Despite the distance, a Kerenan frost hung in the air. It was only autumn and yet the persistent cold of the south had descended like flies around a carcass. A dim haze clouded the horizon, hailing passing ships with a threatening chill. A stubborn sea-battered vessel trudged forward through the mist, in search of warm lands and welcoming harbours. It was a small, wretched thing. The boat creaked with every bump of the roiling sea beneath.
Darius looked out over the shoddy vessel’s railing. His turquoise eyes took in the sea, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The Amarant’s long flaxen hair slicked back and tucked into the mass of a pelt coat. A single, obstinate lock hung around his forehead and tussled with every shift in the air. He felt older in the colourless haze.
The Amarant watched the trailing wake. Kerena lay that way, he knew, somewhere far in the indistinct grey. That had been his home, once. The thought of the place stirred dormant embers deep inside him, a fire that had been kindled far too often. His sizeable hands tensed and gripped the wood. The ship creaked once more.
The last few days had been a nightmare. Darius hated returning to that frozen wasteland. He had sworn never to even throw another glance toward Kerena and the Frozen Waters. That cursed land of everlasting winter had burned him, seared him with an ever-blazing rage. Each thought of his former life and every moment he spent dwelling on it worked like a pair of bellows. The fire rose. Darius turned away. He was glad to be on his way.
There was a flutter. The ragged sails snapped. A change in the wind. Good. Perhaps a favourable gale would put that place further from his thoughts. Darius faced the haggard group of men who lazily worked the vessel. The cold had slowed their movements. Looking at their faces, Darius could see the same hard eyes and sharpened cheekbones that marked most of them as Kerenani. Some were sitting around, draped in blankets and complaining.
Darius spotted a familiar shape near the rear mast and stepped over. The jingle of a dozen daggers concealed by the coat rang in unison with his steps. Guldar, the general of the Anardaëan cavalry and one of Darius’ trusted men, stood watching the sailors disinterestedly. The burly man noticed the Amarant’s approach.
‘Not very reliable, are they?’ Guldar commented with a half-supressed smile. Darius was not sure whether he detected content sarcasm or dissatisfaction. ‘Remind me again why we’re tagging along with this bunch?’
Darius let out a chuckled breath. ‘Not my choice either,’ he said. His voice fell like alabaster snow. ‘You know relations between Kerena and the Empire aren’t exactly rosy. It wouldn’t have done to show up on their shores with full fleet and flotilla.’
‘Politics,’ Guldar said as he made a disgusted sound. ‘Never understood it and never bothered to. Give me a horse, a hammer, and a target. I’ll do the rest.’
Darius patted the large man on the shoulder. ‘This is why you’re as reliable as the turning of the sun, my friend.’
Guldar smiled, his teeth framed by dark facial hair. Then he turned to the men and his face became sour. ‘Still, I wouldn’t trust any of them as far I could throw them.’
‘Neither would I,’ Darius said. He fondled his fur coat. The metal underneath jangled again. ‘I’m glad to have you with me. The trip is not over yet.’
‘Right you are. I can’t wait to be back on an Anardaëan vessel. No, better yet, I can’t wait to step on Anardaëan soil. I’ve had enough of the cold and of the sea for a lifetime.’
‘So have I,’ Darius said. His voice lowered. His eyes wandered again. He tightened the fur coat around him. Pelts were something of a Kerenani specialty, highly coveted and sold for a pretty penny. Darius’ coat kept the cold firmly on the outside. But perhaps it kept the fire inside also, the raging ember that drove him.
In his darkest moments, Darius had wondered if the best thing he could do is to simply walk out into the cold, exposed and naked. To give in and let winter finally take him and snuff out his fire. He had kept the heat for far too long. Maybe what he yearned for was the chill release of… But no. Something would not let him. Not until the flame burned up and took his past with it.
The boat reeled again. The ocean sent creaks screaming through the wood. Darius came to and saw Guldar’s concerned eyes fixed on him.
‘Everything alright?’ he inquired. ‘You look troubled. Ah, gods, it’s that place isn’t it? You haven’t been there since—’
Darius said nothing and turned away. There were other matters to attend to. He located El’enur a few paces away and walked toward him. The young man sat huddled underneath an enveloping cloak and watched over a shape strewn at his feet.
‘El’enur!’ Darius called. ‘How’s our man holding up?’
The young man jumped at the summons and rose. His hood fell, unveiling short golden hair and eyes shot through with the blue of the summer sea. At his feet lay the only fruit the expedition to Kerena had yielded: a lone survivor, a man addled and scared out of his wits.
‘Hasn’t said a word since we left Inesōn,’ said El’enur.
‘Hmph, ‘fire’ isn’t much of a word,’ Guldar said as he caught up with Darius. ‘That’s all he spoke when we picked him up.’
‘When I picked him up,’ El’enur said proudly. ‘It was my keen archer’s eyes that spotted him in the debris.’ The young man tapped the side of his face and raised his eyebrows.
‘And who lifted the rubble, boy?’ Guldar retorted. ‘You can barely bend your bow!’
‘I’m still the best bowman in Anardes,’ El’enur said in riposte, undeterred by the older man’s insult.
‘Second-best,’ Darius corrected coolly, smiling.
‘That’s right, boy,’ Guldar said. ‘You haven’t heard the story of what Darius here did at the Teeth. He was younger than you are when he was posted there, too. So you better change your tone, before I—’
‘Darius?’ a voice came from somewhere behind them.
The Amarant spun to see a man sitting on a wooden crate near the railing. Though he was covered in blankets, he shivered still and his hands were unsteady. The sailor eyed Darius and his two companions suspiciously.
‘You hear that, men?’ he called. ‘Darius, the Demon of the Snow himself is among us. What are you doing so close to home?’
Darius did not speak a word. He gazed at the man, and then at the ten other mariners on the boat. Most of them had become interested in the exchange and abandoned their posts. Distrust was written on their faces. If it came to it, Darius had more than enough daggers for each man.
‘You’re an Amarant these days, are you not?’ the sailor questioned. ‘Working for the Empire now, you filthy krahat?’
Guldar stepped up to Darius, but the Amarant placated the man with a single gesture. Still he spoke nothing.
The sailor’s eyes darted to the figure crumpled on the deck. ‘That’s no sick friend of yours, is it? What are you messin’ with?’ He rose and let the blankets fall around him. ‘He’s from the town burnt down jus’ a tide ago, ain’t he? You know, I’ve ‘alf a mind to accuse you of this wretched cold and all that’s gone wrong.’
‘Half a mind is probably all he’s got,’ Guldar whispered. Darius smiled.
‘You think it’s pretty funny, don’t you?’ The sailor’s tone sharpened, shifted to mocking. ‘Turncoat filth, now livin’ in the dreamy land of Anardes.’
Darius stepped closer to the man. He was a good head taller than the sailor, but the angry mariner did not back down.
‘Your title don’t mean much among your own people. It may send shivers in the boots of the Senhì and the Easterners, but here you’re jus’ another man.’
‘That is all that I am,’ Darius said as he stared down the sailor. He forced the embers to cool inside him. ‘And lower than a man, a simple killer.’
‘Ha,’ the sailor spat. ‘That’s all you Amarants are good for.’
Darius sighed and walked away.
‘Except for that Catena girl,’ the sailor added with a smirk, loud enough for all aboard to hear. ‘Lovely red hair she has. I tell you, if I knew her she wouldn’t stay Loveless for long.’ The other mariners laughed.
Darius snapped. No. That is not how one spoke of a woman. Not of her. Not of any of them. Before he knew it, the fire raged. His hands were at the sailor’s throat. With one smooth motion, the man sailed into the air and splashed into the cold sea below. A few moments later he came up out of the froth and sputtered water and curses. The boat sailed onward.
Darius drew two daggers from beneath his pelt and readied them. The other mariners were too stunned to react. The Amarant pointed them at the men and said, ‘If anyone makes a move to turn the boat around, I will cut off their hands. If anyone does anything suspicious, they will lose their feet. Get us to Sanaros Island.’
The mariners scrambled to return to their posts. Some tripped over the clutter on the deck. Darius sheathed his daggers. ‘And don’t you worry about your friend,’ he shouted, ‘he’ll swim to shore. It’s too cold this time of year for anything truly dangerous.’
Guldar came up to Darius and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Well handled, that was. Good throw, too. Could’ve been further. I would’ve flung him into the Scar itself.’
Darius threw him a look. Guldar’s confident gaze retreated. ‘Right,’ he demurred, rubbing his bald head remorsefully. ‘And I’m sorry I blew our cover.’
‘I thought we were to remain incognito,’ El’enur said. ‘What happens now?’
‘We go on as planned,’ replied Darius. ‘We meet Nadros on the island and make our way back to Fara’ethar. I suggest we avoid any more incidents.’
With the commotion dying down, Darius became aware of a sound coming from the direction of the survivor. He stepped closer and heard mumbling. Guldar and El’enur approached also and watched the man as he shuddered. He had thrown off his blankets and his scrawny form could be seen. He rocked back and forth on the deck, repeating a phrase over and over.
Darius leaned closer but could only make out ‘red hair.’
Guldar stooped down and grabbed the survivor. ‘What are you saying, man?’
‘Red hair red hair red hair,’ the traumatised man repeated. Suddenly his unfocused eyes locked onto Darius. ‘Red red red,’ he spoke again. ‘She… she had red hair. She was… she was the fire.’ His words were interrupted by fits of mad laughter and other unintelligible sounds. ‘She was the fire. He… he was the shadow.’
‘Who was?’ Darius asked. ‘What did you see?’
‘Red and black, fire and shadow,’ the man said. His hands shook more violently. ‘And there was… there was one more behind them.’ More noise. ‘There was one… eyes like red death… hair like white…’ There was a long pause. ‘He killed the singing man,’ he said clearly, as if a sudden memory had reared its head. ‘He killed the singing man.’ The survivor fell asleep and said no more.
Darius stood. He thought back to the Kerenan mission. In a land of white and winter they had found a pocket of ash and smoke. An entire town levelled and incinerated. The survivor’s words confirmed what Darius feared most. The mission was not simply fruitless. It was a failure. In spite of the precautions and the speed with which it was undertaken, the quest had fallen.
‘What do we do with him?’ inquired El’enur.
‘We keep him safe,’ Darius said. ‘He’ll be invaluable when he remembers. Amaleron will want to speak with him.’
‘Did you understand anything of what he said?’ Guldar asked.
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Darius intoned. ‘It means our enemy is a step ahead. But I don’t want to dwell on it now.’
He truly did not. He desperately searched for a way to quench the blaze inside. To quell the rage within. His soul clawed and clamoured for a thousand distractions. But as it so often happened, the climb took him nowhere. Darius slipped and fell into the fire of his past. The present was no comfort. The future held nothing that he desired to see. And the cold was threatening. It crept closer.
‘Come, let’s have a song,’ Darius said blankly. ‘Do any of you know a ballad or a sea shanty?’
‘My voice kills dogs and makes women weep, I’m afraid,’ Guldar confessed. ‘I’m not much of a singer.’ He shrugged.
‘And you mistake me for my brother,’ El’enur said. ‘He’s the poet and the bard.’
‘Off with Ledner right now, isn’t he?’ Guldar spoke. ‘I hope it ain’t freezing where they went.’
Darius let their conversation fade into grey. He stepped to the railing. The droning of the mariners’ labour was muted. The moaning of the sea was hushed. And he sang a winter song.
Like red leaves settled in the snow
A bloodstained path unfolds
Where once the two of us would go
Now one alone stands cold
Like red amidst the silent white
A bloodstained way befell
The two who danced in dagger’s bite
And one alone shall tell
The song cut him like a blade. Scars that had lain faded and buried opened afresh. He stood among the blood and the snow once more. He collapsed onto the frosty blanket again. But the fire always, always stopped him from freezing. It did that day. It did in this moment. The same memory that invited the cold also brought the pruning flames. But this is all that he deserved.
‘Why do you do this to yourself?’ he heard Guldar say.
‘What was that?’ El’enur questioned. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard our Amarant sing.’
‘A piece of the past,’ Darius said. ‘Nothing more.’ He lied. He always did.
They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Eventually the fog cleared, the warmth returned, and Sanaros Island came into view. In these waters Kerena reluctantly released its frigid hold on the weather. As the vessel approached the angular shapes of the island’s docks, Darius spotted ships bearing the Anardaëan Lion and the Kerenan Wolf in equal measures.
Sanaros formed a natural sea-locked border between Kerena and Anardes. A tiny island trapped between the seasons, it was an acknowledged no-man’s-land by the two nations. Traders of either country could make use of the isle’s many ports for business without fear of causing an incident. It was perhaps the most amicable meeting place between two lands that would be at each other’s throats anywhere else.
Such political expediency, however, had its dark side. Darius knew all too well that Sanaros was a den of robbers and mercenaries, unsavoury traders and assassins. He knew all too well the calibre of men that nested within its walls. To cleanse the island and rid it of its infestations… he had no right to say such a thing. So he overlooked it, each time adding a coal to the embers.
Darius and his companions disembarked, taking the survivor with them. When the man awoke, some semblance of sanity had returned. He could walk again, and while his words were still few, they were clearer. He would not stop thanking Darius’ companions with a ‘Bless ye, sirs!’ as they left the boat. The sailors seemed relieved to be rid of the troublemakers and they hurried away not long after the vessel had docked.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
As Darius paced the piers of Sanaros in search of Nadros’ ship, he found it strange to see sunlight again. It appeared to be only midday, and he was glad. Out on the Frozen Waters, the mist had made it difficult to track the time. But this meant they would return to Fara’ethar by sunset, all things considered. He nodded contentedly to himself. It would not do to be delayed further. Amaleron needed to know immediately.
Suddenly a voice like the evening tide accosted the group as they turned a corner into a busy portion of the docksides.
‘Hullo there, lads!’ an old man called out. He bit the words through the thick pipe held between his teeth.
Darius faced the man and smiled. The voice was familiar but the old man was unrecognisable. Amarant Nadros sat disguised with a ridiculous eyepiece, a hat of flamboyant workmanship, and a ragged leather coat far too large for his shape. Guldar and El’enur looked on bemusedly, and the survivor merely stared blankly.
‘Had to find a way to keep hidden,’ Nadros said with a cackling laugh. ‘And besides, you won’t believe how good this lens is. I can read again!’
Guldar could no longer suppress his laughter and he bellowed a guttural guffaw. ‘And I thought our cover was extravagant,’ he said as he wiped away tears.
‘Alright, alright,’ Nadros said, miffed at Guldar’s honesty.
‘I do hope you haven’t just been sitting here enjoying your gadgets,’ Darius said.
A glint appeared in Nadros’ eyes. ‘Ah, well that’s just it, lads,’ he said excitedly. ‘I heard plenty of things. It’s amazing what men talk about when they don’t realise anyone is listening.’
‘Good,’ Darius said. ‘But we won’t speak here. We also have urgent news. We need to return to Fara’ethar.’
‘Alright, no need to convince me,’ Nadros said as he rose. ‘I’ve had enough of this place. I’ll take you to the galleon.’
Nadros led the group through the twisting alleyways of Sanaros. He navigated the labyrinthine tangles of brick and branch with ease, through the green and through the grey until they reached his vessel, docked clandestinely between two cliffs. The open presence of an official military ship would stir things too much. The very people that needed to be observed would take to flight like startled birds, retreating untraceably to the underbelly of the island. Nadros’ choice of landing was impeccable for a low-key mission such as this.
Once aboard the galleon, Nadros discarded his disguises, save for the eyepiece which he claimed would still be useful later. Having donned his usual gear, the Amarant looked more like himself. The sparse greying hair, the crooked nose, the wise zircon eyes. The old man had a stately face that suited the ornate doublet he sported, embroidered with silken lions. He looked as fine a sea captain as any Darius had seen. He gave orders to the men on deck to raise anchors and depart, and led Darius and his companions to a chamber below deck. After he had seen to the survivor receiving a cabin for rest, Nadros came out with his companions’ weapons.
‘I’m sure you’ve missed these,’ he said as he brought out items one by one and placed them on the large wooden table in the centre of the room. The weapons clanged against the glass top.
‘That’s much better,’ Guldar said as he picked up his warhammer and turned it in his hands. ‘Feels like I’ve been missing a limb these past few days. Tell you what, daggers just don’t cut it.’
‘Well, in fact they do,’ El’enur said, puzzled. ‘That’s exactly what daggers do.’
‘Hush, boy,’ Guldar snapped. ‘Attend to your own flimsy weapon over there.’
‘This flimsy thing,’ El’enur said, picking up a slender bow of dark wood, ‘could put steel between your eyes faster than you’d swing that oversized household tool.’
‘Children, please,’ Nadros said with furrowed brows.
Darius stepped over to the table. Reaching beneath his fur coat, he drew out daggers and placed them on the glass. One. Then two. Then ten. A dozen daggers finally lined the surface. Nadros gave a dissatisfied grunt. Darius then lifted his own blade, a hulking greatsword, wider than a man’s palm and long as a man himself.
‘How do you even carry that thing?’ El’enur asked.
‘Well, you see, some weapons are made for men, not boys,’ Guldar sniggered. El’enur scowled but said nothing.
Darius eyed the flawless steel carefully. It seemed thirsty. The blade always was. His right hand held the black hilt firmly while his left caressed its edge. The cold blade burned with the same fire inside him. Darius set it upright, satisfied.
‘Don’t worry,’ Nadros said. ‘I’ve kept them all in good care. Now, what’s Rast’s story?’
Guldar and El’enur chucked confused glances at one another.
‘The man you brought along. You rescued the fellow, spent the last few days with him, and you haven’t even learned his name?’ Nadros threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘You young’uns should learn how to treat a man.’ The old man had done over sixty years of living, and he always let people know it.
‘He wasn’t exactly in any form to speak,’ grumbled Guldar.
‘That man is the only thing we brought back from Kerena,’ Darius said.
Nadros quietened, seemingly understanding the implications.
‘What were we expecting to find anyway?’ El’enur asked.
‘Not this,’ Darius said. ‘We hoped it would be nothing more than a rumour or the usual raid.’
‘We don’t travel all the way to Kerena on rumours and raids,’ Guldar commented. ‘There is more to it.’
‘Well, if Rast’s words are to be believed, it means the enemy is gaining the upper hand.’ Darius steeled himself before proceeding. He sifted through the wreckage in Kerena and went over Rast’s rambling words once more. ‘It means we have lost another Elder.’
The words echoed around the chamber and seemed to sink into the wood itself. El’enur stood bewildered. Guldar frowned. Nadros let out a heavy sigh. ‘Starlight preserve us.’
‘Are we going to act all maudlin on the words of an addled survivor?’ Guldar’s question broke the silence. ‘Come now.’
‘Normally, I would dismiss it as well. But what Rast said and what he’s seen… it resonates too closely with something I heard.’
‘What do you mean?’ El’enur piped up.
Darius waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Don’t worry for now. Amaleron will explain it further and clear things up, I hope. But the reference to the ‘singing man’ was clear enough.’
El’enur lowered his eyes, clearly unappeased by the answer. Yet Darius’ mind was elsewhere. Thoughts and questions roiled in his head regardless of his confidence. If Rast had truly seen them… how will she take this news?
‘So, if that’s true, are we right to assume it is the Order’s doing?’ Guldar threw in.
‘Well, here I may finally be helpful,’ Nadros said. He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve gathered significant information regarding the Order in my time on Sanaros as a… spy.’ He adjusted his eyepiece.
‘Names? Places? Purpose?’
‘Names are scarce to come by, as you can imagine, but one did pass their tongues a couple of times. Shurun’el.’ Nadros paused. ‘Apparently, he was headed north not long ago. I also heard mention of some members lurking near Kerena. But there those sources stopped being helpful.’
‘Shurun’el,’ Darius trailed. Another ember sparked to life.
‘The Order is on the move, Darius. It is active. I can only guess to their purpose.’ Frustration passed Nadros’ aging eyes. ‘Sanaros seems to be a place they frequent. But they slither like snakes. Needless to say, I never caught sight or whiff of any of their members. And once they disperse, there is no telling where they go.’
‘You’ve done well. We’ll keep a closer watch on Sanaros and mobilise once we reach Fara’ethar.’
‘But that’s not all. I have heard talk of seven. Men fear the ‘Seven’ and only mention them in half-breaths and hushed whispers. That most likely refers to their leadership, not to their full number, yet it’s something to work with.’
‘It’s something, alright. They truly think they are the new Order of Seven, do they?’ Guldar spat contemptuously. He had latched on to the historical referent immediately.
El’enur raised an eyebrow. ‘Just like at Feres... There are stories about them, right? About the elite Seven who fought alongside Ulmìr.’
‘It’s more than the stories. It confirms our suspicions that the Order is not content with petty thievery and banditry. With a claim that grand, they’re after something bigger.’
‘And it is probable that the incidents are related,’ Darius said. ‘The Kerenan attack. Shurun’el’s departure to the north. And the buzz that surrounds the Seven’s activity. If we could get our hands on one of them…’
Nadros nodded. ‘I fear this nuisance will grow into something more terrible still. The Order has plagued our operations in the past, but they seem to be growing persistent and their activities are far-reaching and nefarious. We’ll have to be vigilant. Prepare ourselves for what’s ahead. Something is afoot and we need be girded.’
‘Aye, we’ll be ready,’ Guldar said as he tightened the grip on his warhammer.
Darius agreed, but his voice rang disembodied and unsure. His mind latched onto that single name. Shurun’el. Already the flames were licking at it, attempting to devour it. Darius gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. He felt the thirst of his blade.
‘Darius? Are you feeling well?’ Nadros asked.
The Amarant realised he had been standing there, eyes closed and features scrunched for some time. He looked up. ‘Fine,’ he stammered. ‘I have not slept well this past tide,’ he said as he rubbed his face. ‘What day is it?’
The concern did not disappear from Nadros’ face. ‘How does a tracker lose his grip on the time? It is Sunsfell, friend.’
Tracker. The word seeped into him like venom.
‘Maybe you should rest. Sharpen your dulled senses.’
Without another word, Darius made a move towards the chamber’s exit, intending to head for his cabin. Perhaps sleep would distance him from the previous tide’s weariness.
‘I feel it’s best for all of us, then, that we lighten our conversation,’ Nadros said with a sigh. ‘How was the trip from Kerena?’
‘We only lost one man at sea,’ El’enur said. Darius thought he could make out a tinge of disappointment in the young man’s tone.
‘What?’ Nadros snapped incredulously. He shot a look toward Darius. ‘Ah, never mind. I don’t even want to ask.’
Darius stepped through the door and into the hall leading to the sleeping quarters. His companions’ chatter faded behind finely carven wood and the constant droning of the sea below. As he reached the entrance to his designated room, the door at the end of the hallway behind him opened and heavy footfalls approached, dampened by the lush carpet.
‘Darius, what was that all about? How long do you intend to hold it all in?’
The Amarant did not turn at first. He heard Guldar’s voice, but he wished he could ignore it. ‘I am a ghost, my friend,’ he finally said. ‘A ghost haunting my old abodes. Today I was a phantom floating through Sanaros. I was reminded of too many things…’
‘Stop damning yourself, man! You are thirty-six and yet walk with the weight of fifty years’ guilt.’
Darius faced his subordinate. No, he truly was a friend. ‘That guilt and rage is all I have. That is my fire. And I will bear it ‘til it burns out.’
‘And when will that be?’
Silence.
‘And what about El’enur? He trusts you as his commander. He should know the story of the Amarant he follows. You owe him that much.’
‘Perhaps one day he will hear it. I fear what would happen if I told the tale again while the fire lies unspent. No. It is not the time, my friend.’
Darius did not wait for Guldar’s protests. He turned again and entered his chambers. ‘Wake me when we reach Fara’ethar,’ he called.
In his room, Darius admired the interior of Nadros’ galleon. There was no comparison between it and the dingy boat which carried him from Kerena to Sanaros. Opulent wood arrayed the length of the cabin, decorated and shaped skilfully. Rich cerulean carpet blanketed the floor, and the finest furniture dotted the chamber. Extravagant decorations for a vessel of war, he thought.
Darius laid his weapon in a corner. Moving toward his sleeping arrangements, he threw off his pelt and sank into the bedding. The mattress and cushions absorbed the day’s heaviness.
He unstrapped the leather garments underneath his pelt and set them beside his bed. His fingers traced the scars that criss-crossed his bare arms and chest. A memory, each one of them. His hand felt the familiar grooves of a scar above his heart. He winced. Before the flashes leapt again, he grabbed the pillow and closed his eyes. The gentle swaying of the vessel carried him down into icy dreams...
A rumbling thud tore through the snowstorm of his slumber. A weight had landed in the depths. Darius woke, realising it was the ship’s anchor. They had arrived and docked. Shuffling footsteps could be heard through the wooden beams above him as preparations were made for mooring.
Darius reached for a lamp. With an inaudible spark, a flame leapt to life and chased shadows around the chamber. Rising from his bed, Darius rubbed the last remnants of dreamy images from his groggy eyes. He grabbed his sword, his clothing, and his pelt. As he threw on the fur cloak, there was a knock at the door. Sure enough, Guldar was announcing their arrival at the docks of Fara’ethar.
At last. Far from that place.
Darius put out the lantern and exited his room. Guldar greeted him wordlessly. The two walked on down the hallway, into the main chamber, and up the stairs leading to the deck. Fiery evening light streamed through windows in the ship’s hull and seeped through openings in the wood. Even in its dying hours, the sun held on to its fire. Neither gaping sea nor open sky could quench its raging red.
Above deck, Darius was met by a cool evening kiss. A gentle wind played with the sails and other unsecured materials before whisking off into a perfectly clear sky. The Sundered hung like a misshapen moon. In the distance, the Scar yawned in the sea, a trench caused by the rending of the rock which now floated above. Darius used to wonder how it had all happened, what supernal energy had unshackled and held an entire land aloft. But the sight was now as familiar as indistinct furniture, or a scar that one has grown accustomed to. Still, Darius took a deep breath. The weather was as he remembered. The place was as he recalled. Welcoming.
Around him, feet scurried to and fro and hands were already busy to secure the ship for disembarking. Familiar, droning sounds which mingled with the noises growing all around the shipyard. Guldar walked off to assist El’enur, who was struggling to raise an anchor. ‘Hey, boy!’ he called out. ‘Let me show you how it’s done before you hurt yourself.’
Darius would have assisted had he not noticed Rast standing idly near the bowsprit. He was staring out toward the sea, hands resting on the wooden rails. Darius remembered the urgent task he had in mind. He had to bring this man to Amaleron and inform the steward of what had transpired in Kerena. But there was another task also. He walked over to the man, who now seemed to be far calmer and composed than he had been on the trip.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ said Rast as Darius drew near. ‘Much better than the blood and the fire.’ The words came like sand from a shattered hourglass, from the mind of a man who struggled to stay sane.
‘It is,’ Darius replied. ‘I, too, have seen blood and fire.’ The other man shifted uneasily. The noise of the vessel filled the quiet.
‘You are Kerenani,’ Rast said suddenly. He sounded comforted by that fact. ‘Fire is not for us. We are cold men. Cold, cold men…’
‘Rast, I have a very important question,’ Darius said, not wishing to dwell any longer on thoughts of fire and fury. ‘Do you remember the song? Can you recall the words of the singing man?’
‘Yes. I will never forget.’
‘Good. There is someone I want you to meet. Will you tell him the singing man’s words?’
‘Yes. Yes.’
Rast finally turned from the ocean sight and faced Darius. It was as if he looked at him for the first time, but there was more clarity to the man’s eyes now. They were eyes Darius had seen before. Pained, angered eyes. His eyes…
It was time to go. Darius called for El’enur and Guldar, who were no doubt still trading verbal blows somewhere on deck. The two finished setting the anchor in place when they noticed Darius’ hailing.
‘True strength makes a man,’ Guldar said as he walked on.
‘I believe women also look for finesse and tact, qualities you would not know if they struck you blind.’
‘Ha! What do you know of women, sprout? You’ve barely left your mother’s teat.’
‘El’enur! Guldar!’ Darius’ voice cut through their argument. El’enur muttered a reply under his breath and then faced the Amarant. Darius could not stay annoyed for long. He trusted the two men in front of him with his life. Even El’enur, the fragile youth who knew so little and yet thought he could do so much, the young man who brimmed with confidence.
‘You two,’ Darius began. ‘Escort Rast to Fara’ethar and bring him to Amaleron. I will join you shortly. There is someone I must see first.’
With that, he left them on the deck to see to their task. Darius rushed off the galleon as soon as the ramp was set in place, only stopping briefly by Nadros. He apologised to the toiling old man before darting off into the busyness of Fara’ethar’s shipyard. The playful wind tugged at his pelt as he dodged sailors carrying wares and other dockyard denizens.
The docks sprawled for half a mile at the foot of the great cliff on which the castle perched. Fara’ethar loomed proudly, encircled by a mantle of darkening sky. But neither dock nor castle was Darius’ first destination. The man he needed to see resided in the military district, a complex of buildings and ranges nestled between Fara’ethar’s lower walls and the sheer cliff itself. If Ishak would be anywhere this time of day, it was there, at the beating heart of the Empire’s military might.
Darius arrived as the sun met the ocean. The confluence of fire and water sent sprays of red careening along the surface. The cliff’s face seemed to glow in the sunset. The barracks dotted the land at the bottom of the rocky formation like uneven teeth in a stony jaw.
Inside the complex, countless conscripts practiced their final manoeuvres before the day ended, while some collected swords, armour, and other equipment. The ones who noticed Darius saluted him as he walked by. He could not give them more than a passing acknowledgment, but he was glad when a group of three soldiers from his own mane confirmed Ishak was ahead.
The place smelled of steel and sweat. The musk of metal and ringing iron was in the air. Outside the battlefield itself, the barracks came closest to the taste of war. It was an Amarant’s duty to thrive on that taste, to savour it. To do the things necessary so that others do not have to. To walk the ugly path of blood and bone so the rest may step on the trail of peace.
But Darius was good at taking life. It was the only thing he knew how to do well. He was the mediator of death. And if he indulged in the honourless sport when the fire consumed him, well… what was war if not the furious clash of angry men? So if the only way to quell his rage was to unleash it, if the only way to protect was by engaging in the paradox of killing, so be it. It was miserable business, but he had brought it upon his own head. This was his way of life. And this was a place where other men prepared for that.
Darius reached the longhouse, the building at the far end of the barracks and walked inside. He stepped through a corridor lined with weapons. The dull walls were filled with swords, spears, axes, and other implements of war. The tools of the trade.
‘Your stance is wrong,’ Darius heard someone say as he passed through the steel-adorned foyer and emerged into the enclosure. The voice rang like the morning calm. Near the entry, Ishak was instructing some of the more eager soldiers in spear drills. Probably recruits looking to be enlisted into Lady Catena’s mane, judging by their amateurish composure. Ishak watched the young men through eyes of faded andesine, patient as a parent.
‘But sir,’ one of the men complained, ‘we’re doing everything as you showed us.’
‘Not everything,’ Ishak replied. ‘You have a strong thrust arm, Telen, I can see that. But there’s more to being a spearman.’ Ishak walked over to the young man and struck the back of his legs with his spear. It did not seem to be a heavy blow, but Telen collapsed.
‘Do you see?’ Ishak asked. ‘Watch your footing. We can’t have men fall over on Catena, now. Goodness, she gets enough of that already.’ The instructor offered his hand with a chuckle.
Telen blushed, whether at the demonstration of his instability or at the comment, Darius did not know, and accepted Ishak’s aid. He rose awkwardly and dusted his leather jerkin.
‘That she does,’ Darius said, stepping closer. ‘Just today I threw a man overboard for his uncouth attention.’
‘Ah, Amarant Darius,’ Ishak called as he noticed him standing there, ‘you have returned.’ Telen hurried into a more dignified position. The other recruits straightened as well.
Darius nodded. ‘I must speak with you. Urgently.’
‘Of course.’ He turned to the young men. ‘Lads, that will be all for today. Unless you want the Amarant himself to oversee your training and administer discipline.’ Telen and the others quickly gathered their gear and left the building. Fear. The swiftest form of respect.
Ishak watched the men go and then turned to Darius with a grin. ‘Might make soldiers out of them yet,’ he said.
‘You train the men well, Ishak.’
‘But it is no Kerenan upbringing, is it?’ The look on the spearman’s face spoke of both reverence and a wretched fear.
‘Ishak, I must ask a favour of you.’
‘Anything, my lord.’
‘Is Amarant Catena at Fara’ethar?’
‘No, she is still in Gohenur. My scout is not back, either.’
‘I see. We can’t wait any longer. Find her and bring her here. Please, you know where she dwells.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘I’m afraid so. The situation in Kerena was grim. And the Order is far deeper and more devious that we thought. Amaleron is being informed presently, and I expect there shall be a council convened soon to decide what to do on all this. You’ll hear all the details then.’
‘But why the urgency regarding Lady Catena?’
‘The white phantom… He has returned.’
Ishak looked taken aback. He nodded solemnly.
‘You can take my own horse,’ Darius said. ‘He’ll remain steady and true. But hurry, I fear dark days are ahead.’
‘Consider it done. I will leave immediately.’
‘Oh, and one more thing. What of Ledner’s company? Have they come back?’
Ishak shook his head and departed.