Chapter 90: Just the beginning

Do the best you can with the circumstances you’re given. That’s all anyone can ask of you.

-Naresh

From their position of safety atop the butte, they watched the two armies clash in battle. They were much more evenly matched than Wrend ever would have expected.

At the outset, the Master had withdrawn, limping back to the rear ranks of his army—probably not out of cowardice, but in an effort to recover from wounds. Wrend imagined that he would go to Rashel, to recover along with her. Well, he hoped the Master would. And hopefully his mercy toward Rashel would continue.

The paladins attacked with their usual doggedness, going down only once they’d lost their heads. They cut down plenty of Hasuken soldiers with ease, and kept on fighting even after they’d lost their arms and legs. But they didn’t simply overrun the Hasuken, many of whom leapt and dodged with unusual speed and strength.

“How is that possible?” Wrend said.

Leenda stood next to him, gripping his hand. Disappointment had painted her face when he’d admitted that he didn’t remember being her mate. He didn’t even remember her in his draegon form. He could only remember one or two things from his time as a draegon. A few of the things that must’ve been most vivid to him when he was a pup.

According to Naresh, when the Master had transferred his soul from the draegon body into the body he now had, the memories had drained out of the soul, with the newest first, and going back. If the Master had kept Wrend’s soul without a body long enough, Wrend would have lost all his draegon memories. As it was, it had taken flying on a draegon to trigger the ones he had left.

“How are they using Ichor?” Wrend said,

“Your father,” Naresh said, “lives in his own little world. He’s not particularly aware of the things that go on outside it. Many have known for a time—and, granted, kept it secret—that anyone can use Ichor. Not just descendents of Pyter.”

“Anyone?” Leenda said. “You’re sure?”

Naresh nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Wrend said.

Naresh shrugged. “It’s simple. You’ve been in the dark your whole life, knowing only what your father chose to tell you—which wasn’t much. And which, of course, is not even close to the aggregate body of what the world knows. Either he deceived you and the rest of his kingdom about Ichor, or he simply doesn’t know that every person can use Ichor. The most common child can learn to use it.”

Wrend shook his head. It seemed impossible. Dangerous.

“There’s so much I was never told. So much to learn. Why aren’t you down there, fighting with the Hasuken?”

Naresh sighed with frustration.

“They’re bloodthirsty. I told them I have no interest in conquest over Locaran, but their minds are set.”

“The Hasuken are going to invade Locaran?”

“About eight years ago I started my work in Hasuke, to bring down the god of that country. I recruited many priests. My goal was a peaceful coup, but they had ideas of their own, and killed their god. Now, they’ve turned their eyes north, to Locaran. Against my wishes, they allied with the apostate Caretakers, and made a plan to take over the country—starting with the slaughter of all the Novitiates in the Seraglio.”

A dull distrust rubbed in Wrend’s belly. Naresh didn’t seem to be telling him everything. He painted events in a light that made him look innocent. Was he, really?

“You mean, you didn’t do those things, but you prompted them to do them?”

“No, I would do it a different way. In fact, you were my experiment for doing it a different way, but you’ve ruined my plans.” He frowned and shook his head. “If you weren’t so stubborn, we’d all be much better off now.”

“How so?” Leenda said.

“I wanted Wrend to inherit Athanaric’s kingdom. Then, over time, we set the people free, and teach them that he wasn’t a god, that Athanaric wasn’t a god, that Pyter isn’t a god.”

Wrend grunted. None of it surprised him anymore, but it didn’t ease the guilt stabbing at his belly. He’d betrayed the Master, and been at least in part responsible for his brother’s death—even though he’d done his best to convince his brother to let him be. None of that felt good. His wrists, pale where the bracers had always covered them, felt naked. His hips felt strangely unbalanced without the sacrificial knife.

But, he felt gladness to no longer serve a god that killed his own children and pitted brother against brother. He’d gained freedom to do and act as he pleased, to live as he wanted.

Was it worth the price?

Yes. Yes it was.

“What do we do now?” he said, not certain he wanted to take Naresh’s answer at face value, or trust anything he said.

Naresh shrugged and looked out over the battle.

“We come up with a new plan.”

His eyes narrowed, and he squinted down at the chaos and tilted his head to one side with a frown. After a moment, his expression changed to one of confusion.

Wrend followed his gaze, but could only see the turmoil of the battle.

“What are you looking at?” he said.

“Didn’t you say that Teirn was dead?”

“Yes.”

Naresh shook his head and pointed. “You’re wrong. He’s alive, and is headed this way.”