“When Bellimar was… inside my head, he unearthed memories of mine, truths that I either never really knew, or somehow managed to bury and forget. My earliest memories, of where I came from and how I came to be among the Sil’ath.”
Amric took a breath, frowning. The others watched him, saying nothing.
“What Xenoth said was true,” he said. “I was not born on this world. I was left alone as an infant, presumably when my parents were slain as Xenoth claimed, and I would have died as well if my wilding magic had not acted of its own will to save me.” He held Valkarr’s gaze. “It saved me by reaching out and touching the minds of the Sil’ath hunters it found nearby.”
Valkarr’s brow ridge rose slightly, but otherwise he betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
Amric continued, “In particular, the magic concentrated its efforts on the leader of the hunting party. It soothed his distrust of other races, and it pulled at him to investigate the concealed dwelling that held me. Once it had persuaded the Sil’ath leader to take me from there, it buried itself so deeply within my mind that even I was unaware of its presence thereafter. I think it somehow sensed the dislike of magic felt by the Sil’ath as well as the danger of something else pursuing it and meaning us harm, so it hid from both. As you already know, Valkarr, that Sil’ath warrior was your father.”
He paused, waiting for a reaction. Valkarr regarded him steadily, without expression, and then asked, “And what have you concluded from these revealed truths?”
Amric swallowed and shook his head. “It was all based on a lie,” he whispered. “Your family took me in because my magic compelled them to do so. The Sil’ath abhor the use of magic, and I hid that very thing in your midst. I have magic-I am magic-and I understand now that I can no more separate that part of me than I can put aside my own mind.” Amric’s voice grew hard, bitter. “Would your father have saved the life of some human infant if he had known what he was bringing into the fold? Would you all have accepted me as one of your own, as a Sil’ath warrior? Would you have made me your warmaster, and followed me into battle?”
His wilding magic stirred within, uneasy in the face of his cold anger, but he ignored it.
“No,” Valkarr admitted. “None of these things would have come to pass, had your true nature been known then.”
“Exactly, and that is why-”
“And that is why I am glad we did not know,” Valkarr interrupted.
Amric’s words tumbled to a halt. “What?”
Valkarr grinned. “I agree with you that we would have made different choices, had we known. However, in this case, we are better for the choices we did make, not knowing.”
“You cannot mean that,” Amric protested. “Think about the evidence, looking back on it now. You had a human warmaster, and closer ties with the people of Lyden than any other Sil’ath tribe permitted with outside races. You know that caused the other tribes to question your father’s judgment on more than a few occasions.”
“Indeed it did,” Valkarr responded with a grave nod. “And yet we prospered when other tribes did not. We had the trust and aid of our human neighbors, enjoyed active trade between our peoples, and we stood together when the troubles began from the north. Moreover, our success in battle was unmatched, even among much larger tribes. I maintain that we are better for the strengths you forged among us, and I remain proud to have called you both warmaster and friend.”
Amric stared at him. “How can I claim credit for anything I achieved, when it may have simply been the result of my magic influencing others on my behalf?”
“You, who worked hardest among us?” Sariel interjected with a silvery laugh. “Besides, you said yourself that your magic was hidden away all these years. Do you think it could have acted without you sensing it? Think on the effect it has had upon you since we came to this region.”
“And if it did,” Valkarr put in quietly, “what of it? As you said, it is a part of you. If your magic had a subtle hand in things now and again, it is not so different from Prakseth making use of his own great strength, or Varek relying upon his keen eye as a marksman.”
They fell silent for a long moment at the mention of their fallen comrades.
“I appreciate your words, my friends,” Amric said at last. “You cannot know how much they lift my heart. But we all know things cannot be as they once were. I can no longer be warmaster for our people.”
“That is…” Valkarr began, hesitating and then lowering his gaze, “probably for the best.”
Amric leaned forward and spoke with quiet vehemence. “You must be warmaster, Valkarr.”
The other’s eyes snapped up to find his. “Me?”
“My friend, there is no one better suited for the role. No one better able to guide our people through whatever dark days may come before the threat of the Nar’ath on this world is ended. The Nar’ath forces will not grow so swiftly, I think, without the activity caused by the Gate to feed upon. You must warn the Sil’ath and spread word of this lurking menace to the other races as well, before the Nar’ath find another source of power and become too strong to face.”
Valkarr’s eyes narrowed. “And you? Where will you be?”
Amric took a deep breath. “I must travel through the portal, to the home of the Adepts, and put an end to the threat of the Essence Gates.”
A stunned silence greeted his statement.
Syth sat up, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the sunlight. “Are you mad?” he demanded.
“I managed to shut the Gate down, for now,” Amric said, “but I see no way to disable or destroy it from this side. We are at the mercy of the Adepts as long as those devices can be used to leech the life from worlds such as ours. The Adepts, the Gates, the Nar’ath, they all owe their origins to Aetheria in some way. Aetheria holds the key to our survival. It must be done, and there is no one else.”
“You will need swords you can trust to guard your back,” Valkarr insisted, folding his arms across his chest. At his side, Sariel gave a fierce nod of agreement.
“And no one could ask for better than the two of you,” Amric said with a sad smile. “But you are needed to lead our people, and a world steeped in magic is no place for Sil’ath warriors. You saw what just one Adept was able to do. I need to lose myself among them and seek out their secrets, not put them to the sword.”
Valkarr set his jaw and regarded Amric with a deepening scowl. Amric’s steel-grey eyes did not waver. There was both warmth and regret in his tone when he said, “If I must, I will make it my final command as your warmaster.”
“And as the new warmaster, I will promptly disregard the order,” Valkarr growled.
Amric shook his head. “Your head and your heart are giving you different advice, my friend. A leader must listen to both, and yet hold duty above all.”
They stared at each other, unmoving. A minute slid by, followed by another. At last, Valkarr blew out a long breath and said, “As you wish.” He jabbed a finger at his friend. “But this is not farewell, merely farewell for now.”
They stood and clasped forearms, and then Valkarr drew him into a very human embrace. Sariel did the same by turn, her dark eyes shining.
“There is one more thing I can do for you,” Amric said. “If you will permit it.”
He stepped back and faced away from them on the platform, focusing his will. It was more difficult than before; the borrowed knowledge was elusive for a moment, and he grasped at it like a fading memory. With a sharp gesture and a grunt of effort, he opened a Way in the air before him. An ache rose in his chest as he looked through the glowing aperture and beheld the sun-dappled woods of home. The plain, stalwart spires of Lyden were white in the distance, and the tall grass rippled in a breeze that carried familiar, comforting scents through the portal. His gaze lingered on the well-worn path that led, in no more than half a mile, to the simple dwellings of his Sil’ath tribe.