Fifteenth of Harvest
Belkai woke to find herself laying across Davos, her head resting on his bare chest. His arm was stretched down her back to her thigh, and she stayed motionless for a few minutes listening to his steady breathing. She knew that he was falling in love with her, but she didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to let herself feel the same, but she was numb. It had been a long time since she had felt true joy, though thanks to the man tucked in against her, the last few days had been the closest that she had come in many years.
It had begun three years before. Her insatiable desire for knowledge had led her to the forbidden areas of the Order’s library, where they stored ancient and dangerous texts. There she had read of the darker realms, where the nightmares and fears that plagued mortals found their home. The whispers had started then, giving promises of pleasure beyond compare, of understanding beyond what the Order could offer her. In the dark of the night, this Daughter of the Wind had surrendered to the most insistent of the whispers, the one that seemed to understand her best. ‘Ashelath’, he had called himself. At first Belkai had been filled with wonder. Each night he would visit her and as she listened longingly, he would share with her secrets from all the realms under the sun. It had been intoxicating, but over time her heart had faded. Her desire for knowledge soon became a desperate craving. The gaining of knowledge no longer gave her pleasure, but only left her needing more. She had never known the feeling of love, though she had chased it when the opportunities arose. Ashelath’s whispers had grown darker, his words piercing. She learned to call him the Tormentor, and he seemed to enjoy her fear. Where the whispers led now filled her heart with horror. And then he had made his only request: find the Recluse. Learn his secrets, and share them with Ashelath.
"Why do you need a mortal’s aid?” she had asked. He had not given an answer, only saying that the Recluse was hidden to his view. She had no choice – Brimur had also ordered her to investigate the Forest. Following two masters, she had set out on her journey.
As she felt Davos’ body shift against her, a single tear fell from Belkai’s eye, landing in her hair spread across his chest. For all the darkness that he must have sensed in her, still he was falling in love. How could that be? Was there some glimmer of light that still had a chance of breaking out? Somehow that concept felt too far out of her reach. Until now, all that she had felt was a dead coldness. The warmth that had begun to grow in her was as foreign as the surface of the moon.
Belkai pushed the thoughts aside, determined not to waste her morning in philosophy. Love or no love, there were many things that she still enjoyed. She reached below the blanket and stroked his chest as she turned her head to kiss him on the neck.
“Morning, lover,” she whispered between kisses. He stirred, giving a tired smile before running a hand through her hair. He stopped as he felt a small scar on the back of her neck.
“How’d you get that?” he asked quietly. With her face on his chest, he couldn’t see the darkness that briefly flashed through her eyes.
“The Order hired orcs to teach us to fight,” she lied. Ashelath left his mark on all of his slaves. “Things got rough.”
“Did you win?”
She smiled and kissed his chest.
“Always.”
“I imagine you would,” he said before pressing his lips to hers. “You’re a fighter.”
“I’m a few other things as well,” she said with an impish grin as her hands drifted lower. Davos let his hands do their own talking as their bodies locked together.
* * *
Loranna and Roulson were waiting outside when Belkai and Davos left the inn. Belkai had taken the time to clean herself up, wrapping her hair in a ponytail and dressing in her pants and leather shirt. Loranna saw the look in Belkai’s eye and hid a grin.
“Two more days to Narandir,” she said, giving Davos a knowing look. “Unless you two keep sleeping in.”
“It was nice to have a real bed,” Belkai replied. “We won’t have another for many a night.”
“The beds help. With a few things,” Loranna agreed, and received her reward when Belkai blushed. “Let’s get moving.”
The sun was rising as they left Hirton, bidding farewell to the last civilisation that they would see before entering Narandir. For most of them, it was a melancholy feeling. For Belkai, the next few days held only fear. Whatever hope she had felt that morning with Davos quickly faded as she considered her task. Ashelath would not let her rest, not this close to the end. Darkness waited for her, regardless of the outcome.
Loranna let Roulson and Belkai pull ahead and fell into step beside Davos.
“Have a good night?” she whispered.
“The bed was quite comfortable,” he allowed. Loranna laughed.
“You were never a good liar,” she told him. “Why do you think people trust you?”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I am happy for you, Davos. I truly am. You deserve your happiness.”
“Thank you.” He meant it, Loranna knew, but he wouldn’t want to dwell on it. He had always tried to be a closed book to those around him, even those who knew him best. Maybe his love for Belkai would start to break down those walls.
“You know that there is nothing between us and Narandir but grassland. There is nowhere to find shelter,” she said. “Nothing reliable, at least.”
“This is the path that Belkai requested,” he told her. “A direct line, no variation. I think that her quest makes her nervous, especially this close to the Forest. She wants it over.”
“For a woman so strong, she has a lot of fear,” Loranna agreed. “Something haunts her.”
"Gods willing, I will find what it is,” Davos said quietly, and Loranna didn’t respond. Some things weren’t meant to be discovered. Loranna had a feeling that he would not like what he found, should that wish be fulfilled.
As Loranna had predicted, they travelled through free-growing grassland. They crossed narrow streams, and used as landmarks massive boulders that looked as if they had been placed by giants in ancient years long forgotten. To Belkai’s surprise, they began finding the occasional wooden cabin standing in isolation in the green sea. Loranna explained that these fields were often used by wandering herdsmen to feed their sheep and cattle. The cabins had been built as temporary shelters; any who wished could use them.
“And you said that there was nowhere to find shelter,” Davos quipped.
“At this time of year, they are bound to be occupied by nightfall,” Loranna shot back. “They are not much of an option. I do recall using the word ‘reliable’.”
The sun had passed its peak and had begun its descent when Belkai brought the group to a halt within sight of a distant cabin. Smoke rose from the chimney, but Belkai’s attention wasn’t on the building. Ignoring her companions’ confused looks, she called out,
“Reveal yourselves!”
Out of the grass rose a tall, light-skinned man wearing a green robe. He smiled thinly and yelled,
“I come in peace. I was asked to identify the band of travellers coming our way. There are a lot of strangers around nowadays.”
“Who are you?” Davos asked, hand on his sword. He was wary of what Belkai had said the previous night. It was not Svaletans that she feared, and this man was no Svaletan.
“He is a Watcher,” Belkai answered for him. “A mage out of Lustria. They are not unexpected.”
“Brilhardem,” the man responded, sounding surprised. “You are a long way from the Ikari Dominion.”
“These are strange times,” Belkai agreed. “You met a priestess three nights ago at a crossroads, did you not?”
“A young girl, new to the outside world. She was a friend,” the Watcher acknowledged. Belkai relaxed a little and nodded.
“Lower your guard,” she told the others. “These are the ones that Sashai greeted.”
“You know Sashai?” the man asked, his face blank despite the surprise in his voice.
Belkai nodded. “She was sent to meet us. The Prophetess smiles on our journey.”
“In that case, you are welcome to shelter with us,” the man said. “We have made camp in the cabin.”
Belkai followed him immediately, but Davos hesitated for a moment. You have to trust someone, he told himself. Still on his guard, he led the others as they followed the man over a nearby rise.
“What is a Watcher?” Davos asked. The term was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he may have heard it.
“We observe the times,” the man answered, not looking back. “Your Kingdom is in peril. Our call is to ensure there is no... outside intervention.”
“He means Arcane intervention,” Belkai explained, receiving a nod from the other mage. “They want to ensure that there is no spiritual dimension to everything that is going on. They can’t detect actual spirits themselves, but they know the signs of their coming and going. And they tend to end such intervention with extreme force.”
Over the rise sat the grazier’s cabin that they had spotted earlier. It was sturdily built with thick logs, constructed to withstand the harsh winters. Smoke still wafted from a short chimney in one corner.
“Come, come inside,” the man said as he opened the door. “There are five of us.”
Belkai led the group inside as the Watcher waved them past. His compatriots, dressed the same as he was, rose from their places around a table. The man motioned for them to sit back down, then turned to the newcomers.
“My name is Weylon. I lead this band.” He introduced the others, two men and three women.
“How do you stop outside intervention?” Loranna asked as they sat on some bedrolls lined up on the floor. The cabin hadn’t been designed for more than a handful of visitors at a time, so it felt crowded quite quickly. None of them seemed to be bothered.
“They are conjurers,” Belkai answered.
Weylon nodded. “We use the Arcane’s own weapons against them.”
One of the Watchers, a blonde-haired woman in her thirties that had been introduced as Agatha, waved her hand and a doubled-bladed dagger appeared in her grasp, radiating a golden glow. The companions were transfixed on the weapon. Belkai studied the woman, searching for hostility, but sensed only pride in her abilities. As well she should, Belkai thought. It was no mean feat to summon Arcane weaponry. Agatha flicked her wrist and the dagger disappeared.
“Agatha is quite the lethal specimen,” Weylon laughed. “I have seen her kill trolls with as much ease as tearing a slice of bread.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some of those,” Loranna confessed. Agatha smiled as she looked her up and down. The two shared a look of mutual respect.
“You look like you could handle them,” Agatha said. “But it takes years of training to walk that path. Not to mention some inborn talent.”
“I just thought that I would ask,” Loranna murmured, and the Watcher smiled.
“Your weapons kill the Arcane?” Roulson asked. “That isn’t possible.”
Weylon let out another hearty laugh, and Davos frowned. “No, friend. We kill those who serve them. They rarely intervene without using a vassal. They have very strict restraints about direct intervention.”
Belkai watched him carefully as he spoke. He gave no indication that he had seen her own darkness. Well, perhaps the tales aren’t as true as I’d thought. Stories told that they were unparalleled in their ability to spot Arcane influence in an instant. Apparently Ashelath was an exception.
For his part, Davos was questioning their honesty. They were far too open with random travellers for a group of killers. He decided that he would not sleep that night. Something didn’t seem right, though he couldn’t quite place a finger on what that might be.
“For tonight, you are welcome to join us,” Weylon said. “Our supplies are limited, but the fire is warm.”
Davos still felt uneasy, but he followed the others’ lead and accepted the offer. It was better than facing the night in the open plains, so long as they remained peaceful. He still heeded Belkai’s warning.
* * *
Siara left the palace lost in thought. According to the conference that she had just sat through, the Aliri had begun to lay siege to Larton. She had promised to send healers to give relief to the wounded from Farhad’s attempts to break the elves’ stranglehold, but that seemed like an empty gesture. Siara craved a way to end the war without further bloodshed, but she knew enough about the world to know that once the battles started it was too late to go back. War was always an ever-escalating flood of violence.
So lost in thought was she that at first she didn’t even notice Sashai kneeling in her chambers when she arrived. The Prophetess entered the room quietly cursing the fools who had begun the war, then froze when she saw the young woman before her.
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“Sashai. If anyone asks, you heard nothing.” She waited for Sashai to agree, then told her to stand up. “You found the Lowborn.”
“And his companions, right where you predicted,” Sashai confirmed. “A mercenary, a mage, and a peasant.”
“A peasant?” Siara said in surprise. “He was hidden from my sight. How interesting. But no matter. Tell me of this mage.”
“She is young, maybe twenty-five. From Wexburg, perhaps? Her skin is light, but I could not place what nation birthed her. She is beautiful, though.”
Siara smiled. “And how did Davos act around her?”
“He was cautious,” Sashai reported. “He admired her but was wary as well. She seemed more distant, less emotional towards him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him but she simply wasn’t on the same level as he was.”
“She is the one that his heart seeks,” Siara said. “How he acts on his heart will shape our futures. It is strange indeed to allow our fates to hang on the choices of a scout.”
She ordered Sashai to make some tea, then asked about the journey. Sashai proceeded to give every detail, but Siara cut her off when she mentioned the mages from Lustria.
“What did they look like? How many were there?”
Sashai was silent as she handed Siara her tea. She didn’t speak until the memory was clear in her mind. Siara would not care for mistakes. “They were tall, fair. From Lustria, for certain. Their leader, Weylon, was very handsome. They wore green cloaks.”
“Did they give the name of their Order?”
“No.” Sashai shook her head. “But when they talked amongst themselves, they spoke of the Arcane. They kept saying ‘Ashelath’. They did not know that I heard them.”
“Ashelath,” Siara breathed. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as the sunrise,” Sashai replied, frowning. “Why?”
Siara sighed. “Ashelath is an ancient name, from a forgotten time and tongue. The Tormentor. The Deceiver. An ancient evil that is shunned even by the Arcane. If he is involved, then we face dark days indeed.”
She set down her tea. “Sashai, you met Watchers from Lustria. They guard against the dark Arcane and their interventions in our world. If they are here, if they are to cross paths with Davos...I fear that that ancient creature is behind much that we face. Davos is in far greater danger than we could have imagined.”
Sashai frowned. “There are many dark Arcane. What sets Ashelath apart? Why was he forgotten?”
“The Arcane are bound by their laws and mandates,” Siara told her. “Though they fight, they understand and respect their boundaries. One of those is limiting their intrusions on our plane.”
“But not Ashelath.”
Siara nodded. “They say that he led a rebellion, an attempt to put himself in power over the other Arcane. He failed, but they couldn’t destroy him. Instead he had to be banished, restricted to an ancient holding ground. I don’t know if the stories are true, but they seem to be in character with all the other tales.”
“So what does it mean for him to be involved in everything that is going on?”
“I cannot answer that,” Siara admitted. “But if they face the one who attempted to kill the Arcane, then they face a danger beyond any mortal’s comprehension. How this mage is involved, I don’t know. But it may prove to be her undoing if Davos is not careful.”
* * *
As night began to fall, Weylon sent Agatha to get more water from a nearby stream. Davos told Roulson to go with her to make sure there were no problems. This close to Narandir, he was not taking any chances, and he didn’t trust these new mages enough to let one wander unguarded while his companions slept. The two of them walked in silence until they were out of sight of the cabin, then Agatha said,
“It is good that Davos sent you. You need to listen carefully to what I say.” Her eyes never shifted from the path ahead of her, and Roulson’s heart raced as he listened. “Of all the companions you are the most uncertain. That is good. There is hope that you will listen. You venture south, to Narandir, do you not?”
“We do,” Roulson replied quietly, too surprised to hide the truth.
“I do not know what Belkai has said to you, but you are in great danger,” Agatha warned. “She carries a blackness within her, though I do not recognise it. Whatever she seeks in the Forest, it will bring only suffering to your land. There is something evil about her.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Agatha stopped, seized him by the hands, and looked him dead in the eye. “She must die, Roulson. Before her darkness consumes us all.”
* * *
When the pair returned, Agatha’s robe was askew, her hair messed up. Roulson’s clothes were even muddier than they had already been, and he avoided everyone’s gaze as he sat in a distant corner. Agatha didn’t seem to mind, giving Weylon the briefest of glances as she straightened her clothes before sitting. Belkai sensed Roulson’s unease and kept silent. She didn’t approve, but she hadn’t acted much differently in King’s Crossing. Everyone had their own stress response. Agatha sat down and casually began fixing her hair. Weylon watched her for a moment, his expression dark, then turned to Davos.
“As a scout, you must have some interesting stories from the Hold,” he said. Davos shrugged, then gave into the temptation and began to recount some of his favourite pursuits. He weaved tales of violence and humour, and it seemed that everyone was bound to what he was saying. Belkai sat back and listened, drinking in every word and watching him lose himself in the joy of his storytelling. It was a side of him that she hadn’t seen before, and she found herself drawn to it. His laugh was infectious, and he was finally showing a joy that had seemed strangely missing in the days that she had known him.
He will burn, the Tormentor whispered, and Belkai’s face stayed unchanged as she fought to keep him silent. As the days passed, he was growing more relentless in his demands. Soon he would try to take control. She needed to find a defence before it got that far. She needed some level of control when she reached Narandir.
In time the others began to prepare for sleep, and Belkai stepped outside to find herself a place of privacy. She followed Agatha and Roulson’s footprints, frowning when she saw that they led away towards the stream without interruption. They walked straight there and back, she realised. Roulson’s unease must have been related to something that Agatha had told him. But why the disguise? Had they sensed Ashelath? As she stood there, she took a shaky breath and allowed herself to be taken to Ashelath’s domain.
“You will be silent, damn you,” she growled before he could speak. “I sit amongst your enemies and you nearly show your face.”
“Enemies?” Ashelath scoffed. “With a word they would be ash. You do not understand who you are dealing with.”
“And do you?” Belkai whispered. “I am a Daughter of the Wind, wielder of the power of the Creator.”
“You are nothing!” Ashelath shouted, and Belkai fell to the black ground screaming as pain flooded her body. “You were a pathetic worm of a girl when you came to me, begging for secrets that no mortal could speak. You sold your soul for a craving that will destroy you.”
His hot breath flooded Belkai’s face as she curled up into a ball, tears streaming down her face despite her desperate attempts to stay strong. “You are nothing, Belkai. Just a slug surrendered to the darkness.”
“I will find a way to end this,” Belkai swore, but the demon simply laughed, a horrid squeal to her ears. He seemed to lean in close to her huddled form.
“No, wretch,” he whispered. “This is your eternity.”
* * *
Belkai gasped for air as her eyes flew open. She fell to her hands and knees, struggling to catch her breath. She forced her heart to slow, steadied her breathing, and buried her hands in the grass to assure herself that she was back on solid ground. Green grass, soft, cold from the wind. The focus broke the panic and brought her mind back. Only when she rose did she become aware of the figures gathered around her in the growing darkness. There were six of them, all standing in a circle around her, hands hanging loosely by their sides.
“Who are you really, Belkai?” Weylon whispered, taking a step forward. His hands were empty, but that meant little. She had no reason to doubt his skills at conjuration. “What stirs in your heart?”
“What are you talking about?” Belkai asked, rising to her feet. Her hands hung near her hips, ready to grab her daggers, but she did her best to appear relaxed.
“You seek darkness in the Forest,” Agatha spoke from behind her. Belkai kept her eyes locked on Weylon. That was one of the enduring lessons of the Ikari: always find the strongest, and never let them out of your sight. Agatha may have been bold, but Weylon had the authority. That made all the difference. “What is your goal?”
“My purposes are my own, and I have no need to share them,” Belkai said with steel in her voice. “My path is given by others.”
“By Ashelath.”
Belkai glared at the Watcher who had spoken the darkness’ name, but did not speak a word.
“That is answer enough,” Weylon said quietly. “Your fear can only come from one place. The innocent do not even know that name, not for many ages.”
Belkai’s hands now rested on her daggers, her fingers slowly stroking the hilts. “What do you want from me?”
“The darkness of Ashelath must be quenched wherever it is found. The Arcane demand it and our charter swears it,” Weylon announced. “With no mercy, his messengers must be purged.”
In his hand appeared an axe, glowing red, appearing as if it were made of fire. Belkai kept watching his eyes. They would give all the warning that she needed about his next move. The growing darkness was pierced by red light as swords and axes appeared in the hands of the Watchers. Belkai drew her daggers and bent her knees.
“I am begging you not to do this,” she whispered. “No blood has to be shed. I have done nothing to you.”
“A lie!” someone screamed, and leaped forward before Belkai could seize control of him. She spun, parried his axe, and brought her other dagger around, only to slice open air as he jumped out of the way. There was no moment to breathe as the others sprang forward, taking advantage of the opportunity created by the man’s rashness. Belkai had no chance to focus her mind and had to rely on her physical strength alone.
She ducked under an axe, brought her arm around, and slashed through a Watcher’s thigh. He screamed as he collapsed towards the ground, and his throat ripped itself open along the blade of Belkai’s dagger. She stood, blocked a sword, and was about to counterattack when Weylon kicked out her legs from under her. Someone’s axe sliced through the air, ripping her shirt along the stomach but just missing her skin. Belkai slammed into the ground, then rolled out of the way of Weylon’s axe. She threw a dagger, catching a Watcher in the eye, and grabbed his sword as his body dropped to the earth. The conjured weapon felt like a thousand fires in her hand, and she let it fall as it faded out of existence. She swore as the other four Watchers advanced. There was no time to retrieve her second dagger, and she threw herself forward, seizing a woman by the throat and driving her to the ground. She jammed the dagger through the side of her skull, then pulled it out and rolled away before Weylon’s axe carved through the Watcher’s chest, right where Belkai had been.
She sprang to her feet, bracing to face an attack from Agatha. But the Watcher spun around, readying herself to face a new attacker, only to be decapitated by Davos as he leapt out of the darkness.
“Damn you, scout!” Weylon growled. He and the other Watcher stood side by side as Belkai and Davos advanced. Suddenly Belkai stopped, held out a hand to stop Davos, and said,
“This is your last chance. Walk away.”
“I swore an oath to the light,” Weylon yelled. “I will not break it.”
“So be it,” Belkai whispered. She closed her eyes as the Watchers sprang forward. She felt Davos parry a blow and ignored him as she focused on Weylon. She felt his rage, felt his heart pounding, felt the fury ripple through his muscles. She opened her eyes and screamed as she reached out and crushed his skull like it was soggy parchment. Blood exploded through the air as he dropped to the earth beside the final Watcher, his chest a bloody mess where Davos had stabbed him through.
“What the hell was all that about?” Davos yelled, turning back to Belkai. She had no answer as she fell to her knees and sobbed. Compassion overcame anger as Davos sat beside her and put his arm over her shoulder. He pulled her close to him, surprised when she let her body press into him and went limp in his arms.
“I didn’t want to kill them. I swear I didn’t,” she gasped between sobs.
“I know,” Davos whispered, and kissed her forehead. He felt her trembling in his arms, and squeezed her tight. “I know you didn’t.”
But you liked it, didn’t you? The Tormentor whispered. You liked that your boyfriend saw the real you. The savage you.
“No!” Belkai yelled, and leapt to her feet. She caught her breath, and looked at Davos as he slowly stood, confusion written on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.”
She held up a hand as he stepped closer, and he stopped, bewilderment plastered on his face.
“What is going on, Belkai?” he asked quietly, cautiously. She buried her face in her hands and shook her head. He raised his voice slightly but kept it gentle. “Belkai, I need to know. I just killed for you. I need to know what is going on.”
“I am not who you think I am, alright?” She clenched her fists over her face, her knuckles turning white.
“Who is Ashelath?” he asked, taking a step forward.
“Do not speak his name!” she hissed, and he froze at the fury in her voice. Belkai’s hands dropped away from her face, and her eyes were red from her tears. “I made a mistake, Davos. I gave myself to an evil that you cannot comprehend. All for a knowledge that I wish I could forget. Gods, I wish I could forget.”
“He taught you to kill,” Davos said. She could have laughed at the ignorance in that statement, but how could he have known the truth? Poor Davos, so lost in the innocence that Svaleta forced upon its children. How could he have known the truth of the world around him?
“No.” Belkai shook her head. “The Order taught me that. He simply…refined it, you could say. Took away my inhibitions.”
Inhibitions? Belkai involuntarily shuddered at her own words. Was it Ashelath who had done that? When Saxon sensed her darkness, when he questioned her nightly mediations, had Ashelath prompted her response? Did I plant the knife in his throat? Did I collapse the cliff beneath him? The voice whispered. Did I kill the Watchers? No, Belkai had to admit, it was her own hand that had taken those lives. To protect her secret. To keep herself alive, safe, and secure. Was it worth it? Was she worth it?
For his part, Davos remembered what the Prophetess’ letter had said: This mage has a darkness around her, but she was not always this way. I sense an innocence lost but a peace waiting to be released. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, he walked over to Belkai and took her hands in his own. When she looked up at him, he kissed her forehead.
“We will find a way to release you from this curse,” he promised. “I don’t know how, but we will find it.”
He meant it, she knew, as ignorant as his words may have been. His love was real, though hers was but an echo.
“There is a way,” Belkai told him, but he could see the pain in her eyes. His stomach churned as she spoke. “He seeks the knowledge of the Recluse. I fear that he incited the Aliri to invade so that he could enter the Forest unnoticed. He wants that power for himself. But I think that the Recluse also holds the answer to his defeat.”
“How?”
“I have to do what the demon asked,” Belkai said. “I have to complete his task, find the Recluse’s knowledge, and somehow turn it against him.”
She hated herself for not telling Davos the whole truth, but he wasn’t ready for it. No, in his innocence he could not fathom what was still to come. Perhaps it was better that way.
“What is going on?” Loranna called out, and Belkai cursed. Roulson was close behind, but he froze when he saw the bodies.
“They tried to kill Belkai,” Davos answered. Belkai let go of his hands and pushed past Roulson to return to the cabin. “They were a rival Order, or something like that. Gods know what drives the acts of mages.”
“They regret that now,” Loranna said numbly. Davos grunted.
“Help me bury them,” he said. “We don’t want animals attracting attention.”
Roulson couldn’t move as he stared at Agatha’s severed head laying at his feet. He remembered what she had told him. She must die, Roulson. Before her darkness consumes us all. Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Was he left now to fulfil her doomed mission?
Roulson forced himself to move, to help Loranna and Davos bury the dead. He knew now why the gods had let him escape the border. He knew his purpose, and this time he would not fail them.
* * *
When she entered the cabin, Belkai stripped off her ruined shirt and threw it onto the fire. She checked her stomach, a final confirmation that she was unhurt. That cursed creature had protected her, she knew. She should not have survived that fight; the Watchers were skilled fighters beyond her abilities. She closed her eyes and swore as her heart raced, then searched the Watchers’ packs until she found Agatha’s. She pulled out a light blue shirt, made of a soft fabric. It felt like silk on her skin and was close enough to her size to be a comfortable fit, albeit slightly tight. Fresh clothes - that was at least one benefit to come from the encounter. In two more days they would enter Narandir. There all their fates would be decided, for better or for worse. With luck, there she would be able to kill Ashelath once and for all. Either that, or her slavery would be sealed for eternity. For all his noble dignity, Davos couldn’t save her from her fate. Some things couldn’t be decided by mortals.
Belkai’s fate had been sealed long before she had set foot in Svaleta, or even Lustria for that matter. For three long years she had kept her communion with Ashelath a secret. He showed her things, mysteries that filled her with wonder and drew her ever closer to his grasp. She had been desperate for his presence, for what glories he would show her. Most of those around her saw it as more evidence of her desire to learn, but the older and wiser recognised something darker. She suspected that was why Brimur had sent her to Narandir, to keep those suspicions from growing any further. He had always had a soft spot for her. For his part, Saxon had not been so wise. He’d felt her pain during her meditations and had confronted her while they were still in the Misty Veil. They had fought, argued, and he finally gave up and walked away to survey the path ahead. Belkai had made sure that he would never take another step. At that moment, she’d known that she would always belong to Ashelath. The Order no longer had any hold over her. Her allegiance had been sealed with blood. Belkai had no choice but to obey.
No, Davos did not hold the key to her salvation. If she were to be freed from Ashelath, only she could accomplish it.