It is not easy to surprise me. I am, afterall, rather advantageously gifted with Divine knowledge and power. That being said, I confess to being completely taken aback by the young monk not only pronouncing my name in the Divine tongue but also knowing my prophetic title.

Stepping between the two men had been a kind of mistake and I was aware of this mistake almost immediately. But Therin was on the edge of some kind of personal crusade and the young Blademaster was in his way. It had been completely knee-jerk, completely unthought out, and completely impulsive to throw myself between those two Light-bearing men and expose myself as I had done.

The ramifications of my exposure were such that I had trouble paying very close attention to the men as I collapsed, again, and tried to keep the balance between myself and Alira.

My poor Alira…

How she must have suffered while I drew on our bond to keep myself stable. I hoped she had not been in flight or in some other compromising position when I pulled on our tether to bring myself from the brink of obliteration. I hoped, with all my broken soul, that she was with Ohira, safely.

“Looking…for me?” I gasped, the words filtering to me through the pain of pulling myself together. The urge to turn to mist, to dismiss the corporeal form and fade away was so strong I could feel it like a kind of internal pressure. But I held on tightly, syphoning power from Alira as I held on. My hands gripped my head as I fought the pressure.

“Yes, your Holiness.” He was bowing, the ridiculous youth, and his voice was tinged with a hard pain that cleared my head as I listened. “I have been waiting for some sign of you since travelling east.”

The thin tether between us jingled.

I am well. I strummed back but I knew that the communication would be merely symbolic and not literal. She would infer my meaning from my contact.

“Hrulinar,” Therin said sternly, taking my arm to draw me to my feet. “We have to go.”

And the bells began to toll, the same wards that Alira had set off the last time.

With the sound of the bells, Roshan’s head shot up, his face to me. The desperation he bore was fanatic, the adoration so visceral I felt the smallest flicker of worship fill me. I was instantly reminded of the Garden, of my duty to the souls of thousands and the tiny glints of worshipful adoration I gathered from them. The taste of power flipped a switch and I was no longer Hrulinar. For a brief slip of time I was something bigger.

I was God.

I was the Adversary of the Light.

I was Aethra’s Last.

Then it was gone and I was just Hrulinar again, nearly human, my power continually draining, my life on a blade’s edge.

Who are you? I felt myself ask him but he merely stared at me, his dark eyes lifted to me in adoration and reverence.

“Let’s go,” Therin said again but I stood there, staring at the young monk.

His dark eyes were fathomless and I was lost in the abyss of their timeless depths.

“Hrulinar,” Therin snapped and I blinked, breaking the contact with the young monk.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let’s go.”

I turned to go with Therin and was surprised when Roshan stood, his glaive at the ready and followed. I cast a questioning look at him and he nodded, resigned. His face was grave.

“I’m going with you.”

“What? You can’t,” Therin said dismissively and turned again, my arm still in his grasp.

“I am.” Roshan’s words were stern. “Where the Prince goes, I go.”

Therin and I met eyes and I shrugged.

“Let’s just go,” I said and Therin nodded. He dragged me after him, Roshan close behind.

The kitchens and our escape were down a long, narrow hallway that was interspersed with intersections to other parts of the monastery. We passed the first juncture without incident, our booted feet scraping on the clean, dry stone floor.

The bells continued to ring and Therin drew close to me as we looked down the joining hall.

“Devan has told them to not follow me. Or at least to give me time to get out before he lets them loose,” he predicted as he chewed a cheek thoughtfully. I wondered what had happened between father and son in the short time he was with the High Lord. What could have transpired to bring about this conflicted, aching expression on his handsome face?

“Then let’s not waste this gift,” I said stoically and he nodded once, clenching his jaw. I noted the glitter of stubble and how it aged him, masking the confused, scared boy he was inside. I watched a single drop of sweat course down his temple from his golden curls, the only clue as to his anxiety.

The first two monks we met on the way out were not equipped to deal with Therin’s mace nor Roshan’s lightning-fast glaive. Loath to grievously injure them, they both opted to knock their adversaries unconscious and I was keenly aware of their deadly efficiency despite their vastly different styles of wielding the Light.

Therin’s brute strength was much like the bear I often chose to fight as and Roshan was a serpent, whiplike in his quick efficiency. Idly, I wondered how deadly he would be with Alira’s daggers. Both men were deadly but their command of their different kinds of strengths was masterful to behold. The Light they used washed across me in a rush of dizziness, rendering me useless to help.

They didn’t need my help anyway and in less than a minute we were on our way again.

The next monks to accost us were Blademasters, stepping around the corner of the intersection with lazy grace, confidence etched across their entire being. They were capable, deadly and they knew it.

At the sight of their master, the two slowed, lowering their bare fists but their Light flared painfully. Even with the ringing returning to my ears and the pressure in my head mounting again, I recognized them as Yannick and his sparring partner. They looked from Roshan to Therin to myself before bowing to Roshan and eyeing Therin. Finally, they gave him a quick salute, their fists to their chests.

“At ease,” Therin said and jerked his head toward myself. “I’ve got everything in hand.”

The two Blademasters merely stood there, their bodies tense, looking to Roshan for direction. The shorter one, with long hair, seemed to find this particular situation humorous in some way, his light brown eyes shining.

Both men had changed into a similar outfit to Roshan, a loose v-necked light coloured top tucked into tight, dark leather leggings. Their feet were booted and they each had a small dagger tucked in the inside of their left boot. Yannick had donned light leather bracers, the lacings up the backs almost delicate looking against his dark skin. His partner cracked his knuckles and rolled his head on his shoulders.

Yannick’s deeply scarred face held no clue as to his thoughts but the other monk, his pale face much more open and friendly, was actively repressing a smile. He seemed to be the more verbose of the two.

“Need a hand, Roshan?” He asked, turning in such a way to subtly exclude Therin from his address. “We were told there was trouble.”

“All is well, brother,” Roshan said formally and I watched the long haired monk raise his eyebrows as though the phrase was something more than the words spoken. “The Light guides and guards.”

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“I am a Blade of Light,” the two responded automatically and as they did, their posture changed, relaxing, their grip on the Light fading. Roshan nodded, clapping the long haired monk on the shoulder, and moved past Therin, taking the lead.

As he moved past his men, Roshan muttered something in Dinari I didn’t catch, my ears still ringing, but I saw Therin stiffen and frown. As we moved past the Blademaster monks their eyes were wide, staring at Therin and I.

We met no other trouble on the way out and we slipped out of the kitchen door quickly. Therin mounted on the mare and Roshan swung nimbly into the saddle on the smaller, older horse and held out a hand for me to climb up behind him. The young monk rested his glaive on his shoulder as I wrapped my arms around his lean, taut waist. Therin glanced at us once before tossing the reins to Roshan who caught them with ease and gripped them with a firm, practised hand. He kicked the nag into a brisk trot and we were off, following Therin’s mare. We left the monastic district and headed south out of town.

The two brother monks were silent as we rode and as we slowed, I loosened my grip on the younger monk’s waist. He was still and stiff as I had clung to him, his discomfort apparent. When we slowed so that Therin could strap the heavy mace to the back of his horse and rest our elderly nag, the soon-to-be paladin dismounted and watched Roshan.

“Why did you come with us?” He asked as he drank from his water skin. I could hear the suspicion in his tone and I leaned against a tree, the undergrowth dappling us.

“Where Prince Hrulinar goes, I go. I told you this.” Roshan was clearly a man of few words, preferring to be succinct and concise.

“You did,” Therin agreed. “Why?”

Roshan did not answer the bigger man. Instead, he met his eyes and stared him down until he broke the intense gaze. He remained silent as he sat on the ground and began to stretch.

“What happened with Devan?” I asked to break the tense silence. “You seem to have forgotten to give the High Lord his friend’s mace.”

Therin watched the other man as he sat, his legs out before him, his hands wrapped around the soles of his booted feet. He seemed to be weighing his options for reply.

“The truth, if you please,” I suggested and he threw me a glare so heavy it would have stung if possible.

“I’ve left the monastery. I quit.”

From his place on the ground, Roshan looked up at the other monk and could not disguise his surprise. His mouth parted to ask a question but he tamped it down, closing his mouth firmly and focusing on his stretches again.

“Why?” I asked, though I had suspected he had done something equally as stupid. “Now you’ve made an enemy of an ally.”

“Personal reasons,” Therin said angrily and I rolled my eyes.

“For the love of–Therin, why are you so stupid?” I threw my hands up in disbelief and shook my head. “We are fighting for our lives, for the lives of all mankind! We needed Devan and his paladins to help us fight against Shadesorrow and her ilk!”

Therin rounded on me, anger filling him.

“We don’t even know where Shadesorrow is! We have no idea where she went, thanks to Alira.”

“I have theories,” I said elusively. I picked at a nail, avoiding his gaze. “And we have the alternate issue of needing to get the soulstones.”

“You will still have the Blademasters,” Roshan said quietly from the ground. “They go where I tell them.”

“Even against the High Lord’s wishes?” I asked and the Blademaster’s mouth lifted in a shy smile.

“Yes,” he said and bowed his head to stretch again. “They are loyal to me, not the High Lord.”

Therin, speechless, merely stared down at the younger man, his mind clearly whirring around the ideas of possible treachery in the monastery, if that mattered to him, if he should be reporting it, to whom he should report if at all…I watched the thoughts flit across his face as he blinked slowly. Finally, he gave himself a little shaking shrug and looked back at me.

“Problem solved,” he muttered and I frowned at him.

“So, what is your grand plan, Master Therin?” I asked him and as I did, I gave him an impish, mocking bow.

“We need to get Noran’s blade off him.”

“Simply stated, more difficult to carry out,” I said but he ignored me.

“Once we have his blade, it’s just a matter of finding Alira again and getting the stones she has and then…” He shrugged, as though resurrecting a human being was an easy matter, a bridge we could cross as we came upon it.

“Oh, sure. Let’s just march to the Temple then? Knock, knock! Can Noran come out and play?”

Roshan stopped his stretching and crossed his legs, watching the verbal volley between Therin and myself, his head following our words back and forth.

“No, the Temple is too far, too well guarded. It would be foolish.”

“The expert on foolish choices speaking, of course…” I jabbed at Therin, purposely goading him. My patience for the man was ever-changing and it had reached an all-time low. He was truly an idiot.

“Devan is in the city for the time being. He likely won’t return to his home for another few months. I’ll write a letter from Devan, instructing Noran to meet at the estate.”

“And he’d just follow those instructions blindly?” I demanded, but I had seen the merit in the idea immediately.

“He would if it was sealed with this,” Therin said smugly, withdrawing the High Lord’s seal from the wallet at his waist. “And if I gave him information only Devan would know.”

“Such as?”

“Things I’ve read in letters that I was never meant to see.” Therin said darkly and I understood immediately.

“The letters Alira took,” I said and he didn’t answer, merely pursing his lips in anger and looking away. “She didn’t read many of them.” I said defensively.

“Yeah, well,” he said dismissively. He leaned forward and shrugged out of the heavy mail shirt. He balled up the armour and put it into the pack on his mare and shook out his hair. He pulled his robe over his head, also stowing the garment in his bag before facing Roshan again, a heavy hand dragging through his sweat stained curls.

“Do all the Blademasters speak Dinari?” He asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Roshan said, his brows raised. “To some degree.”

“Why?” Therin asked as he dug out two apples from his bag, tossing one to the monk on the ground.

“It’s tradition.” His short responses were clearly annoying Therin and I wondered if he’d be more verbose if I had been the one to ask him these things.

“I have found him? I will return for you soon?” Therin asked in Common. I frowned, confused by his question.

I watched the colour drain from Roshan’s face slightly, though, clearly indicating that he understood Therin’s words.

“You speak Dinari?”

“My father was from the west,” Therin said, biting his apple. “Devan also speaks it.”

Roshan nodded once and rolled his apple in his hands, his eyes on Therin.

“I was aware that the High Lord once resided in the west. I did not know he taught you–”

“He didn’t. My real father spoke Dinari.” Therin’s voice was cold and exacting as he swallowed the bite he had taken. The younger man’s eyes roved over Therin’s face, his physique, his height, landing on the golden curls and blue eyes with a slight frown.

“I see,” Roshan said and I believed him though Therin apparently did not.

“My mother was from Lightholde,” he said. “My father was Dinaaru. He was taller than I am, much less fair. Broader by half.”

Roshan nodded, acknowledging the racial traits that denoted the ancestry.

“I was not aware,” the younger man said softly.

“You don’t look like you’d speak it either,” Therin accused. “Too small.” Roshan flushed again.

“Both my parents were Dinaaru,” he said and did not elaborate. Therin finished his apple with a discontented sound, throwing the core into the bushes behind him.

“Well?” The tall man prompted and Roshan merely met his eyes and waited.

“You were telling those two monks that you found me,” I said and the small man nodded once. “Were all the Blademasters aware that you were looking for me, for whatever reason?”

“No,” Roshan said as he let his eyes drop to the apple in his hands again. “Just Yannick and Urial.” When Therin continued to look confused I helped the poor boy.

“The two that we met in the hall.” Roshan nodded and finally took a bite of his apple.

“And why are you looking for him?” Therin finally asked.

Roshan chewed slowly, his throat working as he swallowed. His long lashed eyes were cast down as he chose his few words carefully.

“I once read a passage in a strange book,” he said and he looked up at me. “That said that Hrulinar would join forces with…” He stopped and I noticed his hands shaking. “Another being. And that they would free The Unmaker from her prison.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “This is true.”

Roshan threw the mostly uneaten apple back at Therin and stood, his arms at his sides, his chin up. A look of distant pain was etched across his youthful face.

“Then I am here to fulfil my role in this prophecy.” The fervent devotion that rolled off him was like a warm blanket being draped around me. He was teetering dangerously close to filling me with worship again and I swallowed, unwilling to break the warm flow between us. I felt a revivifying comfort fall around me as he stared in reverence at me.

I racked my torn memories for what he could possibly mean as I watched him.

Something rang true in his words, something undeniable in his adamance that he belonged in our group.

Neither Therin nor I could think of something to say. While this was not surprising in regards to the broad monk, for myself I was just as taken aback by my lack of response as I was to the actual words that Roshan spoke. I decided to let it be for now, to let this devoted, passionate monk follow us, giving me the sips of power that felt like life-giving water.

“Then, welcome,” I said, and I held out my hand. He shook it and joined our small band with my sanctified impunity.