

Syler let go of Bronwyn's arm and whirled around to see Zago Khaflar walking up calmly to them with a hasuan of his own behind him. The mage wore the same dark red robes he had when he first met Syler in the Clan House on the night of his ascension. At least this time, though, he was not panicking and blabbering like a madman. "What do you mean?" he asked through eyes narrowed with displeasure.

 

"Nobody knows why, my lord, but all hasuan trained for battle as these have will not allow any who has not shed the blood of an enemy to command them," the mage explained diffidently. "Scholars and mages have debated this phenomenon at length, but there is no answer that has been discovered that all can agree to. What is known is that once a hasuan takes the path of war, it will not suffer any who haven't taken that same path to do so much as hold their reins, not even to lead them on foot. Hasuan are strange creatures, not at all like other animals and definitely not like your horses. They live by their own rules and woe be to any who do not heed them. I have seen men run through by their horns or stomped to the ground who tried to take the reins without being qualified."

 

Syler had to force himself to close his mouth to prevent it from hanging open and embarrassing himself further. He had never heard anything like that before and wasn't quite sure whether the strange mage was having him on. By the look on Delmonor's face and the fact that the warrior hadn't disputed anything, Syler slowly gathered that Zago was being truthful.

 

"So how will Bronwyn and Karusa ride?" he asked hesitantly. He couldn't miss Bronwyn's jerk and the sudden flush that rose from her cheeks as her eyes widened in apprehension.

 

Zago shrugged, "My lady can ride with you. The hasuan can easily bear two, even with one in armor. My lord's sister will have to ride with another. The healer will also have to find a ride with one of the warriors," he said with an acidic glare at Jaquiil. Mages did not think very highly of Alchemists or Conjurors, all of whom were inherently weaker in magic than themselves.

 

Bronwyn relaxed visibly, but said nothing. Syler remembered clearly how a hasuan bore both of them and another warrior to Thwrud in the first place and knew the mage spoke the truth. "Very well then," he said. He paused a moment, then asked, "What are you doing here, Mage Zago?"

 

The man smiled slightly and bowed. "I am here to join you on your quest to rescue your sister, of course. You may have a sorceress already, but having two gifted is even better."

 

"And why should I have you with me? These others have fought to earn the right to join me, and they have demonstrated their loyalty to Thwrud or myself." Well, all of them except Growald, but he didn't quite count here. "You are a mage, not bound to any, at least, not that I have ever seen. I never heard you give oaths of fealty to me."

 

"But I most surely have done so, my lord," he replied with a sniff of indignation. "I have given my oaths to serve you and obey your commands before the Ring of Thirteen."

 

Syler didn't know what the Ring of Thirteen was and said as much. Delmonor answered for the mage, "The Daethas se Dalk'o'koene is the ruling body of the mages. It is the only true authority over them, just as the Daethas se Bwiin, the Ring of Seven, is the ruling authority over wizards. You can ask no more from any mage or wizard than pledges given to their Daethas. They do not give twakhi to leyin or even inthaleyin."

 

"And do you trust this man?" asked Syler pointedly. That drew huff from the mage, but he didn't care.

 

After considering it, Delmonor nodded. "It is as best as we can hope, bwet ley. We must take him at his word."

 

Syler wasn't at all willing to take him at his word, not with how he reacted at their first meeting. Mage magic might not have any effect on him, but that didn't mean Bronwyn or the others were as safe. Even with Vekla there to watch over him, he wasn't sure that the benefits of having a mage outweighed the risks. He considered a moment and decided that he would rather have the man along and deal with him on the road than to leave him behind and find himself in need of his services. If Vekla was hurt or killed and they came upon a dying Karusa, then having another mage would be far better than just the healing abilities of Jaquiil.

 

"Very well," he said at last. "You may come, but if I get even the smallest inkling that you are anything but loyal to me, I will kill you myself." When a sneer of contempt began to form on the mage's mouth, Syler quickly added, "Don't forget what happened when you tried to heal me. You are nothing but another man to me. A man who isn't armed or wearing armor, at that."

 

The sneer melted from his face along with its color. He nodded somewhat meekly and backed away. At least he was already packed with his things on his own hasuan. Syler only hoped that he wasn't making a mistake. There was too much at stake for anything to go wrong.

 

"Where is my hasuan?" he asked.

 

Kezkast bowed quickly and showed him to a steady looking brindle mare. The hasuan's coat was a very dark brown with dark grey striping along both flanks. Syler hadn't seen any horse or hasuan that looked quite like it and asked about it.

 

"This was Ley Saekoris' hasuan," replied Kezkast. "She name is Ment'fa'haehl."

 

"What does that mean?" asked Syler.

 

To his surprise, it was Bronwyn who answered, though in a distant voice. "It means something similar to 'Watcher of Doings' or perhaps "Witness to What Happens.' It isn't Kruish."

 

"Then what is it?"

 

Her cheeks reddened slightly. "It is the language of the caetos kvastal, the Seers."

 

Syler's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, you have your own language?"

 

"No," she said hastily. After a second, she lowered her head and said again, "Yes, sort of." Her face hardened. "I cannot explain it, nor should I. It is not for those not of the gift to know." Her voice was tart and accusatory, though Syler didn't know why.

He knew that look and knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere by prodding. "Okay, Bronwyn, no need to get angry."

 

She scowled. "I wasn't angry."

 

Not wanting to fight, Syler let it drop. "Okay, so then, this is Ment'fa'haehl." He approached the towering animal and paled a little at its sheer size. Even though he was not considered short by any means, he barely came up to the hasuan's shoulder. If he were to stretch his arms up as high as he could, he would hardly even be able to touch the animal's ears.

 

He had ridden enough horses to know that it was always wise to allow it to see and smell you before trying to jump on its back. He figured that was doubly important with an animal that was a trained war animal. Whispering calm things to it, he allowed the mare to smell him with her massive nose.

 

"She is not a toy," said Vekla harshly from behind him, "nor a child. Hasuan do not need coddling as your inferior horses do."

 

He only barely managed to prevent himself from jumping in surprise at her sudden appearance. "I see you got some of your spirit back," he said.

 

"You are a fool to allow an aqel to accompany us," she retorted. As much as Syler was glad that she had regained some of her fire, he was not quite so ready to accept being berated by her again.

 

"Watch your tongue, sorceress," he snapped and was pleased at how she took a step back. "What is an…whatever you said?"

 

Though her tone was slightly more submissive, it still carried an edge to it. "An aqel is what you call a mage. Zago is not to be trusted because he has no loyalty to any inthal, to any clan."

 

"It is none of your business who I bring with me." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could recall them. Instead of being angry, Vekla's face bespoke disappointment. For some reason, her being disappointed with him bothered him. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

 

"That wasn't exactly diplomatic," commented Bronwyn cautiously.

 

"No," he admitted, "but I didn't want it to be. Vekla might have been brought low for a time, but if I am not careful, she will be right back at it trying to command and expecting me to follow like a sheep."

 

"Maybe you should be following her advice," his wife said. "After all, these are her people and she knows what she is doing in this far more than you do. If we were in a forge, would you not expect her to listen to your advice?" She managed to keep her voice from being accusatory, but it was as close to it as Syler could imagine anyone being without crossing over the line.

 

He acknowledged her hit with a nod, hoping to retain at least a little self respect in front of anyone who might be listening in. He turned his attention back to Ment'fa'haehl. She stood there with her head tilted to the side looking at him with her big brown eye. "Well, at least you won't talk back to me," he said hopefully.

 

In response, Ment'fa'haehl neighed and stomped her front hoof impatiently. "On second thought…" he muttered as he looked for a way to get up. The hasuan was too tall to mount like a normal horse, so the Krue placed an extra handle at the bottom of the saddle from which to grab. He pulled himself up by that handle with one hand and grasped the pommel of the saddle with his other. It was kind of like climbing a ladder, a very short ladder. Once his feet were firmly in the stirrups, he reached down and pulled Bronwyn up behind him.

 

As soon as she was settled, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a way that was more than a little comfortable. He nearly gasped in surprise when she brushed her lips across the back of his neck and slid her hand beneath his armor to softly stroke his stomach. To prevent himself from turning red at that, he shouted, "Let's go!" and nudged Ment'fa'haehl into action.

 

The guards that had been blocking the road to prevent the crowds from swarming them suddenly pulled aside with shouts of warning. The citizens in the street yelped in alarm and scrambled to get out of the way as Syler, Bronwyn, and fifteen others on hasuan galloped down the road and off to save his sister at long last.

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Some interesting asides there..the mage and the rings of thirteen, the hasuan not allowing untested people to control them etc.

 

The introduction of the new characters at this point I think is fine, as long as you utilise them and allow them to bond with each other and Syler before the end of the book.

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Order of the Nocturnal

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The introduction of the new characters at this point I think is fine, as long as you utilise them and allow them to bond with each other and Syler before the end of the book.

 

Brendo, this is the end of the book. I have decided to cut out almost all of the introductions and move them to the start of the next book. I have a few ideas of what to replace that material with, but I need to work on restructuring the chapter. I will edit it and let you know when it is done.

 

I also added about 750 words to Chapter 36, almost all at the end. Most all of that was due to me belatedly remembering that Raella had a pendant/amulet exactly like the one that Ansee received. I also tweaked a little more of it around at the end. I have edited it in and fixed it up.

 

Finally, we get to the Epilogue. I am truly excited and proud of this part because I have been waiting to introduce it for quite some time. I have long said and hinted that the Immortal Realm works sort of like if we had the Greek/Roman, the Egyptian, the Norse, the Celtic, the Aztec, and a handful of other gods all mixed into a single reality. I took the opportunity in this Epilogue to provide a glimpse into that system as well as how the "good guy" ruling body works. As always, what happens here is not random and will have repercussions later on down the road. Everything is woven together and yes, I do have great plans for each and every one of these Immortals. Next book will see Suella as a POV supporting character with a few chapters of her own.

 

I hope that I managed to get the imagery across, as well as establish the various Immortals as being unique yet somewhat similar. There are purposes and reasons for why everyone reacts as they do, I just (intentionally) haven't revealed them yet. Anyway, I will stop yammering and let you read the complete version. Oh, I did edit even what I posted as a preview earlier, so you may want to reread it a bit.

 

 

________________

 

 

Epilogue

 

Hall of Strakuuvindor

The Immortal Realm

 

Suella was careful not to let her eyes wander as she stepped into the sacred Hall of Strakuunvindor, meeting place of the Katei'mindosh Protectorate. In all of the Immortal Realm, this was the one place where any of the Protectorate were welcome and harm could befall none. At least, that was what was supposed to happen. Sometimes, things went wrong, as had happened when the vile Crusos had offered grave insult to Kama'uel, the Most Deprived of the Stoics. Kama'uel had been wroth with fury and chased Crusos out of the hall with a scourge.

 

She felt no fear in entering this place, not with the mighty warrior Erastmus lumbering beside her with his usual threatening gaze challenging any who would hold it. Even among Immortals who could not taste death, not many wanted to risk his wrath, even if a few might be able to challenge his strength. She had to constantly remind herself that there was no reason to feel fear or intimidation, not here of all places.

 

Yes, the various races that made up the Protectorate were supposedly at peace and not to prey on each other, but there were always…disagreements. Immortals couldn't be killed, but they could have great pain inflicted upon them and they could be bound, even if it was against the Treaty to do so to a fellow Katei'mindoshi. Those who encroached where they were not welcome often found themselves wishing they hadn't.

 

She had never been a warrior and was counted among the weakest of the Elements. Just as Mewela of the Tetrarchy would never grace a battlefield unless at the greatest of needs, neither was it Suella's purpose to strive against the Deta'takame, the forces of Chaos. Her strengths lie in compassion, healing, and the caring of mortals. Few of their number could spend any amount of time in the Mortal Realm and she was one of those. That meant that she had some measure of respect here, though she was nowhere near as respected as Erastmus or Maegamus. Those two were among the mightiest of all of the Element's warriors and had earned great glory in the struggle against the Deta'takame.

 

Her affinity for mortals was why she was here before the Great Council. Against all odds and completely to her bafflement, she had been the one fated to be the guardian of the mortal known as Syler Penion. Each of the Immortal Races had multiple of their number constantly walking among the Mortal Realm searching for the Master of Magic, the Prophesied One, all hoping that they would be the one who could guide and direct them. Nobody, not even the most mighty Tantis of the Tetrarchy, knew where he would come from. Only the Voice knew that, and the Voice had chosen not to reveal it to any as low as the Immortals.

 

It had been to her absolute shock to discover that one of the Sei boys that had attracted her eye had revealed himself to be the Master of Magic himself. When she first encountered him on that stormy night in the hills, she had seen in him something that spoke of an unique life. The Elements were always gifted at seeing what might come from mortals and she was no different. In him, she saw a man of singular character who would be strong, a great general or a powerful lord. Never had she thought that he would turn out to be the One they all sought. Before finding out his true destiny, she had preserved his life or guided it along a better path, even if he didn't know it. It had not been until his powers activated and he was Realized in the place mortals called Kubei that she and all of the Realm knew what he was. At that very moment, all of the Immortal Realm shook with power as the Voice revealed the presence of the Prophesied One to all.

 

When she heard the Voice's words, Suella knew it was only a matter of time before being summoned before the Great Council. She had only been here twice before, and neither time had been exactly pleasant. This time, though, it was almost guaranteed that she would be held to task and examined carefully by the Council. She feared what they may decide, though she would stand firm in her beliefs no matter what.

 

"Relax, Suella," said the deep, almost gravelly voice of Erastmus. "I am here and you could ask for none better to stand at your side save Salgeus himself, and I would fight him for an era for your sake."

 

She smiled at his kind words. Truth be told, she had never been particularly close to the hulking warrior until their encounter with Syler Penion. She had not expected the dark skinned champion to care about a mere mortal, but he had been drawn in to her encounter and reveled in any chance to bring Crusos down a notch. The two had been running a feud for a great amount of time, though she did not know what started it.

 

"I know you are here," she replied softly. "It gives me great comfort, but we both know that you cannot defy the will of the Council."

 

He looked down at her and, with fire in his eyes, replied, "Do not fear for your safety when in my presence. Even if it meant an era in bondage to the Deta'takame, I would stand at your side. You have great honor and great valor, even if you do not see it."

 

Suella blushed, a unfortunate side effect of spending too much time among mortals. "I thank you for your kind words, Erastmus. I don't know what I did to earn the attention of one as mighty as yourself, but I do not count your friendship lightly."

 

A strange look crossed the warriors face, but he said nothing. Instead, his fierce gaze passed over the gathered Immortals once again as if seeking out possible threats. To her eyes, they all seemed going about their own business, paying them no mind. This place was neutral ground, and many mixed races of Immortals were gathered in small groups conversing quietly with each other. Nonetheless, it was not proper to insult him by not allowing him to inspect the scene and make his own determination that it was safe. After he was satisfied, he moved aside and allowed her to enter the foyer.

 

Both of them stood there until being summoned to actually enter the Hall. One as humble and weak as herself would never presume to demand that the Hall bend to her will, so she would wait. Erastmus might have gotten away with barging in, but he did not wish to cause a scene that might make things more difficult for her. All of the Lords Immortal were present and that wasn't a good sign at all.

 

The great gold doors that led to the Hall cracked open ponderously and a single figure cloaked in radiant gold emerged. Suella forced herself to keep her head held high and not shrink back at the sight of Gatekeeper Zah'elios. The towering Daedash, a servant race of Immortals, was truly a terrifying being to behold, even Erastmus tread lightly around him. With skin and raiment that glowed with brilliant radiant light, it was difficult to look upon him for long. In his hands was a double sided spear that stood twelve feet tall, though next to his nine foot height, it wasn't so awkward looking. On one end of the spear was a point of pure light; on the other was a tip of abject darkness.

 

"Suella of the Elements," he said in a booming voice, "you have been summoned before the Hall of Strakuuvindor." His eyes fell upon the dark skinned warrior standing next to her. In a much lower, almost threatening voice, he added, "Erastmus of the Elements, you have not been summoned."

 

Erastmus rested his hands on the pommel of the sword at his side and set his jaw. "Nonetheless, I am here."

 

Zah'elios did not seem amused in the least. "You will remain here."

 

With a shake of his head, Erastmus replied, "No, where Suella goes, I go."

 

"You presume to dictate terms to the Hall?" Zah'elios said imperiously.

 

"Call me inspired by the Master of Magic," replied Erastmus with a mocking smile that didn't do anything to change the hardness in his eyes.

 

"It is not permi—." For a second, the Daedash's radiance dimmed noticeably as his voice trailed off. Suella was about to ask if something was wrong when the brilliance returned to its previous level. When he spoke, his voice seemed resentful, if not a trifle angry. "It seems the Hall has granted your request to accompany Suella of the Elements as a guest. Speak not, for you have not been summoned."

 

Without giving any acknowledgment or gratitude, Erastmus gently took Suella's arm and guided her around the Gatekeeper and into the Hall itself. Once through the gold doors, they entered an entirely new environment, one that showcased the glory of the Immortal Realm in a way not seen anywhere else.

 

The first thing she always noticed were the six Seats that ringed the floor. Pillars of the whitest, most pure marble veined with solid gold held up titanic Seats decorated according to the wishes of the one who sat in it. Each Seat was different, but all excluding the bare grey stones that the Stoic Lord Immortal used were exquisite and awe inspiring, showcasing the majesty and strength of the Lords Immortal.

 

The Seat sitting directly opposite of the Gate was the most magnificent of all and always garnered the most attention of those who came before the Hall. It was clothed in flowing white clouds and framed in golden light that sent rays throughout the Hall. Crowning the Seat were thunderclouds that sent small bursts of lightning down the back of the throne. The arms were of clear crystal, a solid piece that was without flaw or weak spot. Decorating the back of the Seat was a trickling waterfall that emerged just below the thunderclouds and flowed down the seat and into the lush field of white flowers growing at the foot of the Seat. A diamond three feet wide, one foot tall, and three inches thick stood in front of the Seat proclaiming its name: The Seat of Kae'kadresh'at.

 

Despite its grandeur, the Seat always remained empty. When this mighty Hall had been created, the Seat of Kae'kadresh'at was already there, waiting for the first Immortals to enter. The name itself had the meaning of "One Who Rules All." At first, it was believed that it was an omen to guide those of the newly formed Katei'mindosh Protectorate to its one true leader. One by one, all of the Immortals in the Realm had been allowed to attempt to sit upon it in the hopes that the Voice would show them the one that was meant to rule them. None of the Immortals could force themselves to sit upon it no matter how hard they may have tried. After a long time of deliberation, the Hall determined that it was never meant for any of the Immortals, but rather was a representation of the power of the Voice and the Voice's inherent rule over them all. It was a symbol of how the Immortals who sat in the other Seats needed to remember that it was their purpose to protect the mortals as the Voice commanded.

 

The Seats weren't the only thing that caught Suella's eyes. The ceiling of the Hall was breathtaking in and of itself. Even Immortals could not determine how high it went or even if it had an ending. It was called the Sky of a Billion Stars because of the vast multitude of lights of all colors that ringed it. Initially, there had been some doubt that there were actually a thousand million such lights, but when Fessamios of the Grifters defected to their cause, part of his penance included counting each and every one of those lights until he reached a billion. He did and discovered that there were many more not yet counted.

 

The floor of the Hall was solid crystal that was dotted in bright colors of red, green, blue, violet, and amber. It was transparent enough to see the constantly churning clouds below, but sturdy enough that it had never so much as flaked or chipped in the ages that it had been used.

 

Suella didn't have much time to bask in the glory of this place because it seemed the Hall was eager to hear from her. "Suella of the Elements," the rich, inflection heavy voice of Tantis of the Tetrarchy called out. She looked at the imposing figure cloaked in forest green robes of the finest cut of softsilk and embroidered in thread of gold. His Seat was a slightly lighter shade than his robes and was gilded in leafy vines. At his side was Gavin'sor, his famous solid bronze spear. The weapon was one of the great wonders of the Realm, wrought using all of his strength and skills in magic. The spear was enchanted with a spell of his own creation that made it invincible and caused it to shatter any metal its head came in contact with. "Thou hast been summoned before us this hour to render forth your knowledge of incidents encompassing the mortal known as Syler Penion of the Sei. What sayest thou?"

 

She swallowed hard and stepped forward into the center of the floor so that all of the gathered Lords Immortal could see her. "I first encountered Syler when he was but a boy in their eyes. He was strong even then, but I had no idea that he was the one we sought until his Realization. There can be no doubt that he is the Master of Magic." There was no sound of shifting in the Seats, each of these Lords Immortal were too controlled for that.

 

"And what of his character?" asked Zurisadai, the Evanescent of the Spirits. Her Seat was, like the Spirits whom she led, constantly shifting and fading into the background. The Evanescent herself wore a cloak of changing colors that concealed all but her pale blue eyes.

 

Suella paused, trying to think of what to say. "He is strong willed and determined," she answered cautiously. "He has a strong sense of honor and valor and consciously tries to do what he sees as right. He is not greedy and does not desire wealth or power. He is extremely loyal to those he loves and will do anything to save them."

 

"So we saw," murmured Zurisadai with disapproval evident in her voice and demeanor.

 

"The Evanescent doth speak the truth," said Tantis. "Thou hath much to answer for, Suella of the Elements."

 

Before she could speak, another of the Lords Immortal interrupted. "Why is it that you indulged the mortal to appease his desires rather than embrace what must be?" Kama'uel was the Lord Immortal of the Stoics and it was not without reason that his title was the Most Deprived. His Seat was nothing but bare, gray slate without any decoration or comfort. His kind had no love for the soft pleasures or riches of either realm, nor did they believe in indulging in anything save deprivation of self. He glared at her with his lifeless grey eyes that so reminded her of Crusos'.

 

Suella stiffened and nearly snapped at the Stoic. A surprisingly gentle if calloused hand on her forearm brought her to her senses and saved her Judgment for her violation. She had not time to whisper gratitude to Erastmus for halting her, not with things beginning to build up as they were. She took a deep breath and answered in an even voice, "As I testified, Syler is very strong willed for a mortal. He presented an ultimatum to myself and Crusos that we could not negotiate out of."

 

"Yes," said the nearly song like voice of Se'tet, "we have heard the testimony of Crusos of the Elements and have deemed his actions necessary and irrelevant to this situation." Se'tet was the Highest of the Ethereals, a cousin race to the Spirits. His Seat had mists emerging from its foot that served to obscure most of the one who sat in it. Even so, that did not entirely take away from the black onyx it was made of or the diamonds set within that sparkled with the light from the Seat of Kae'kadresh'at. He appeared to be nothing but a mist with a form vaguely similar to the others. Of all of those present, he was the most secretive and mysterious. "You are not here to cast Judgment upon Crusos. You are here so that we may cast Judgment upon you."

 

"On me?" she exclaimed before Erastmus could stop her. "What have I done to warrant such charge?"

 

There was silence for a time as the gathered Lord Immortals seemed to speak among themselves. She could see them occasionally nod or frown, but had no way to know what was being spoken. A glance at Erastmus told her that he was both fuming and clearly concerned for her. She still wasn't so sure what she had done to warrant his friendship, but ever since their encounter with Syler, he had always been close at hand.

 

She was contemplating asking him what he thought was going on when Tantis' voice boomed throughout the Hall. "Thou hast been summoned to answer for why it hath passed that the Master of Magic was able to enter our sacred Realm without permission and did command thy presence. Most disturbingly, the question comes forth: what failures did ye cause by failing to ensure his cooperation with the word of prophecy?"

 

Suella was confused at this. "I was not commanded to his presence, Most Majestic. I sensed his great agony and went to him to alleviate that suffering."

 

"And you did not find it suspicious that he was within our realm?" asked Zurisadai.

 

She had, but that concern had been fleeting when she looked at the anguish in his soul. Something told her not to say that, though. "It is not for me to question what the Master of Magic can and cannot do," she said, trying to be as humble as possible despite the accusatory tones directed against her.

 

"That may be," the Spirit answered, "but that does not explain why things proceeded as they did. Is it not our highest law that no mortal shall rule over an Immortal? It is bad enough that you allowed him to summon you and worse that you answered, but those things pale in comparison to your most egregious failing. Your actions have tilted the Scales of Balance away from Order."

 

Suella couldn't help but gasp and raise her hand to her mouth. To tip the Scales of Balance in such a manner was a serious thing. All too rarely were those Scales able to be righted back toward Order. Most of the time, they were always edging closer and closer to Chaos and the Coming Darkness. To think that any of her actions would have had an effect such as that on them was ghastly. "How did I do such a thing?"

 

"We know not," Tantis growled. "I summon the Guardian of Balance and the Keeper of the Scale Featwel of the Tetrarchy to stand before the Hall." There were no objections, so he nodded resolutely and pounded the butt of his spear on the ground before his Seat. Thunder rumbled as the summons were sent forth.

 

Suella was barely able to suppress a gasp of surprise when Featwel manifested himself in front of her and Erastmus. Within moments, her eyes narrowed in contemplation. It was forbidden for any except the Lords Immortal or Guardian Zah'elios to manifest themselves directly into the Hall. That was why she and Erastmus had been waiting in the Foyer before being allowed inside. Judging on the lack of reaction from the other Lords Immortal, Featwel seemed to have somehow received permission to do so, something she had not known before hand.

 

The Tetrarchy was always jealous of its general prominence among the Protectorate. Despite being by far the smallest of the Immortal races, it held a great deal of authority due to the large number of mortal followers it had. That and the fact that it retained a far greater number of Daedash than the others gave it a decided edge in many things.

 

"Keeper Featwel," Tantis boomed, snapping Suella out of her thoughts. "Thou hast been summoned before the Hall to describe the tilting of the Scales which are thy charge."

 

Featwel bowed his head and shifted the pure white robes that had been disturbed during his manifestation. "It is not known for guaranteed, Most Majestic One, but the damage hath been accomplished and cannot be reversed."

 

"That is not what you testified to us prior," said Kama'uel.

 

The newcomer turned to address the Stoic without fear or reserve. "I doth say that it is not known for guaranteed, not that I doth not have speculations."

 

"Speculate then," Kama'uel shot back.

 

The god nodded and turned to face Suella. His youthful face that had been the object of many an Immortal woman's dreams and desires was set with grave concern and anger. His blue eyes were hard with resolve and his voice lowered. "I doth believe the Scales tilted in response to a perversion of prophecy. The sacred words hath been defied and fate hath been changed."

 

Beside her, Erastmus stiffened. Suella felt unwell and struggled to stay on her feet. "I had no idea…" she said quietly.

 

He wasn't finished. "Furthermore, we doth behold that the Scales hath crossed the Threshold into the favor of Chaos." Suella was speechless, her face paled and her shoulders sagged.

 

"We all felt the Master of Magic's intrusion into our Realm," continued Featwel. "When it came to pass that you unlocked that which was his to discover upon his own, you upset things that should not have been disturbed. The Scales hath tipped and worse, they hath crossed the balancing point so that they are now, for the first time since the First Violation, in the favor of Chaos."

 

Tantis nodded to his fellow god and waved dismissal. With a bow, Featwel manifested himself and faded away. When he was gone, Tantis pounded his fist angrily against the vine covered arm of his Seat before exclaiming, "The time of reckoning is upon us all!"

 

"We have sacrifice much in preparation, but not enough," said Kama'uel. "We must sacrifice even more until the Voice sees us worthy."

 

"And what do you propose, Most Deprived One?" asked Gusain, the Most Balanced of the Elements. His Seat was one of exacting proportions and complete balance. Instead of being solid stone or crystal, it was composed of countless pieces and materials that made no logical sense to the untrained eye. It seemed to be impossibly fragile as though the slightest breeze of wind might topple it down, but it wasn't. Every piece was precisely placed to provide the maximum support and strength to the rest of the structure. None but an Elemental highly skilled in the Balance could fully dissect the mastery of such a puzzle, but Gusain was able to do so with ease.

 

"I propose that we bring the one responsible for this to task," Kama'uel snapped. "Suella of the Elements has failed in her responsibility to safeguard and enforce the words of prophecy and in so doing, disturbed the Scales."

 

"It is incomprehensible to fathom that one such as Suella could upset the Scales as such," said Gusain.

 

That at least caused the Stoic to pause. Other than Featwel himself, there was none among the Immortals that was as attuned to balance and the Scales as Gusain. This caused Featwel to step forward with a look of interest on his face. "What doth thou mean?"

 

"The Elements are always seeking Balance. This is widely known," answered Gusain. "We see things that others do not. Of all of our kind, Suella is among the most attuned to the mortals, close enough even to approach the compassion of Mewela of the Tetrarchy." That last part caused Tantis' eyes to narrow. He was quite jealous of his wife's affinity and love for the mortals and did not take kindly to others comparing themselves to it. "She would never do something to intentionally cause them harm, especially not with the appearance of the Master of Magic and the Coming Darkness."

 

"Perhaps that indulgence in emotions is what made her weak and willing to take these very actions," shot Kama'uel. "She was unwilling to do what was necessary for the greater good because she was unable to set aside her feelings."

 

Suella was aghast now. They were Judging her because she granted Syler access to his own abilities? "Why am I being Judged for doing what I deemed right? Nowhere is it written that the Master of Magic cannot be helped in his journey. We can all be assured that Chaos will be attempting to stop him at every turn, so why can we not give him aid?"

 

"Because in doing so," replied Se'tet calmly, "you directly caused him to break apart prophecy."

 

"What?" cried Suella in astonishment. "What prophecy have I caused to be broken? All I did was grant him access to an element of his powers earlier than he would naturally have. He only used it to save his dying wife, one whom he loved dearly. Her death would have broken him and caused him to give up hope of life, all of which would have made him useless to all of our cause!"

 

Tantis stood up and spoke in his grandly resounding voice, "The one who shows the world the way to the One shall, after her purpose is fulfilled, be sacrificed by the One himself out of compassion to save her. From the sacrifice, he shall suffer greatly but in the end, grow strong and find the will to face his destiny."

 

He sat back down and said with regret, "He was to sacrifice the mortal called Bronwyn Antoras whom he loved dearly. Her purpose in pointing the way to the Master of Magic was fulfilled, as was her more important purpose in bonding to the mortal so that he may know sacrifice. In slaying her to save her, he would grow strong through pain and hardened for what doth be before him. It was his place to follow prophecy and thy place to watch. Thou didst decide to change that and by thine actions, hath violated the laws of prophecy."

 

"But," said Suella with confusion, "I did not do anything except grant him access to that what was his already. I couldn't have altered prophecy without knowing it!"

 

Zurisadai lifted one of her almost transparent hands and said sternly, "Only an Immortal can affect change upon prophecy, this is known. Syler Penion is but a mortal, so that could only mean that you yourself altered what was to happen."

 

Erastmus stepped forward a step and said bitterly, "And how do you know it was Suella's doing and not the works of Crusos? Was it not he that transacted safeguarding of the soul of Bronwyn Antoras and then allowed it to be returned to her body?"

Tantis' normally gentle green eyes blazed with barely contained fury at the interruption. "Thou, Erastmus of the Elements, were not invited into this Hall to speak, but only to watch. Hold thy tongue or thou wilt most surely regret it."

 

"So am I to have no defense?" asked Suella.

 

"Casting blame upon Crusos is not a defense," Kama'uel said. "It has been determined by the Hall that his actions alone were insufficient to bring about the altercation of prophecy. Someone stayed Syler Penion's hand and it could only have been you. The question we here so do wish to have answered is why you would do such a thing?"

 

"Indeed," agreed Se'tet in his airy voice. "There is none other that could have done the deed, Suella of the Elements, but we do desire to know why you would defy prophecy. What were your motivations? In understanding these reasons, the Hall may be able to afford you leniency."

 

"I-I—" Suella stammered, but she was cut off by the Stoic renewed attack.

 

"Was it because you have a weakness when it comes to mortals?" Kama'uel's weathered, wrinkled face showed only the pleasure of a hunter who was setting a trap.

 

"What are you—" she tried again.

 

"Is it because you grow too attached to them that you do not wish to see them meet their ultimate mortal fate? Are you too concerned with their petty emotions and feelings that you cannot bear to see one of your select mortals suffer?" There was definite pleasure on his face now, so much that she began to see a smile on his cracked lips. "You have spent a great deal of time with them, have you not?"

 

"It was onl—"

 

"You have, for it is well known among the Hall." The Most Deprived leaned forward intently and reached out a gnarled finger to point at her. "You have even been intimate with them and engaged in carnal relations with some of their number. Have you sought out such relations with this Syler Penion? Is that it? Could you not bear to see him hurt because you have shared a bed with him?"

 

With enflamed cheeks, Suella's back straightened in total indignation. Beside her, Erastmus stiffened and tightly clasped the hilt of his sword. It was not prohibited for Immortals to have sexual encounters with mortals or even for children to come from such couplings. It was slightly more acceptable for the males among the Immortals since there were fewer ties involved in bearing the offspring, but even the females could carry a non-mortal child if they remained in the Mortal Realm during gestation.

 

She was not embarrassed about having carried and given birth to non-mortals over the ages, not at all. She was humiliated because it was considered extremely crass and insulting for others to mention such things unless the person involved mentioned it first. That went even more so for those of the other races to speak of it.

 

Her jaw was clenched to tightly that she could not speak. Unfortunately, that allowed Erastmus to interject on her behalf. "You have no call to intrude in such matters or make such accusations, Stoic," he growled angrily.

 

Kama'uel's dry lips peeled back to show old and brown teeth. "You have been warned, Element. I cast Judgment upon you for violating the words of your betters and for failing to properly address a Lord Immortal." He cast a quick—very quick—glance around the Hall to see if there were any objections. When he didn't see them, his hands wrapped around the simple looking quarterstaff that sat against his seat and aimed it at the towering warrior.

 

Erastmus was already drawing power to himself to brace for what was to come, but he had no chance against one of the Lords Immortal, not within the Hall itself. His sword was ripped off of his belt and flew across the Hall to land somewhere behind Zurisadai's Seat. His golden armor cracked and melted away like dust in the wind that erupted from Kama'uel splayed fingers. When it was over, Erastmus stood naked and weakened. "I hereby strip you of your weapon and armor as penance for your arrogance. Now, bow before the Lords Immortal and ask forgiveness or I shall exact further penance."

 

Erastmus gave one look toward Gusain, but received no reprieve. The Most Balanced shook his head sadly and refused to acknowledge the humiliated warrior. There was nothing he could do in this situation, Erastmus had erred too egregiously for him to offer protection even to one of his own kind. The dark skinned warrior grunted in acceptance of his fate and slowly fell to his knees and lowered his head. It wasn't a deep bow, not by any means, but it was a bow. "I accept my faults and humbly petition the Hall's mercy."

 

Crystal tears fell from Suella's eyes to see the proud warrior so humbled for her sake. Honorable warriors were always too quick to come to the defense of non-warrior females, even when such aid was not sought. At any other time, she might have been merely annoyed, but this time she was filled with sorrow. Her sorrow and regret quickly turned to anger directed squarely at Kama'uel for doing what he was doing.

 

The Stoic ignored her and took in the enjoyment at humiliating Erastmus. Stoics always thought that other Immortals were too indulgent in their desires and vanities. They constantly sought ways to strip them of everything but the most simple of things, to follow their own personal philosophy of self deprivation.

 

The Most Deprived stood up and stretched out his staff. "The Hall does grant mercy to those who humble themselves." He tapped one finger against his clean shaven jaw and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, another cruel smile came to his lips. "With the Coming Darkness drawing nigh, it will not do for one of our warriors to be unprepared." He stretched out with his power and a mist enveloped Erastmus. It didn't cover him for long, but when it was dissipated, he was clothed in plain, unadorned leather armor with a crude cudgel at his belt. "Behold, Erastmus of the Elements, your armor and weapon. May they serve you well in the upcoming war."

 

With a wave of dismissal, he cast Erastmus out from the Hall. Without a word, the warrior vanished and was gone. Kama'uel's attention returned to Suella who was now standing alone beneath the scrutiny of the Lords Immortal. "Now, where were we?"

 

This time, Gusain did speak up, and his voice was full of barely controlled wrath. He might not have been able to save Erastmus, but he did not appear to wish to allow another of his own to be destroyed without giving her a chance. "I believe you were accusing one of my own of some rather personal things. It is beneath one of the Lords Immortal to engage in petty gossip like a mortal. Unless you have evidence of your accusations, I demand you retract your statements." The Most Balanced was clearly not pleased at watching one of his best warriors be humiliated and was not going to allow another of his kind to receive the same treatment without a fight.

 

Kama'uel smirked at Suella and replied in a condescending voice, "I was merely speculating on what her possible motives might have been based on her past actions."

 

"To 'speculate' on such a matter is inappropriate and unacceptable for one of your status," Gusain snapped back. "Even the Lords Immortal are not above Judgment."

 

"That doth be enough," Tantis said with a terrifying growl. "There doth be much of great import that needs be addressed. Most Deprived Kama'uel, consider thyself censured for your transgression against one not of your kind. I doth trust that bringeth the issue to an end. Now, answer, Suella of the Elements, hath thou conducted thyself in a carnal manner with the mortal Syler Penion?"

 

"No, never," Suella answered immediately.

 

"But you have lain with other mortals, have you not?" asked Zurisadai. Had it come from anyone else, it would be counted as grave an offense as that which caused Erastmus to speak out. Among Immortals, especially among those of differing races, only another female could ask such a question of her, even if it was normally considered inappropriate. Zurisadai's position as Lord Immortal and the nature of this inquiry allowed her to ask such a question, but only just barely. The tradition of secrecy and privacy concerning the non-mortal offspring of Immortals was strong and with good reason.

 

Suella refused to look down in shame. "Yes, I have, but not with him. I have no desire to do such with him, either."

 

The only other female in the Hall looked thoughtful, at least, as thoughtful as one could with only her eyes showing. "And have you carried offspring?"

 

There was no point in denying it, or the implications. Immortals could not bring forth offspring among themselves. The only way for that to happen was by mingling with mortals. With a clenched jaw, she responded, "Yes, I have."

 

"How many?" Realizing perhaps that she may have overstepped her bounds because she quickly added, "It is pertinent to the matters of the Hall, but your answer will not leave these sacred walls." She threw a pointed glare in the direction of Kama'uel as she spoke and he did not seem to protest.

 

"I have carried five."

 

"And how many do still walk the Mortal Realm?"

 

This line of questioning brought up painful memories of loss—something that was rare for Immortals to experience. Tears once again formed in the corner of her eyes as she replied, "One still remains. The rest have fallen to death."

 

"Name this one before the Hall."

 

That went too far, even for a female of the Lords Immortal. It was no simple question she was asked, and it was not a matter of indignation or embarrassment that made her resist. Suella's back arched and her upper lip curled back slightly. She would draw the line at this point and go no farther. "No." This earned her an arched brow from the Evanescent, but she would not budge. "You have no place to ask such information from any of the Katei'mindosh. I invoke the Right to Silence in protest to this treatment. I will answer no further questions if this is where they lead."

 

This earned her several minutes of silence as the Lords Immortal discussed this matter among themselves beyond her hearing. She didn't care what they did to her, she would not expose her one surviving son to the predations of other Immortals. She didn't trust Kama'uel at all and feared even the Evanescent might try to bring him into harm if she could find him. She had suffered enough watching her other son and three daughters taste the bitterness of death, she didn't think she could bear to see her last one fall into the hands of scheming members of this realm. He already had enough dangers with the schemers and threats from his own realm, he didn't need to add to them.

 

At last, the silence ended and Most Highest Se'tet, who had so far, been mostly neutral in these matters, spoke. "Suella of the Elements, it is indeed your right to invoke the Right of Silence. As such, this Judgment is at an end. The Hall has decided your fate based on the facts at hand. Are you prepared to receive your verdict?"

 

She was determined not to give into emotion, but to take whatever penance they gave her with the same dignity that Erastmus had accepted his. "I am," she said with a steady voice.

 

There was no pleasure in the Ethereal's voice when he said, "Suella of the Elements, you have been found guilty of violation of prophecy. Because of your choice to invoke the Right of Silence, the Hall does not know your motives or what drove to such actions, so we have no way to mitigate your punishment. The intentional subversion of prophecy in any form is among the highest of crimes. The danger of rogue Immortals attempting to alter prophecy is a threat that even the Deta'takame take seriously. To oppose the will of the Voice or of Chaos is reckless and unacceptable for any with the gift of Immortality."

 

His misty form solidified into a more normal one that allowed him to stand. With mists still steaming from his body as though he had recently been on fire, he cast an imposing image, but his voice was not threatening, only resigned. "Due to the grave nature of the crime and the lack of mitigation, the Hall must deliver the most severe punishment allowed. Suella of the Elements, you are hereby exiled from the Immortal Realm and stripped of your powers for a period of one thousand years. You will dwell among the mortals, doomed to be among them but never of them. You shall not approach another of the Immortals nor shall you attempt to enter this realm for any reason whatsoever, on penalty of being bound and turned over to the Deta'takame for their punishment, as is according to the Unbreakable Pact."

 

Suella's heart dropped and panic clenched her throat. Exile as a mortal, the worst punishment that could be bestowed upon any of the Katei'mindosh save being turned over to their immortal enemies for endless pain and torture. She wanted to protest, but it would do her no good when the Hall had made its decision. She made her choice in not defending herself and did not regret it. Her son would live free for as long as he could, even if it meant she must suffer for a thousand years. With the Coming Darkness, she doubted that any of them had that long, but even in victory, her home would be denied her until almost all memory of it faded into nothingness.

 

Se'tet could not execute the Judgment he had rendered, so he sat down upon his Seat. Only one of her own kind could strip her of her powers and bound her to a single form and place. Turning to a rather infuriated but trapped looking Gusain, she spread her arms in acceptance and held her chin high. For a few seconds, he glared at Kama'uel with pure hatred smoldering in his eyes. Suella knew that he had no choice in the matter: he had to abide by the ruling of the Hall.

 

His face was saturated in regret as his gaze fell upon her standing without resistance in the middle of the hall facing him. He drew the power to him and stretched his hands out toward her without taking his eyes off of her. Suella stood there confident in her decision. No matter how horrible this fate was, she would not beg or humiliate herself. She would accept her punishment with the last thing the Hall of Strakuuvindor had left her, the one thing they could not take away: her dignity.

 

She managed to stay on her feet as Gusain the power that had been part of her since the beginning of time was sundered from her. She did not cry out, but kept her jaw clenched. For a brief eon, she felt as though a layer of molten metal had been poured over her both inflicting pain and restricting her movement. That told her that her essence had been constricted to a single, mortal form. The sensation was so overpowering and the weight so great that she was forced to her knees. The very last memory she would have of the Immortal Realm that had been her home was blinding pain the likes of which she had never experienced before.

 

She screamed until her throat was raw, then screamed some more.

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I know this is the end of the book, which is why I pointed it out like that.

 

I thoroughly enjoyed this section. The concept of the various gods all being real, and being in partnership with each other and having a council of sorts is a novel one, and not one I can recall seeing before.

Member of Jnet Addict Club 12/05

Order of the Nocturnal

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