The Sanctuary: Warlord Part 22

"I remember her eyes," Cyrus said. "Very faintly. They were green. I remember some of the smells of the things she cooked, like her meat pies. It was a pretty traditional Reikonosian delicacy. We had them in the Society regularly, but it was never the same. Larana's are close, I think." He shrugged. "Not much to talk about other than her cooking, which is why I suppose I don't talk about her." He blinked as another thought occurred. "She pa.s.sed on her rage at the trolls to me. Bitter about my father's death, I a.s.sume."

"That is a shame," Vara said, eyes touched with sadness. "To have so little time with either of them. At least your father made an impression." She nodded at him, armor and all. "And you walk his path, of course."

"I wanted to be like him," Cyrus said quietly. "The instructors at the Society ... they didn't want to talk to me, but whenever they discussed the history of the troll war, they would say my name." He smiled faintly. "Well, they would say my last name, anyway, and they'd say it with a reverence for my father that they never once showed for his son, sitting in the same d.a.m.ned room with them. It was always a bit mysterious how it unfolded, that battle, because-well, almost no one survived. But the word got out that he'd done something amazing in it."

"I cannot imagine what you have gone through in your upbringing," Vara said, and she leaned against him, armor against his. Her breath was warm in his ear. "To have done what you did ... to be so reliant on yourself ... it has made you strong."

He turned his head to look at her. "You think it made me strong? I think it made me weak, always turning inward rather than asking for help when it would have made life simpler. Do you know how hard it was for me to start to trust after the Society?" She shook her head. "It was a h.e.l.l of a journey, let me tell you. Consider yourself fortunate that Imina and Narstron did some of the heavy lifting in that area."

"You don't think I would have liked you had I met you earlier?" she asked. "If we had crossed paths when I was a young officer of Amarath's Raiders and you were applying to any guild you could find taking applicants?"

Cyrus chuckled. "I actually applied to the Raiders at one point. It was a short visit."

She looked pained. "You didn't make it past the foyer, did you?"

"I did not," Cyrus said with a chuckle. "The look they gave me told me everything about what they thought the moment I walked in. I wasn't escorted out, but I was politely asked to leave and given the impression that if I didn't do it in haste, I'd have been tossed momentarily."

"If only they'd known," she said a little sadly, "what they were missing."

"I don't think it would have worked out very well for me," Cyrus said, feeling a little sadness settle over him. "If they'd taken me, I mean. Because then, I would have been there when-"

"Oh," Vara said, and her hand came to hover over her stomach involuntarily. "Of course. The purge of the righteous."

"Is that what you called it?"

"I called it much worse than that," she said, pulling away from him. She walked slowly toward the freestanding mirror in the corner. "The great stabbing in the back, the day of the traitorous wretches, and other, more creative and profane names that require a better grasp of elvish than you possess-"

"I'm really good with the profanity. It's your subject and verb agreement that trips me up. Also, conjugation."

"Yes, well," she said, turning back to him. "Those were dark days."

Cyrus nodded. "I think I feel a little darkness seeping in here lately."

"It's not like it was there," Vara said quickly.

"No, I didn't mean it was-" Cyrus sighed. "I just meant things have taken a grim turn these last few months."

"Indeed," Vara said with a slow nod. "We went from being a guild on the rise, walking with a confidence in our step from winning the dark elven war for the rest of the world-a guild so ... I don't want to say overconfident in the ascendancy, but certainly feeling our oats ... to ... well, now." She shrugged. "We're down. There's no denying it, and not much point in trying. But down is hardly defeated, at least not for good."

"I can't figure out why the t.i.tans haven't come at us harder," Cyrus said, shaking his head. "This should be over by now. They could have come north at any time, with magic at their disposal."

"As you said, they are rather one-dimensional in their thinking, and magic changes the rules remarkably in battle."

"I never liked counting on my opponents to be stupid," Cyrus said, starting to unfasten his armor. "No, they'll get smart sooner or later, and when they do, we're going to be looking back on these dark days as positively sunny."

"I don't fear it," Vara said, taking off her gauntlets. "Not with you in charge."

He smiled. "How did you go from hating me to saying such kind things?"

She strained at that one, and he could see the sarcasm threatening to spill out as she rolled her eyes, then she brought them back under control as she looked at him. "They say there is a desperately thin veneer between love and hate. Honestly, I still waver back and forth depending on the conversation."

"Ah," he said, bringing her close again. The smell of sweat was in her hair, on her skin, but it did not bother him. He kissed her lips and found them sticky with dried perspiration. It was only a peck, just a few seconds, and then she pulled away. "What?" he asked.

She sniffed the air. "You need a shower desperately."

"Hey," he said, scowling, "you're no sniff of rosewater yourself. I've been waiting on the line of battle for days and-"

"Well, you're not waiting any longer, and there's a shower right over there," she said, pointing to the small room tucked into the corner of the tower between two balconies. She slipped off her boots and then blanched like she'd been hit. "Perhaps a bit of that for both of us, then."

"Together?" Cyrus suggested slyly.

She rolled her eyes once more. "Why not?" she asked, as though it entailed great sacrifice on her part. Armor clanged against the stone floor as she slipped out of hers and he from his.

"What do you fear?" Cyrus asked when they were nearly naked, and he saw her muscles tense at the question, standing out on her back as the long scar that stretched just to the side of her spine reddened.

"Nothing when I'm with you," she said, standing up straight, turning to face him with only her light cloth trousers still hugging her waist. He could see the scar on her belly now, similarly angry red against pale flesh.

"Nothing at all?" Cyrus asked, watching her carefully.

"When I'm with the greatest warrior in Arkaria," she said, just a little too breezily, "what is there to fear?" With that, she slipped the light trousers from her waist and let them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them and walked seductively toward the shower. "Are you coming?" she asked as she disappeared behind the frame. A second later, he heard water rus.h.i.+ng through the pipes and spattering on the stone floor within, gurgling in the drain.

There was something in her answer that he did not care for, that he did not understand, but he let it rest, and followed her into the shower. The water, however, felt strangely cold in spite of the company.

"So what's the next big idea?" Ryin asked, more alert than he had looked during the last Council meeting. He didn't seem quite as weary, though the druid still had an air of concern about him.

"I don't even have a sarcastic one at this point," Vaste said, "which I know will surprise you all."

"What's got you so grim?" Vara asked, brow furrowed as she looked at the healer.

The room was dark, the light of day barely s.h.i.+ning in but the torches extinguished. It was a curious situation, the magical light of Sanctuary not quite doing its job, though Cyrus was a bit torn on whether the torches were really needed. The room was just a bit dim after all, not dark as night. All the officers were present save for Odellan, Mendicant and Longwell, each of whom were on duty in the various places the Army of Sanctuary was presently stationed.

"Well, we have lost some lives lately," Vaste said. "And we've got people still out there trying to hold things together, maintain scouting so t.i.tans don't come running up on us in the middle of the nights and crash through our gates before we can get roused to go die at their hands-I mean fight them."

"You really think the t.i.tans are going to come here?" Erith asked, looking more nervous than Cyrus had ever seen her.

"It certainly wouldn't be the first time," Curatio said quietly. The healer looked more pensive than usual today, but also tired in a way that was becoming surprisingly common, as though some sleep spell were being pa.s.sed around among the officers, draining their vitality.

"We'd make it the last, though," Thad said with more than a little bravura.

"Because we've done such a smas.h.i.+ng job of beating them back at every turn thus far," Vaste said, nodding sagely.

"Your sarcasm does not help the situation, troll," Vara snarled.

"I actually wasn't being sarcastic this time, either," Vaste said, shrugging. "Think about it from the perspective of the t.i.tans. They attack Emerald Fields, and while that was not our most smas.h.i.+ng success ever, we made them retreat, vestigial tails between their legs. When next we met, on their turf, we destroyed their entire savanna watch operation, invaded their city and killed their emperor. Now we've destroyed the Heia Pa.s.s and left more of their dead rotting there than our own." He looked around the table. "From our perspective, it's disasters from start to finish. But the t.i.tans aren't us, and they aren't used to the decreased danger that having healers with resurrection spells brings. They're used to fighting and dying with every war. From their perspective ... we're dis.h.i.+ng out a lot more punishment than we're taking."

Cyrus frowned. "That's ... not a bad point."

"Try not to sound utterly shocked," Vaste said.

"I am utterly shocked," Vara said, leaning her elbows onto the table, "but I agree with the troll."

"I am glad that the elf agrees with me," Vaste said, drawing a look of irritation from Vara. "Oh, sorry, was responding in kind to your condescending remark inappropriate in some way?"

Vara's eyes glistened like ice in the sunlight. "Last night in the shower, Cyrus and I-"

"Okay," Vaste said, throwing up his ma.s.sive green hands, "I surrender, I yield. You have the equivalent of a verbal G.o.dly weapon, and I am no match for it. Please don't tell me any naked tales of the man in black armor."

"I wouldn't mind hearing some more of them," Erith said.

"This is an important meeting," Andren said, slamming his fist to the table with exaggerated emphasis. He held a straight face for almost five seconds then turned to Cyrus. "Would you mind finis.h.i.+ng that story for me later? Just a bit of talk between the boys, you know," he said in explanation to the rest of the table. "It's the privilege of being old friends-"

"Yeah, we're not discussing that-any of that-anymore," Cyrus said, feeling a discomfort inside like he'd swallowed boulders.

"Yay!" Vaste said.

"In Council," Cyrus said, giving the troll a sidelong look. "If Vara wants to torture you in her own time with ... uh ... whatever details of our private personal lives that she wants to make public," he drew a stinging look from her, "uh ... that's fine."

"Not so yay," Vaste said.

"If n.o.body else has anything to say on this-" Cyrus began.

"What do we do when the t.i.tans come over the mountains into the Elven Kingdom?" Nyad asked. There was a hint of plaintive concern to her voice. "Now they're not isolated to any one particular avenue, with the pa.s.s closed. They could come over anywhere-walking over the Bay of Lost Souls, or coming up the coast on the other side-"

"I know this is going to come as a surprise to all of you, given it's me speaking," Ryin started, "but ... am I the only one who wonders how we can simply ... end this?" Now he looked almost as tired as Curatio. "I am frankly to the point where wiping out every man, woman and child in Kortran is an idea I'd entertain, in the style of the conquerors of old." He paused, as though the words he spoke reached his own ears. "Though not an idea I'd condone."

"We'll make a wild, savage pillager of you yet," Vaste said. "And I admit, the druid speaks reason. I am of the opinion that the t.i.tans will not be stopping without very, very good cause, and while I certainly think, as I stated earlier, that we've inflicted some considerable damage on them, we haven't drawn the sort of blood that will make them stop."

"What next, indeed?" Curatio asked, and now it was almost as though a compet.i.tion was going on between him and Ryin to see who could sound the most tired. "They strike at our people, we strike back at theirs. We invade their lands, they invade ours. This is poised to go on forever, with blow and counterblow. One almost wonders if Ryin's unthinkable solution is the only one."

"But we're not actually going to do it, right?" Vaste asked. An uncomfortable silence filled the air. "Right? I mean, we didn't even do that to the trolls-"

"The trolls stopped when we scared them," Cyrus said, unable to pull his eyes off the table. "When we hurt them bad enough. Much like Vaste and Ryin, I find myself wondering what it will take to make them let go of this particular bone of contention." He looked at Curatio. "When the t.i.tans attacked Sanctuary before, Alaric didn't go after them, did he?"

"No," Curatio said. "He was rather more preoccupied with mourning and ... other details."

"Oh, a mystery!" Vaste said. "I heard a mystery. It's been a while, but I just heard one, dumped out unceremoniously upon this table like a naked elf!" He caught a hard look from Vara. "I didn't say a female elf, yeesh, don't be so presumptive and quick to take offense."

"There's not that much mystery to it," Vara said, the anger subsiding. "And it was a little like what you suggest, Vaste, in that Alaric brought me into Sanctuary within a day of Raifa dying. I believe he and the small complement of remaining members were somewhat busied in the time that followed seeing to my health."

"Oooh," Vaste said, "all right. Not quite as exciting of a mystery as I thought it'd be, but I'll bite. Where did Alaric find you?"

She stared at him flatly. "Where Archenous Derregnault and Amarath's Raiders left me to die."

"I heard that happened in the Trials of Purgatory," Thad said, frowning.

Vara froze, looking somewhat caught. "It did."

"Lucky Alaric just happened to be wandering through, then," Cyrus said, noting the peculiarity of her reaction. "Especially since Sanctuary wasn't able to beat the trials until years later."

"I told you I sensed a mystery," Vaste said, "and here it is, meat on this bone that everyone else thought was bare. I can smell them, I tell you-"

"That's your upper lip and possibly your underarms," Vara said.

"How did Alaric get into the Trials of Purgatory?" Erith asked, wrinkling her nose like she could smell, if not a mystery, then something.

"I presume he had a wizard take him there," Vara said archly, but the effort she was putting into holding back her feelings was obvious to Cyrus.

"To what purpose?" Andren asked. "Why would you go there unless you were trying to do the Trials? I can't imagine it'd be to have a friendly chat with the Gatekeeper, charming fellow that he is-"

"Alaric and the Gatekeeper seemed to know each other," Thad said.

"Alaric seemed to know everyone," Andren said, scratching his head.

"As Alaric is dead, I suppose we have no one to ask," Ryin said.

"Unless our resident paladin knows more than she's telling us," Erith said.

"There are quite a few things I'm not telling you at the moment," Vara said, "including my opinion of your intellectual capabilities, which is-"

"Vara," Cyrus said gently. "You can tell us."

She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at him. "Can I? Very well, then. What secret have you been holding back, Cyrus? Surely you can share it with everyone here." She paused then pressed again. "I know you've got a secret. Something you're holding back even from me. Something you don't want to say aloud, even. It's on your face even now, how your chin is wavering just the slightest bit." She nodded at him in a challenging manner. "You tell your secret, I'll tell mine."

"Hold-" Curatio started, lifting a hand.

Cyrus felt her provocation and was strangely moved by it. It wasn't pride that spilled over him, but a sudden desire to simply let it out and be done, to not have to worry about hiding it anymore. "When Yartraak was about to strike me down, I saw a vision of Alaric in the Tower of the Guildmaster." Cyrus drew a long breath in the silence and let it out. "It was so real ... I think he's still alive." He locked eyes with her.

"If Alaric is alive," Ryin said quietly, "why isn't he here?"

"I don't know," Cyrus said.

"And why's he appearing in visions only to you?" Andren asked, looking a bit miffed. "I've got questions for him, you know. Like you're some kind of favorite son-"

"Perhaps Cyrus was simply delusional from being battered around by a G.o.d," Vaste said, a little too quickly for Cyrus's taste.

"Perhaps he was simply delusional from being Cyrus," Nyad muttered. When everyone looked at her, she reddened. "Well, I mean, all this can't be good for his ego."

"That's exactly what I've been saying," Vara spoke under her breath.

"So what is it? Your truth?" Vaste asked, pinning Vara with his own look. "He spilled his secret. Now time for you to spill yours."