The Sanctuary: Warlord Part 37

"Look," Vara said, and she pointed to the mountains in the distance, far, far to the south, around the valley where Kortran was nestled.

Black smoke hung thick here, still alight with red flame on the dark edge of the horizon, and Cyrus knew that below the edge of the valley was a pyre that would stay lit all the day.

"I believe that is the end of the t.i.tans," Cyrus said, that ashy taste still in his mouth. They stood there for quite some time, in the dark of the jungle, watching the shadowed dragons fly overhead, occasionally swooping down to inflict their wrath on some poor unfortunate out of sight-the fulfillment of a promise that had come at the highest cost.

The journey back to Amti had been strangely swift, barely noticeable to Cyrus after long hours spent watching the dragons do their horrible work over the savanna. The jungle had been cleared in Cyrus's absence, no t.i.tan stragglers found, and by the time that all that had been declared to be sure, the dark elven army and Terian gathered and left in shortest order with only the kindest of regards on their way out.

The Sanctuary army began to clear, albeit slower, and Cyrus found himself in Tierreed with the four members of Amti's council as well as Martaina as he waited for the druids and wizards to do their slow work of teleporting everyone home.

"Are you sure you want to stay?" he asked Martaina, who stood off from Gareth just a little, the distance between them telling Cyrus quite a bit.

She thought about it before answering. "I don't want to go back to Sanctuary, no. Too many ... unfortunate memories."

Cyrus could not help but think of Andren, and the thought was like a physical pain punching into his chest under his armor. "I understand. If you ever change your mind ..."

"I know where to find you," she said with a ghostly smile that told him that she would not be changing her mind.

"And you-" Cyrus said, turning to look at Cora, who stared back at him with an effervescent smile of her own.

Cora held up a finger to stay him. "I will say my piece first, and then you may remonstrate with me for my furtiveness however you desire." She led Gareth, Fredaula and Mirasa in a long bow, during which Martaina rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Cyrus, Vara, and Sanctuary," Cora said when she came up, smiling, "for by your efforts, you have saved Amti."

"You're welcome," Cyrus said, but could not help but add, "it's what good neighbors do." Vara smacked him on the shoulder.

Cora's eyes faltered. "I was not a good neighbor, though, was I? For if I had been, I would have kept you longer than the time I did." She looked him up and down, at his armor. "I might have kept you from ... that place."

Cyrus frowned at her. "The Society?"

"The Society, aye," Cora said, sounding a little disgusted. "It was not where your mother and father wanted to you to go."

Cyrus straightened a little. "What? Why not?"

"Because warriors go off to war for years at a time, of course," Cora said, as though it were evident. "Most of them have no magical support, no hope of resurrection in death, and then ... there was the training." She looked away. "But you know about that."

"I know about that," Cyrus said, and smiled wanly. "I made it through, though." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "What did they want me to do? What did they want me to be?"

Cora started to say something then stopped, breaking into another wan smile as she reached out to brush a hand lightly against his cheek-like a mother might have. "They wanted for you what any parent wants for their child-for you to be safe, and happy, and a.s.sured of your place in their affections." Her eyes twinkled with a hint of sadness. "But beyond that, all they desired for you ... was for you to be yourself."

When they appeared back in the Sanctuary foyer, Cyrus finally dared look at Mendicant, who had cast the spell to bring them home, but when he did, he found the goblin looking coolly back at him, without a trace of fear. They stood in the middle of a quiet army, the whispers of those who had gone along rippling through the ranks of those who had not been there to witness their guildmaster commit his heresy in the jungle.

"Well," Vaste said bracingly, a little too relaxed and a little too loud for Cyrus to properly believe him, "we should probably have an absolutely standard and rudimentary Council meeting in which we will discuss nothing but the very ordinary events of this particular action."

"That will have to wait," Scuddar In'shara said, sweeping in from the open doors of the foyer. Blue skies shone outside, the sun already up in the sky. A soft breeze wafted into the room. "You have a visitor at the wall."

"Ehrgraz?" Cyrus asked and received a nod in return. He started for the door, but Vaste landed a hand on his arm.

"We are going to have that very ordinary Council meeting afterward though, yes?" Vaste asked.

"I'm sure you'll hound me until we do," Cyrus said, and the troll's grip relinquished him.

"Ehrgraz has picked an odd time to break his silence," Vara said, stepping into line beside him as they walked toward the wall.

"I expect we'll get an explanation for that," Cyrus said tightly, his boots mashing into the soft lawn with every step. The day around him seemed like it was excessively bright, and then he realized there were no clouds in the sky. "Though whether it's to our satisfaction is anyone's guess."

"About the other thing-" she said quickly.

"Later," Cyrus said, and paused as she stopped. He looked her in the eyes and saw the same worry and fear there that he felt sure were in his own. "Truly. After the Council meeting, we can-" He smiled faintly. "Why don't we go to Reikonos and have a walk?"

Her eyes flickered. "Like you used to do with ... Andren?"

"Exactly," Cyrus said, barely a whisper.

"Very well," she said, nodding once, in discomfort, before they made their way up the nearest tower to the top of the wall, the clank of their boots against the stone pathways resounding in Cyrus's ears.

"If you're here to give condolences, you're months late," Cyrus said as he strode out onto the wall where Ehrgraz's head waited, glaring at him with one eye c.o.c.ked.

"I will only say this once," Ehrgraz said dangerously, "so listen carefully-I am sorry for your losses." He sounded slightly contrite when he said it, though his tone still indicated deep contempt or irritation; which, Cyrus could not rightly say.

"Your regrets are appreciated," Cyrus said, watching him with both eyes. "I saw your handiwork in the savanna this morning."

"I heard you were watching," Ehrgraz said, looking at him in a way that Cyrus found suddenly uncomfortable.

"Did you?" Cyrus asked. "What else did you hear?"

"Everything," Ehrgraz said, leaving Cyrus in little doubt that he spoke the truth. "Your days are soon to become more difficult."

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about an army of t.i.tans coming out of the south," Cyrus said, a little sourly, "though now it's something of an open question if I ever really did, once the pa.s.s was shut."

"Do you think Bellarum would have been content to let you sit idly here in the north without challenge? That he would not have given the t.i.tans the keys to every kingdom here in the north eventually?" Ehrgraz asked, yellow eyes on him in near disbelief once more. "Your failure to follow his path is what spurred him to foolish action with the t.i.tans. He hoped to move you cleanly back to his side." The dragon puffed black smoke. "Apparently he underestimated the other ties that bind you." Ehrgraz looked pointedly at Vara.

"Me?" she asked, hand falling to her chest.

"You know an awful lot about the affairs of G.o.ds," Cyrus said, watching the dragon with suspicion.

"Hmpf!" Ehrgraz scoffed. "I bid you farewell now, Cyrus Davidon, for our paths are now diverging." He flapped his wings once. "Pray to whatever G.o.ds you still hold dear that they do not cross again in an unfavorable way, for I think you have seen what end that holds for those who challenge us."

"Same to you, Ehrgraz," Cyrus said, drawing another sharp look from the dragon, which he returned in kind. "I don't suppose I need to remind you that I've killed more dragons than I have G.o.ds-and I don't really care which is on the end of my blade, if they cross me."

Ehrgraz stared back at him, unrelenting. "I think we understand each other perfectly." And he flapped his wings and shot off into the sky impossibly fast, disappearing out of sight into the distance in mere moments. The mood that his threat left Cyrus in, however, was not nearly so quick to depart.

"The way I see it," Vaste said in the Council Chamber, the warmth of the hearth keeping some of the day's chill at bay, "we're as blind as the Dragonlord just before Cyrus rode him right into the ground. And furthermore," the troll said, looking pointedly at Cyrus at the head of the table, "probably just as stuck with our esteemed Guildmaster riding us into oblivion."

"I'm not trying to ... ride you," Cyrus said, faltering partway through.

"Except her," Erith said with a nod at Vara.

"Actually, I prefer to do the riding," Vara said a little stiffly.

"Oh, how I hate you two," Vaste said, lowering his head and cradling it in his hands. "I miss the fighting. Where is the fighting?"

"Does anyone else have that ... that sinking feeling of stepping off a high stair when your Falcon's Essence has just worn off?" J'anda asked, his voice filling the chamber.

"That more or less sums up how I feel as well," Ryin said, mouth buried behind his hand. He glanced around. "I mean ... we'll all be heretics together if this stands, won't we?"

"I think technically if you're merely aiding or supporting a heretic you're called a-" Mendicant started.

"The effect is the same, yes?" Ryin asked the goblin, looking down at him.

"A veritable death sentence, yes," Vaste said.

"Can we just discuss how Cyrus used a fire spell?" Longwell asked, looking at Cyrus. "I mean ... does that mean any of us could?"

"Try it," Cyrus said with a shrug. "The words are-"

"NOOO!" Ryin shouted, face red.

"Arnngraav, urnkaaav," Cyrus said, looking sideways at the druid, who slumped with his hands on his forehead in much the same way Vaste just had.

Longwell pointed his hand at a blank stretch of wall. "Arnngraav, urnkaaav!" They waited quietly for a second, then two, and the dragoon shrugged. "I guess I'm just not magical enough." He pursed his lips. "d.a.m.n."

"He didn't cast it just now either, when he said it to you," Vaste noted, looking at Cyrus with suspicion.

Cyrus shrugged languidly. "Wasn't trying to, but ..." He stood and unlocked the balcony door, then stuck his hand out. "Arnngraav, urnkaaav!"

Flame bellowed out over the balcony and Cyrus felt a curious tugging sensation within him, like breath being sucked from lungs he didn't know he had. The fire was small compared to the spells of the wizards he had known, or even the druids, and faded quickly.

"Oh, will you just stop committing heresy?" Ryin asked, now hiding his eyes.

"Wow," Erith said and pointed her hand at the hearth before whispering something under her breath. A gout of flame leapt out of her hand, larger than the one that Cyrus had just loosed, burning into the hearth and upward, setting fire to the painting hanging above the frame. "Oh, d.a.m.n."

"Yes," Ryin said, watching in consternation as the picture and frame were consumed by yellow fire, smoking into the air above the stone hearth's mantle. "Burning our art is certainly cause for concern at a moment when we're all sitting around committing and aiding heresy!"

"Well, now I have to try," Vaste said and led the way out to the balcony. Vara and J'anda followed behind her, each of them belting out a flame spell in turn, Vaste's mild and long, like a tongue, Vara's short of duration and fury, her hesitation causing her to pull back some of the power Cyrus suspected she could have applied.

J'anda's, on the other hand, blew out like the breath of a dragon, making Cyrus and the others flinch away from the heat and intensity. When Cyrus opened his hand again, he found the enchanter clutching his staff tightly, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Hmmm," the dark elf said, clearly contemplating possibilities.

"I guess this explains why that heretic we ran into in the Bandit Lands was so hunted by the Leagues," Vaste mused aloud as they came in from the balcony, the smell of fire and smoke following behind them.

"Yes, it's amazing how heretics get hunted for being heretics," Ryin said, his face on the table.

"Do you realize what this means?" Vaste asked.

"For some of us," Longwell said, a bit sourly, "not a d.a.m.ned thing."

"It means the Leagues have been controlling magic," Mendicant said, looking more than a little hungry. "That like Lord Soulmender said-"

"Who?" J'anda asked with a frown.

"Wasn't that Curatio's surname?" Vaste asked. "I think I heard him say it once."

"-there are practices forbidden and controlled," Mendicant went on, ignoring the interruptions. "That they've been-"

"Holding out on us," Vara said quietly.

"The Leagues are not 'holding out on us,'" Ryin said with more than a little outrage. "They put guidelines in place for our own safety, and to keep dangerous magics out of the hands of nutters like-like-like the b.l.o.o.d.y Sorceress Quinneria!" He looked at Vaste.

Vaste blinked in surprise. "Uh ... yes. I suppose that's true. You don't want dangerous magics falling into the hands of people who want to wipe out all the trolls, after all." He rubbed at his chin. "But, uhm ..." He scratched at his chin, "... I'm not sure that saving my not-so-n.o.ble people was the purpose behind the League control." He flicked his gaze to Cyrus. "Because ... as we learned just a few short years ago, the Leagues are probably under the same guidance as the major powers, which means their patrons"

"Are the G.o.ds," Cyrus finished for him.

Vaste nodded once. "Exactly. And I'm guessing ... now that we've killed two of their number plus one of their avatars-"

"The Leagues are going to come after us," Vara said quietly.

"Entire nations are going to come after us," Ryin said miserably.

"And we'll stand against them all," Cyrus said, that uncertain feeling that had wracked him for months dissolving in one moment of absolute belief. He looked his officers in the eyes one by one, and saw a mixture of disbelief waiting there. "Just like we always have, against all challengers.

"Whatever comes our way ... we will fight," he said. "Because that's what we do. It's who we are." Cyrus straightened, and he felt the others stand a little taller with him. "We've fought for others, for what was right, for the defenseless, and for Arkaria. All n.o.ble causes." His breath caught in his throat, but he felt sure that this was it, the words that needed to be said, the cause that needed to be embraced.

They're coming.

"Now," Cyrus said, "we're just going to have to fight for ourselves."