the judgment of the gods (narrative) "And did you dream?" she asked with that softest edge of steel in her voice.
"I did," Talon murmured.
"What did you dream of?"
"I dreamed I was riding the storm, not chasing it."
Riding the storm. It was a fantasy.
The house was as old as the land upon which it stood. That much was certain just from fixing your gaze upon it. Skulking about in the rain was not a proper place for a soldier, for a knight, yet here he was. Through the mist his body cut of water Talon could see only one orange window, among many filled of shadow. That would be old Milli, the caretaker of the children, who looked after them when Lord and Lady were gone from the house. As they were tonight. Rumor said that Faxril was as good with a sword as his father. Better than. His lip curled. The scar upon his face tightened. A reminder of who truly was the best with a blade. And how far away that person was, here and now.
A gift which had not been seen as such, when Talon had first received it. There were marks made upon a soul, marks which could not be undone, and then there were marks upon the flesh. Hearing Seca speak of her own scar as though she enjoyed it had triggered something in him. Something primal. Something raw. What he dreamed of, what he truly dreamed of, was a storm only in metaphor. What he dreamed of was the gasp of shock from Eragos' lips when Talon ran him through. Watching the light fade from his eyes. An elder brother was meant to guide his younger sibling, not discard them. In all those years - another life. And what of Talon Feareborne? Where had brotherly concern gone when he needed Eragos the most?
Eragos' warmth had died with their mother. All that remained was a grim shell of a man, as focused on killing as he was on honor. As if he had any idea what the word meant any longer.
"There are twenty armed guards," Eyeless Serpent said quietly.
"I don't have to remind you, but I shall in any case," Talon's eyes never left that square of light. "If you encounter someone who is unarmed, let them keep their lives. The rest, you put down, whether they surrender or not."
"This isn't a game, Seca," and each of Gavrie's words was a driven nail. "You think too little of the future."
Here in the Fire Mountains, she was queen and goddess, ruler of all. To be called down so sharply - and before her lover - must have triggered every sense of shame and wrath in her body. That beautiful face turned beet red. Her scar pale as a ghost. Talon pretended not to hear, standing over her shoulder, but he couldn't help wondering if Seca really understood what Gavrie was trying to tell her. Every tale out of Agethlea grew worse. White Riders killed wholesale, and in public, by Gola and his thugs. An entire cityscape ripped to shreds. Innocents massacred. It was what Talon had tried to warn her of, but she did not understand how vital this truth.
Gola was a monster, not a soldier.
"You gave me a task, Lord Gavrie, and I stand on the brink of completing that task," Seca's voice was tight. "If my methods are not to your liking, then perhaps-"
"Don't finish that sentence," Gavrie ordered coldly. "Or I will take your flippant advice, whatever it was going to be."
Not for the first time Talon wondered precisely how easy it would be to kill Gavrie. Man to man, of course, armed to the teeth. He was good. He was old. And Talon had proved twice already how useless age was compared to true youth and skill. Right now. Put a blade through his heart and give Seca the power she wanted. It was not right. It was not honorable. Seca might have preferred it, but that gave Talon more pause - not less. As it was every day saw something uglier and uglier in her. As if the cost of victory was apparent to everyone but her, and that cost was steadily growing in intensity with each passing day.
The servants were in a group of four. Two were setting and chopping wood on the stump near the rear gate. The other two were quickly organizing the remnants into bundles; it was clear from their rapid movements that they'd done this before. That it was a chore none of them particularly enjoyed. And that they were trying to finish in low light, as quickly as they could. Why anyone would chop firewood so late at night remained a mystery. Yet it meant the cellar door was unlocked, and entering without raising the alarm was the professed goal of this band of warriors. Talon was first, sliding along the exterior wall of the manor, folding himself into shadow.
They were halfway to the open doors when Eyeless Serpent's food snapped a dry twig in two. The crack was loud enough, coming as it did between strikes of the axe. They froze. All of the servants were peering into the shadow as though they could see something. Talon knew that they could not. The scales had never failed him before. Another success loomed. And sure enough, those servants with their impeccable devotion returned to their task at hand. Talon continued on his path, each boot placed carefully, with Eyeless Serpent close enough that the folded shadows hid them both. Only when he reached the cellar door did Talon hurry - still without a sound, he descended into the belly of the manor.
"Where are they?" Eyeless Serpent asked in that gravel-sounding voice of his.
"Up," Talon replied.
"As I've said, the outcome is all that matters," Talon was quiet.
"Well then what are you complaining about!" Seca was not.
She was never more beautiful than in moments such as this, stalking to and fro in her bedchamber, robe hanging open as she berated him. There was something powerful in her - the ugliness receded when she exercised that power, when she became more like herself and less like the thing she hoped Gavrie would finally love. Talon had told her more than once. Love from a parent who had the same desires in their heart could never be. It had been with Valos; so would it be with Gavrie. Nothing that either of them could do would change that single immutable fact. And she had not given up yet, despite everything. Despite all of the evidence that this was a waste of time.
A lie.
"The outcome may not be what you hope for," Talon went on despite her anger. "We burned Hatharida because we had no choice. Try as I have, Seca, I cannot see how the children will help our cause. If they are harmed, or killed, then-"
"Then he'll learn, won't he?" Seca asked in a fit of pique.
"Then he will have no reason to go along with us."
"And do you really think," she turned to face him then, long hair flying over her shoulder. "That I want him to go along with us?"
Desire was the most difficult emotion to manage. How many things had he done since leaving Aetherius that would be considered improper? He wondered then if Eragos felt the same. Did Eragos ever gaze upon the naked form of his lover and feel hatred as intense as lust? Did he ever stand from the chair, abandoning their argument, to draw closer to that pale skin? She was staring at him as if all his secrets would explode from the heart at her will alone. Talon caught her wrist when she tried to slap him. That was the arm he twisted, despite her protests, and used to force her backward.
She was smiling when she landed on her back. For some reason, despite all of her power - or perhaps because of it - she preferred the dominance.
"Do you know who I am?" Talon stared at her through his livid scar; the lantern swinging below his face had the desired effect.
"I know," Milli's voice was calm and measured.
"Then you know what I'm capable of," the lantern settled on the floor. "I have no desire to kill anyone, Mistress MIlli. I do not enjoy it."
"You're lying," Milli picked herself up with measured motions; the blood trailing down her chin was ignored. "I hear more than most, here, Master Feareborne."
They were staring at each other in silence - her, with her guts and determination; he, with his sword and his knowledge of what would happen. It was not truly his sword. It had belonged to someone else, long ago, and now it was in his possession. He so desperately wanted to kill Eragos with this blade. As though Eragos' murder would be enough to set all things right. Talon thought he was wise enough to know better. That hardly mattered. Milli was reaching for the knife at her side. Probably one used for eating and little else - that did not stop Eyeless Serpent from plunging his own sword into Milli's chest.
The woman did not have a chance to shriek.
"The children are just through there," Eyeless Serpent indicated the heavy wooden door.
"You never ask yourself," Talon said into the darkness. "How the gods will judge you?"
"No," Seca replied quietly. "Never. If they were going to judge me, the judgment would have come long ago."
Knowing he was alive... Talon could not have gone anywhere else in the world. Cast out his oaths, cast out his beliefs, and all that you had left was one desire. Eragos had been the favored son for all of their lives. It could not change now that their parents were dead. Yet it was the favored son that Talon most wanted to find. This would bring them together, wouldn't it? Eragos was going to come looking. Seca did not plan on her sister's continued interference. Perhaps because she thought Gola was going to kill Vera. But Gola never killed unless the game ahead looked to bore him. Vera would provide him with years of entertainment if she kept this up. At least, she would, if she didn't die. Gola was not going to kill Seca's sister. Yet the fact that Seca did not want to kill Vera personally spoke volumes.
Seca was afraid.
Talon could not recall being more excited in all of his life. Eragos was coming. And this time, he wouldn't be able to run away from the fight. This time, Talon was going to give him what he so richly deserved. Everything else was just nightmarish window-dressing on the continued destruction of this country. Gavrie would not rule what stood here today. He would rebuild from the ashes, in something closer to what he wanted.
"Wake, you children! Wake up n-"
Eyeless Serpent's voice was cut short by the steel which emerged from his chest. For good measure, Talon gave a twist before heaving the body forward. That eastern Dragon Knight was still sucking air where he lay, but the life would soon depart his lungs. The children both screamed. There were boots on the stairs. Talon did not remove his focus. This was the most crucial part of the whole enterprise, and one they needed to believe in, if he was going to haul them across country without injuring either of them. Those wide eyes were staring up at him with terror. He could recall such terror. The heat on his skin. The strong hand of Eragos, dragging him as he wept. Talon did not think a stone of the temple could be moved. Eragos had moved it. Talon had crawled into the space beneath it. Eragos' smile was grim, but reassuring, even with that stone skin discoloring his face.
"Wait here," Eragos had said. "I'll be back for you soon."
"Father says-"
"Damn him!" Eragos snapped; the anger faded as soon as it appeared. "You just wait here, Talon. Don't come out until I return."
He'd come. Talon could remember it quite clearly. Eragos had come. These children were the ones who needed to learn. If you depended on the gods, or on family, or on friends, then you were sealing your own fate. Eventually all strength failed. All arms grew rusted, and all muscle grew feeble. It was the way of the world that the old were passing always their world into the charge of the young. These children might preside over Talon's execution, someday, if they were strong enough. But that was at issue. They needed to be strong. And above all realize that watching your heroes die was the only way to grow stronger. Reverence was as useless as sorrow, in a land such as this one.
"Your mother sent me," Talon finally said. "We have to leave this place. Veros, help Hania."
They were surprisingly obedient. They screamed when they saw Milli's body. They wept as Talon pulled them away. They screamed even more when a single charge down the stairs took four servants. Even without shoes, or clothing, they were moving well. It was ten miles to the wagon. He'd carry them if he had to. And, should they live through this, perhaps they would even come to kill him one day.