First of Frostmaire

Syndra had never seen such a gathering before, despite the events of the past few months. She laid her bow against a tree and joined the others at the fire as the sky began to grow dark. It was coincidence that placed her beside the Aliri general, Faelin. The commander of the Svaletan forces, a general named Rilata, sat across the fire from them. Davos and Belkai were to Syndra’s right, and they were joined by Loranna and a heavily bandaged Lithmae. The surviving mage leaders were seated nearby, bloodied and exhausted. The pure power represented by those gathered was shocking to Syndra, who was much more used to being around deer and wolves. Still, their shared experience of the day’s warfare gave a relaxed atmosphere as they sought comfort in each other’s company. As she sat down, Loranna was telling of Lithmae’s feats while ignoring his attempts to stop her.

“So he throws me to the side and turns to see the serpent rushing at him. He leaps to the side and jams his sword into its eye as it tries to get him. With his free hand he takes his knife and begins just hacking away as it tries to shake him off.”

“I don’t remember it being quite so heroic,” Lithmae said, wincing as he shifted. “All I did was keep it distracted until one of the Correlate mages showed up.”

“That was me.” A young mage awkwardly waved his hand. “It was already weakened when I got there.”

“Then I owe you a debt.” Lithmae bowed his head and smiled. Syndra glanced over as Faelin stood and cleared her throat. She wasn’t wearing her armour, instead clothed in a dark skirt and white top. The fire seemed to reflect in her eyes as she raised her wine.

“Honour to Belkai, Lord of this Forest,” she announced. All went silent and raised their own drinks. “It is an honour to stand by the one who defies the gods.”

Her smile broadened. “And to stand by the one who made Falkar flee like a startled rabbit.”

Syndra joined the cheer that arose, and wasn’t surprised to see Belkai shake her head despite her smile. She rose and bowed to Faelin.

“The honour is mine, Faelin,” Belkai said, “now that you have both saved my life, and my people. We welcome the aid of the Aliri, and of Svaleta.”

The Svaletan General, Rilata, stood and raised his cup. “Svaleta will always stand by her friends.”

Belkai waved for the generals to sit, then looked at the faces gathered before her. Syndra got the sense that she was reading their emotions.

“We gather as weary friends,” Belkai called out. “We have fought together, bled together, lost brothers and sisters together. We did not start this war, but we have joined as one to end it.

“Falkar is wounded but not defeated. He is speaking with Delorax even now, preparing for their next stage. But we will not let them rest. Wexburg already marches on Nimura from the west. Faelin, Rilata, I ask you to strike from the north. I do not ask you to crush the dwarves, just keep them out of my Forest. I will join the Brilhardem and Ikari in Lustria. We will drive back Delorax’s plans in the east, and we will end this fight.”

A cheer rose, but Lasiri slowly stood. She waited until they fell silent, then spoke. “The Watchers will ride with you, Belkai. But what will we truly accomplish out there?”

“This is a war beyond anything we have seen before,” Belkai answered. “But we must meet Delorax’s armies wherever they rise, and drive them out out of every stronghold that they gain.”

“To what end?” Lasiri asked. The corners of Belkai’s mouth turned up in a grim smile.

“We force Delorax to intervene himself. And when he expects to destroy us, he will know Elkur’s wrath for breaching his bounds.”

“That is risky,” Lasiri warned.

“There is no victory without risk,” Belkai told her, and she nodded appreciatively. “Delorax fears us, and every defeat lessens his support amongst the Arcane. We can – we will – win this.”

“Whatever it takes,” Lasiri promised, then sat back down. Syndra looked around, surprised to see the agreement on all of the gathered faces. They had been through hell already, and they were ready for more. Surely such courage couldn’t be defeated. She sat back and drained her wine. Tonight, she would celebrate. Tomorrow she would march to war.

***

Dawn would come too early for Davos. He woke before the first rays of light showed themselves, breathing deeply the cold morning air that wafted in the open flap of their tent. Belkai slept quietly beside him, dressed only in her undergarments, kept warm by a woollen blanket given them by an Aliri soldier. Davos ran a hand down her back, resting it on her thigh. She shifted, pressing herself against him, but didn’t wake. The fight had taken a lot out of her, despite her apparent confidence the night before. He still couldn’t believe what he had seen. Ashelath had been one thing; the fool had become physical to seize Narandir, playing to his former slave’s strength. But Falkar...

Davos remembered the first time that he had met Belkai. He had sought a killer, someone who had in a matter of days killed a smuggler and an entire bandit party. What he found was a beautiful woman by a stream. Their first conversation had been an interrogation after she trapped him with her magic. He’d known then that she was powerful. He hadn’t expected to fall in love with her, nor for her to want him. She had come so far. She was no longer anyone’s slave. She had changed, though. In one sense, Davos wasn’t sure who she was anymore. It wasn’t that she was distant or that her love had at all changed, but this war with Delorax had darkened her soul, poisoning her in a way that Ashelath could never have achieved.

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He sighed and softly kissed her hair. She deserved better than life had given her. Still, he was grateful that he had gotten the chance to love her. That seemed to make most things worth the pain, if only he could save her from the growing darkness inside her, the coldness that too much death was always guaranteed to bring. She deserved a shot at peace.

Belkai stirred, rolling slightly so that his lips brushed her cheek. She smiled, her eyes still closed, and slowly ran a hand down his arm. Her fingers rested on his hand as he squeezed her thigh.

“Thinking of me?” she whispered. He kissed her soft skin and looked around. They were alone, their tent separated from any others by a good few yards. There seemed to be a genuine fear of the woman who had brought an Arcane to his knees. No one had seen such power before, relegating it to the stuff of legends.

“Always,” he answered, and she turned her head and tilted it up. He brought his lips to hers and lingered there, his hand drifting between her thighs and caressing the soft flesh within. Belkai’s breath was ragged against his face as she squeezed her legs, holding his hand tight between them before finally releasing him and breaking off the kisses.

“What’s wrong?” Davos asked, and pulled his hand away. To his surprise, Belkai took hold of it and moved it back to her leg. She rolled onto her back and put a hand on his chest. Her smile was sad despite the tenderness of the moment.

“I know your thoughts as if they were my own,” she whispered, and her fingers absentmindedly played with his chest hair. “You’re right to fear.”

“I am not afraid,” he said, and Belkai rolled her eyes at the lie. Still, he pressed on. “What I saw yesterday…Falkar did not stand a chance against you.”

“Falkar allowed me to win.”

Davos frowned, and it took a few seconds for him to gather his thoughts. “But what you said last night-”

Belkai’s smile faded. “These people are going to war against the gods, Davos. They need hope. But Falkar simply wanted to test me. Right now he is telling Delorax everything that he learned about my abilities. I had to hold back, but he still had no intention of landing a killing blow.”

“Could he? Kill you, I mean?”

Belkai shrugged, and ran her hand up to his neck. “I don’t know. I could have killed him, I’m certain of that.”

She closed her eyes and took an unsteady breath. When she opened her eyes, they were moist with tears. “But you’re right, my love. I have seen too much death. It follows me everywhere I go. I might be the Ascendant, destined to free us from Delorax, but I fear that the price will be far too high.”

“You are no bringer of death,” Davos told her, and smiled as he kissed her forehead. He drew back and cupped her cheek in his hand. “You have always been a light in this dark world. You give us hope, even when all seems lost. When I was in that desert, I never doubted for a second that you would come for me. I waited every day to see you walk through that doorway. When you did, you were broken and bloodied and exhausted. But you were like an angel coming for my salvation. You gave me life. You gave Narandir freedom. And you will be the light of this whole continent. No Arcane can take that away.”

Davos wiped away her tears with his thumb. “No matter what comes, you have my heart. And I will drag you home from whatever hell Delorax may devise for you. This life is yours, Belkai. And I will always be here to remind you of that.”

She nodded weakly, and ran a hand through his hair. “You are a man of legends, Davos. The lover that women dream of.”

“Yours are the only dreams that matter to me,” he whispered. “And you are the only woman for me.”

“I imagine you say that to all the girls,” she murmured as she kissed his neck. His hands ran up to her breast and she let out a soft moan.

“Only to those who can read my mind.”

He felt her legs rub against his, and she looked up at him with hunger in her eyes. “I said I know your thoughts, Davos. So show me.”

So he showed her what he thought, and it was a good way to start a march to war.

***

They set out two hours after dawn. Belkai and Davos led them out on a pair of white stallions, closely followed by the surviving Watchers. The Correlate mages had chosen to stay in Narandir to aid the wounded, as did the few surviving Spellcasters. Belkai had been surprised to meet the Herders marching with Faelin, but had allowed them to stay with the Aliri forces. Their knowledge of nature would be sorely needed when fighting an enemy that could move below the ground. Bolstering Belkai’s force were two dozen Brilhardem who had arrived that night led by Daria. Syndra and fifty other elves made up the rear of the column. It wasn’t a big force, Belkai knew, but it would be a powerful one, and Delorax would not be able to ignore the threat that they presented.

The fervour of the previous night was tempered by the knowledge that they had several long days’ ride ahead of them. When they did arrive, they would no doubt be thrust into the thick of battle. For Daria, there was no thought of future glory or honour. She had tasted battle at the Citadel, and any childish notions of the nobility of warfare had been shattered along with the bodies of her comrades. She hid her fear, though, as she rode amongst those trained to sense emotion, and ignored the stares of the Watchers as she rode past them to come alongside Belkai.

“It is good to see you, Daria,” the older mage said as she came close. She turned her head and smiled. “You just finished your silent year?”

Daria blushed, surprised that Belkai recognised her. “That’s right. I have yet to make my Pilgrimage, though.”

Belkai studied her for a moment but didn’t break her stride. “You fought at the Citadel.”

“I did,” Daria confirmed. “We lost too many there. We weren’t ready for what we faced.”

“You were ready,” Belkai assured her. “Some enemies will take a toll no matter how strong you are.”

She gave a shrug. “I think you’ll find that Brimur will accept your survival as meeting the requirements. You are Brilhardem in my eyes, at least.”

“I’m honoured,” Daria said softly. To her surprise, Belkai laughed.

“Honoured?” Belkai scoffed, and Daria didn’t miss the look that Davos shot his wife. “I am no different from you, Daria, except for the fate that led me here.”

Daria looked back at the other Brilhardem, taking a deep breath before answering. “You were always Brimur’s favourite, Belkai. We all knew that there was something different about you.”

“Surely you mean her humility and good humour,” Davos said with a smirk. Daria let herself laugh for the first time since the battle at the Citadel. It felt good. Belkai rolled her eyes at them both.

“Perhaps, Daria, you can teach my husband some manners where I have failed,” Belkai said. Davos faked shock at her statement and protested his innocence.

“I am just a poor scout, Milady,” he said with a grin. “Forgive me.”

The sound of their laughter filled the air as they marched towards an ever-darkening horizon.