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“That does not sound very pragmatic. What if they face an overwhelming force?”

Amric chuckled. “That depends on your point of view. When I call them pragmatic, I do not mean to say they will take the easiest path. Far from it. They are uncompromising in their principles, and every last one of their warriors is worth several of their enemy on the field of battle. Make no mistake, each will fight until he can no longer draw breath. As a result, no one enters lightly into conflict with the Sil’ath. Think of it as promoting peace by advertising the high cost of the alternative. In the end, all they want is to live and raise their own without interference or encroachment from other races, which they find generally baffling and unpredictable by comparison.”

Halthak considered his words for several moments. “And despite their dislike of other races, they accepted your presence among them?”

“To be fair, they gave me a home among them when I was quite young, so I had few behaviors to unlearn as they raised me.”

Amric glanced over his shoulder at Halthak when he heard no reply, and laughed.

“Close your mouth, healer, it is not so terrible a fate. The Sil’ath raise their own with the principles of honor, integrity, capability and dedication. Not just the words, but ingrained in their core. They treat each other with the deepest affection and loyalty. No, I have spent time among humans as well, later in life, and I am fortunate for the upbringing I had.”

Halthak started to object, and then paused. He considered his own past treatment at the hands of both men and Orks, and his arguments faded before him like so much smoke. Who was he to defend the merits of being with one’s own kind, when he himself had never found such acceptance? He stole another look at the sleeping Valkarr, and then turned back to Amric.

“How did you come to dwell among them?” he asked.

But Amric shook his head. “This is a barter system, my friend, and it is time to balance the scales.”

Halthak swallowed his disappointment. “Very well, what would you know of me?”

“Your healing, is it magic?”

“I am no expert on magic, but I believe so, as I have never seen anyone else with the same ability.”

“How did you acquire it?”

“I’ve had it as long as I can remember, so I expect I was born this way.”

Amric glanced back at him again, and Halthak was taken aback by the man’s sudden hard expression. “Do you have any other magical abilities? Or any magic artifacts in your possession?”

“None,” Halthak replied softly. “But if I had anything of worth, I would offer it to you in exchange for saving my life earlier tonight.”

“You misunderstand,” Amric said. “The Sil’ath have a deep distrust of all thing tainted by magic, and I suppose I have inherited much of that aversion. Among humans, I have seen magic lead to little other than corruption and lust for more power. I think it cannot be safely controlled by the likes of mortal men, and I want as little dealing with such dark and unpredictable forces as possible.”

Halthak was silent a moment, staring at the swordsman’s back. “You think of my ability as a disease, a taint on my soul? Well, it’s no worse than I have thought myself, many times. While I made no dark pact to gain this ability, it has still been more a curse to me than a gift. As long as I must live with it, however, I will at least put it to good use by helping others in need.”

“And if your ministrations are in fact spreading this taint to your patients?”

Halthak was again taken aback. “I–I had never considered it. I draw the injuries into myself and heal them there, but there is much I do not know about….” He trailed off, and then spoke again with resolve. “But it is a part of me, and I have to believe my intent counts for something.”

Amric sighed, and the tension eased from his posture. “Please forgive me, healer, for I meant no insult. You are a kind soul, and I agree with you that intent should matter. Regardless, you deserve finer treatment from the likes of me. I will see you safely to the city, and I will not again let my prejudice get the better of my manners.”

“Think no more on it,” Halthak said, echoing back Amric’s own words. “Keldrin’s Landing is said to have drawn all manner of experts and artisans to itself in its hour of need. No doubt scholars of magic will be among them. Perhaps I can learn more of my ability there.”

“Such knowledge could be useful indeed,” Amric agreed, “if you can trust its source. Be wary not to fall under the sway of a scholar with his own motives.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic, wealth and martial might are forms of power, and they have all been congregating at Keldrin’s Landing. The city’s cry for help has likely drawn as many jackals as defenders. The greatest threat may still be from the surrounding lands, but the dangers within the city walls are no less real. Be guarded in lending your trust to anyone there.”

“You talk as if you’ve been there,” Halthak said.

“No, but like any soldier who hopes to live long enough to see his own hair become grey one day, I have gathered information as to the terrain ahead. Word has spread far from the ailing city, as you are no doubt aware, and its afflictions follow the tales. Its plight is expanding quickly to the rest of the land.”

“It sounds as if my safest course would be to remain in your company, for a time,” Halthak ventured.

Amric gave him a sharp look. “That is not our agreement, healer. I will see you to the city, and then we part company.”

Halthak looked away. He had expected no different, but still he was stung by the abrupt rebuke. The swordsman stood, stretched his arms over his head, walked a few paces back and forth, and then resumed his seated position.

“I do not know your purpose in Keldrin’s Landing,” Amric said in a more gentle tone, and he held up one hand to forestall Halthak’s response, “and I do not want to know. Valkarr and I have our own purpose there, and I cannot say where the trail will lead, but we will need to move quickly and it will be hazardous. You do not want to accompany us.”

“If your path will be as hazardous as you say, you may be injured-”

Amric shook his head. “Enough, healer. Some secrets must remain between us yet. Now get some rest. If we break camp early on the morrow, I believe we can reach Keldrin’s Landing by midday. In any event, we have made too much noise already and there are things out there that will take an interest in us if we continue to beg their attention.”

Halthak felt a chill at Amric’s words, and he rolled to his side to put his back to the rock outcropping while his gaze raked the surrounding darkness. He had heard many tales of the horrors assailing the lands surrounding Keldrin’s Landing. Those tales were scarcely credible, but even if they had grown in the retelling, they were likely based on some small kernel of truth. And any basis in fact to what Halthak had heard was sobering indeed. He wondered, not for the first time, at his own judgment in coming here. He was certain sleep would not come, certain he would lie awake all night waiting for some grinning nightmare to claw its way out of the night and come for him. In the darkest hours of the new morning, however, exhaustion worked at his conviction with its measured touch and proved him wrong.

CHAPTER 2

Amric swirled the tankard of ale in a slow circle, staring into the dark liquid ripples. Two days in this blasted city chasing every stray rumor, and a galling lack of progress to show for it. He felt a twinge of regret for turning Halthak away when they arrived in Keldrin’s Landing. For all the healer’s naivete, he had seemed far more comfortable within the confines of the city walls than Amric felt. The warrior had to admit that despite the information he had gathered in advance, despite his efforts to prepare, the sheer magnitude of everything here was overwhelming.