When dawn was but a blush on the eastern horizon, Kevlin and the others had already returned to their saddles, following Tanathos’ tracks east. Their breath hung about them in silver clouds, and saddles creaked loud in the cold. They followed the narrow, winding trail at a fast trot.

After the sun crept above the horizon, Ceren drew her horse beside Kevlin’s. The trail was a little wider, but they were still forced to ride knee to knee.

“Good morning,” she said with a dazzling smile.

She had managed to bathe, and her olive skin glowed warm in the early morning sunlight. Her auburn hair was woven into a complex knot that spilled down in front of one shoulder, glistening with oils that highlighted its vibrant color.

She’d laundered her clothes and wore her original riding outfit. How she had contrived to look like they’d just left a comfortable inn instead of having slept another night in the forest he could not imagine.

Riding beside the scrubbed and radiant woman, he felt like an unwashed barbarian in his travel-stained garments, unshaven face, and borrowed chainmail. The wind blew toward them from the east, so at least she couldn’t smell him.

Without saying a word, she had managed to reinforce their respective social positions. Not encouraging.

She spoke above the clatter of the trotting horses. “Kevlin, I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting. Will you forgive me?”

She sat her horse with perfect posture, every inch the lady. Kevlin was intrigued. That opening turned his expectations for the conversation on their head.

“Uh, sure. Nothing to forgive.”

“Thank you.” She gave him another smile and placed a hand lightly on his forearm.

She was trying way too hard. Whatever she wanted from him, it had to be big. He probably wouldn’t like it.

He wished she’d just get over her insecurities about being Cunning and do the job. That would earn the respect she wanted better than anything.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Ceren continued.

“Really?”

He hadn’t expected her to be the kind of person who stayed up nights imagining creative tortures for people who upset her. He tried to think what he might have done to set her off lately.

“Yes.” She slid her hand slowly off his arm. “You are in a unique position, tied by blood to two powerful noble families.”

“Oh.” He gave up trying to anticipate where this twisted conversation was about to go.

“What do you know of your new families?”

“I knew Jerrik’s brother. He’s commander of the first Donarri legion, and a good man.”

“Did you know that Jerrik’s father is lord of Yochanan, one of the richest holdings in Donarr?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What of Drystan’s family? Did you know his father is lord of the Chandana, one of the most powerful tribes on the plains?”

“I didn’t.”

“And his father-in-law is the Einarri ambassador, holding a seat on the ruling council.”

“I didn’t know that either.”

At least when he visited, there would be good food.

“Think about it. You’ll be moving in different circles now, and new opportunities are within your grasp.” When he said nothing, she leaned closer. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

She spurred her horse forward to ride alongside Gabral. “Thank you for the soaps and oils, Colonel.”

Gabral ran a hand through his own freshly oiled hair. “I use only the best. From Freyarr, as I’m sure you noticed.”

“I felt almost like I was back home in my father’s palace.” She glanced at Kevlin as she spoke.

It was too early in the morning for riddles, and he had always hated deciphering court intrigue. As a legion commander, he’d gotten a taste of it and preferred the honesty of a military campaign. He still had no idea what Ceren wanted.

Leander urged his horse up beside him. “The questions of youth I do not miss,” the old man said with a twinkle in his eye. “But don’t worry, my young friend, you will sort things out.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all, my boy.”

“When we were fighting those makrasha at the fort, you looked really angry.” Leander’s face fell and Kevlin finished lamely, “I was just wondering why.”

Leander rode in silence for a moment, staring straight ahead. "That was an old anger you glimpsed, rekindled by the presence of the Hands of Death."

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His voice trailed off, and for several minutes he said nothing while Kevlin waited. When he began again, his tone was so soft that even riding beside him, Kevlin had to strain to hear.

"The origin of that anger has roots in a war against the Grakonians almost a hundred years ago. My wife and young daughter were killed in a raid."

"I’m very sorry."

"Thank you," Leander said with a sad smile. "I was a young sentinel and had been away fighting. We were victorious and had driven the enemy out of that part of the land, but a small force slipped past and destroyed our village."

Leander, a sentinel? That was all kinds of interesting. He held his questions, not wanting to risk Leander lapsing into silence again.

"They killed everyone. All were brutally tortured and murdered. All of them. Every building destroyed, every animal butchered.”

Ancient suffering shone in Leander's eyes. What a burden to carry for so long.

"Who was responsible?" Kevlin asked, not wanting to know more, but unable to keep from asking.

"It was a company of the Hands of Death, but I never found out who led them." Leander grimaced. "I went quite literally mad with grief, my friend. I can look back and recognize it. The desire, the need for revenge, burned so hot that I am still amazed I wasn’t consumed by it. I sought vengeance with terrible determination. Alone I tracked the force that murdered my family. I caught up with them just as they reached the borderlands.

"I destroyed them all."

He spoke with a cold finality matched by a look as frightening as anything he had said. It held the coldness of death, the same expression on Leander’s face as they fought the Hands of Death the day before. Kevlin began to understand what had motivated the old stalwart.

He reminded himself never to anger Leander.

“I learned that a small group had left the company the day before, and that among the group was the individual responsible for the carnage. All I could learn of them was one word: Abaval"

"Abaval? Is that a name?"

"I don't know. At first I was convinced it was, but I have never been able to confirm it."

"I followed them until they joined a larger Grakonian force engaged in battle with the Tamerlane armies. I joined the fray with a crazed abandon that turned the tide in favor of the empire. I take some small comfort in that, at least. But my family was not avenged, and I pursued that vengeance with single-minded purpose.”

He sighed. “I could not be reasoned with, but roamed the borderlands, attacking all enemy forces I encountered. For a full year I fought them. I have no idea how many I killed, but I fear it was thousands, for the uncontrolled wrath of a sentinel in the grip of madness is a terrible thing."

Kevlin struggled to reconcile the crazed sentinel Leander described with the pleasant, kindly old stalwart he knew. Maybe he should give the old man more room on the trail.

"Over time I grew reckless. One day, I came upon a small company and unleashed my magic upon them. But I had ranged far closer to settled country than I realized, and attacked a group of refugees trying to reach safe haven.”

Clenching his hands on the saddle horn, he continued in a whisper. "As I looked upon the destruction I had wrought, at the terror and pain of those who had survived, I realized that I had gone too far. That was when I saw the child. Lying beside her murdered mother was a terribly injured little girl.”

Tears shone in his eyes, and his voice cracked. "She looked so much like my own daughter, the sight nearly stopped my heart. It was the one thing that could penetrate my madness. I fell to my knees beside her and realized that in my mindless hunger for revenge, my actions had become those of my enemy. With innocent blood on my hands, I was equally guilty."

Kevlin reached out and squeezed Leander's shoulder. He had thought he had guilt issues. The old man seemed to shrink in on himself. He looked at Kevlin, his pain seemed nearly unbearable.

"I tried to save her,” Leander said. “I bent all of my will, all of my magic, all of my terrible power into saving that one little child, but I could not. I had focused so long on destruction that I had no gift for healing. All of my powers were useless for saving her. I held her in my arms and watched her die."

He sighed. "She watched me try to save her, watched with the pure innocence and love of a child. She did not blame me for what I had done, she did not hate me. . . She forgave me. That moment is burned in my soul forever. She touched my tears with her little hand, and smiled at me before she died.”

For a long moment, he could not continue, but rode staring blankly ahead, lost in the horrors of his past. Kevlin rode silently beside him, trying to imagine how he’d handle killing a child. He didn’t think he could have lived with himself.

Finally, Leander sat up tall in the saddle. His eyes cleared and he took a deep breath. "I very nearly killed myself there, holding that little girl in my arms, but I could not do it. That would have been the final act of cowardice. I could not dishonor her memory and the memories of my wife and child by running from the price I would have to pay for my actions."

"What did you do?"

Leander nodded toward Harafin. "A good friend and mentor guided me through that terrible time and helped me ground myself once more. I travelled a difficult road, but eventually regained a level of control. I still felt a burning desire for vengeance, for justice to be done, but at the same time I felt an overwhelming need to heal rather than destroy. My failure to heal that little girl still haunts me to this day."

Leander smiled. “Harafin introduced me to a stalwart, the head of the Pallians. Suddenly I knew what I had to do, for the Pallians are dedicated to the very two things I wished to devote the rest of my life to: bringing justice to those who deserve it, and mercy to those who need it."

“So you joined the Pallians?” Kevlin asked.

"With Harafin's assistance, I was eventually accepted into their order. On the day I took the vows, I renounced my sentinel powers. They had been used so long for destruction that I feared I could not control them were I to unleash that power again. The only exception was my hammer, but that's a story for another day. Since then I have focused on purifying myself and acquiring the gift of healing. I have known some success in my new life."

"A lot of success, I’d say."

"Thank you. I traveled a long road to where I met you on the streets of Baldev. On the way, I feel I have done some good. I hope to have many more years to serve and heal, for I have found a measure of peace, which is something I thought I would never feel again."

Kevlin hesitated to ask any more questions. He hadn’t expected such an outpouring of deep, emotional history from Leander. He liked the old man, but they didn’t exactly know each other that well.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Kevlin asked.

“I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” Leander said.

“It’s not that. It’s just. . ."

Leander regarded Kevlin for a moment, his expression serious. “I shared my story with you because I believe you face a difficult choice in the days ahead. Let my story serve as a warning and a guiding light.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Kevlin said. He did, but he didn’t understand the lesson. He didn’t have a family to avenge. All he had to do was get a rock back to an old man.

Leander interrupted his musing, gesturing toward Harafin. "Speaking of our old friend, let me tell you of the time when he talked some of the first year Accepted into sneaking out at night. . ."

With that, he launched into a hilarious tale of a misadventure he and Harafin had experienced together. Leander's booming mirth at the end of the story seemed to wash away the horror of his memories.

At least for a time.