Two days later, Bahl sat in his personal chambers, trying to force the muzzy confusion of sleep from his mind. The effort of eating a bowl of honeyed oats defeated him and he sank back into his chair, looking down at the bustle below. The wind rushing in through the wide-open windows helped somewhat, but his fatigue was unnatural in origin: he had spent much of the previous night letting his soul soar high in the heavens. A storm had raged over Lomin, and Bahl had gone with it, directing as much of its strength as he could against the besiegers. The old Lord shivered at the memory of the intoxicating blend of pleasure and fear he felt as his own considerable magic entwined with that vast elemental power.
The effort required to master the storm was massive, and he couldn't even tell whether it had worked – the distance and the strength of the storm were too great to gain much more than an impression of what was happening – but it was a useful ability. Bahl suspected that Isak would be even better at it than he was; there was a savagery about the youth that would suit riding with the storm.
Bahl had played with this storm out of a sense of guilt: the real reason he was not marching with the army had less to do with the suspected vampire – although that was true – and more to do with the death of a friend, as Lesarl's knowing eyes had recognised. A white-eye's longevity meant that generally they had few friends, but those he had, Bahl treasured. He had been absent at the death of the one he loved most, so he had resolved to never let those who meant most to him die alone. The Abbot of a nearby monastery was one.
'And yet it interferes with my duty to my people,' Bahl murmured
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to himself. 'Times are still so precarious; what will they think if I’m not there for the battle?' As if in answer to his question, the writings of a warrior-monk centuries dead surfaced in his mind: Doubts cloud purpose, in battle as in life. No swordsman is complete without resolve and purpose of movement. Bahl nodded wearily; his mind would not be swayed on the point, so he must cast off the guilt. It would do him no good to doubt his own actions, there were plenty of others to do
that.
What did worry him was the elven army's strange behaviour. That they were attacking at the onset of winter was illogical; their rush to besiege Lomin deepened the mystery even more. Was there something in Lomin they wanted, or was the object of their attack more obscure than that? Was this siege the product of some minor prophecy, a feud between elven noble houses or something even more troubling?
'Damn you, Isak, why have these elves come? Have you brought this down on us?' Now he felt guilty for his thoughts: this was the first time he had voiced out loud the words he knew Lesarl was also thinking. It was an unfair accusation, perhaps, but a very real possibility.
Bahl hauled himself to his feet and walked to the long table in the centre of the room. Sleep would have to wait. On the table, neatly folded and pressed, were two leather under-suits, one tailored to Isak's current measurements and the second to an estimate of how big the Krann might be in a few weeks, somewhere between Bahl's size and Isak's current build.
The tailor had been overwhelmed when Lord Bahl himself had appeared in his shop late one evening, but it had been necessary. Isak was growing at a prodigious rate; he was already significantly taller and heavier than he had been when he arrived, and the growth spurt wasn't slowing down. Growing pains were doing little for the young man's mood, but the benefits were clear.
As for the armour on top of the leather, Bahl suspected that would find its own accommodation. The elves of old had been taken with Kasi Parian, the man who'd been the model for all white-eyes, because he had matched them in size as well as skill.
Bahl picked the bundles up and tucked them under his arm. He started for the door, then hesitated and retrieved his massive broadsword from the stand beside the fireplace. Looking at the weapon, named by its maker White Lightning, he had to wonder whether even Eolis would tempt him away from this brutal and inelegant sword. Its fat double-edged blade curved out into spikes at the hilt which should have made it too heavy but for the magic it contained – yet he'd owned it for so long he couldn't imagine himself going into battle with any other weapon.
He made his way down to Isak's chambers, where he let the guard in the corridor knock once to announce him before striding in. Isak was rising from the desk as Bahl entered, a sprawl of open books before him. Lady Tila sat to one side and jumped up a fraction after Isak had. Bahl caught her expression and sighed inwardly; it looked like she was becoming fast friends with the Krann – perhaps more, judging by the closeness of their seats. He noticed her fingers closed tightly around the enamel crest that pinned the sash at her waist; it appeared that the girl's affection did not extend to all white-eyes.
Bahl tossed the bundle to Isak, who snatched it from the air like a dog catching a bone. The weeks together had given the two of them some sort of uneasy familiarity; both were cautious of intruding on the other, but there was an unspoken sympathy between them.
Isak, his books forgotten, set the bundle down on the desk and, with a gleam in his eye, he ripped open the linen packaging. He held the under-suit up to inspect it.
'It is time for you to take possession of your gifts.' Lord Bahl's voice sounded unusually sonorous, and Isak looked up quickly.
'It's a suit of armour then?' He looked as though he wanted to ask more, but controlled himself.
'A suit of armour,' Bahl confirmed. 'And whilst I assume you would like to know why you're only just getting your gifts now, the only answer I will give you is "because".' He smiled a little at Isak's expression. 'Not the answer you were hoping for, I see, but something you will have to get used to one of these days. The actions of the Gods are not there to be questioned. Sometimes it is simply a question of faith.'
He saw no reason to tell the boy that he and Lesarl had wanted time to better prepare him for his gifts.
'There are two undersuits; the other is larger so you have one to grow into; no doubt you'll need more by the time you return. You lead the army out of the city in one hour, so come quickly now.'
Without a word, Isak rolled the under-suit up again and handed the other to Tila. 'Can you put that with my baggage and make sure everything is waiting for me?'
Bahl saw her rouged lips part fractionally. She obviously wanted to argue, but dared not in his presence. Had they been alone, Bahl could see she would have asked to go with Isak. A bad sign, that; the youth's infectious humour had drawn the girl closer to him than was good for either.
After the briefest of pauses, Tila ducked her head in acknowledgement, managed a quick curtsey and fled the room. It was clear she feared for Isak in his first battle, as well she might. The boy was reckless and inexperienced, but every soldier had to muddle through a first battle, and it would be no different for Isak. He, like every other soldier, would return a changed man, but Bahl felt a flicker of concern at what those changes might be.
'Are we going underground?'
'We are; leave Kerin's Eagle-blade here. I think we'll be able to find something better for you.'
Isak grinned. He looked uneasy as well as excited, and with good reason, for the changes Nartis had wrought over the past few weeks had made him taller and stronger. He was now of a size with General Lahk, already twenty stone in weight and strong enough to kill a grown man with his bare hands. His gifts would elevate him to a level no normal soldier could hope to reach: speed and strength accentuated beyond even a normal white-eye's power – and that took no account of what spells might be imbued into the metal. Tour shield?'