Banewreaker(116)

"Lord General!" A relieved shout in an unmistakable Midlander accent greeted his arrival. "Am I glad to see you!"

TANAROS FOUND HIS FEET AND stood.

The setting sun was as red as blood, flooding the desert with a sanguine hue. He stood atop a promontory of rock situated in the center of a dry basin. Arrayed around its perimeter were standing stones, two and three times the height of a man, casting stark shadows on the sand. Within the circle were other figures, human and Fjel alike, set in a strange tableau.

"Speros!" Tanaros shaded his eyes, unreasoningly glad to see the Midlander alive. "How did you come here? Who are these people?"

"As to how we got here, I can't say, my lord." Speros picked a path across the basin, carrying his sword unsheathed in one hand and ignoring the motionless figures who sat on their haunches on the cooling sands. A squadron of four Gulnagel Fjel shifted position as he moved, maces at the ready, keeping a watchful eye on the still figures. "The five of us were caught in the Marasoumië, when the wizard came, and here we found ourselves; or underearth, rather. I'm not one of the Three, to understand the workings of the Ways. But these—" arriving at the base of the rocks, he nodded backward at the squatting humans, "—are the Charred Ones, those whom Haomane's Wrath drove underearth. And unless I miss my guess, Lord General, these are the ones plotting to extinguish the marrow-fire."

Tanaros stared at him.

Behind the Midlander, one of the squatting humans rose to his feet in a painstaking effort, joints creaking. He was old, his dark, wrinkled face bearing a map of his years. They were all old, all of them. An elderly woman beside him hissed in disapproval and tugged at his kneecap, though he paid her no heed. The Gulnagel moved in a step closer, their hided muscles flexing.

Tanaros held up one hand, halting their movement. "You would speak, old one?"

"Slayer!" The old man returned his greeting in the common tongue. Shifting an unseen wad into one cheek, he hawked and spat onto the sands. "Welcome to Birru-Uru-Alat. We have been expecting you."



"YOU DID A GOOD THING back there, Staccian."

The Borderguardsman's voice was quiet, but it spoke volumes in praise. Kneeling over the fire, Carfax felt the back of his neck flush. He concentrated on the fire, feeding it bit by bit, laying branches in such a way as would build a solid blaze. The silence lingered between them, growing heavy. "Don't know about that," he muttered at length. "I couldn't watch the boy slaughtered, is all."

"Or Fianna," Blaise said softly, so softly the Archer could not hear.

Carfax looked up sharply, rubbing his palms on his thighs. "What of her?"

"Nothing." The Borderguardsman shook his head. By firelight his resemblance to General Tanaros was more apparent; the same spare, handsome features, the same errant lock of dark hair across his brow. "You have a good heart, Staccian. Why is it so hard for you to hear?"

On the far side of the fire, the Ellyl stirred as if to speak, then thought better of it, rising instead to check on the horses. The gentle whickering sound of their greeting carried in the night air. Carfax watched as Peldras touched them, laying pale hands on their hides, soothing aching knees, strained hocks. The Ellyl spoke inaudibly to Fianna, who rummaged through their stores. He could hear her soft laugh of delight at whatever the Ellyl said, and wondered what it must be like to move through the world with such grace that all must acknowledge it. Even so, it was the Borderguardsman she loved. The Ellyl was beyond her reach, a Lesser Shaper of a higher order. It had taken Haomane's Prophecy and a thousand years of refusal before the Lady of the Ellylon would consider a mortal lover. An ordinary woman like Fianna would never dare to dream of such a liaison. What the Ellyl thought, only Haomane knew.

"Staccian?" Blaise prompted him.

"I don't know." Carfax mumbled the words. Shifting, he sat on the pine mast, hiding his face against his knees. "Don't be so quick to speak kindly to me," he said without looking up. "If I had thought deeper, my lord Blaise, I might not have acted. Because of me, the Bearer's quest continues."

"Aye," Blaise said. "Haomane's Allies are in your debt."

Carfax gave a strangled laugh. "I have betrayed my loyalties and all I hold dear."

"No. Only those false loyalties you were taught. It is not the same." Removing a whetstone from a pouch at his belt, Blaise began honing his sword, smoothing away the nicks it had gotten battling the Were. It was a homely sound, stone grinding on metal. "I asked you once what manner of man you wanted to be, Staccian. You have shown me through your actions. A man of honor, willing to risk his life to protect the innocent. I tell you tonight, Aracus Altorus would welcome one such as you into his service."