Cyrus let the silence hold, let his lips stick together, even as he felt the chatter of his teeth. When he spoke it was quiet, the last ounce of hope running out. aMother?a There was a quiet that lasted only one second.

aShe is not here,a came the voice from the darkness behind him, and he felt the fear again, the horror of it, and recoiled, backing toward the corner where the snow fell, even as a figure made its way out of the shadows. aDonat be afraid,a the man said, and Cyrus could see the light catch his face. One of his eyes was squinted completely closed, and he wore a heavy cloak that extended from his neck to below his knees. aDonat be afraid, Cyrus.a aWho are you?a Cyrus asked, and shivered.

aA friend,a the man said simply, and he took off his cloak with a simple flourish. He took tentative steps toward Cyrus, who could see now that the man wore armor, though of a different look than Cyrus had seen in the Society; this was older, he thought, more scuffed, and all metal, like his Fatheras. He offered the cloak, and Cyrus looked at it for only a half second before snatching it and draping it around his own shoulders, shivering into it, feeling the moisture from his skin absorbed into the cloth, but he also felt the chill reduce a little.

aI donat know you,a Cyrus said, and looked away, to the hearth again. There was only darkness in it. The pot his mother had used to cook was gone, and the hearth seemed to leer at him, taunting. aWhereas my mother?a He asked it plaintively, though he knew almost certainly what head hear.

aSurely you must know that she is gone.a The voice was quiet, subtle, and the drifting sound the snow made as it landed in the corner was almost louder than the strangeras words. aBelkan told you, did he not?a aHe told me.a Cyrus wanted to keep his distance, recoil, but he didnat. aI want to see her.a aIam afraid that aa the man hesitated, ais quite impossible, now. She is dead.a Cyrus heard but didnat hear, listened but didnat absorb. He shut his eyes tightly, and tried to remember the house when it was warm, when the smell of meat pies cooking over the fire filled the air, when he could feel her arms wrapped around him, and when he would tussle with his father on the bearskin ruga"

aCyrus,a the voice came again, and Cyrus opened his eyes. aI know this must be difficult for you, this a horrible change. But you must a endure. Do you know what that word means? Endure?a aI know what it means.a His voice didnat sound like his own. It was huskier, like one of the boys who was sobbing in the arena.

aYou must endure a what is to come.a The man went on, and Cyrus listeneda"but did not hear, the older Cyrus thought, watching it all, watching this man, this familiar man, give him instruction. aThere will come a better day, when you are out of this storm. You must believe in that, hold tight to that conviction, because what will happen between now and then will not be easy on you.a aI donat wish to go back to the Society of Arms,a Cyrus said, and the emotion flowed out of him. aI donat want to be there.a aYou have no choice,a the man said quietly. aIf there were any other way, I would find it, buta"theya"are watching you closely, and there is no avoiding their gaze. You must follow this path, do this, stay within the bounds of the Society, to be safe. Do you understand?a aBut I donat wish toa"a There was a draft then, but the manas words overcame it and interrupted Cyrus in the gentlest way. aThe mark of a man is his willingness to do things that he must do but doesnat wish to. You were a boy only months ago, yet now you are forced into the role of a man, forced to look out for yourself because no one else watches out for you, because all who did so are now gone.a The manas hand landed on Cyrusas shoulder, but it was different than the Guildmaster of the Societyas, lighter somehow. aIf you are to endure, you must do the things you donat wish to. You are afraid. I know this. Were I in your place, I would be afraid too, to feel so alone. But I tell you now, be not afraid, Cyrus Davidon, because you are not alone, however it might appear. Donat fear.a The manas hand came across Cyrusas cheek and the soft touch of his thumb, even in the gauntlet, smeared away the wet droplet that had fallen.

He felt the world wrench, then the manas armor against his face, and he cried the tears he thought he had no more of, felt the strength and unyielding of the armor against his skin, even as the cloak wrapped around him. The wetness of his tears ran slick against the manas breastplate, and Cyrus felt himself lifted, cradled, carried along, as he quietly wept. There were reassuring words, he could hear them, but the ones that stuck out was the constant admonishment: aDonat be afraid.a They were outside the gates of the Society when next he looked up. The strangeras eye was puckered shut, as though it were too cold for him to open it. aBe brave,a the man told him, and Cyrus saw another man just inside the gates, the dwarf from the arena. aErkhardt,a the man said to the dwarf and gently handed Cyrus over.

The dwarf gripped him firm under the armpits and laid his feet back on the ground as Cyrus took up his own weight again. He was tall, already up to the dwarfas chin. aMade quite an impression earlier, this one did,a the dwarf said with a sort of grim amusement. aWouldnat play along with the test. Stabbed the Guildmaster in the belly.a He lowered his voice but Cyrus heard it nonetheless. aTheyall not go easy on him for that, you know. Not that they were going to before, but aa aHe will endure,a came the stony voice from the man in armor. aAnd you will ensure that no harm comes to him.a aAs ordered,a the dwarf said. aCome on then, lad,a he said to Cyrus, aletas get you in and see about making amends where we can.a The dwarf saluted the man. aSafe journey to you.a aYou are not alone, Cyrus,a the man said as Cyrus walked the stone path through the gates and toward the old, darkened building of the Society of Arms. aNever alone. You are strong, show them that. And be not afraid.a Cyrus watched him, looking over his shoulder with regret, longing, really, even as the dwarf named Erkhardt was at his side. After all, the older Cyrus thought, as he watched it all play before his eyes like theater, how could a child forget the last time he felt like he had a friend?

Or a father.

Chapter 53.

There was a rough bump, and the darkness swirled around Cyrus, lit now by daylight somewhere in the distance. It was above him at an angle, but it washed through the air and shone in beams that rested all over the space around him. His eyes were bleary, and no matter how many times he blinked, they did not clear quickly. He began to wonder if they would clear at all.

The smell of horses permeated his consciousness, filled his nose, and he heard the sounds of them, of people talking somewhere outside his field of vision. There was a pain around his neck as he turned his head, but the pain was only a dull ache, a long-ago reminder of some agony, he supposed.

aWould you care for some water?a The voice was soft, feminine, and cut over the clack-clack he heard every few seconds.

Cyrus coughed then cleared his throat. aYes,a he said, but his voice was hoarse, and his throat scratchy. A skin of water was thrust to his lips and tilted, just so a little ran out on his tongue and down his mouth, as though he had forgotten how to capture the liquid that was coming to him. It felt cool as it fell over his cheeks, and he realized the air was hot, and he had a blanket weighing him down.

He swiveled his head and saw the face that went with the voice that had spoken to him. aYou,a he said. aI a I donat remember aa aIf the next words out of your mouth are ayour name,a then youad best prepare yourself for a thrashing.a She sounded serious.

aCalm yourself, Aisling,a he said with a wicked grin, and saw the flash of irritation crest her tanned, elven features. aKidding, Martaina,a he said, laboring to get her name out. aYour name is Martaina Proelius.a aGood to know you still recall the important things,a she said, and pulled back the skin, capping it. aYou gave us quite a stir, you know.a aDidnat intend to,a he said with a cough. aAs I recall, I was just going along, minding my business, when someone shot me with an arrow and proceeded to lop my head off.a His hand came to his throat, felt the slight ridge along the middle of it, a scar that seemed unlikely to ever heal. aHoygraf said head take it in order to keep me dead. His revenge.a aYes, well,a Martaina said and shifted, sitting against the canvas backing of the wagon, looking over him, ait didnat happen, obviously.a aObviously. What did happen?a aWe managed to retrieve that empty gourd you used to thinka"you know, before you switched to using your groina"and reunited it with your body,a Martaina said.

He ignored her jibe. aWeare at war with Actaluere?a He felt the tautness in his muscles, surprising given how out of sorts he felt.

aNo,a she said with a shake of her head. aIn fact, Milos Tiernan has brought his army north with us.a Cyrus felt himself stop, as though everything ceased moving all at once around him. aTiernan did? Heas not attacking Galbadien?a aNo,a Martaina said, and Cyrus could see her face go masklike. The ranger was good, no doubt experienced at hiding herself; but he had known her long enough to see through it.

aWhat happened?a Cyrus asked and put enough of a commanding voice into the question that it cut through the rasp. Martainaas eyes turned rearward over Cyrusas head. aHow long was I out?a aOver a week,a she said at last, and her hand disturbed the flap of canvas enough to let some light in, which caused Cyrus to blanch and close his eyes. aCuratio kept you well-medicated with opiates from the local poppy fields during your a ailment. He had some difficulty reattaching your head because of the time that elapsed between when it was severed and when we received it. It was a very near thing, and your arrow wound and other injuries had to heal naturally because they missed the window to be cured through magical means.a aWhat happened while I was recovering?a Cyrus asked and tried to sit up. Martainaas boot landed upon his chest, keeping him down. His armor was absent, and he felt no desire to fight her attempt to keep him flat, letting his head sink back to the padded, moving floor of the wagon.

aActaluere joined with Syloreas and sent the forces they had on hand at Enrant Monge north with us.a She kept a canny eye on him, but her reaction was still closely guarded, he knew. aThey mean to help fight against the scourge and have sent for more forces to come north while the first army moves up with us.a aAre we close to battle?a Cyrus asked. aIf weare only a week out of Enrant Monge? Have the scourge reached this far south already?a aIt would be best if you didnat concern yourself overmuch,a she said calmly. aWeare holding at a line south of the mountains, here in Syloreasas southern flatlands, waiting for one of Actaluereas northern armies to meet up with us. After that, weave a weekas march north to the rallying place where weall be fighting them.a aFlat plains,a Cyrus said, pondering. aLet them come at us?a aThat seems to be the consensus,a Martaina said, looking down at him once more. aWith Actaluere joining the remainder of Syloreasas armies, we have as many troops as weall be able to muster and can fight them on as near to even footing as possible. Besides, remember these creatures thrive on broken ground. They took Scylax without much effort, after all.a aI havenat forgotten that, either,a Cyrus said, aand apparently they scaled a mountain to do it. No, flat ground does work best for us, for our mounted cavalry. I find it a bit mystifying that Actaluere would choose to join with us, seeing as the Baroness was such a sticking point for thema"a He stopped, having caught the waver in Martainaas expression, the subtle move of the muscles around her right eye. aShe was returned to them, wasnat she? Back to the Grand Duke?a aShe went back to Actaluere, yes,a Martaina said carefully.

aThey took her?a Cyrus asked, and started to sit up again, only to feel the strength of Martainaas foot hold him down once more. aTook her back to him?a aShe went back to him voluntarily,a Martaina said.

There was a silence that filled Cyrusas ears, as though the sounds of the horses and men outside had ceased. All talk and chatter and the smell of infirmity that filled the wagon was gone. aTo save her people, then. To free the army of Actaluere to action against the scourge.a He felt himself relax, his body limp against the padding that separated him from the wood floor of the wagon, and the deep dissatisfaction grew within even as he tried to shut it up. aAnd they let her.a He said it with such casual disdain that it lit a fire in Martainaas eyes.

aLet her? No,a the ranger said. aShe argued forcefully to be allowed to. Forcefully enough that Curatio did not oppose it nor did any of the other officers.a Cyrus was quiet for minutes, the wheels bumping him along every few seconds as the wagon hit ruts in the road it traveled. aI canat decide whether I deem her incredibly brave or deeply stupid. Perhaps some combination of both.a aShe went into it knowing what she was doing to herself,a Martaina said, and he saw the restraint again, the mask, keeping her emotions in check. It was a mask made of thousands of years of experience at keeping others from her thoughts. aI donat believe you could ascribe stupidity to any part of her judgment process save one, perhaps.a Her eyes narrowed at the last.

aAnd that part would be?a aI decline to say.a Martainaas head swiveled again to the back of the wagon, to the flap, and remained fixed there as they bumped along in silence.

Chapter 54.

Vara The horn sounded in the early morning hours as Vara lay in her quarters, the fire going low across from the foot of her bed, the crackle not disturbing the sleep she wasnat getting anyway. Her thoughts were far away, as usual, which was why she wasnat sleeping. The soft pops from the fire were soothing in their way, and when the horn reached her ears it took a moment to realize that it wasnat that far offa"from the wall, it seemed, though she was dazed enough that she believed at first that it came from over the plains.

When it was sounded again, this time inside the halls of Sanctuary with the guards taking up the call of alarm, it was enough to stir her from her reverie.

Her bare feet hit the cold floor as she disentangled herself from the blankets that covered her bed. Damn, she thought, the urgency rising in her with the cacophony of horns and voices outside, I would not have believed they would move against us again so soon. I assumed they would at least wait for the reinforcements to get here a.

Her footcovers and underclothes went on first, followed by the armor, which took a while to strap on. The last thing she placed was her helm, which she detested and usually preferred not to wear. It was a shiny thing, like the rest of her ensemble, and covered the top of her head, leaving only part of her face exposed. It strapped tightly under her chin, and carried a movable crossbar that folded down over her nose for use during battle. She folded it down now after tucking her ponytail out the back, and made certain that the metal girding the strap was properly placed to defend against glancing blows under her chin. It met up with the gorget that protected her throat, and left only the space from her chin to her eyes unprotected.

She swung open the door and almost collided with the bulk of Vaste as she did so. The troll stopped himself in mid-stride, and Vara threw out an arm to his ribs, smacking him with her mailed palm as she tried to come to a stop before running into him. She looked up to his face and found him looking down at her. aWatch where youare going, troll.a aI was,a Vaste said, awhich was why I stopped when you threw yourself into my path. You, on the other hand, I wonder about. Can you even see with that monstrosity fastened to your head?a He waved a hand in front of her face, as though she were blind.

Vara felt a surge of irritation. aI have always possessed a helm to go with my armor, you rancid goat bladder.a aPerhaps,a Vaste said without umbrage, abut I donat believe Iave ever seen you wear it before. You typically go hatless, the better to allow your flowing golden locks to distract your enemies, I presumed. Much the same reason your breastplate is molded to be aptly nameda"another way to keep them focused ona"a aYe gods! Will you ever cease your damnable vexing of me?a She didnat wait for a response, instead turning to head for the stairs, back in full flight as her feet tramped along the stones, issuing a loud clang with every step.

aI donat foresee a time when Iall stop making wry observations about the situation around me, no.a Vasteas words were dry though loud enough to be heard behind her over the sound of her steps. The staircase further down was swarming with people, the members of Sanctuary turning out, the alarms still ringing in the air over the raised voices below. aPerhaps when Iam dead, which, hmm, maybe youall get your wisha"a aDonat jest about that,a she snapped, turning to face him. aI may be thoroughly irritated at you a majority of the time, but donat confuse that with genuinely wanting you dead. If I genuinely wanted you dead, I would have smote you down myself, long ago. We are in dire times, and if this alarm means what I think it doesa"a aI believe there might have been a word of caring in that fusillade,a Vaste said, halting only for a moment before sliding past her on the staircase with surprising agility. aBuried deep, perhaps, but I caught a grain of it hidden in the depths of the vitriol. Could it be you are fond of me, Shelasaakur? That my wit amuses youa"a aYou annoy me on a near-constant basis,a Vara said, now trailing behind Vasteas wide strides as they came down the staircase. aButa"a aOh, fear not,a Vaste said, aIave always known that youare not quite the demon you pretend to be. However, if Iam not much mistaken, this sudden softening of your armored persona has less to do with this siege and perhaps more to do with a certain Generalas absencea"a aShut your slack-jawed mouth,a Vara hissed, and Vaste did not turn nor stop on the stairs to answer her. He did, indeed, shut his mouth, and they began to slow as the crowds clogged the stairwell, members rushing down to the foyer below. She resisted the temptation to hit the person in front of her with a hard shoulder check in order to send them all collapsing like dominos down the stairs. Dominos she could run over in a dash to get there faster. Resist.

aApparently we need wider staircases,a came a voice from behind her, almost as acerbic as her own. She did not need to turn to know that the speaker was Erith Frostmoor. aOr smaller trolls.a aAs though Iam the problem here rather than the dark elves that wonat leave us be,a Vaste said, turning his head to give Erith a blank look. aYou know, those hideous creatures that seem to have it in for the whole world, starting wars and unleashing aggression on everything and everybodya"a aFine, fine,a Erith said, squeezing up against Vara in a way that made the paladin yearn to thrust an elbow into Erithas nose to get her to back up and leave some space between them. aItas not just you, thena"itas the disorganized way in which weare all scrambling to get into defensive positions.a aAnd the fact that weare having to go to defensive positions to protect ourselves against the dark elven hordes,a Vaste said lightly. After a moment, he sighed jauntily. aIs this how everyone feels about the trolls all the time? Because I think I finally get it, you know, after having been the brunt of it for so long. Kill them!a He raised his voice. aKill the aggressors!a He lowered his voice again. aYou know, it feels good not to be one of athem,a for once. You should have had your people make war against the entire civilized world years ago.a aI hardly had anything to do with it,a Erith said with as much frost as her name indicated.

aOh, now, do give yourself some credit. You probably at least inspired one or two soldiers to pleasure themselves at the latrines.a Erith let out a hissing sound and Vara ignored it. The foyer was visible now, the stream of people that filled the stairwell breaking loose and running across the foyer floor. aAt least it doesnat look like theyave teleported in an attack force this time,a Erith said, all trace of her irritation gone.

aYet,a Vara and Vaste said in a chorus. The troll raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a scorching glare that affected him little to none.

aSuch happy thoughts you two share,a Erith said. aRemind me not to come to either of you when next I experience a down day and need some optimism.a aWere you really ever going to visit Vara for such a thing?a Vaste asked, vaulting over the edge of the steps about fifteen from the bottom as the spiral opened up. He didnat wait for either of them to reply nor to reach the bottom; the healer ran for the door and was out onto the Sanctuary grounds before Vara even cleared the stairs. Taking the step Vaste had was not possible for someone of her height, certainly not without breaking a leg.

She was out the door moments later, having passed through the foyer, which was still guarded by a force headed by Belkan. The day was grey, the skies hanging, clouds overhead that muted the sun, wherever it might have been hiding. The green, well-trod grasses of the Sanctuary lawn were particularly dark today, the late summer having come to them. Only a month or so from harvest and the Sovereign begins his move. Of course.

She climbed the wall, the same place she had on the day when they broke the siege, and wondered how many towers there would be this time. Last time it had been a host of fifty thousand, a fairly thin line that came at them from one direction, head on. This time would surely be different; there would be at least another twenty-five thousand, perhaps even another fifty. They might attempt a direct assault again or attempt to encircle and direct their main attack at the walls rather than the gate.

When she took the last step off the ladder and stepped out of the stale air inside of the wall, she found herself overlooking the fields in front of the wall, all empty. The place where the battle had been done last time was open ground, though the smell of death still lingered as there had been only a small detail to deal with the fallen from the last battle, and they had been instructed to leave some of the bodies. Many corpses were still where they had fallen, left as a reminder for the next army that came along. The remains of the siege towers had been burned, though, and only blackened husks remained there.

Varaas eyes came up to the horizon, and she peered toward the place where she knew the portal was, north of the wall several minutes walk. It was there, but beyond it there were shapes, assorted figures that looked no larger than ants on the hill. The grey clouds did them no favors, and only through her elven eyesight could she even see that they were there.

aI donat see them,a Thad said, drawing her attention. The warrior was at the edge of the wall, staring over. aBut I know theyare there, because the elves in my detail tell me so. How many would you estimate?a Vara did not speak at first, not for a long, long moment, as she tried to count and failed. Part of the army that waited ahead was obscured, not visible at this great a distance. aMany,a she said at last. aMore than last time. More than I can count at this range.a She felt the dryness in her mouth as she said it. aBut more. Many more than before. At least double their number, visible from here.a She blinked, and stared at the horizon, her picture of the dark elf force incomplete. aMore than we can see. And that means aa she tasted the dryness again, even as she said it, alikely more than we can easily handle.a

Chapter 55.

Cyrus The days had grown long, Cyrus noted, even as the jarring motion of the wagon carried them on. The third day after he had awakened, Curatio gave him lease to leave the wagon. They had stopped, finally, having reached the open plains that were the rendezvous point for their meeting with Actaluereas northern armies.

aDonat nod your head too much,a Curatio said as Cyrus stood, feeling somewhat weak as his head got light. He started to shake it to see if he could clear the feeling, but the healer grasped him by the face, capturing his chin and part of his cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. aDonat shake it, either.a aWhy?a Cyrus asked. aIs it going to fall off?a aUnlikely,a Curatio said, aIam just annoyed by how often you do that. Try speaking more.a aMy throat feels raw, as though someone poured Reikonosian whiskey down it while I was asleep.a Cyrus rubbed his neck.

aWe gave you as much water as we could,a Martaina said, standing with him now, in the wagon. She had not left for more than a few hours since he had awakened. aBut itas surprisingly difficult to make a man whoas hallucinating drink and eat.a Cyrus stood between the two of them, ducking his head to avoid hitting it against the canvas top of the wagon. aI would think after the last few days Iad never want to sleep again.a He yawned. aSomehow Iam still tired.a aGet some sunlight,a Curatio said. aItall do wonders for you, that and walking around for a spell. Not an actual spell,a he clarified, abecause thatas impossible and also heresy, but walk for a while.a aYes, sir,a Cyrus said as Martaina pulled back the tent flap for him. The air in the wagon had grown stale to him, the smell of healed wounds and sweated flesh was near-unbearable. He had put his armor on with Martainaas assistance, after saying flatly that head rather be able to walk ten feet with it on than thirty feet without it. Shead snorted her impatience with his attitude but ultimately helped him. He rested his hand on the hilt of Praelior and felt energized. Thank Bellarum that Hoygraf didnat know the worth of my blade, or itad surely no longer be with me.

The air outside came in with a subtle breeze, a coolness, a tinge of winter on the wind even though the sun was shining its warmth down. Cyrus squinted away from it, looking back into the darkness of the wagon to either side, gradually turning his face toward the light. After a minute had passed, then another, he took a step forward unaided, sat down at the end of the wagon and slid himself off the carriage. His feet crunched against the ground where the wagon sat, made soft by a rain he had heard in the night. He sniffed, and realized that in addition to the smell of the campsite, he smelled himself, the odor of the tent and of sweated flesh, healed wounds, and he wondered if there was a river nearby or a pond that would be suitable for bathing.

His first steps were funny things, as though he were regaining the habit of balance, of walking. Martaina stood to the side of him, well clear, but he knew her reflexes were such that she could catch him should he stumble. Her speed was also such that he did not worry about it. The first steps were hardest, but his legs seemed to regain their use as he walked, the whole of the campsite laid out before him, the massive army more than he might have imagined when first head heard that Actaluere had joined with them at Enrant Monge. He could not see it all from where he stood, but he knew by what little he had glimpsed of it from the back of the wagon that it was massive.

aWhere are Actaluereas northern armies?a Cyrus asked Curatio, who hovered only a bit behind him, just out of armas reach, as though he were hiding the fact that like Martaina, he was lingering to save Cyrus from falling.

aA weekas march, by the accounts weave heard,a the elf replied, not stepping any closer to Cyrus. aTheyare making haste, and Briyce Unger and Milos Tiernan have been planning the coming battle. Their intent is to throw everything at the enemy, with Sanctuary at the center and our healers in use to help stem the bloodshed and fall of their people. Once weave broken the scourge, weall march north through the passes to get to the cave where the portal sits.a aForgive me, Curatio,a Cyrus said, abut do I detect a hint of gloom in your voice?a He watched the elfas normally sunny disposition change not a shade.

aNo gloom,a Curatio said, abut perhaps some tempered expectations. I have been in many battles in my life, and I have yet to see a single one go precisely to plan. Things go wrong in war, and this enemy is even less predictable than most. I hope with all that is in me that we will crush them and drive them back as predicted. However, I would hope that our General might bring his own insight into our foes to the battle plan before we go into the fight, so that any troubles unseen by the esteemed leaders of Actaluere and Syloreas might be anticipated before we march headlong into the teeth of these beasts.a aI doubt Briyce Unger would be foolish enough to lock me out of the discussions,a Cyrus said and coughed weakly. aUnless for some reason Milos Tiernan holds a grudge against me for what difficulties Iave handed him.a aNone that Iave seen during the planning sessions,a Curatio answered. aHeas been courteous and careful to listen to all our advice thus far. Unger has asked after you and when youall be able to meet with them, so I suspect that wonat be an issue.a aOh, good,a Cyrus said, feeling his loping steps lack some of the bounce that they had before he had been felled outside Enrant Monge. After a momentas thought, he had to concede that any bounce had been gone long before that, probably before even leaving Vernadam. aThe last thing we need is a turf war. Especially as weare facing the ghosts of our past sins.a There was no response from either Martaina or Curatio that he heard, but they carried on, the cool breeze encouraging him, the warm sun alternating with it, giving its heat when the wind would die down. It was a perfect sort of early fall experience, and the air held only the slightest hint of what winter might be like in this new land. At a normal time, Cyrus might have found it invigorating; now, it kept him going in spite of all that was on his mind. aYou said that Jaanda and Aisling helped retrieve me,a Cyrus said, turning to look at Martaina. aI havenat seen either of them to thank them properly since Iave recovered.a aJaanda is quite busy,a Curatio said. aOdellan may run the troops, but Jaanda keeps careful track of our spellcasters. Heas been helping them in pushing their boundariesa"especially the newer onesa"to build their capacity for magical energy.a Cyrus blinked at that. aWhat?a aMagical energy,a Curatio said. aThe finite amount of power we have for casting spells? You are familiar with this concept?a aYes,a Cyrus said, ahaving seen a woman bleed part of her life energy out last year to go past the limit, I am familiar with it.a aIt can be grown over time and with mastery of our craft,a Curatio said. aJaanda is working to grow that ability before we go into the battle, especially with our healers.a aHow does one a go about such a thing?a Cyrus asked.

Curatio sighed. aIt would be difficult to explain to someone who has not cast spells before. Probably the easiest explanation is to say that we go about it very much the same as you go about building muscle with which to swing your sworda"repetition, effort, practice. Exercises can be done.a Cyrus shrugged. aIf you say so. Where is Aisling, then?a He waited for a response from either of them but got none. aNever mind. I forgot she doesnat do well at being kept track of.a Martaina gave him a slight smile as they made their way around some tents that had been brought by the Luukessians. As always, the army of Sanctuary seemed to prefer bedrolls for lighter travel and keeping the need for wagons to a minimum. Cyrus paused for a moment and stretched, taking his hand off Praelior. The lightheadedness came back, and he fought it, let it wash over him, tried to keep his bearings as it caused his head to dip and bob, as though he were floating in water. He let his hand return to Praelior and the feeling subsided. Probably not the best sign, but at least I can still manage without falling over.

aPerhaps we should begin to walk back to the wagon?a Martaina suggested. Cyrus turned to look at Curatio, but the healer was quiet.

aNot yet,a Cyrus said. He felt a strange call within him, a hollowness and a need coupled together that were like an itch beneath his skin. aI need to bathe. I can no longer stand the smell of myself or of the wagon.a Martaina raised an eyebrow at him. aYou can barely stand without the aid of your sword. Are you certain that this is the proper moment to go searching for somewhere to wash yourself?a aItas either that or I go out of my skull from the stink,a Cyrus said. aIam rather amazed that the two of you can even tolerate being within a hundred feet of me; I know how well attuned elven senses are.a aYou get used to it after a while,a Martaina said with a slight smile. aYou havenat descended to the depths Iave come to expect from most dark elven men, so I wouldnat worry about it yet.a aIam not worried for your sake,a Cyrus said, aI can hardly stand it for mine. Iave been in battles where Iave been covered in blood and smell less offensive than now. All I want is a bath; where can I go to immerse myself in water?a Martaina exchanged a look with Curatio, who shrugged. aThereas a river a quarter of a mile away. I doubt youall be able to walk there under your own power.a aI can,a he said. aI will. Iall be fine so long as I have my sword in hand.a aI do hope youare talking about your blade and nota"a Martaina gave him a crooked smile.

aThank you for that,a he said dryly. aLet me walk for a bit, get used to my legs beneath me again. If Iam not back by nightfall, Iam sure youall come looking for me.a aYou were assassinated a mere three weeks ago,a Martaina said, aand that was hardly the first attempt. Are you certain you want to go about without guard?a Cyrus shrugged. aYou can follow, I donat care. Just let me test my strength.a aIf youave got this quite under control,a Curatio said to Martaina, aI have things to attend to before this day is done.a aYes, I suspect I can keep a dozen or two of Actaluereas finest away from him if need be,a Martaina said, with a vague and dismissive wave. aHe could probably take one or two more.a Cyrus did not argue with her, instead pulling his hand off his hilt for another brief spell; the vertigo had lessened but muscle fatigue had set in. She might not be far wrong.

aVery well then,a Curatio said and produced the most infinitesimal nod of the head, which reminded Cyrus of a bow for some reason. aIall inform Briyce Unger and Milos Tiernan that youall be ready to join their strategy talks tomorrow, if youad like?a aIad like,a Cyrus said. aVery much so.a With a final nod, Curatio turned, the hems of his white robes trailing behind him as the healer threaded his way behind a tent and out of sight. aHeas a worrier, that one,a Martaina said as he disappeared. aWith good cause, obviously, but still a worrier.a She turned to fix him with a gaze, after a cool survey of the area around them. They were at the edge of the encampment now, and Cyrus could see the open fields, unspoilt by men as far as the eye could see. aSo whatas this really about, this desire to bathe yourself? Because I have my suspicions.a aOh?a Cyrus asked. aAnd what are those?a aMore than mere curiosities, less than full-blooded accusations.a aYes, very clever,a he said, letting his legs carry him on. The river was obvious in the distance, a thin blue line cutting jagged strokes across the uneven, loping plain, the early fall grasses already turning a golden yellow. aWhy donat you go ahead and share your suspicions with me, so Iall be better able to gauge the truth of them.a Martaina snorted. aWhen it comes to assessing yourself, I suspect you are no more able to see the truth of things now than a titan would be capable of discerning the individual toes on a gnomeas foot.a Cyrus didnat pause, didnat slow down, and in fact increased his stride. He felt a little stir of irritation to couple with the feeling already boiling inside him, that restless stir. aOh? You think Iave become myopic now?a aI think you have. I think youave run from one pain into another, and now youare just going for the sake of going because the alternative is too much to bear.a She said it matter-of-factly, and he listened for some insult or harshness, but it wasnat there.

aWhatas the alternative?a He kept his eyes on the river in the distance. If I can just make it there, get clean for a bit, feel better a aTo stand your ground and face the pain, the fear thatas crept over you of late.a That held accusation, he heard, especially the note of her wording for fear.

Cyrus turned, and his hand fell away from Praelioras grip. There was no lightheadedness now, no spin to his thoughts, just a simple, knife-edged focus on Martaina, her brown hair spilling into the green hood of her cowl, banded behind her to keep it out of her face, as it always was. Her tanned skin was slightly more flushed than usual, though she did not appear indignant to his eyes. He saw one of her fists clenched shut, and he wondered if it meant she was angry or if she intended to hit him.

aThrowing the word afeara at a warrior of Bellarum is not something to be done lightly,a Cyrus said, and he felt the cold edge creep into his words, frostier than the north winds by more than a matter of degrees.

aYet I have done it, just now.a aAnd I so recently apologized to you for my mistrust of your motives and actions,a Cyrus said, and his eyes narrowed of their own accord. aIs there some reason you throw this insult into my face on the eve of my return to the planning of this battle? A battle in which weall be facing this implacable foe, this ceaseless enemy? Is there some detail of my actions that youave witnessed that would lead you to believe me unfit to lead an army? When you accuse me of fear, do you suspect Iall be cowering at the back of the fight, waiting for my soldiers to win the day for me?a aI suspect youall be at the fore, slinging your sword with the rest of them, and that youall fight to the deatha"againa"even if it means losing your body and never being able to come back from it.a Her nostrils flared at this. aThe fear came and went, as far as Iam concerned, came and went like a wildfire in the forests of old, gutting the underbrush and leaving no trees standing. That is you, near as I can tella"the fear of losing Vara, the pain of what she did, it covered you, burned out your insides, left you hollow. New growth started with the Baroness, but soon enough that was scorched through as well. I wish you still feared, feared to lose what youave already lost. Because now youare so empty thereas nothing left for you to fear. The fearas already had its way, no taking that back now.a aYou make it sound like thereas nothing left of my own mind. Iam what? An empty vessel, waiting to be filled with whatever comes along?a aWhat of this cause youave latched yourself on to?a Martaina said. aDefending the Syloreans?a aYou think I wouldnat have done this if Vara hada"a he stuttered, aif she hadnata" hadnata"a aIf she were with you, your lover or your wife,a she said it plainly, but the words twisted like a knife all the same, aI think you would still be here to fight for Luukessia, but I think you would do it for a cause and for obligation, for the repayment of a debt or the cessation of a consequence we caused. I donat think youad be doing it half-hearted, empty-hearted, as though you have to drag yourself along to the next place weare fightinga"a aI did just recover from a fairly injurious wounda"a aAnd thatas another thing,a she said, the full force of her rolling downhill now, the momentum behind her words. aYou did just spend weeks on your back, surely enough, no doubt. If you want to go and have your way with Aisling in order to relieve your strain and empty some more of your soul, by all means, do soa"a aExcuse me?a He asked her frostily, but it came out strained.

aa"without making elaborate excuses about why you need to bathe yourself. Do you think me a fool? Do you think Curatio some sort of idiot? We know what you are doing, itas as plain as the head atop your neck, now.a She glared at him.

aYou think I need to hide my desires?a He glared back, and wondered why head felt so sorry for sending her away before. aAs though I have some secret shame to hide?a aYes,a she said. aAnd it does you no favors, nor Aisling either. You keep running from pain to pain, and now thereas nothing left to feel, nothing left to fear, nothing left to lose. Youave come to the point of bottom in your journey, and yet still you wonat admit it, perhaps even to yourself.a aBottomed out, have I?a Cyrus asked with tart amusement. aOh, good. Here I was worried I still had farther to fall.a He let his hand play across his forehead, felt the lines underneath his fingers. aCan I not a just a have some small solace?a aNot from what youare intending, no.a He could hear her speaking behind his hand, though he had no desire to look upon her now. aYou are empty. There is no hope for a future left in you, do you realize that? No belief, no heart, no real desire to live. How else can you explain your decision to come back to the camp at Enrant Monge without escorta"a aA slip of the mind,a Cyrus said and let his hand fall away. He kept his face straight as he looked upon her. aI have much weighing on it, and I assure you, my first thought was not that Grand Duke Hoygraf would be waiting at the side of the road between our encampment and the keep to ambush me and take my head.a aAt one point, I think you would have thought of it.a She kept her tone even, her expression flat but accusing.

aPossibly. Surely you donat think I went out on that ride thinking Iad be killed and decapitated? That I did it on purpose?a aNo,a she said, abut my concern is that youave become reckless. That youave had your hope and belief burned out of you, and that uncaring is replacing all. Once upon a time, you strode for excellence in all things, you desired to be the best warrior in all Arkaria. I heard rumors you even desired to pursue the best equipment, the best of everything to help you do the task at hand better than anyone. That was tempered by the desire to hold fast to the bonds of loyalty in Sanctuary, but tell me nowa"what do you want, Cyrus Davidon?a She gestured to the river in the distance. aWhat do you want, beyond a bath and release?a aI donat know,a he said after a pause. aVictory, of course. To vanquish this scourge.a aAnd then?a Quietly. Accusingly.

aTo go home, I suppose,a he said, but now his voice was hollow.

aYou suppose,a she said, with a quiet all her own. aYouave lost hope of a future. Youave lost belief in a better day ahead, belief in what drove you, once upon a time. You were the most certain of us, a warrior with a rock-hard conviction in what he did, what he said, in his abilities. Thad told me that you were forged in the hottest fires of the Society of Arms, that you were the man who walked out of their gates after the graduation with nothing to prove to anyone.a She threw a hand up to indicate him. aWhere is that man now? What is left of him in front of me? Youave let them strip it all away from youa"a aI let nobody do anything,a Cyrus said in a low growl. aSome things happened, things I canat undo.a aAnd do you believe youall return from that? That youall pass the eye of the storm and come back to your old self unchanged?a aI have no desire to return to my old self,a Cyrus said, turning away from her and resuming his walk, the river ahead in his sight.

aOh?a He heard her soft footsteps behind him; her distress with him was clear not only in her voice but in the fact that he could hear the ranger walk. aWhat is your ambition now? To slake the thirst of your desire with a dark elf whom you care not one whit for? To lose yourself in the pleasure moment over and over with a woman whom you have avoided for two years? To throw yourself into cataclysmic battle after battle until you no longer come back?a aMy ambition right now lies in recovering from my injuries, bathing, and yes, perhaps exerting some excess energies with Aisling, who has shown no small energy of her own to dispense with. Would you prefer I simply sit about, silent as a stone, pondering the best course of action to get me to better weapons, or a more serviceable guild, or perhaps thrilling to thoughts of the journey home and how much I might like to be among the towers and stone of Sanctuary now rather than fighting a foe of my own making a world away?a aWhat I would prefer,a she said, and grasped at his shoulder, turning him about, ais that you show some sign of life beyond speaking, walking, consuming and dispensing your seed.a Her face was animated in a way that it never was. aShow me some sign of how you were before, before Termina, before Mortusas realm, or at least some small sight of what you were like in the interlude at Vernadam after Harrowas Crossing. Give me a sign that you still believe in something, that you hold some hope to your soul, that you have something toa"a She expelled her breath, and her head went to the side, as if she were searching for something that she could not find in him. aThat you have something to live for, for godsa sakes.a Her eyes softened and the corners crinkled, and for a moment she was a thousand years old. aFor our sakes.a The sun was not against the far horizon, not yet. It hung in the sky at an angle that told Cyrus it was one, perhaps two hours until sundown. He looked at it then back to the encampment, not so far distant, and then to the river. aSometimes life is not about desire, or belief. Sometimes itas about crossing the void between big moments, about putting one foot before the other as you navigate the spare areas where nothing remains in a blighted heart. The only thing I can do for now is to keep going, to hold to my duty of fighting the battles placed before me, seeing to the tasks appointed me. You want me to believe? You want me to hope? This is hardly the first time in my life that Iave been hollowed out, not the first by far that Iave lost hope. In those moments, Iave learned to keep walking, to keep going, to hold not to hope, but to whatever I can. I wonat be the same man I was before, but I wonat be like this forever, either, I doubt.a He let show the faintest, most rueful smile. aThe thought that I would a doesnat bear consideration.a aWhen will we see this new Cyrus?a she asked as he resumed his course toward the river, the smell of the grasses carrying over him, the light whipping of the wind at his armor a pleasant distraction.

aWhenever I get to him,a Cyrus said, and he heard her footsteps cease. He did not look back, but he knew she was not following him any longer. aWhenever I meet him.a

Chapter 56.

The river was not fast moving, nor was it much of a river at all. It was somewhere between a creek and a river, a halfway between thing, not deep enough for Cyrus to worry much about wading across if he so desired, but deep enough for him to stick to the riverbank. He undressed himself and then sat upon the bank and let go of his sword. There was no one around, though he could see Martaina in the distance, between him and the encampment. A split from the river was visible, something that wended much closer to the camp, indeed almost through it, and he wondered why she had suggested this place for him before the reason of privacy dawned upon him.

He sat upon the bank and let the sun crawl lower in the sky, unconcerned. His head no longer swam, and his breathing was deep and steady, taking in the plains air. The grasses here were different than those around Sanctuary, fullera"more oats, he thought, less tamed. The Plains of Perdamun were broken and dotted with farms; these grounds were spotted only occasionally with settlement. He dipped his feet in the water and felt the coolness run over his toes. He looked to the direction of the light current and realized it came from the north, from the mountains in the far distance, where the enemy lay.

He stood and slid into the water, wading in on his knees, as it covered him to the waist. His knees touched the thousand pebbles on the bottom of the stream, and he let the current run over him, let himself fall back, let his hair submerge, long black locks clinging to his head as they dampened. He kept his face above the water then dipped it under for a moment, felt it run into his nose and he broke the surface sputtering, snorting it out.

aFinally reached the point of trying to drown yourself?a There was a quiet voice nearby, and he looked up to see her watching him, squatting near his armor.

aNo,a he said, ignoring the levity in her voice. aJust trying to remove the accumulation of weeks of sweat and sick smell.a aNot a bad plan, as such plans go.a Her clothing hung loose, no cloak or armor visible from where he sat. She was down to the barest essentials, the daggers on her hips staring at him like they had eyes of their own. Her curves were smooth, and the shirt she wore had enough of a gap at the top that he was left not needing to imagine the breasts he had seen so many times of late. aDid you have any reason for it besides just the feeling of uncleanliness?a aYes.a He nodded slowly.

aMust I inquire why?a He stared back at her, waiting, with her head cocked, her slightly pointed incisors hanging out of her deep blue lips. aMust I say it?a She squatted there, and he wondered if she was visible to Martaina, as low as her profile was, with the grass swaying and almost touching her cheeks. aBefore, Iave been content to let it pass. But now, yes. I want to hear you say it.a aBecause I want you,a Cyrus said. aBecause I crave you and the relief you bring.a aRelief?a She unknotted the strings at the front of her shirt and shrugged out of it there in front of him, let her dark blue skin show to the world. She stepped out of a boot with a half-step, not ever leaving the ground but coming to her hands and knees. The other boot came off with ease, as she crawled toward the bank of the stream on all fours, naked to the waist. Her cloth breeches came unlaced with only a minimal effort from her, and slid off just as her hand reached the rocky edge of the water.

He waited for her, felt the rising tide within him, and when he felt her first kiss, it was as though the call within him were answered, the raging tide rising was dismissed. They were there for quite some time, the splashing of the water around them the evidence of a particularly noisy bath. Cyrus neither knew nor cared whether Martaina saw; she doubtless knew anyway. It matters not, he thought in the midst of it. But in truth, he knew otherwise.

They lay on the grassy bank for a while afterward, her head on his shoulder, not speaking. aWhy?a Cyrus asked, into the silence of the setting sun.

aWhy what?a Aislingas voice came back to him, jaded, wary.

aWhy do you think Iam doing this?a he asked, spent, not even close to sure about what answer he would get. aDo you think itas because Ia"a aI try not to look a gift horse in the mouth,a Aisling said, and she rolled over, grasping at her shirt and pulling it on. aThough, I do occasionally put a gift in mya"a aThereas the Aisling of old,a Cyrus said, not moving, feeling the hard dirt against his back. aI had thought that perhaps finally getting what you wanted would rid you of your desire to be crass.a He saw the subtle shrug of her shoulders as she knotted the strings that knit up her shirt. aHave I gotten what I wanted?a She didnat look back at him. aI did get you, I suppose, and I did always say I wanted this, so I suppose in that way I got what I wanted.a aYou were perhaps expecting me to be more a enthusiastic?a He rolled onto his side to watch her as she dressed, still squatting low and keeping her body down, out of sight of camp.

aI could hardly ask for a more enthusiastic partner, at least on a purely physical level.a Her legs folded around in front of her like a gymnast and she slid into her pants, taking care to knot them back up. aEspecially so soon after being an invalid.a aIam not the same, am I?a He didnat watch her now, he let himself lean back to the ground, felt his wet hair slop into the dirt.

aNo,a she said, but her voice seemed cavalier and uncaring about the whole thing. aBut who of us stays the same for our whole lives?a aWhat would you have of me, then?a Cyrus looked up at the sky, the deepening shades of evening coming out now.

aNothing that I think you would be capable of giving at present,a she said, and he watched her put her boots on, one at a time, her white hair bound over her shoulder and leaving water marks on her tan shirt. aWhich is why I donat ask.a aDo you think me fragile?a He couldnat seem to muster any umbrage for his question.

aI think youare already broken,a she said, and stood, looking down at him. aBut thatas all right. We all break some time; and Iam here, willing to take what youare willing to give and willing to give what you need right now. Your spirals donat concern me; youare a big boy, and youall work it out in time.a aWill I now?a He let a faint amusement creep into his voice, and he saw a whirl of white clouds tinged orange by the coming sunset. aThatas reassuring.a aBe reassured, then,a she straddled him, her cloth pants against his abdomen, and she leaned over to kiss him, deep and full on the mouth. He felt her passion behind it, the force, but he had none of his own to match it with, just the slight stir of something detached, and far away, a physical reaction that told him that if she stayed where she was, her clothing would need to be removed again a As if she could sense his line of thought, she broke from him. aSee?a She gave him a faint smile, and the long incisors poked out of her lips again. Time was he would have thought them predatory, but now he saw the hurt, the edge behind her eyes, the strain that she didnat intend to loose. She stood, and with a whirring of the grass, she took the first steps away.

He lay there by the stream, trying to gather enough energy to bring himself back to the water the clean off the grit accumulated during his and Aislingas lovemaking. He couldnat find it, though, and remained there, staring at the sky, until the first body came drifting down the current only a few minutes later.

Chapter 57.

Vara Day 1 of the Siege of Sanctuary There were no catapults hurling rock through the air, no siege towers making their way over the plains, no arrows filling the skies above the wall. There was nothing but the sound of an army outside, the raucous cheers, the battle hymns, the shouts and glee of the invaders poised less than a mile from the Sanctuary walls, waiting, as though they would come across the open distance and split the walls wide.