Over a tide had passed under the forest’s watchful eyes. It was easy to forget the outside world here deep, deep among the trees where the true music of the forest played and not even light was master of the day. The canopy above spread out in its cracked, crystalline patterns, as if between the foliage one were looking up at inverted rivers in the sky. Venturing further in, these shapes had closed in and overlapped, until the sun was only allowed to pierce through in spear-thin shafts.

Adélia took in the forest air as if it were her own sweet breath. She hemmed herself in the woody colours as if they were her own garments. And she heeded the furtive sounds of clear streams and clever animals in the utter silence as if her own voice were sounding out, questing for release.

Others did not seem so at ease. The army had been admitted in the tangles winding the forest’s old, old heart, into portions of the wood seldom seen by even the most inquisitive of eyes. To Adélia, it seemed as if they were traversing deeper into her own guarded heart, and though not every root-covered path was familiar, the way was known nonetheless, in the way one instinctively navigates obstacles and hardship. If anything, her own anxiety swelled over what more she would be called to unveil, what more this journey would demand. But here in the woods, enveloped in living colours and calming light, Adélia was at peace.

She could tell quite a few of the others were nervous, jumping at a creak up in the trees or a rustle on the edge of vision. As for her, she thanked the trees for their vigilant shelter. For the previous days had passed without disturbance and with no resistance to speak of beyond stubborn tree branches and moss. Their path had taken them in the vicinity of a nest of rannak once, but they were far smaller and more docile than the one which roused trouble near Taeladran, so the mane’s soldiers walked on unmolested.

And indeed, Gohenur was fulfilling its primary duty on this crossing rather well, that of keeping the mane unseen and ushering in further companies. All had gone smoothly thus far.

Of course, the felicity brought on by the forest sights was only secondary to the main task of ensuring the expedition’s success. And that meant attending to all the domestic aspects expected of an Amarant. Adélia monitored the division’s formation, with each pair or small group travelling sufficiently spaced apart so as to not crowd the trodden paths and make their passing obvious, and yet never out of eyesight or earshot of another.

Coordinating the logistics of a multi-division approach which sought to remain invisible was more difficult still. This first detachment was making its way north-eastward not far from the east bank of the Valarion, leaving a trail for the others to follow. Their going would be slowest when determining the best way forward and leaving markings for those who would be on their tail. The swiftness of their start was afforded by the scarcity of their supplies. Emergency provisions were acquired by supply-runners who would trek from the forest to nearby towns along the river. But it would be a daunting prospect to be stranded in Gohenur without resources, so Adélia’s division relied on the arrival of other companies who had left Fara’ethar later, better-stocked.

All this done under the disorienting cover of the forest.

And above all, it was incumbent to look after the needs and concerns of each soldier.

‘No room to breathe here,’ one had complained. So Amarant Adélia had him reassigned as runner to be out for fresh air.

‘Can’t even tell where we’re going,’ another grouched. So Amarant Adélia had him personally act as spotter, climbing up a tall oak to ensure they were still heading toward the cleft in the Undorn under which the Dragon’s Eye lay.

Their discontentment did not bother Adélia, who took each chance to provide a call the grumbling soldier could answer. She had found that in most cases, men responded appreciatively, carrying out their responsibility well and welcoming the relief. And she, in turn, was glad for their company and commitment in the face of the unknown.

Ishak’s division had arrived at the end of the third day, providing much-needed supplies for the nights and restocking their rations. The sub-commander’s presence also mitigated the job of keeping order. Ishak barked commands and directed the men, perhaps less graciously than she might have done, but no less effectively.

There were moments of levity also. El’enur, nimble and sure-footed, climbed trees to scope out fruit and nuts. From his lofty vantage point, he pestered passing soldiers with those edible projectiles. His aim had been true, but so had Ishak’s reprimanding words. ‘It’s a good thing Darius isn’t here, boy,’ he had said. ‘Otherwise, you’d have it right back at you.’ Both El’enur and the assaulted men laughed. For good measure, Ishak joined in, too.

Several days into the journey, in an open pocket within the unmapped twisted tangles of Gohenur, Adélia’s company rested around a roaring fire and under a close and starless cloudy sky they could almost scrape with their lances. Nights offered the chance for camaraderie mostly denied by the still distance of each day. To minimise fires, and hence signals of their presence, companies banded together for evening meals. It was around the flames that men loosened their guards and forgot their nerves, and they shared food, drink, and jests, the stuff of life itself.

Adélia patrolled the clearing, taking note of the division’s distribution and those which were yet to arrive, and keeping mental inventory of their supplies. Soldiers lounged about, some with blankets wrapped around their armour. Each was engaged in conversation or some light game. El’enur was entertaining a group with a fanciful story, no doubt. Firelight glinted off their pauldrons. The surrounding trees were slicked with the shadowy shapes of men.

But away from the simmering smells of soups and meat spits, a figure sat on his own behind a tree at the edge of the clearing.

Asphales. Asphales Esélinor, hunched over on a log, seemingly wrestling with his own dark thoughts. His blade hung loosely in his hands.

Adélia approached.

‘For once, I seem to have stumbled on to you,’ she said.

Asphales turned. His eyes, usually lambent and lively, were dim in the shadow. Brown locks hovered heavily. He raised his head and attempted a smile.

‘May I?’ she asked, gesturing to an overturned log nearby.

‘Please.’

Adélia seated herself. From behind, a thunderclap of laughter and groaning erupted. Elicited by El’enur’s concluding flourish, surely.

Asphales lifted his sword, point down, and then let it sink in the dirt. He did this again, absentmindedly. Adélia laid her spear aside and placed her hands on her lap. With the fires behind her, her shadow lengthened out into the deep dark of the forest.

‘It was in a clearing much like this that everything went wrong, on that first journey,’ Asphales began. ‘It was in a place like this that I… that I took a life.’

He leaned back, placing his head against the trunk. ‘Ah, it was simpler when I only handled fishnets and sail ropes.’

‘What was that like?’

He closed his eyes, as if his mind were swimming out far over this forest and back into the familiar. ‘I would sail north into the Silent Sea on fishing trips. The moment the docks became little spots in the distance was frightful, in the most exciting way. Out there, with nothing but the living ocean around and beneath you, I felt… free and unburdened. Then it was back home, and though each trip out was an adventure, the return was pleasant also. I imagine our towns were much alike, little harbour settlements far more bustling than their size suggested.’

‘Yes, though I only watched the ships. I have never been on one. My childhood journeys took me inland.’

‘And I suppose I only ever watched soldiers with their swords. I had never handled one myself. But here I am. Well, that was the previous cycle of my life.’

Asphales left the silence hanging a moment.

‘And now…’ He looked down again, staring at his hands.

‘I don’t have answers, Asphales,’ she said. ‘Certainly not about our nature and destiny. That path is new to both of us. But know that taking a life does not get easier. Only one of coldest blood would expect or desire that. I should think this grim aspect of our duty will forever remain a stain we necessarily take on.’

‘Darius said something like that. Doing what must be done, so that others can do what should be done.’ Asphales did not seem put at ease by that prospect.

Adélia reached out her hand to comfort him, but relented. A sudden pain seized her chest, a wave of coarse and burning sensations which threatened to extend itself. It felt much like the pain that had come upon her during her training. She drew her hand back and cursed the pirate’s nameless face.

As the pain subsided, the weight of dreams unfulfilled pressed down. All the things she had wanted—that she still wanted—taken from her. Doors closed. Paths shattered.

The only opportunity left presented itself to her: not just to protect the world, not just to fulfil duty, but to avenge the memory of her family. Was it wrong that her heart’s wishes were so interlaced with darkness? Purity and poison mingled within, but when she closed her eyes and the dying faces of her mother and father morphed into the sneering visage of the pirate lord, she found it difficult not to give in to that awful desire.

Asphales glanced up. ‘Adélia?’

She looked at him, relieved that she did not need to feign strength, and nodded. For whenever she saw Asphales, her straying thoughts were reeled in, anchored into something solid and right. Yet the cost of her vulnerability made itself known again and again.

‘Adélia, I’m sorry,’ he stammered, alarmed.

‘No, Asphales. I have no regrets about opening up to you. I knew somehow, from our first meeting, it was what I needed to do. And I am still convinced it will make us all the stronger. You know how my sights can get clouded and narrow. You keep me looking beyond it, to what we hope to achieve for our world.’

‘And you, Adélia, keep me going when I am discouraged. Thank you for your words tonight.’ He stood up, eyes aglint once more. ‘Let me know if there is anything more I can do for you.’

Adélia rose as well. ‘We only have a few more blissful nights before our goal. Come, join the rest of the company, and enjoy yourself.’

Asphales complied and let himself be brought back out to the clearing. The cloud cover had moved on, and a glimmering, waxing moon now swayed above the forest and the men still carrying on.

El’enur, now seated and enjoying a drink with some other soldiers, called out when he noticed them. ‘Where’ve you been, Asphales? Sulking out there on your own? One would think Valinos had tagged along with us!’

Adélia and Asphales seated themselves by the fire. The heat was welcome, but it failed to warm a chill that had not fully dispersed from within her.

‘I wonder how Valinos is going,’ Asphales said.

‘We’ll get through this for him, so you can see him again,’ said Adélia.

‘And hopefully there’s something of him left to see,’ joked El’enur, ‘once Darius is through with him.’ The others laughed, and Asphales shook his head.

‘Now, I hope you’ve saved some food for me,’ he said, looking around hopefully.

Asphales was not known by name or face to many of the division’s soldiers, so they took turns asking their questions and assessing him as he set to eating. Asphales seemed slightly awkward, but he took each inquiry in stride and spoke of his origin, experience, and aspirations. El’enur threw in commendations of his own, speaking louder than was perhaps necessary. The fire lit up his reddened cheeks. Such comforts would become rarer the nearer they were to the Eye.

With Asphales occupied, Adélia sat back and inspected the clearing. Men moved about from group to group, rustling the leaves at their feet. Not far away, Ishak was speaking with others, his smile clear and bright. He could have been oiling his blade, or setting down cards. He might have been demonstrating how to harness a saddle or make a clever play. It did not matter. Ishak fit in so well with the men, as if he could hang his authority like a coat at the door and join in the revelry unattached. He was a friend to many, almost a father to her. He deserved better. He deserved—

‘My lady Adélia?’ A voice. Adélia’s attention fell back to the gathering around the fire before her. She had not yet grown accustomed to hear her name on the lips of another. It was young Telen who had spoken. He, along with others, were looking at her, as if expecting something. Clearly, Asphales’ evaluation was complete and the conversation had moved on. He now had a chunk of pork in his mouth—his enjoyment no doubt delayed by the soldiers’ inquisitive onslaughts.

‘My lady,’ Telen prompted, ‘we were just sharing stories that are dear to us. Master Asphales has made it clear that the war on the Dragonking is his favourite. We were wondering what yours might be? Something from your childhood, perhaps?’

‘I’d wager it is the Tale of Lady Vildia,’ offered Nehin, an older spearman from the mane. ‘You remind us all of her.’

‘Thank you. But it is actually the Lay of Lanurel. That was always father’s… well, the one I liked best.’

Adélia distracted herself by peering at the edge of the glade. There, she caught sight of animals looking on curiously, wondering what disturbance had entered their forest. A doe was there, perked ears and keen eyes in the dark, attentive.

‘Might we hear it, from the lips of our own Amarant?’

But just then, Ishak had walked over and clapped the young soldier on the shoulder. ‘Telen, dish duty. Go join Rin and Valdar. You three eat enough for thirty.’

Telen groaned, but obeyed. And there it was. When need arose, Ishak did pick up that coat and discipline his children.

‘Another evening perhaps, Telen,’ Adélia called out after the dejected soldier.

‘A word, my lady?’ Ishak said.

Asphales hurriedly finished his morsel and pushed off the blanket that had been wrapped loosely around his legs. ‘Ishak, I will join the others with the dishes.’

Ishak threw a respectful nod his way. Asphales’ departure spurred the others around the fire to action also. Soon, even El’enur had cleared out and the Amarant was alone with her sub-commander.

‘What news?’ she asked.

‘We’ve received word via eagle from some of the other divisions. Fourth division is a day’s march behind, and fifth has entered Gohenur today.’

‘Good. We are on schedule, then.’

‘Indeed. And we are no more than four or five days out from the mountain range.’

‘We’ll slow our pace, let the other divisions catch up to us, and share supplies for the final stretch.’

‘I concur.’ A faint smile appeared on Ishak’s face. His neat beard had signs of a few days’ unkempt revolt.

‘This is why you let the men off so easy tonight.’

‘Well, those on dish duty might not think it so.’

Adélia smiled. ‘At least they will have earned their rest. And you more than most.’

‘You’re too kind, my lady. But rest we shall need for what’s ahead.’

‘Whatever that may be, starlight guide us.’

‘Regulus knows, we’ll need it. Now, I better go make sure those boys know their wash-liquid from their blade-oils.’

‘Ishak?’ she called out as the man turned to leave, his dark tabard swishing.

‘Yes, my lady?’

‘Ishak, did you ever… resent Roëthia for her choice?’

At the mention of the previous Amarant’s name, Ishak’s eyes softened further. They were etched with longing.

‘No, Carinae rest her. No.’ It was not a tone you had reason to doubt or oppose. Calm, though resonant. Honest and powerful. ‘She had been considering her choice for a while and confided her thoughts to me. I knew what she would do, and supported her wholeheartedly. I still do. We both saw what you could become.’

‘Ishak…’

‘My lady, have you been carrying this burden all these years?’ He stepped closer. ‘It breaks me to think you harboured such doubt. Know this, my lady. It is not for the old and weary to drag the youth around in their wake. No, I would rather be able to push and spur you on to greatness. This is what I want. This is what Roëthia wanted.’

‘Thank you, Ishak.’ A tear, black as soot, escaped and streaked down her face as Ishak pulled away. Adélia hoped the dark concealed it.

‘Now, good night, lady Adélia, my Amarant,’ said Ishak with an earnest smile. He stalked off after the men on duty.

Adélia wiped her cheek and readied herself to join the clean-up operation. She took one more glance around the clearing, past the concerted efforts of devoted men and women under moonlight. The forest creatures had slunk back into their secret homes.

The following days passed with less sky above the mane. Gohenur’s spiralling paths led through masses of trunk and branch, tunnels of wood, vine, and nettle. Adélia was further into Gohenur than she’d ever dreamed of going as an intrepid girl allowed in the forest by her mother, and further than she’d ever had need to as a soldier.

After a while, they could no longer follow the river, for the Valarion snaked away northward toward its source, whereas their goal lay east near the approaching stony peaks of the Undorn. Due to their distance from the river and its settlements, supply runs became fewer. But fortunately, it was not long before the other divisions joined the march.

Guldar, assisted by Nelesa, brought along more warriors and supplies collected during their journey in. Adélia was glad to see Guldar returned seemingly to full strength, suffering almost no setbacks from his recent injuries. And Nelesa, in her full combat gear, shed the reservations that usually hung around the timid scholar. El’enur had a discernible skip in his step now that she had come alongside them.

Adélia wondered what lay beyond the battle on the horizon, for her and for her friends. She wondered if she would spend time again with the other women of the castle in a rare casual moment, like at the Feast of Starlight. She wondered. Soon, the only future thoughts spared would be where the blade pointed next once its first target was felled.

A full mane, unseen and unsuspected, scattered and yet whole, now advanced toward the mountains. Their objective was to engage or rescue, as necessary, once the Order’s force was discovered. So they pushed on. Pushed through the unbreathing air as the forest seemed to enclose around them. Hand-in-hand in an unbroken line, they pushed on, over rocky tumbles and slippery streams.

Adélia knew they were drawing close when the forest thinned like the crown of old man Dronam’s head and blue skies spread above again. Further east, mornings clothed the leaves in dew and frost. And one day, a runner had come back, confirming the valley was visible just outside the forest. The order was given to scatter once more and find cover. When the moment came, a signal would be made and the soldiers could spring into action.

Until then, the waiting. The uncertainty.

One morning, Adélia strolled out to inspect the lay of the land herself. Past the forest’s outskirts, a lake glinted in the sunlight. The Dragon’s Eye. And beside it, nestled in the crook of the Undorn’s ridges like a gem in a rugged crown, the fortress. Bone-coloured and splintery, it seemed less a veritable stronghold and more a repurposed ruin. There was no sign of unnatural movement.

Still, she had learned long ago no longer to be fooled by appearances, particularly if the Order was involved.

But not all was desolate. Out here, daylight fell on patches of colour rolled out along the valley. Flowers. It seemed a long time since she had seen anything other than greens and browns, but here and there were violets and oranges, lively in the sun, their hosts thriving despite the grim, overseeing ruins. Birds even flitted about, their songs playfully sent out.

One would hardly think the threat of violence hung above this valley. But there were teeth of steel bared and hidden in the jaws of the forest and the mountains at whose feet this unsuspecting peace would be shattered.

There was a commotion ahead. If Darius had arrived, it was time.

A breeze blew between the trees. A chill wind for chilling work.

Adélia pulled her helmet down. Her breath became close, almost choked. Her vision narrowed to what could be seen between the bars of an iron visor. All other thoughts were set side.

In this, Adélia would not waver. She did not know whether acting here would go some way towards setting her aright. She could not be sure of her destination. But she knew that sitting silent, lost in the forests of her heart, was something she could do no longer. This eagerness, mixed with trepidation, propelled her forward like a loose petal into wind.

* * *

Dawn arrived with the sound of splitting wood. Before light itself awoke, work was being undertaken in the village. Here in the mountains, darkness held on a little longer, until the sun crested the peaks and shone into the cradle. So, there was no time to waste, waiting until brightness caught one unprepared. By then, it would already be time for first break.

Darius heaved, his arms burning with strength and exuding sweat. Though he was not handling a weapon of his choice, he had a target: a collection of truly hapless firewood. And in his efforts, there was the oddly satisfying rigour of monotonous process. Purpose.

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The Amarant’s thoughts tumbled along with each splintered log.

Thwack.

Kerena and the Order in league.

Thwack.

King Cerus after his head.

Thwack.

Valinos under his care.

A moment’s break to clear the chopping area and gather the fragments.

Repeat process. Repeat thoughts.

Loh’aneth, the younger of the chief’s two sons, was also splitting wood nearby. Rual’aneth, the older, was already out with the herds. Darius wondered what thoughts occupied the mind of one whose concerns were confined to a single village. Surely, that would be a blissful load.

There was peace and simplicity in this village that went beyond the plain thatched roofs, unassuming latticed windows, and the unadorned clothing. He could see it in the way the other dwellers rose and prepared for work. He noted it in their greetings and customs. There was busyness that was not rushed, and relaxation that was not laziness. This was a people open and united, set on doing what is right for the other, not for profit. So it was only appropriate that Darius do what he could as well, now that he had been shown hospitality.

The sun finally broke free of the mountain’s clutches a watch later. The snow turned golden. Darius kept chopping.

‘You work well, lowlander,’ Loh’aneth said. ‘We can break now.’

‘Thank you,’ said Darius, setting down his axe. He had made quick work of his fallen tree. ‘Don’t mistake me for a simple man from the country below. I hail from Kerena.’

‘Brother says you’re an important man of war.’

‘As important as one of such a crude profession can be. What one does for a village, those hard tasks which keep life going, that’s truly valuable.’

‘You know, he will likely ask you for sword-help. He desires to protect.’

‘A noble instinct. I’ll think about it.’

Loh’aneth led Darius from the hill on the outskirts of the village to a fenced area with a few wooden tables set up. Along the road, Darius noted two statues that had been set up just out of the way, in a shrine-like construction. They were crude representations, but he figured it was Regulus and Carinae being depicted. Not far from the shrine, some women were busy with basins in a nearby stream, washing clothes. They halted their chores as well when the men passed and engaged in conversation with one another.

Ren’arath, the chief’s daughter, emerged with a tray of baked goods as Darius reached the designated break area. The smell was crisp in the cool, morning air. She was dark-haired, like all the chief’s children, and had the same stone-hard and pale-coloured eyes. Similar to the other women around the village, her clothing was only slightly more ornamented than the men’s, with wavy lines of red stitching spattered over simple colours.

‘Thank you, Ren,’ said chief Hek’aneth, who appeared with a group of older villagers. ‘Would you take some to your brother in the field, as well?’

‘Yes, father,’ Ren said, as the chief and the other men and women took seats. She bundled a few morsels in a small burlap sack and made off toward the hill.

‘Good morning, Darius,’ Hek’aneth said. ‘I hope you are well-rested.’

‘I am. Are you sure we cannot also offer you coin for our stay, and for this fine food?’ asked Darius as he picked out a pastry.

‘What good is your payment, Imperial?’ said the chief, not unkindly. ‘Coin is simple and easy and costs nothing. But the sweat of labour is worthy. You look like us, now. You will continue to help like us. And that is all we require.’

‘And he has already been a great boon, father,’ Loh’aneth interjected.

Darius took a look at himself. Washed and dressed in the mountainfolk’s own attire, he certainly did not resemble the ragged, war-torn Amarant who had entered the village just the previous night.

‘We will be glad to do so.’

‘Where is your companion?’ the chief asked.

Darius laughed. ‘Sleeping, I surmise. I am to blame. I’ve put him through an ordeal these last few days. Him, and my horse.’ Looking around, Darius could see Masìlminur in the company of other horses under the care of the village’s stable-master. ‘Thank you for taking care of him.’

‘The boy, or the horse?’ asked the chief slyly. ‘I imagine you’ll have to make your own amends to both.’

‘That I will do.’ Darius reached for another piece of bread.

‘You did not seem surprised to happen upon us, last night.’

‘I was told beforehand to expect friendly peoples in these parts,’ Darius said, ripping off a chunk of bread and slathering on some cheese. ‘But truthfully, I have already been acquainted with a few of your folk. So your character came as no surprise.’

‘Is that so?’ the chief asked. The others around the table leaned forward.

‘A man named Guldar is my second-in-command back at Fara’ethar. And one Kelon serves under me also. Good men.’

The chief’s bushy eyebrows sprang upwards. ‘Gul’aneth?’

Darius halted with a half-eaten piece of bread in hand as the others started to chatter. ‘You know him?’

‘Gul’aneth once called this village home,’ Loh’aneth said. ‘He married my sister and made off for the lowlands. Guldar would be his name in the common dialect.’

‘My oldest daughter, Inna’arath,’ the chief said, nodding. ‘That snatcher,’ he added playfully.

Darius thought of Guldar and his family. Innareth. The children. ‘I can report she’s doing fine. They both are, in fact. They have a family. A boy and a girl. And there is no more dependable man in Anardes.’

‘That’s because he’s not from Anardes,’ Hek’aneth said. The others cheered. ‘But I am glad to hear that.’ The chief’s eyes were welling like dew-smitten leaves.

‘Inna always wished to see other parts of the world,’ Loh’aneth said. ‘And Gul’aneth was set on taking the mantle. It seemed a good fit.’

Others must have overheard the mention of Innareth and Guldar, for more villagers approached with questions and excited comments. Darius fielded the inquiries and filled in as best as he could.

‘You know,’ he said once the attention was overwhelming, ‘perhaps when this is all over, a trip is in order, and you can see Guldar and Lady Innareth for yourselves.’ There were more cheers.

‘Return, now,’ the chief said with a hearty laugh, and the congregation scattered. Loh’aneth rose and left, intending to catch up with Ren and Rual and relay these tidings. Hek’aneth turned to Darius, eyes suddenly keen and sharp. ‘Now, what do you mean to do here? One does not simply come to these parts for a holiday. What is to be ‘over’ that carries such urgency and finality?’

Before he answered, Darius was offered a drink. He declined, but the aroma told him it was coffee. Guldar’s favourite, and perhaps the very blend he enjoyed. He faced the chief. ‘Our business is dire. We intend to pass on to the Dragon’s Eye.’

Silence fell over the table. Gestures flashed, to ward off perceived misfortune, perhaps. The coffee-server nearly spilled the proffered tray.

‘What do you intend to find in such a dark place?’

‘I cannot say, honestly. Answers. There is great doom poised over our world which has only recently reared its head. Though I may not know in entirety, I want to strike while I can.’

‘The man who sets off with kindled torch in hand to find answers without a goal does not know what he shall find until it is too late.’

‘Better that. If I sit idle, I shall never know at all.’

‘We do not stay here in ignorance, master Darius. The tale of the Worldender and the folly of the Dragonking are known to us. All trouble, it seems, can be traced to that terrible act, much like all currents sweep out to the same sea. But we also know that we have no power in the face of such forces, so we protect our own.’

‘I meant no offence,’ Darius said with a deferential nod.

‘The Eye is a foul place, and no good comes from it. We are fortunate to have escaped the detection of those who go about there. But I fear the day will come when we will be called to do more than protect. Your arrival is an ill omen.’

‘I understand. This task is our own. We appreciate the kindness you have shown but will not impose on you further. But if you are willing, we will call on you at a later time, should the need arise. I hold on to hope, chief. Together, we may yet turn back the dark. Join that hope with us.’

‘You speak of the Elders’ song?’ Hek’aneth rose. ‘I will think on this, Darius. For now, enjoy our village. And your continued help is appreciated.’ The chief turned and left, joined by the others at the table. Their robes and coats, flecked by fresh snow, fluttered until they were out of sight.

Perturbed, Darius finished his piece of bread and prepared to return to work. He reflected how strange it was for himself, a Kerenani, to be on the other side of the world, asking help of these mountainfolk. But, he supposed, the time would come when origin and affiliation would not matter. Darkness had no boundaries, and neither would the answering light, if it were to rise against.

It was nearly lunchtime when Valinos crawled out of hibernation. Over a spare black doublet, he had tossed one of the mountainfolk’s snug, white-fur coats. His mismatched look was completed by a smattering of dishevelled hair. He had trudged through fresh snowfall, looking confused, and found Darius on the edge of the village.

‘Finally awake?’ Darius called out. ‘Even the cattle are up before you.’ He had returned to wood-splitting, a large pile of logs testament to his tireless effort since the morning’s break. He leaned on his axe now, huffing.

Valinos rubbed at his eyes and winced. ‘Feels like the cattle have been let loose upon my back.’

‘And that is why I thought it best not to wake you, boy.’

‘What are you building here?’ Valinos said, stepping closer.

‘A coffin for a wintry prince, perhaps?’

‘I’m tired. Not dead.’

‘Fair enough,’ Darius said, chuckling. ‘Well, I am earning my keep, for the both of us it seems.’

‘Villagers wouldn’t take our coin?’

‘No. It appears we’ll have to really labour for it.’ Darius brought down the axe, splitting the final log. ‘This task is done, but I know you are no stranger to work. If you head back to the lodge and find the chief, I’m sure there will be work for you.’

Valinos took a look back at the village. Every building, every man and woman and child, seemed untouched by conflict and strife. ‘How long will we stay here?’

‘Not very long. A day or two, perhaps. Until the cattle are off your back.’

Valinos chuckled, giving the Amarant an unpleasant look, and then spun, heading back toward the village. Darius followed him briefly, finding a wheelbarrow which he intended to fill up with the felled wood. Unsurprisingly, its owner lent it with a smile.

The rest of the day was spent moving from task to task about the town. Domestic chores in exchange for bath, meals, and lodgings was a pleasant enough system. Darius turned the wood in, and the collector was satisfied with the haul. Next, he was asked to fix a rickety fence which had failed to keep out the animals savaging a woman’s garden. The Amarant did so, and hunted a few of the critters down for pleasure. His reward was a steaming meal of rice and mushroom.

Across the road, a man needed help tarring his roof, so Darius offered his assistance. The man repaid him practically, with a new belted leather pouch for tools. Or weapons. But perhaps the most unexpected use of the Amarant’s talents came when a young couple requested a childminder so they could prepare for the evening’s activities. While it had been an age since the Amarant had devoted any effort or imagination to children, stories of his travels and hunts came in handy, holding back on some of the more unsavoury details, of course.

Throughout the day, Darius had brief run-ins with Valinos, who seemed occupied assisting the village smith. Valinos laughed at the Amarant’s lot with the children. ‘Too bad Asphales isn’t here to give you some pointers,’ he joked.

So far from the castle, in a setting so utterly unlike his regular occupation but so reminiscent of home, it did not take much effort for Darius to think of himself differently. The reminder was there. He would no longer be Amarant. And yet, he hoped that he would not simply revert to the man he had been in Kerena, but had learned something. Had become something. Something better.

When the sun had run its course and evening arrived, Darius and Valinos were invited to the village fair which had been set up through the day. There was music, meals, and dancing, a great quantity of drink, and very much laughter. For all their hard work, the villagers proved they could merry-make just as vigorously. Hek’aneth toasted the visitors and the festivities began with an explosion of cheers.

The fires were alive under starlight. Men and women stamped along to musicians’ tunes while children ran about, playing with toys and stealing morsels from unsupervised tables. The dances engulfed the majority of the open space devoted to the feast. The living wave swung in and out, pulling in more people with each tide-step. Darius was alone and out of reach, perched on a bench like a rock secure against the surf. He could see Ren’arath and her two brothers direct the dance, and even the old chief was clapping along from the sidelines.

‘Still not your kind of thing?’ A voice from behind. Valinos.

‘I could lay the same accusation toward you.’

Valinos took a seat beside the Amarant. Neither spoke for a while. Just below them, the sweeping movement of people was spellbinding. The music of flutes and lyre fought the evening chill. Valinos pulled his cloak tighter.

‘You know,’ Valinos said, ‘I didn’t have time to fully process this in the bustle of the previous days, but I don’t think I appreciate a second attempt on my life in the span of a moonturn. I wish more folk were like these good people.’

‘You get used to it.’

Valinos groaned. ‘I know you probably don’t want to speak. You’ve got your face of broody reflection on. But, well… I’m reminded that we don’t have long left in this pleasant place, and we don’t know what’s ahead.’

It was true. It was easy to forget the gruelling task looming ahead. And the Dragon’s Eye would be more than a simple assignment. For Darius, the chance for lifelong ashes and kindling to finally be settled. And then… what?

‘Have you given thought to what you’ll do after all this?’

‘After? What’s the point of thinking about what may never come?’

‘Damn your secrecy, Darius,’ Valinos blurted out. ‘We’re miles from home and there’s no one else around to be embarrassed about. And besides, you owe me, after the discomfort you put me through. I just… I just want to know; what do you think you’ll do? I know you don’t speak of your past, so I won’t dredge that up. But surely you have a mind about your own future.’

The boy’s earnestness surprised him. Darius sighed. ‘After my Amarantship… honestly, if I end up as a quartermaster or trainer, that would be a kind fate.’

‘Would you ever settle down, in a place like this, perhaps?’

Darius shot the young man a look. He was certainly testy with his questions tonight.

‘What would there be for me in such a place?’

Valinos shrugged. ‘Ren is pretty nice,’ he offered after a moment of silence.

Darius chuckled. ‘I see. No, I don’t think so.’ The chief’s daughter was still dancing below, life and joy in her eyes and movements, spilling out and enriching those around her.

He had sworn off that sort of commitment years ago. Scarred within and without, undeserving all the way through. His hands were not meant to hold anything living and his heart was not meant for that kind of flame.

‘What about you, boy?’

Valinos sprang to his feet. ‘It’s my turn to be mysterious.’ He wandered off, disappearing into the mass of merry people. Golden snowflakes fell in the blinding lights.

The next day, Darius awoke with nimble limbs and a clear heard, which is more than what could be said for those who had danced a little too long or drank a little too much. At first light, he sought out Rual’aneth. The young man was helping some others pack away the previous night’s fixtures. The Amarant took him aside and spent some time on bladework, giving him pointers on handling a weapon. This would be a gift of his own to the community which had so readily welcomed two strangers.

Rual proved an eager student and a quick learner, his natural strength showing the beginnings of refinement after a couple of hours’ training. Darius’ tempered his workout with words, lessons learned far too late in life for him. He hoped that Rual would be as receptive in the matter of wisdom, even if the Amarant would not be around to see it confirmed.

When breaktime came around, he shared a drink with Rual at the same table from the previous day. Their weapons from the morning’s session, two simple blades borrowed from the smithy, lay next to them. This time, Valinos was out of bed at a reasonable time and present for the first break as well.

‘How did I do?’ Rual asked, before sipping an aromatic brew. His long hair, rich as his father’s but with more colour in it, sheened with sweat.

‘I would have you in my mane, if it were up to me,’ Darius said.

Rual’aneth beamed at the compliment, then cocked his head. ‘But it is not up to you?’

‘Not since he was dismissed from the job,’ Valinos cut in.

Rual’s mouth dropped.

‘Ignore my companion,’ said Darius. ‘He’s fuming I did not extend him the same invitation.’

Rual laughed. ‘Lowlanders are strange. You attack each other with words, even when there is no battle.’

‘There’s a warning in there for you, young man,’ said the Amarant. ‘Fight well. But beware of what this strength may do to you.’

The chief’s son nodded and took another sip of his drink.

‘Now, we had best be leaving,’ Darius said.

Valinos scrambled, as if he would be whisked off this very moment and he would lose access to the village and his drink. He gave the Amarant a dejected look.

‘Everyone will wish to see you off,’ Rual’aneth said. ‘Must you be in a hurry?’

‘Must you indeed?’ a voice boomed. For the second time, Hek’aneth appeared unannounced.

Darius rose. He looked around at the chief, his son, and the other villagers who had gathered. ‘We are thankful for everything you have done for us. But we need to keep moving. Our business is urgent and there are many who rely on us. Valinos, go get your belongings.’

Valinos stood up reluctantly and headed in the direction of the main lodge he had been admitted to on the first night.

‘Darius,’ the chief began, ‘may starlight shine upon your road. We cannot be involved at this time. But if the hope you have found holds true, the Mu’adur will lend you aid. Call on us later, and we will give what we can spare. If nothing else, at least we shall offer you a place of refuge. And it needs not be said, but we cannot send you off empty-handed.’ There was true joy sculpted in his sunken features.

The chief signalled to a villager, who approached the Amarant with a sack. Hek’aneth’s steely eyes fought off any opposition Darius may have voiced, so he accepted it and nodded in gratitude. A second man emerged from the stables with Masìlminur. He handed the reins to the Amarant, looking to be relieved of the somewhat unruly creature. Darius noted that Masìlminur’s packs were looking fuller than they had on their arrival.

When Valinos returned, Darius collected his gear, prepared beforehand. Blackfrost’s familiar weight settled on his back and reminded him of the burden he carried. More goodbyes were said as Amarant and apprentice headed back up the sloped path towards the mountain ridges. Looking back, they saw Ren’arath and Loh’aneth had joined the throng and were waving. Then, in unison, the villagers put up their fists to their forehead, holding the gesture until they were out of sight. And so, with generous helpings of food in hand, plentiful supplies in their pack, and the villager’s dances and cheers still echoing in mind, they departed. With heavy heart and step departed from warmth and welcome into sure but unknown hostilities.

Outside the hamlet, even the weather was less friendly. They travelled for a few more days of biting headwind and snowy haze, following the rocky spine of the mountains. Conversation was sparse, it being difficult enough to merely keep their eyes shielded from the wind and focused on the road. With no outlet for this thoughts, the chief’s words about a man’s worth remained lodged in Darius’ head. With each step, he wondered if what would happen at the Eye would sully or secure the person he was.

The fire burns. Will it sear you also?

Nights were simply a darker shade of haze. They took shelter where they could and enjoyed what mealtimes were afforded by breaks in the journey. The valley and its villagers were still with them in the ingredients’ smells. It already seemed too long ago that Darius felt he did not need to move, to push, to strive. Too long ago, too far away, lost somewhere out there in the hurricane.

‘How much longer, do you think?’ Valinos asked during a moment’s pause around a fire in a cave.

‘Tomorrow, we should reach the other side of these peaks. There our goal lies.’

Valinos stared into the flames, his meal forgotten for the moment.

‘If we both want to get out of this alive,’ Darius said, ‘you do exactly as I tell you, when we’re there.’

‘Does this mean I have to wear the hood again?’

‘Yes. And once we’re in their sights… we will need to show restraint.’

Valinos gave him a look.

The Amarant shifted. ‘Not one of my strengths, admittedly.’

‘I can do that.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ve already demonstrated it.’

‘Oh?’

‘Back in the village. I could have forced you into a dance. But I thought better of it.’

‘If you had, the next day you would not have had a head left to think with.’

Valinos snorted. ‘Then how would you have presented me to the Order?’

‘The same way I presented their last member.’

Valinos froze. ‘Point taken,’ he said, and finished off his meal before turning over for rest.

Darius put out the fire and settled into his own blankets. In the dark and quiet, his thoughts turned to Valinos. What awaited this youth in battle and blood? Eventually, the Amarant fell into uneasy sleep. He dreamt Blackfrost was hacking away at some target, only to find the blade had been chipping at his own flesh. And when he looked, it was Valinos holding the weapon, wrathful and terrible as a mountain with only ruin at his feet.

Sure enough, tomorrow came with new sights to behold. After a few hours’ hike, the worst of the grey mountain scenery appeared to have been behind them. Darius led the party towards a green valley, painted as it were in living hues. They began a descent, traversing scree with care. The kinder weather made navigating the precipitous paths simpler, but no less precarious. They skirted around ravines which fell away into mist, and came out to flatter stretches of land. In the distance, Gohenur’s extremities were visible. The outermost expanse of trees hugged a glistening lake, far too serene for its sinister name. The Dragon’s Eye.

And there was the Order’s fortress, its brough nestled in the mountain’s bones. Its light-coloured, limestone walls were yellowed by age and decay and claimed by vines and briars at their base. Towers like broken teeth were set around the structure, dotted with narrow windows and topped with crenelations.

A mile out from the valley, Darius figured any sentries could spot his approach, so he reverted to having Valinos tied and hooded. With a last look at the sun and a last piece of instruction, he slung the poor boy over Masìlminur’s flank.

Darius began the slow march toward the fortress. As he approached, he looked for indication of Fara’ethar’s presence. He supposed it was a good sign that he could not easily see any. A distant bird overhead circling the gentle slopes might have been a messenger eagle. He hoped their timing would be fortuitous.

It was too peaceful. Too quiet.

Then an arrow landed, not five feet away from him. Darius halted his horse, and hopped off. He bent down. The arrowhead was embedded in the soil, but a note was tied along the shaft. He unrolled it and read.

Welcome, worthy Darius.

R.

Darius looked up, squinting against the sun. There was no sign of the archer. A weak breeze tugged at the trees. He steeled himself and went on. Each footfall pounded like a drum, and his heart seemed intent on picking up the pace. He shot a glance toward the forest, hoping, for once, that he was watched.

The fortress came into view properly, standing tall behind the trees. A visible road was there now, of old brick mingled in the grass. Darius took it, headed square for the structure’s entrance.

He passed patches of flowers, less than a hundred yards from the entrance, and still no sign of anyone. His heart threatened to speed up. Every buzzing bee, every warbling bird, seemed noisome and loud. Masìlminur’s reins were heavy.

The road widened and became a smooth cobblestone courtyard, splayed out before a barred wooden gate. The arches were of the same aged limestone as the walls, and nearly succumbed to the advance of vine and moss. Scattered around the courtyard were statues, bronze and no less dilapidated than the walls. There were no banners, nothing to show the fortress was anything other than a neglected ruin.

‘Stop right there,’ a voice said from somewhere.

Darius stopped. He was standing in the centre of the courtyard. He flicked his eyes from statue to statue. Their dead eyes seemed focused on him, their weapons poised to strike.

‘I’m sure you know why I’m here,’ Darius called out. ‘Show yourself!’

‘The dragon does not take commands from the wolf.’ Raspy. Eery. Too familiar. It seemed like the statues were speaking.

‘Without this wolf, the dragon shall never wake. I say again, show yourself!’

With a loud clang, the gate began to swing open. Birds flitted away. Masìlminur did not shrink back. Darius’ gaze lowered from the towers’ heights to the entrance. From behind the door, six figures stepped forth. They walked out and formed a crescent formation in front of Darius. Three men. Three women.

‘Hello, Darius,’ one of them said.

The Order of Seven, shorn of a member. Two he knew well. The other four were mere rumours and ghosts, now made flesh before his eyes. Rarely did one catch sight of a single member. Rarer still to see them all together. How fortunate.

The first was the one who had spoken. Remeriel he was called. He stood now in the middle of the group, enveloped in a blue cape and dark, leathery attire. His eyes, red as blood, fixed Darius with a deathly stare. For the first time in a long, long while, Darius felt a stab of true fear. Remeriel wore his half-mask and his hands were gloved. His dreadful scythe, engraved with some outlandish markings, was held at the ready.

The second, to Remeriel’s left, was a man Darius wished he would never again see. Shurun’el, now grown in stature and surely in pride, stood casual and imperious. He peered at Darius with one eye. The right side of his face was curiously scarred and hidden behind curls of chestnut hair. Ledner’s handiwork, Darius realised. This disfigurement did not seem to mar the man’s arrogant appearance, and he lay one confident hand on the edge of a scabbard. It carried a curved, single-edged cutlass. Fitting one who thought highly of himself, Shurun’el’s weapon and his cloak were golden.

The third man was unknown to Darius, and even as he stood among them, he felt apart from the rest. Clean-shaven and neat-faced, yet with unkempt dark hair, he looked on disinterestedly with nearly colourless eyes. His cloak, his trousers, his vest; all black. As if he were a fragment of night even when all else was day. Among his dark livery, Darius picked out two dagger-sized sheaths along his belt. Subtle weapons for one who, it was clear, wished to stay hidden.

The fourth was the youngest of them all, by appearances. It surprised and dismayed Darius to see her, seeming a mere child, stand among killers. She was swathed in a crimson cape, almost engulfing her slender frame. Her face was youthful and smooth, but bore signs of sadness. Her wood-brown eyes took in Darius as if he were no more than an object. Waves of sanguine-coloured hair fell beneath her cowl. In her hands was a curious blade, bearing a snaking, silver handle and notches along its length.

The fifth had already judged him with hungry, sapphire eyes by the time Darius noticed her. She was tall, and the only one among them not sporting a cloak of some kind. She seemed to prefer mobility, wearing boots, breeches, and a shirt with no trailing parts. For all this practicality, her jet-black hair appeared styled, showing its richness in the breeze. Unlike the shadowy man, it was obvious this woman wished to be noticed, and she wore her ornate rapier openly and proudly.

The sixth, a woman with her sword and shield already primed, was staring at Darius with burning intensity. She was trembling, not out fear, no. Her sunstone eyes looked at Darius as though recognising him, or at least something he had done. Darius’ gaze wandered over to Shurun’el, and then back to this woman. Yes, siblings. And perhaps connected in some way to…

The seventh. Well, the seventh was no longer here.

Darius looked at them all, and when none offered to speak further, he walked over behind Masìlminur. He lay his hand on Valinos’ hood and pulled it off roughly. On cue, the gagged Valinos looked around in terror and mumbled, struggling against his restraints. Darius turned to the Order. His eyes were fiery, daring.

‘You are truly wild, Darius,’ said Remeriel, taking a step forward. ‘You murder a political prisoner and then run back to the Order which nursed you. With such a delectable prize, no less. What brings you back?’

Back? No, I would never turn back to you.

‘The other side is not all it seemed to be. And I could tell when my abilities were not appreciated and my talents wasted.’

Shurun’el sniffed. ‘And what about that old fool and his plans?’

The fire flared. It wished to consume. Amaleron’s hope will burn bright and bring you down in your ignorance.

‘Hopeless. He wastes away in idleness. I wish to step out and act. I offer you this, a treasure you have thus far failed to acquire.’

Shurun’el scowled, but Darius could tell from the look on the others’ faces that Valinos was desirable to them, indeed. For what dark purpose, he could only guess.

‘It’s been a long time, brothers and sisters,’ Remeriel said, speaking up, ‘since we have all been together. For this man to bring us together like this, I think that is a worthy credential.’

The woman on the end drew her sword and rushed forward, raising it towards Darius.

‘Sanah’ël! Enough.’

The woman halted. Darius’ hand was already on Blackfrost’s hilt.

‘You do not speak for the Seven,’ she hissed towards Remeriel.

‘Six, may I remind you. We need this man.’

It was apparent she bristled at this instruction and complied reluctantly. She lowered her weapon and stepped back, her movements taut with rage, like a scorpion asked to put away its stinger.

‘Darius, you come to us as a penitent warrior of adamantine tenacity. Your offering is acceptable. We could use you. Will you kneel?’

One day I shall kneel on your broken corpse.

Darius knelt.

The Order’s members huddled closer.

‘You are Dariel.’

That is a stupid name.

‘Speak your oath, Dariel.’

I vow to bring you down with fire and ash.

‘I vow to serve the Order and its purposes.’

‘Rise, Dariel.’

Amarant Darius rose, feeling sickened. And something was not right. The others looked on now as if Darius were a fool or court jester at the end of a performance.

Remeriel laughed suddenly. ‘Now, what are we to do about the army at your back?’