Somewhere far in the distance, a horn blew one long, low note. It barely reached the edge of his hearing, so Janik felt it more than heard it, below the splattering of the raindrops on the ground.
“Mathas is right.”
Dania’s soft whisper at his shoulder startled Janik, but he recovered quickly and did not turn around.
“This is not a natural storm,” she said. “It has a malign air about it, as if …” she trailed off, searching for a way to explain it.
“Now rainstorms have the stink of evil about them, too?” Janik demanded, his voice a harsh whisper as he turned to face her. “Aren’t all destructive storms the work of the Devourer? That’s what my mommy always told me.”
Dania just looked at him, her face draped in shadow. Her red hair stuck out from her head at all angles, a mess that had always appealed to him—particularly on their last trip through Xen’drik, when he would awaken in her arms every morning. But there was a set to her jaw that he had not seen before, a sternness that hadn’t been present in the younger woman he had allowed to love him those years ago. What had she become? A paladin stood before him—he could see it even in the little hut’s darkness, full of strength and righteous fury and conviction.
Conviction that, to Janik, seemed utterly misplaced.
He shook his head and turned to look at the rain. An evil storm! he thought. He almost envied Dania the simplicity of her vision. The storm was evil. Krael was evil. Maija was evil. All that evil—as if it somehow gave a larger meaning to their conflict. Dania believed she stood on the side of good, opposed to all this evil. As if she were part of some great, cosmic struggle.
“No,” Janik whispered more quietly, almost to himself. “This isn’t about some war between the light and the darkness, Dania. It’s us against Krael. A hatred born out of fifteen years’ rivalry. We hate him, he hates us, we’ll each do anything in our power to destroy the other. That doesn’t make us right and him wrong, us good and him evil. We’re human, that’s all.”
“No, Janik, he’s not human.”
“Right, he’s a vampire. And he drinks the blood of ship captains for his nightly cordial. But he was always that kind of a bastard. He’s got fangs and spooky powers now, but as far as I can tell, he’s the same damned bastard. He hates my guts as he always has—and fair enough, the feeling’s mutual—only now he’s got a little more muscle to back it up.”
“His soul is gone, Janik,” Dania’s voice grew slightly louder. “In its place is a shred of the Endless Night, a shard of pure destruction. He is not like us—he is most certainly not like me.”
“Because your soul’s been bathed in the Silver Flame now? Which makes you pure and perfect, holy and righteous. You’re good and he’s evil.”
“I’m not saying I’m perfect, Janik.”
“We’re all just bastards at each other’s throats,” Janik said. “Predator and prey, or lions fighting over territory. You fought in the Last War, Dania, you know what I’m talking about.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“Why? It’s still us against Krael, just like it was during the war. Only now he’s a vampire and you’re a paladin, is that what you’re saying? Seems to me you changed and he changed, but I don’t see how that means our conflict is suddenly all about good and evil.”
Dania thrust a finger toward Janik’s chin and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. She drew a deep breath, slowly lowered her hand to her side, and lowered her voice to a whisper. She took Janik’s arm and led him out into the rain, pulling the hut’s door almost closed behind her.
“Look, Janik,” she said calmly, “I know you’re having a hard time accepting what I told you about Maija.”
“We’re not talking about Maija. We’re talking about Krael, and I’m not even sure how we started that. We were talking about the weather until you turned it into a force of evil.”
“You’ve been talking about Maija since the word ‘evil’ first came out of your mouth. You think I’m lying to you about Maija’s aura of evil, or trying to make more out of this whole thing than it deserves. And I tell you, I’m not.”
Janik opened his mouth, but she held up her hand and cut him off.
“Listen! You’re right that most of the war and hatred in the world boils down to human stupidity. We can be a lot like animals, fighting over territory or mates or—or nothing in particular, just for the sake of fighting. Nobody knows that better than I do, Janik, nobody. Like you said, I fought in the Last War—I know this—anyone who was part of the army knows it. For a hundred years the Five Nations tore themselves apart over idiocy and vanity and pride. You’re right, Janik, you’re right—that wasn’t about good and evil. That wasn’t about anything more than people being stupid and killing each other because it seemed like the thing to do at the time.
“But this isn’t.” She emphasized her point by slamming one fist into her palm. “Look, you’re even right that for fifteen years we’ve pursued this thing with Krael largely out of the same damned pride and hatred. But that changed in Mel-Aqat, Janik. You haven’t seen it yet—maybe Krael hasn’t even fully realized it, and he’s still pursuing his idea of revenge. But we’re not here just to beat Krael to some ancient ruins, just to get one up on him or pay him back for beating us last time.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Janik interrupted. “You think I give a damn what the Keeper of your Flame says about evil spirits and saving the world?”
Dania looked like she’d been stabbed in the stomach. Her mouth hung open, her brow furrowed as she stared at him, her eyes flicked back and forth between his. Then she closed her eyes, shaking her head sadly.
“I guess I hoped you did,” she said, and turned back to the door. She did not turn around as she walked, dripping with rain, into the hut, but quietly said, “Good night, Janik.”
Janik stood in the rain, puddles forming in the mud around his bare feet. He glanced at the sky, then looked at the water on his arms. He held up one hand and rubbed his thumb across his fingertips. The water felt oily.
“That doesn’t make it evil,” he said to himself. “Just unnatural.”
He cast another dark look at the sky and followed Dania into the hut. He crawled back into his bunk, but did not sleep any more that night.
13
The Fiend-lord’s Domain
For three more weeks they marched through the rain along the river, which swelled more and more with each day. Dania’s task grew more difficult as the once-dry scrub drank up the foul rain and sprouted prickly leaves. The mud sucked at their boots, slowing them. They mostly walked in silence, and sat down to eat in the evening sullen and soaked to the bone.
They saw no further sign of Krael and his allies until they reached the Sky Pillars and turned away from the river, south toward the great golden desert called Menechtarun.
During the last week of their journey along the river, the mountains drew nearer and nearer on their right side, and the Fangs of Angarak rose up on the horizon ahead of them. Eventually, the river bent away from the Sky Pillars, veering due east toward the distant Fangs, and Janik led them south. Around mid week, the rain stopped, then the sky grew clear, and by the next morning, the sun shone hot on their skin and dried their clothes. The vegetation was dry, brittle scrub again, and it became more widely scattered across the dry earth.