“Tell me of the world, Anastasia,” Harin said.

Harin wiped at his forehead, the sweat collecting in the hot desert sun. They’d marched for days without contact from the other nations Legions of the Council. Harin had insulated himself, knowing that at any time another assassin could come for him.

They both sat atop their horses, the slow walk through the desert requiring many breaks for the steeds unaccustomed to the heat.

Anastasia pulled back her scarf, having taken to using a full face cover in the style of the locals. “I’m told father left Landor, and that is the last he has been heard from. However, a report from Skellen Pass suggests that their scouts have seen men massing to the south of the Pass,”

“You have people in the Pass?” Harin asked.

“I think it is father, or The Dragon Legion,” Anastasia shrugged.

Harin looked out over his legions. They’d been marching for weeks now. They’d passed small villages, some small water ways. But this far into the desert, only nomads and the horde would venture. None would sustain themselves. His men were tired, but marched on, building sand camps each night, mounds of sand thrown up in walls, camping under the moon so conserve energy.

“You know, some of the old books tell us of a vast forest here. One that stretched from north to south. As wide as the western kingdoms are,”

Harin laughed. “They are but fables, it has only been desert here sister,”

Anastasia scolded. “You think that what is before us is all that has been. But history, it can teach us that the world changes around us, more than we know,”

Harin waved her off. “What else of father, has he sent word?”

Anastasia wrinkled her nose. “What do your spies tell you?”

“They tell me they do not know. The world is closed off from them. Father was in Landor, a priest of knowledge confirmed it. He was in a place that only Grandfather had been. A secret place in the library that the old man would not allow them to see,”

“The Sunborn Archive,” Anastasi said, her voice low.

“What is it? Why did father leave The Dragon Legion for such a thing?”

Anastasia didn’t answer, her eyes following the marching men.

Harin followed her gaze, then, found Brago among the soldiers. He was laughing and smiling with his fellow Praetorians. “You care for him, sister?”

Anastasia smiled. “I cannot explain it,”

“Does father know?” Harin asked.

Anastasia’s cheeks turned the same color red at Brago’s. “He - he thought we should wait to tell father. He knew how it would look,”

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“He knew he risked his position in the Praetorian,” Harin said.

“No!” Anastasia saint loudly.

Harin smirked.

“No, he was worried for me, not the Legions or Praetorian, he knew it would drive a stake between us,”

Anastasia looked to Harin with a question in her eyes.

“Never sister, never. We lost Fabien, we lost mother, I will not loose you too. If you tell me that you love him, if you tell me that he loves you, he can keep his position with the Praetorian,”

“Father would never allow it, one close to me, protecting you,”

“What better way to ensure he does not kill me, for the fear of facing your wrath sister,” Harin chuckled.

“You mean it?” Anastasia asked.

“Father is the General of Landor’s Legions. I am her King. I say it is so,”

Anastasia reached over and squeezed Harin’s arm.

“What is this archive?”

Anastasia nodded, letting the moment of affection pass between them. “I know little of it, and what little I know is only what father allowed me to know. Do you remember the key around his neck?”

“The little one on the leather cord?” Harin asked.

“He always used to tuck it away, as if it could not greet the sun for fear of it crumbling,”

“What of it?” Harin asked, remembering the key from his childhood. It would slip from his father’s shirt when they fought. He, Fabien and Anastasia. His father would come home and they would tackle him. They were at his knee, but they would gang up and push him over. Or their father would allow it. But every time the thing slipped out, he’d stop and tuck it back in, sometimes with Harin hanging from his arm, as if he’d weighed nothing.

“I asked him once, where it was a key to. He told me, he told me that it was to a place where the Sunborn kept their histories, that one day he’d give it to me,”

“How did you know it was an Archive? Where it was?” Harin asked.

“I spent the entire summer in the libraries and places of import. I asked and asked if they knew of the Sunburn’s histories. Until I got to the Grand Library,”

“And what did you learn there?”

“I followed the old man, the priest, one night after he’d closed the place up. He had ran me out when I’d asked of the Sunborn Histories earlier in the day. He’d shouted and pushed me from the place. And that is when I knew I was in the right place.

I followed him to the back, to the quarters where he lived, I watched him open a door in the back of his quarters, one filled with books and skins and paintings. That’s when I knew that I’d found it. A secret, a secret of knowledge,”

Harin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His sister had always been brazen, always been one to push the limits. This was just another example of how brave she was at such a young age. He wasn't sure if what his sister saw was right, but his people had written that his father was seen exiting the Grand Library.

“Sire!”

A call from a Legate snapped them both out of their trance, one shared with the engrossment of a story between them, lost in memory.

“Legate Fala mar, what is it?”

A young man with a sharp nose and long brown hair rode up the Sunborn siblings. He gave a sharp bow. “News from the rear, they cannot find the Legions of the Council, nor any of the others,”

“My Liege!” Another call snapped Harin’s attention west.

“Legate Geral, what news!” Harin asked.

Geral reined in just shy of the trio, his horse panting and snorting. “The forward scouts report sightings of horsemen, groups of them just on the horizon. Too far for pursuit,”

“What does it mean?” Anastasi asked.

“It means that they know we are marching to meet them in war,” Harin said.

“We must go after them,” Falamar said.

Geral laughed. “They’ve been on horseback since before you were born, this is their desert. We will not catch them out here until they want to be caught,”

“Falamar, send out riders, I need to know where they are. Let them carry the message, the Horde is coming. Their outriders are stalking us,”

“They were just men on horses, how do we know?”

“They were Iron Guard, boy. The only bloodlines tough enough to survive this place,” Geral said.

Falamar, hot from the sun, his face tanned, went pale. “Iron Guard?”

“Go, now, send out riders, tell them to go until they find the Council and her Legions, tell them Landor calls for aid,”

Falamar dipped his head and flicked his reins. “Aye, sire!”

When Falamar was gone, Harin growled in anger. “They’ve abandoned us to death,”

Harin cursed as he looked out into the plains east of him. The space between them and Skellen Pass had grown in the weeks that he’d marched west against the Horde. The Horde weas coming, he could feel it.

“Why would they do this? The Church, The Council, they wanted to march on the Horde. They need our strength, they need our Legions,” Geral asked.

“You kill what you cannot control, uncle,” Anastasia said, her eyes still on Brago.

Geral nodded. “Your father, he always thought that The Council was behind the betrayal,”

Harin and Anastasia did not need to ask what betrayal Geral was speaking of. The betrayal always referred to their great uncle Nestor’s betrayal of the Second Legion.

“He never could prove it, neither could grandfather,” Harin said.

“It looks like he may have been right,” Geral said, his voice low.

Harin looked to his sister. “Tell me you know something of this?”

Anisates shook her head. “My people, they are too deep to get word out. They are embedded,”

“It’s time to call them in from the cold Anastasia, we need to know what is happening. If the Council waits with her legions, and the horde attacks, they will simply have to pick over our bones,”

“I’ll do what I can,” Ansi Tisa said, her face strained.

“God’s help us if the Iron Guard rides into us. They say it is thousands strong. The best riders in the worlds,”

The comment hung in the air like the stink of rot.