“Did Vaelin know?” Frentis asked, sitting down opposite the Aspect of the Seventh Order.
“Not until his brief visit before he went to the Reaches,” the Aspect replied. “We had an . . . interesting discussion.” Grealin’s pallor was still somewhat grey but a pinkness was creeping back into his ample cheeks. Frentis recalled the blood and exhaustion that always accompanied the woman’s use of her stolen gift.
“Your ability. It pains you to use it?” he asked.
“It’s more that it drains me. So much power released all at once has consequences. I remain fat for a reason, brother. It makes the aftermath more palatable.”
“Where do we find the House of your Order?”
“The Seventh Order has no House. And hasn’t for the past four centuries. We are woven like a gossamer thread through the fabric of the Faith and the Realm, our work always hidden.”
“As you were hidden in our Order?”
“Quite. It seemed the most secure hidey hole.” Grealin’s tired features formed into a sardonic smirk. “How spectacularly are the wise proved foolish.”
“The brothers I found that day, Aspect Arlyn sent them with you, as protection.”
“Yes. And they died following his order.”
“Where would you have gone?”
“North, to the Pass. If the way was blocked, west to Nilsael and on to the Reaches. Instead I found myself here with you and our heroic band of rebels. It’ll make a fine story one day, don’t you think? If there’s anyone left to tell it.”
This is a defeated man, Frentis realised, eyeing the sag of Grealin’s features and the dullness in his eyes. “These people look to us for leadership,” he said. “For hope. As an Aspect of the Faith you can give them that.”
“My only gift to them is fear. They see what I am and they fear it. The Lonak woman is just more honest than the others. To carry a gift is to know fear and isolation. We do not belong in the daylight, we belong in the shadows. That is where we can best serve the Faith. The hardest lesson my Order ever learned.”
“The time for old ways is gone, Aspect. Everything is changed. They came and broke it all apart. How we put it back together is for us to decide.”
“Seeking to remake the world, brother? Looking for a noble quest to wash away all the blood you spilled?”
“It won’t wash away. But that doesn’t mean I have to wallow in it.”
“Then what are we doing here? Why continue to fight this hopeless war? These people are all going to die. There is no victory to be had in this forest.” His gaze dropped, becoming distant. “No victory anywhere. We thought we had won, you see? Turned aside the avalanche when Al Sorna revealed the One Who Waits. But all we did was allow our gaze to be drawn to one threat whilst another grew unseen. An entire army sent across the ocean to crush us. Who would have thought he would be so unsubtle after centuries of guile?”
“He?”
Grealin raised his gaze. “Your dead lady friend called him the Ally I believe. The Volarians do like to indulge their delusions. They may have divested themselves of gods and faith long ago, but they replaced reason with servitude in so doing.”
“Who is he?”
“Who he was might be a more pertinent question, for once he must have been a man. A man with a name, a people, perhaps even a family he loved. All lost, of course, hidden even from the most gifted scryers in my Order. We have no name for him, just a purpose.”
“Which is?”
“Destruction. Specifically our destruction, as it seems there is something about this land that stirs his hatred. He tried once before, when the great cities rose and a people far wiser than us crafted wonders. Somehow he managed to tumble it all into ruin, but not quite enough, something escaped him. And now he wants it gone.”
Grealin lapsed into silence, eyes dulling once more as a wave of fatigue swept over his features.
Frentis got to his feet. “My thanks for saving the boy, I know it has cost you. We move in an hour. I should be grateful if you would come with us.”
The Aspect’s bulk shifted in a shrug. “Where else would I go?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Reva
“It means ‘witch,’” Veliss said, peering at the open book in her hand. “Female derivation of the old Volarian for ‘sorcerer.’”
“Elverah,” Reva said, tasting the word. “Has a nice sound to it.”
“They think you’re a witch?” Arken said.
“Godless heretics,” Lord Arentes sniffed. “Mistaking the Father’s blessing for the Dark.”
Reva stifled a groan. Not him too.
“It’s good,” Uncle Sentes said from his place by the fire, his voice a wheezing rasp. “Means they’re afraid.”
“Well they might,” Arentes said, smiling at Reva. “My lady brings the Father’s justice down upon them every time they assault our walls.”
“The Realm Guard we freed?” Reva asked him, keen to change the subject.
“Joined them with the hundred or so others already on the walls, my lady,” the guard commander replied. “Got them reinforcing the southern section. We’re still thin there.”
“Good.” She turned to Veliss. “Supplies?”
“About two-thirds remaining,” she replied. “But that’s only because we’re rationing so severely. There have been complaints, women mainly. Not an easy thing to see your children cry from hunger.”
“Double the ration for women with children,” Reva said. “I don’t like to hear them cry either.”
“Hunger is the enemy’s best weapon, my lady,” Lord Antesh pointed out. “Every mouthful we eat brings them a step closer to cresting the walls.”
“Winter is no more than a month away,” her uncle said from the fire. “And they have scant pickings for forage. We’ll see who starves first.” He fell to coughing and gave an irritated wave. “Enough of this,” he choked when the fit subsided. “Leave me with my niece.”
The others bowed and moved to the door, Veliss’s hand brushing Reva’s as she followed. She went to sit opposite her uncle, noting the shake in his hands as they rested on the blanket. “You know it’ll only get worse,” he said. “Crying children will be the least of it.”
“I know, Uncle.”
“This”-he waved his hand vaguely-“wasn’t my plan. I’d hoped your tenure would be free of war.”
“Not your doing.”
“I had a dream last night. It was very strange. Your father was there, and mine, and your grandmother. All here in the library. Very strange since my parents could hardly stand to be in the same room . . .” He trailed off, blinking as his gaze drifted.
“Uncle?”
His eyes fluttered closed and she went to pull the blanket over his arms. His head jerked up as she came close, eyes bright with joy. “They said they were proud of me,” he breathed. “Because of you, Reva. Seems I finally did something right.”
She sat at his side, head resting on his knees as his frail hands played through her hair. “Too long,” she heard him murmur. “Cumbraelin women don’t wear it so long.”
They came again the following night, attacking in several places at once as Antesh predicted. The battalions came trooping over the causeway in close order, shielded on all sides, Varitai in front marching with their unnatural rhythm, Free Swords behind, ranks not so tightly formed but careful to keep behind their shields. Antesh ordered all bows lowered as they reached the end of the causeway, opting not to waste arrows. The Volarian column split into two, the battalions inching along with slow deliberation to encircle the city, not a gap appearing in their protective walls.
“Buggers learn too quickly for my liking,” Lord Arentes commented. He gave Reva a smart salute. “I shall take command of the western section, my lady. With your permission.”
“Of course, my lord. Be safe.”
The old commander gave a stiff bow and strode off. Reva watched the slow approach of the battalions for a moment then notched an arrow to her bow and vaulted onto the gatehouse roof.