“What are you doing” Kian demanded, “running off to find some other witless champion? Save yourself the effort, for there are few enough of those in Aradan.”
Ellonlef turned slowly. While her eyes were not made for tears, they apparently had no trouble holding the fires of wrath in their dark depths. “As you say, there are few enough champions in Aradan, witless or otherwise. As such, I must count myself among their limited number, and go alone to Ammathor. If you will not burden yourself with at least warning the Ivory Throne of the danger Aradan faces, which in turn may be able to protect countless innocents, then I will go-alone.”
“We will accompany you,” Azuri and Hazad said in unison. For once, they did not fall to throwing snide comments back and forth, but merely shared a determined look and nodded to each other.
Kian felt like a mule had kicked him in the groin at his companions’ words, for they signified the breaking of the imaginary storm above him. But that selfish, little-known part of him still struggled, sought to turn them from this senseless endeavor.
“You would throw away your lives for a pack of highborn, Aradaner fools?” he said with as much scorn as he could muster.
“I have no love for the highborn of Aradan,” Azuri said calmly, “save for the false affections they purchase from my sword. I do not go because of them, I go for the small folk of Aradan, who are like small folk of all realms, men and women who simply want to live their lives in what peace can be found. I cannot believe that you, a man close to me as a brother, would condemn a people simply because of the foolish wretchedness of their rulers.”
Kian bit back an oath, but said nothing. Azuri went on.
“Varis has proven he is a demon-if not in truth, then in his heart. Like the Falsethian invaders that ravaged our homelands, he will destroy peace where he finds it. I do not want to find myself in Izutar one day soon, watching his conquering armies burning and cleaving their way through the forests of our homelands, and know that I had thrown aside the once chance to stop him.”
“And if you fail and die, instead of him?”
“Then the spirits of our fathers will be pleased that we died choosing of our own freewill to stand against a tyrant and a monster, instead of selling our honor for the price of our lives,” Hazad answered stoically.
“To speak of danger and death, honor and duty,” Kian said, each word icier than the last, “is easy enough when you are safe. But you were both there when Varis called forth fires that turned men to ash in a blink. You have heard the sister tell how he killed the people of Krevar from afar, then raised them back from the very bowels of the Thousand Hells. This is no man you would have us face, but a creature with the power of gods.
“She claims I have some measure of that same power, and perhaps this is true, but I have no understanding of its use. If we stand against Varis, doubtless none of us will long survive. Our deaths will earn honor that no one will ever sing of. Is this what you want?” Even as Kian spoke, he wondered if he were chiding his companions, or himself.
“Death after a life lived good and well,” Azuri said, “is never a vain life. Even if we only please Pa’amadin, and any other watching gods with our actions, then that is enough.” Before Kian could say more, Azuri held up a hand. “All that aside, my friend, you have not considered a key point.”
“What is that?” Kian asked dismissively. While he loathed standing against doing what was right, no matter how unpalatable that choice, he remained steadfast. This was no small decision, but one of life and death on a scale he could scarcely imagine.
“The demon within Fenahk called you by name,” Azuri said. “As well, the demon within Bresado was expecting your arrival to El’hadar. Perhaps you can explain that away, but I believe that Varis has already sent his hounds after you. It is only a matter of time before they find you, no matter where you go. You either face him and risk your life, or be hunted until you are found.”
Kian’s mouth went dry, his doggedness broken. He tried to deny what his friend had said, but had he not sensed that he was hunted, even marked out, almost from the moment Varis strode out of the temple like a risen corpse? That feeling, coupled with what Ellonlef had revealed, assured him that Varis wanted him dead. Even should he run, there would never be a safe place to rest his head.
After a moment of reflection, he realized his choice was that he had no choice, save to decide when he would face Varis, and on whose terms. Hazad was right, as well, and Kian wanted to choose of his own freewill to stand against Varis, and not sell his honor for the price of his life.
So be it, Kian thought, setting aside all the recent thoughts he had nurtured about heading to Izutar and living out a leisurely life, all the while spending the gold he had earned as a mercenary. Without question, his own death was more likely than Varis’s when they met again, but death did not frighten him, for all men died. Of fear, he only struggled with the idea that in facing Varis, he could become one of Varis’s risen followers, like the many folk of Krevar, or worse, the demons of El’hadar. Both ideas sent a chill of trepidation through the core of his soul, and had, perhaps, had been the sole reason for his resistance. Despite this possibility, he made his decision. And whether right or wrong, when a course of action was determined, a man must cast aside all doubt and plunge into the fray, and let the gods mind the outcome.
“Break camp!” Kian shouted abruptly. “We make for Ammathor.”
As understanding filled Ellonlef, relief and gratitude shone in her eyes.
Though he would not give her the satisfaction of telling her, Kian decided he liked that better than the anger and scorn she had first directed at him.
Chapter 22
As the small company finished packing the last of their scant supplies and saddled the horses, a booming clap of thunder exploded overhead. Ellonlef, who had been considering a way to thank Kian for his decision, ducked like everyone else. The abrupt movement flared the pain of her wounds and stole her breath.
A second boom followed the first, then a third.
The horses fought against their staked lead ropes. The Asra a’Shah, wearing dismayed expressions, ensured none broke free. As the rumbling peals faded away, Hazad pointed skyward, his jaw slack.
Ellonlef’s heart began slamming in her chest. Streaking across the smoke-laden sky, a handful of massive fireballs burned with the brilliance of falling suns, trailing tails of fire and smoke. The roar of their passage crushed all other sound. After a few moments, the thundering began to diminish, and the fierce light of the fireballs was lost over the horizon. A few moments later, a succession of flashes pulsed back toward them. Several moments longer, and the ground began to shake under another long, steady rumble.
“By Peropis’s poisoned teats,” Hazad shouted, “what was that?”
The tears of Pa’amadin, Ellonlef thought, recalling when she had first seen the stars falling from the sky over Krevar. Before she could say this aloud, another explosion rippled the air, and the pebbles at her feet began to bounce over the roadway. All eyes searched the reddish sky. At first Ellonlef thought she had lost track of time, for directly overhead she saw the hazed glow of the sun-but it was not the sun.
“To the rocks!” she screamed, her voice small under the rumbling onslaught.
No one seemed to hear.
She quickly limped to Kian’s side and dragged his startled face close to hers. “Take shelter in the rocks!” She pointed at the mound of boulders she had used to escape the Bashye. When he nodded, she moved for cover as fast as her injured knee would allow. She did not know what protection the outcrop would offer, but anything was better than standing in the-