DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (161 page)

The attendant saw little fondness in that look. Many of the Yatols were not fond of him, allowing their own jealousies to overcome their dedication to their religion and their god. He was not a Yatol, after all, not a priest, and yet, when the Chezru Chieftain went to his reward, Merwan Ma would, in all practicality, become the most powerful man in all of the Chezru domain. He would be the initial selector of the new God-Voice, and would have full voice at the ensuing council of confirmation. He would then oversee the early years of the chosen child’s life, and while he would then have no voice in Yatol formal policy, it would be his voice most often heard in the next chosen God-Voice’s ear.

Some of the Yatols were not pleased at this arrangement. Merwan Ma had even overheard a pair of particularly obnoxious priests mumbling that in times long past, a Yatol, the highest ranking of the order below the Chezru Chieftain, had served as attendant, and not a mere Shepherd.

Merwan Ma took it all in stride. He had been selected, for whatever reason, and his duty was clear and straightforward. He could not allow petty human frailties and emotions to deter him from his duty. His calling was to God, through the words and edicts of the God-Voice, his beloved Chezru Chieftain. It was not his
place to question, nor—he reminded himself then and there—was it his place to accept or internalize the expression the attending Yatol was now sending his way. That look reflected that man’s weakness, and it was not a weakness that Merwan Ma meant to share.

He ushered the group out of the anteroom, then went back into the sacred room, consecrated cloth in hand, and reverently wiped clean the sides of the Chezru Goblet, satisfied that the sacrifice of blood that day would secure the goblet and the health of the church for the next month.

Chapter 3
 

B
RYNN AND
J
URAVIEL RODE IN VIRTUAL SILENCE FOR MANY DAYS AFTER THEIR
fight with the goblin band. Despite Juraviel’s cutting words and sound reasoning, Brynn could not let go of her anger toward the elf for what he had done to her, for what he had forced from her. For he had made her kill, had taken her out of their way so that she could feel her blade sinking deep into the heart of an enemy, so that she could smell spilled blood and see the stains, so that she could witness death at her own hands, horrible in a way that she had never known. Brynn Dharielle had witnessed much death in her early years in To-gai, after the coming of the Behrenese. She had witnessed the murder of her parents—from afar, but close enough to hear the screams. Nothing could be more terrible than that!

But this last experience was troubling and horrible in a different way. This time she had been forced into the role of assassin, and the smell of blood and the screams had come to her of her own doing, and with a sizable amount of guilt attached.

Belli’mar Juraviel had done that to her, and his justifications rang hollow in Brynn’s ears as the pair made their way along the southern trails. For more than a week, they went about their duties with hardly a word exchanged. They each knew what was expected of them, in setting the camp and preparing the meals, and in keeping watch throughout the night. Every now and then, Juraviel would offer a friendly comment, but Brynn usually just deflected it with a grunt or a halfhearted chuckle.

Things began to warm again between them the second week. When Juraviel offered a sarcastic or teasing comment Brynn started to give him back one of her own, and by the end of the second week, the pair had even traded exchanges longer than single sentences.

“The Belt-and-Buckle,” Juraviel said to her near the end of the third week after the goblin fight, when Brynn walked Diredusk up beside him. They stood atop a ridge that had sloped up gradually from the forest, but dropped off dramatically before them. Below, the forest spread wide and thick, and, far to the south, they could see the jagged outline of distant mountains.

Far distant, and Juraviel was quick to dampen the brightened look that came over the woman. “Do not be deceived. The mountains of that range are more huge than anything you can imagine.”

“I came through them once,” Brynn reminded. “And I walked their southern slopes.”

“When you were a child, so many years ago that you hardly remember the truth of their scope.”

“I saw them every day when I was a child, and from much closer than this vantage point!”

“Indeed,” Juraviel replied. “Much, much closer. We can see them, and each day they will seem a little taller. But just a little, and by the time we actually reach them, they will tower so high above us that they will block out the sun itself. Our road is far from finished.”

Brynn looked down at the elf, who stood staring to the south. To her surprise, her irritation at Juraviel’s words could not take hold. No, Brynn appreciated Juraviel at that moment, more so perhaps than she had since their departure from Andur’Blough Inninness. Only then and there, standing with their goal somewhat in sight and yet still so far away, did Brynn truly understand the sacrifice that her mentor, her friend, was making for her. He was giving up months and months, years even, away from his home and kin, and for what? For no personal gain that Brynn could see, however much Lady Dasslerond preferred the To-gai-ru over the Behrenese. When Juraviel returned home to Andur’Blough Inninness, if he managed to stay alive throughout the war and return home, the daily routines, the daily joys and sorrows of his existence would not be dependent upon whether or not Brynn had prevailed in To-gai. What did it truly matter to Juraviel and the Touel’alfar whether the To-gai-ru or the Behrenese ruled the windy steppes of that far-distant land?

And yet, here he was, uncomplaining, traveling beside her, leading her to her destiny.

Brynn stooped a bit and draped her arm across Juraviel’s small shoulders. He turned a curious expression toward her, and she smiled in response and kissed him on the cheek, and then, when he returned her smile, she nodded, silently conveying her appreciation, silently explaining to him—and she knew that he understood—that she at last understood and appreciated that she could not possibly make this journey without him.

That was the truth that Brynn Dharielle realized, standing there on that warm afternoon, the southern breezes blowing through her dark, silken hair. And as she had grown on that day of her dark epiphany, when she had learned what it was to kill, so she believed that she had grown even more this day, the day of her second epiphany, the next stage of her maturation along the road to her destiny.

A good leader understood her enemies.

A better leader understood, and appreciated, her allies.

T
he days blended together, but with each dawn Brynn noted that the mountains did indeed seem taller, if only just a bit. She tried to put it out of her mind, for she was becoming as anxious as if those mountains were not just the landmark that would lead into her land, but marked the very steppes of To-gai itself.

One day on the road, with Brynn leaning forward eagerly, her body language speaking clearly to the fact that she believed her final goal was already in sight, and almost in hand, Belli’mar Juraviel threw a bit of cold water over her.

“It is good that we make the foothills of the Belt-and-Buckle before midsummer,” he said casually. “For then we have a chance, at least, of finding our way through the divide before the winter snows begin.”

Brynn’s expression as she turned to regard him was one of curiosity and confusion.

“For winter will come early up in those high passes,” Juraviel explained. “Oh, down here, amidst the trees and this far south, I doubt the snows ever pile very deep, or indeed, if it ever snows at all. But note that the caps of the mountains are still encased in snow, though summer nears its midpoint. I suspect that we will not have to climb very high, and not very late into the winter season, before we find the passes fully blocked.

“Of course, that is assuming that we even find a pass,” he finished grimly.

That last sentence had Brynn’s eyes widening tellingly. “You do not know the way through?” she asked, almost with a gasp. “But you were there—or your people were—barely a decade ago! When you rescued me from the Chezru! Surely the Touel’alfar have not forgotten the way already!”

“Lady Dasslerond was the one who rescued you,” Juraviel explained. “She has ways, with her gemstones, to travel great distances quickly. When she had you in tow, though you remember it not, she and her attendants lulled you to sleep, then used the power of the emerald stone to turn a hundred miles into a short walk.”

“Then why didn’t Dasslerond do the same thing now?” Brynn demanded. “We could have saved weeks of travel! And the mountains would be no barrier, while you sit there telling me that we might not even be able to get through them!”

“The road is preparation for the trials at its end.”

Brynn snorted, obviously not impressed with that argument. “And what do we do if we cannot find a way through the mountains? Do we sit in their shadows and share dreams that we know cannot come true? Do we turn back for Caer’alfar and beg Lady Dasslerond to do that which she should have done before?”

That last statement brought a glare of disapproval that reminded the young ranger that there were boundaries concerning the Touel’alfar she should not cross.

She pressed on anyway, but in more reserved tones, trying to justify her outrage. “My people are enslaved. Every day that we tarry is another day of misery for the To-gai-ru. The revolution could be taking place by now.”

Belli’mar Juraviel chuckled and shook his head, and Brynn, thinking that she was being mocked, narrowed her brown eyes.

“If Lady Dasslerond had summoned the power of the emerald and placed you within a To-gai-ru village enclave, do you believe that you would have stepped forward and simply taken control?” the elf asked. “By what declaration would you have been named as hero and leader?”

“By the same declaration I must use, I suppose, when at last we arrive in To-gai,” came the sarcastic response, and Brynn added under her breath, “If we ever arrive in To-gai.”

“If we find no way over the mountains, then we shall turn east along the foothills,
all the way to the coast, to the city of Entel, where we will secure passage to Jacintha easily enough.”

Brynn knew the name of the second city, Jacintha, and understood the extent of the hike.

“Jacintha,” Juraviel said again. “The seat of Behrenese power. The home of the Chezru Chieftain who rules the Yatols.”

Predictably, Brynn’s expression became one of intense anger.

“You are worldly in many ways,” Juraviel said to her. “And yet, in many others, you know so little of the wide world. Perhaps that is our fault, but we are, by need, a reclusive people. So, instead of begrudging the delays in returning to To-gai, consider this journey, and the one far to the east that we might well have to make, as a continuation of your training, as preparation for the trials you will soon enough face.”

Brynn stared at Juraviel long and hard, but she had heard the words clearly, and could accept that explanation to some degree. She reminded herself that the Touel’alfar had rescued her from a life of certain slavery, an existence that would never have led to the possibilities spread wide before her. She reminded herself that the Touel’alfar had trained her in the arts she would need to make an attempt to lead her people. In light of all that history and training and friendship, Brynn suddenly felt very foolish indeed for so severely questioning Belli’mar Juraviel!

She looked down and gave a self-deprecating chuckle, then said, “Perhaps I have spent too much time in the company of Aydrian.”

She glanced back up as she finished and saw that her words had indeed brought a smile to the elf’s fair face.

“Aydrian will find his own way in the world, I doubt not,” Juraviel replied. “But his temperament would never have proven suitable to the task you have at hand. You are a warrior, but foremost you are a diplomat, a leader with words above the sword, an inspiration through courage and …” The elf paused, raising a finger into the air to signify the importance of his point. “An inspiration through wisdom. Without the second quality, you will lead your people into nothing but disaster. It will take more than force to pry To-gai from the grasp of Behren, my young friend. It will take unparalleled courage and cunning, and will take a leader so elevated that her people will die for her willingly, gratefully. Do you fully appreciate the gravity of that position?”

Brynn suddenly found it hard to draw breath.

“Do you truly understand that you will one day order your warriors into battle, knowing that many of them will die on the field?”

Breathing didn’t get any easier.

“Do you truly understand that you may have to turn your army aside, knowing full well that in doing so you will leave a To-gai-ru village unprotected, and that the Behrenese will likely take out their anger against your insurrection on that unprotected village? Perhaps your actions will lead to more children watching their parents die—or even more horrifying, will lead to some parents watching their
children die. Are you ready to take that responsibility, Brynn Dharielle?”