Suddenly angry that she’d allowed herself to come so far down this line of thought, she dropped the illusion entirely. It did not matter what she looked like! She would not feel his kiss on her lips, and he would find her cold and sour. Her body might even come apart in his hands.
Making herself invisible once more, Elessa slipped out of the room and went to the top of the stairs. She could see him down there, his soldiers drinking while he stared out through a window with an untouched ale. One of his troop gestured for him to join them in a game of cards, but he waved her away. Shrugging, the woman returned to her companions, who sent concerned glances towards their superior. Damn fate for delivering him here, and damn it again for letting him see her! How could he be so affected? Did he really still love her, after all this time? Or did he have a wife and children, and the sight of her had merely brought back difficult memories, stirring old hurts to the surface? She decided she did not want to know.
Tearing herself away, she marched on to Fahren’s room. Without bothering to knock, she opened the door and stormed inside, only just remembering to make herself visible. Fahren was sitting on the edge of his bed, smoking a brittleleaf roll.
‘Elessa,’ he said, ‘I was just coming to see you. I am so sorry for putting you through this.’
‘So sorry, so sorry,’ she echoed. ‘Always the same words, yet you won’t do anything about it. And now you bring me to this place so you can eat and sleep, while I can no neither and must sit in my room thinking of the man I could have loved.’
‘I know,’ he said, his face crinkling in sorrow. He went to the window and set his roll down on the sill. ‘I do not know what I can do, Elessa.’
‘Release me from this torment,’ she begged. ‘Let me return to the Well, gone from the world!’
‘Please, my girl –’ he said, but she cut him off.
‘Do not call me that. I am no longer a girl. I am not anything!’
‘You are our best hope for defeating the shadow,’ said Fahren. ‘You know how important that is.’
‘If you won’t,’ she said, ‘then let me end it myself.’
Tears fell from Fahren’s eyes. ‘I cannot. And I forbid you from doing so.’
She felt the command sink in – as the one who had raised her, his words were binding. She fell to her knees, wanting to sob, uncaring of what effect the fall would have on her flesh. She reached out to grasp the floor as great, soundless upheavals shook her. Fahren knelt beside her, put a hand on her shoulder.
‘You see?’ she said. ‘You seek to comfort with touch, but your actions have the opposite effect. You might as well prod a side of beef. Everything reminds me of what I am.’
Shamefacedly, he withdrew his hand.
‘It is not just me who asks this of you,’ he said. ‘It is the will of Arkus, your very god. Do you not wish to protect the Well?’
Elessa could not answer, her former resolve shattered. All she knew was what she wanted – she wanted Kessum, she wanted to be normal again, she wanted to be dead again …anything but this.
‘It’s only for a few more days,’ said Fahren. ‘I will release you as soon as it’s done, I promise. I’m so s …it’s unfortunate indeed that we encountered Kessum. You were not doing so badly for a bit there, were you? It will be better again once we’re away from here. He will never beat us to the battlefield, and you will have completed your task before he arrives there. You will remember again that what you do is good and worthwhile. You can get through this.’
She pulled herself up. She was not drained, as she once would have been from such a racking fit, for her strength was constant. Looking at Fahren, she vaguely recalled the way they had been once – she the student, he the kindly teacher. She tried to believe that he was right. Really, what choice did she have?
She retreated to her room, and stayed there all night while the others supped and drank. The noise was boisterous at times, but she did not hear the voices of her companions. As the night grew old the noise died down, and finally she heard the downstairs door close, and a bolt slide into place.
Goodbye, Kessum , she thought.
She would see him again, in a way, she supposed – but in the Well love was not the same.
That’s right , she thought. Until a week ago I had no concern with earthly love. That will be the case again soon.
In the quiet of early morning, she found a modicum of calm.
Then came a knock at the door, signalling time to move on. One last stretch to the army, then a task to perform, and she would know harmony once more.
I can do it , she thought, rising from the bed. I will help my people win.
Peace
There they were, hiding in a small wood not far from the river. Raiders who had ransacked his supply carts and left his servants dead, their bodies stiff amongst the woodchips, the sun they’d dared not look upon in life reflecting full in their empty eyes. There were three lightfists with the troop, and although Losara tried to keep himself small, one of them sat bolt upright and turned in his direction. He knew he had been sensed. A moment later all three were on their feet, light suffusing their bodies as the wards came up.
Losara withdrew, perhaps too readily. He was not fleeing, he told himself, merely gathering himself together. He had wanted a moment or two to think …but really, what would thinking accomplish, or change? He did not intend to do anything to these Kainordans that they had not already done to his own. Yet he was tired. He had walked through Jeddies after their ‘victory’ there, seen the ruin he had inflicted. Tyrellan had urged him to continue in pursuit of the fleeing Kainordans – what was the purpose of the ruse with the illusionary mander if not to strike a grievous blow? But had they not done that already, Losara had asked, by taking the camp, and the town that had kept the enemy so easily supplied? More , Tyrellan had wanted – another charge, another try at unleashing the mander through their lines unhindered – and Losara had said no. He had given his excuses: with the light already at some distance, Tyrellan would have had to ride free of the main army to catch up to them, which would put him at risk even with Losara and mages to protect him. Also, if Bel returned to discover his army being savaged by the mander, he would think nothing of riding straight in amongst it all, as he had proved on their journey that morning.
Tyrellan had seemed unconvinced by these reasons, and Losara tried to tell himself they were the real ones. After all, what would be the point of delaying? There was no avoiding the violence, no miracle on the way to end all of this peacefully. He had come this far, hadn’t he? He had murdered the mages of Holdwith, made a mockery of the defences at the Shining Mines, let loose the mander on a retreating army and toppled Jeddies …he even counted that single scout watching the river in his tally. So why stop right when a push could have ended things for good?
You don’t know that , an interior voice countered. Maybe you were right. Running headlong after the light could have been a terrible mistake.
Even now something inside him wanted to slip away, to forget he’d ever seen the Kainordan troop hiding in the trees, even as they waited to do more harm to him and his people. But he knew he could not.
They deserve it.
The words felt hollow in his head. There was nothing ‘deserving’ about any of this.
Where is my calm? I want it back. How many times must I make up my mind? Always I arrive back at the same point – that if I do not act, Fenvarrow will fall. The answer is always the same. The answer is always the same!