A light breakfast had been set out for them in the main sitting room of the Sakehera family quarters. Gran sat on Lady Amara’s favorite couch, an untouched sweet bun in her hand, while Ashinji paced in a tight circle, body rigid with fury.
“Listen to me,” Gran commanded. Ashinji stopped pacing but kept her at his back. “I still believe we can save Jelena, but it will take all of our collective skill as high mages to do so,” Gran explained.
Ashinji rounded on her, white-knuckled. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” he spat. “You expect me to plunge a knife into my wife’s heart. Her blood will be on my hands. Can you give me any assurance that you and my mother and whoever else belongs to this…this Kirian Society, can resurrect her?”
“No,” Gran replied, shaking her head. “We tread where none of us has gone before. The forces we will be dealing with, the enemy we face…no mage of our generation has ever been tested thus. What I can tell you is this; only through Jelena’s death can we stop the Nameless One.”
“No! I won’t accept that!” Ashinji collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
“I am so very sorry, Ashi, but none of us has any choice,” Gran murmured. “If the Nameless One prevails, he will bring unspeakable horror and desolation to this world, and all living things will become his slaves, reduced to hideous, twisted imitations of what they once were. Your mother and I, along with our fellow Kirians, have sworn an oath. We are prepared to do whatever it takes to defeat this enemy.” Gran emphasized the last words as if to impress upon him the strength of her resolve.
“But why must it be me?” Ashinji looked at the elderly mage with tear-filled eyes. “Why must I strike the blow?”
“The Society is at its lowest ebb in all of our recorded history, for reasons we only partly understand,” Gran explained. “To perform a Working of this magnitude, there should be at least twelve trained mages in the circle. When I left Alasiri, only eight active members of the Society remained, three of whom were much older than I am now. I don’t know how many are left, but at the most, it’s probably five, counting myself. Five is simply not enough.” She paused to let the effect of her words take hold. “You have prodigious Talent, Ashi,” she continued. “We need your strength added to ours if we are to succeed. Even though you are untrained, we can direct you. You will act as both an amplifier and a conduit for our magic.”
“I still don’t understand why I have to strike the blow,” he persisted.
“If Jelena knows it is you who will wield the knife, she is less likely to be afraid,” Gran replied. “If she dies without fear, the Sundering will go much more smoothly, thereby improving our chances of success.”
“And what about bringing her back? If she dies quickly, will it be easier to restore her to life?” Ashinji stared hard into Gran’s pale eyes, searching desperately for any shred of hope.
“I give you my word. If it’s within our power to do so, we will restore Jelena to life.”
If it’s within our power…
Ashinji stood and drifted over to a window overlooking a courtyard garden. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking down. He had first told Jelena he loved her in that very garden, only to have her run away from him in tears. He had buried the lock of Seijon’s hair there, as well, fulfilling his promise to the boy, if only in a symbolic way, to bring him to Alasiri.
Regret tasted so very bitter.
“Does Jelena understand what is to happen?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Gran replied. “In truth, it may be better if she doesn’t, at least not until it’s time.”
“If you can’t bring her back, then you may as well kill me too,” he said in a low voice.
Gran stood behind him now. “You’ve become very dear to me, Ashi.” She laid a hand on his forearm. He turned to face her; the tears upon her cheeks surprised him. “I wish there was some other way to accomplish what we must, but there isn’t. I know how much you love your Jelena, and I understand how death might seem preferable to going on without her. I was responsible for the deaths of my entire family, so believe me, I understand . But remember. You have a child now, and your child will need a father. Hold that thought close to your heart. Let it keep you strong.”
“When the time comes, I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with it,” Ashinji whispered.
“I have complete faith in you, dear one,” Gran replied. “You will not fail us.”
Ashinji glanced out the window one last time. “It’s getting late. Time we were leaving.”
Two days after they rode into Kerala Castle, Ashinji and Gran prepared to ride out again, this time mounted on swift Kerala-bred horses.
The morning of their departure, Gendan and Iruka, Kerala’s seneschal, met them at the main gates. Kami came with her husband and she brought along their son.
“I don’t know when my parents or my brother will return,” Ashinji said, bouncing the little boy in his arms. “You will have to continue to run things as best you can. Kerala is in a perilous position, lying so close to the Soldaran border. You may have to flee at a moment’s notice.”
“We’ll do whatever we have to, my lord,” Gendan answered. He reached out to caress his son’s wheaten head. “Don’t forget the troops that fought at the Saihama fords last fall are still billeted here.”
“Thessalina Preseren has no doubt taken her forces west to Tono to join the main Imperial Army,” Ashinji said. “I’m still worried, though. The Soldarans could still decide to march a division east to attack through Kerala as well.”
“You can rest assured we won’t allow Kerala to be taken by the humans, not while there’s one of us left standing and hale enough to hold a weapon,” Gendan vowed.
“My main concern is for the safety of Kerala’s folk,” Ashinji responded. “Protect them first, Gendan, even if it means abandoning Kerala to the Soldarans. If the worst happens, we have to survive as a people if we’re to win back our land some day.” He gently kissed the child’s cheek and returned him to his mother.
A small crowd of castle folk turned out to see them off. Many wept, some coming forward to clutch at Ashinji’s hand so they might press it to their foreheads in obeisance. He realized they were afraid, yet Ashinji could see their collective resolve in their faces. He knew that if they had to, his people would master their fear to defend themselves.
He and Gran climbed aboard their mounts then rode through the gates, Gendan, Kami, and Iruka keeping pace beside them.
At the far side of the bridge linking the castle to the mainland, Ashinji drew rein and turned to look back at the whitewashed walls of his birthplace. He wondered if he would ever see it again.
Gendan, his young son in his arms, Kami by his side, and Iruka stood in the shade beneath the guardhouse, watching. Ashinji raised a hand in farewell and Gendan raised his in salute. High overhead, a pair of hawks soared in the early summer sky, black shapes against azure. Their mating screams drifted on the warm air; the sound struck a melancholy chord in Ashinji’s heart.
When this summer is over and the hawks’ chicks have fledged, will my home still stand, or will it lie in ruins?
He sighed and pointed his horse’s head west toward Sendai.
“Did you reach her? Did you speak to my mother?” Ashinji burned with impatience.
Gran’s eyes fluttered open and she took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Ashi, and I’m quite surprised I was able to. At such a distance, mindspeech without an amplifier is very difficult. We are still at least a week’s ride from Sendai, after all.”