The Sanctuary: Warlord Part 18

"Well, I did that," Cyrus said, arms folded in front of him. "And you didn't say not to attack Kortran, I might add."

"I a.s.sumed you would not be foolish enough to dig your own grave," Ehrgraz said. "Apparently, I was in error."

The warm wind stirred Cyrus's hair across his forehead, and he glanced around. Vaste was not present this time, thankfully, nor anyone else save for Vara, who stood back at the other end of the parapet, listening but not involved in the conversation. "You got what you wanted. The t.i.tans are currently filling the Gradsden Savanna from one side to the other."

"Is that so?" Ehrgraz asked, eyes flashing.

As though you don't know. "We've tried to send scouting parties to the portals in the intervening days."

"How many attempts?" Ehrgraz interrupted.

"Two," Cyrus said coolly. "They barely made it back alive. The portals are watched. This has been confirmed by the elves of Amti-"

"Let me also confirm it for you," Ehrgraz said. "They have increasing garrisons standing guard around every portal in the area, and archers waiting to bring down anyone such as yourselves who can't fly high enough to avoid their gaze and their arrows."

Cyrus did not blink, but only through careful practice holding things in. "I suppose that strikes our next plan, which was to conduct a long-range attack back into Kortran-"

"Back?" Ehrgraz's wings spread out in what looked like some combination of shock and outrage, his jaw flapping open. "Why in the name of the demons of old would you go back? Have you not done enough to try to kill yourself?"

"I figured if we killed Talikartin-"

"If!" Ehrgraz huffed. "Yes, indeed, if you had! I, for one, am amazed you succeeded in killing Razeel, and it seems that only his own incompetence allowed you to do it." He shifted his gaze to Vara. "Personally, I would have ripped your head off first, were I him, but I suppose I view you as dangerous rather than dinner."

"You know a surprising amount about what happens in Kortran," Cyrus said carefully.

"And you know surprisingly little about it considering what you attempted." The dragon made a low rumbling noise in his throat. "Did you lose anyone in the effort?"

"A few," Cyrus admitted. "Probably two dozen, all told, mostly to t.i.tan attacks that smeared them into a state where they couldn't be healed or resurrected." At this, he felt the plucking of regret within him. "Not as many as we killed of theirs." He paused, trying to find a clever approach for his next question and giving up when the route was not apparent. "If you know so much about what happened in Kortran, why don't you know who is teaching them magic?"

"Why would you a.s.sume that I learned what I know about the events in Kortran from the t.i.tans?" Ehrgraz asked, looking far too satisfied for Cyrus's liking.

"Because the t.i.tans were the only other ones there," Cyrus said, annoyed.

"And how do I know all I know about you, Cyrus Davidon?" Ehrgraz's eyes flashed. "You think I get that information from my spies in Kortran? I don't."

Still another person who suggests that we have spies in Sanctuary. It shouldn't surprise me, given the size of our guild, that there might be a leak or two. He hardened his face. "For all your rustle and rattle about spies and wisdom and foolishness, I have yet to hear a suggestion from you about how best to proceed."

"Nor will you," Ehrgraz said, drawing his wings in close to his body once more, "so long as you continue to consider idiotic plans like launching some foolhardy long raid into Kortran." He paused. "What would your aim be? What end, other than yours, obviously? You say to kill Talikartin, but you have failed in this task repeatedly. What would be different this time?"

Cyrus bit back the angry answer that bubbled up from within. "This time ... I'd intend to make it so he wouldn't see us coming."

"Ohhh," Ehrgraz said, seemingly amused. "Now this is a fascinating thing. Do you mean to suggest he was supposed to see you before?"

"I meant to punch him in the nose before," Cyrus said, "to b.l.o.o.d.y him good and have him know it." He blinked away from those yellow eyes. "Next time ... I just want him dead, and I don't care if he knows it's coming before or during. He's too dangerous to live unchecked."

"Now we enter interesting territory," Ehrgraz said, "wherein the Guildmaster of Sanctuary considers a.s.sa.s.sination a valid option." He made a sound like a chuckle, but rougher, and his wings spread once more.

"Do you see a better option?" Cyrus asked, his cheeks burning with a slight shame.

"You don't know what I see," Ehrgraz said with something akin to a shrug of his ma.s.sive, scaled wings. "But I will say this much-the cause is perhaps not as hopeless now as it was when I arrived, and for that I am heartened."

"Because I'm willing to murder this t.i.tan, suddenly things are better?" Cyrus asked, frowning at Ehrgraz. "How does that make any kind of sense?"

"Because perhaps you are not the fool I thought you were when I came here today," Ehrgraz said, lifting into the air with a powerful sweep of his wings. "I find hope in that, personally." He looked at Cyrus with careful eyes. "We will speak again ere too long." And with a sweep of his wings, he flew into the sky and was gone in a matter of seconds.

The Council Chamber was still and silent, the quiet hanging oppressively in the air above them. Cyrus sat in his seat and dared to move only his eyes in surveying all those around him. It was the full complement of officers, along with Cattrine once more. She still looked tired, though perhaps less so than she had when he'd seen her before.

The one who looked most tired was Curatio. Since the arena, the healer had shut himself up in his quarters for long stretches of time, and even when he emerged he seemed changed, wearier, his complexion faded and his posture stooped.

"I liked killing the t.i.tans," Longwell said, rattling his lance slightly as he adjusted it where it leaned. "I make no bones about it. I wouldn't mind killing more." The resentment practically dripped off his features, and Cyrus made a mental note to speak with the dragoon later about his gradually darkening demeanor. "I only wish we could have hung in the fight longer before we had to run."

"That was a very near thing," Odellan said, his winged helm catching the sunlight on the table and causing Cyrus to blink away. It seemed perfectly positioned to hit his eyes, and he moved just an inch to his left to find relief, the green spots in his vision fading. "I wouldn't care to have to run that particular expedition again, personally, for I would fear that a repeat engagement would not find the luck on our side as it was last time."

"Luck nothing," Erith snorted. "I heard about what happened in the arena." She nodded at Curatio across the table. "If you hadn't had a bada.s.s heretic on our side, you'd have been trapped with no hope of escape."

"Yes, well," Curatio said, waving a hand lightly in dismissal, "let us not tread too heavily on said heretic, for these sorts of things are very taxing."

"I wouldn't care to be caught behind again, that's sure," Andren said, nodding. His short hair stuck out in a few different directions, and Cyrus wondered if perhaps he simply didn't know quite what to do with hair that short. "And Fortin may have come out of it all right in the end, but I'll tell you right now that joining him back together and resurrecting him? Nasty work. He almost killed me-"

"I, for one," J'anda said, his staff in hand, "didn't find the fight too taxing."

"You were riding on a t.i.tan's shoulder the entire time," Ryin said.

"But I was in several minds, charming my pets," J'anda said, "and it was all terribly easy for the most part. I could do it again. The t.i.tan minds, though," he shook his head, "terribly simple. You can probably imagine."

"I don't think I'd care to," Mendicant said, shuddering from where he sat, face barely visible above the table edge. "I was outside when their army started stomping through. It was not ..." He breathed a rattling breath. "We lost-"

"I know," Cyrus said, nodding slowly. "We're not going back to Kortran." He caught a look from Vara out of the corner of his eye. "Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, good," Vaste said, much more mildly than usual.

Cyrus waited, as did the rest of them, for further comment, but it did not come. "Uh ... Vaste?"

The troll looked up from where he was staring at the table. "Yes?"

"Where's the ill-timed barb?" Ryin asked, staring across at him. "Where's the jibe? The j.a.pe?" The troll stared back at him blankly. "The-"

"I know what all those words mean, you c.o.c.keyed dunce," Vaste snapped. "If I had anything particularly humorous to say, don't you think I'd say it?"

A shocked silence persisted for a moment afterward, broken by Cattrine. "This is serious, then," she said, her long, thin fingers laid out on the table in front of her.

"Why do you think they're guarding all the savanna portals?" Vaste asked sullenly. "It's not because they're looking to have a ma.s.sive harvest of long gra.s.s, I can tell you that much."

"They're afraid of attack, obviously," Ryin said.

"No, they're not," Vaste said with a shake of his head. "Not really. Not against Kortran, not again. They're afraid of sorties. Of raids."

"How do you know this?" Cyrus asked, frowning.

"They're afraid we'll hit their supply line again," Vaste said simply, sagging back in his chair. "Because what we did to the fortress and the storehouse? That was the real pain we inflicted. I mean, other than killing their Emperor. That certainly p.i.s.sed them off, and I say brava to Vara for her part in angering our already angry enemy." He clapped his hands together once. "Also, before you ask, that was not a joke, a j.a.pe or any other j-word of the same rough meaning."

"They're coming to the pa.s.s, then," Cyrus said, staring at Vaste. "If you're sure that's why-"

"That's why," Vaste said quietly, not an ounce of humor in him. "They're rallying for it, and they don't want any more ... interruptions."

The silence sank in once more, and Nyad was the one to speak this time. "What ... what do we do?" Her voice was small and terrified.

"You might want to ask your father for permission to move our army through his lands," Cyrus said, with a heavy air of resignation. He caught every eye in the room. "Because without Sanctuary at the fore ... the elven army really doesn't stand a chance of holding them out of the north."

Who are you?

Eyes of red haunted Cyrus, pursued him, snapping him awake in sweat-sodden sheets, wrapped around him like they were entrapping him, smothering, holding him down and strangling him to death. He gasped for breath as though they had choked him, and when the first torch sprang to life in front of him it was a shock to his eyes as much as the vision of the pale elf lying next to him, her hand delicately touching his shoulder. "Cyrus," Vara murmured, more than a little sleep in her own voice. The silken slip she wore to bed hung off her shoulder, and her hair was loose around her face.

Cyrus breathed in the sweet torch smell as the hearth on the far end of the room sprang to life, the fire bursting into it and lighting the room. The balcony doors were all shuttered, making the Tower of the Guildmaster feel smaller than it did when they were open to the plains below, moonlight shining on the green gra.s.s. Cyrus's breathing was still ragged and rasping. He rolled to let his feet touch the cold stone floor, sheets sloughing off his naked body.

"Are you all right?" Vara asked, rolling over to place a hand on his back. He didn't quail away from her touch, but the vision in the nightmare had been so vivid, so irrationally frightening ... and now he couldn't even recall what it was.

"I'm ..." Cyrus took another deep, calming breath, letting it all flow in. "... I have no idea."

"If you're all right?" Vara moved to sit next to him, her creamy thighs sliding off the bed to hang next to his over the edge. Her feet were so small, so delicate, compared to his. She placed a light arm around his shoulder and brushed his other with her hand, leaning her soft cheek against him. "I think, physically, it is fairly obvious you are all right."

The panic of the nightmare had receded enough to allow Cyrus to see the humor in what she spied. "Huh. I, uh ... guess so, in that regard."

"However, don't count on me being quite awake enough to go in for that, seeing as we already rutted once tonight," she said, pressing her warm skin close against him. "Did you have the nightmare again?"

"I did," Cyrus said, nodding sharply. "I think."

"Which one? Leaugarden or ..."

"The other," Cyrus said, shaking his head, turning it enough to see her gazing at him through sleepy blue eyes. "The-I don't even remember what happened other than awaking to a-just a feeling of ..."

"Of what?" she asked, running soothing fingers across his shoulders and back. It tickled just a bit, but in a wholly good way.

"Like I don't even know who I am," Cyrus said, rubbing at his eyes.

"Oh," she said. "Well. That seems to be coming up quite a bit lately. Not quite as often as-"

"Yeah, yeah."

She held herself tight against him. "I know who you are, even if you don't."

His shoulders straightened at her words, and he looked her in the eyes. "Who am I?"

She looked right back at him, the faintest smile on her lips before she spoke. "You are ... my little moppet."

Cyrus closed his eyes. "Please ... don't ever say that where anyone else might hear it."

She chuckled lightly. "I'll keep it entirely between us, I a.s.sure you." She ran fingers through his hair, and he caught the scent of the soap she used, sweet and slightly fragrant. "From whence does this desperation to know yourself spring?"

"I don't even know," Cyrus said, shaking his head as she threaded her fingers through his hand and placed it upon her thigh. When he looked down, almost expectantly, she sighed and moved the hand into the air, as if to disabuse him of any possible notion of things going in that direction. "I mean, there are obviously things on my mind, conversations I'm having with others, with you, with myself about the changes going on, but I wouldn't think it would come out this way in some sort of deep, frightening ..." He groped for words.

"Crisis of ident.i.ty?" she asked, tightening her grip on his fingers and bringing his knuckles to her lips with a kiss. "You've had two nightmares about it now. It would seem your mind is trying to tell you something."

"Tell me what?" Cyrus asked, tensing his shoulders, afraid of the answer he might get.

"I don't know," she said. "Something about what you're doing, perhaps." She hesitated. "Something about what you're willing to do, maybe."

He looked away. "You're talking about the conversation I had with Ehrgraz."

"a.s.sa.s.sination is not something I ever recall us discussing," she said quietly.

"We still haven't," Cyrus said, hiding his eyes from her. "It was just ... me thinking out loud to Ehrgraz-"

"Yet you sent scouting parties into the savanna," she said, no accusation to her words. "You planned the long-ranging strike, a knockout punch past their defenses?" She uncoiled her fingers from his. "What were you thinking in terms of an endgame? Not another fair fight with the t.i.tans and all their armies, I a.s.sume, and yet you said very plainly to me that this would not end because Talikartin was still alive. That leaves-"

"Killing him however we have to, yes," Cyrus said, feeling caught. He expected her arms to sweep away from him in revulsion, her warm skin and cool silken slip to push against his side as she made her getaway. He dared to look, just a glance, really, at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm surprised the n.o.ble paladin isn't retreating from me."

"Even if the crusader in me wanted to," Vara said with a sigh, "the woman in me is taking precedence at the moment. I feel as if she's usurping my will and my very limbs. It's quite exhausting, being this divided. I can only a.s.sume my paladin self is still asleep." She smiled lightly.

"You're joking about it," Cyrus said, now looking at her with a little less shame, "but you know Alaric would never have sanctioned this. He would never have dreamed-"

"You might be surprised what Alaric would do if pushed into the corner we find ourselves in," Vara said evenly. "I watched him kill Partus with a single spell, unseen, for merely insulting and threatening me. With what we are against, even Alaric might consider desperate measures."

"I have a hard time believing that," Cyrus said, and now he hung his head low for a different reason. "I think of him as this looming shadow that hangs over every decision I make, judging me silently for my failures, which are growing too innumerable to count."

"What is this self-pitying drivel?" she asked, and now she did pull away.

"We lost people in the attack, Vara-"