“Because it’s Tresten,” Urik said.
Endric grunted. “With your willingness to attack Vasha, I never would have expected you to have such devotion to the Magi.”
Urik pulled his gaze away from the fire and looked up at Endric. The flames danced in his eyes, the firelight reflected there. “It has nothing to do with the Magi.”
“Tresten, then?” Endric asked. He glanced over at the Mage, who remained motionless, his hands clasped behind his back, his body stiff and fixed as he stared into the distance. Was he watching the thick clouds that rolled across the sky? Maybe he feared a coming storm and worried about their safety. Or maybe there was something else, some other answer that Endric had not yet discovered.
“Tresten is… Tresten.”
Urik had turned his focus back to the fire and he leaned forward, hands clasped over his lap. He seemed haunted, a shell of the man who had been so arrogant during their journey from Vasha. The only thing that had changed had been his captivity by Endric—and the appearance of Tresten.
Endric took a seat across from him and forced him to meet his gaze. “You’ve been quiet since Tresten appeared,” he said.
“What would you have me say?”
Endric grabbed one of the slender sticks they had gathered in their journey, one that had been meant for kindling, and began tracing it in the dirt absently. He made a point of not drawing the same pattern that had offended Urik before. “You wanted to know what happened to him, didn’t you?”
Urik remained silent, but he watched the way that Endric traced the stick through the dirt, almost as if there would be an answer found in it.
“What is Tresten to you?” Endric asked.
Urik snorted. “I spent all this time thinking that you knew, and you didn’t.”
He took a deep breath and grabbed one of the other sticks of kindling and tapped it across his knees. Endric watched him, concerned that Urik might decide to attack him with it, but he doubted that the man would. There was something about Tresten’s presence that had calmed Urik and had changed him from the angry and aggressive man he had been. It was almost as if Tresten’s presence had quenched his remaining darkness.
“You traveled with Tresten, you’ve spoken to him countless times, but you know nothing about him, do you?”
Endric stared at him. “What’s there to know other than that he is a high-ranking Mage? That seems to be all we need to know, at least, all I need to know as one of the Denraen.”
Urik snorted again. “You need to know far more than that to understand Tresten.”
Urik fell silent, still tapping the stick across his legs, and after a while he turned away from the fire and stared out at the sea.
Endric hadn’t learned anything in time since Tresten had joined them, other than that Tresten had been hiding in Thealon, among other places. With his willingness to travel, Tresten was more like the Magi of old, those Mages who had once spent considerable time attempting to influence the workings of the world, using their knowledge to guide.
Why did Tresten stare out at the sea?
He had done it each night, and Endric wondered what answers Tresten sought by staring off into the distance the way that he did. What could he think to see? Endric had no understanding of the Magi abilities but didn’t think there was anything to them that would allow him answers in such a way.
Unless he was speaking to the gods.
Tresten had proven the Magi no longer needed teralin to communicate with the gods. Was that because he still possessed an ability to speak to them?
It would be ironic for Endric to have such doubt about the gods and about how he could serve, only to have spent time with Tresten, a Mage with the ability to reach them.
“What does he do when he stands there?” Endric asked.
“I don’t know,” Urik answered softly.
Endric glanced over. It was difficult for Urik to admit ignorance. He was a man who had pride in the knowledge he had acquired and pride in things that he knew that others did not. Urik had used that knowledge and had twisted it, forcing something that was forbidden to almost all others into his own service.
“Do you think he speaks to the gods?”
Urik eyed him strangely. “Why would he need to do that?”
Endric frowned. “Why would you need to speak to the gods?” he repeated. “Why wouldn’t he? If he could reach the gods, he could get guidance as to what he was to do. There would be great value in it.”
Urik grunted again. “You really are ignorant, Endric.”
He stood and started away from the fire, in the opposite direction from Tresten. Endric scrambled to his feet, putting himself in front of Urik, using the length of kindling to jab at Urik’s chest.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
Urik looked down at the wood poking into the fabric of his shirt. Endric hadn’t poked him hard, not wanting to annoy the man any more than necessary. “You’re right. I’m not going anywhere.” Urik looked up and met Endric’s eyes. “Haven’t you noticed how little I have attempted to escape since Tresten came?”
“I have. I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know you have something in mind.”
Urik sighed and shook his head. “I did. I don’t any longer.”
“What changed?”
Urik looked over toward the shore, where Tresten stood. “He did.”
Endric relaxed, stepping back and lowering the length of wood. He didn’t need to make it quite so antagonistic with Urik. The man hadn’t attempted to escape since Tresten had appeared, and Endric wondered whether he even would try to. It was possible that whatever he wanted was timed to Tresten’s appearance. Likely even.
Whatever Urik had been after had been in Thealon. Urik claimed he wanted answers and that he no longer sought anything now that Tresten had appeared, but Endric didn’t entirely believe that. Urik had proven that he had plans—and often, plans within plans. Whatever he was after required diligence on Endric’s part to ensure that neither he nor Tresten were harmed.
Yet Tresten didn’t see the need to keep Urik bound and captive. He seemed to believe that Urik was of no danger, and Tresten had proven himself more than capable and that he could often see things that Endric could not.
He would have to trust that Tresten was right in this as well.
And he had to find a way of working with Urik.
Endric still wanted to know the importance of the symbol. He couldn’t recall where he had seen it before and whether it was from the Deshmahne he’d faced or whether he had seen it elsewhere. Symbols like that were not common, but he had seen strange markings in his travels. Could it have been on the groeliin when he’d hunted in the Antrilii land? There had been plenty of strange markings found there, brood marks that had significance that even the Antrilii didn’t completely understand. Maybe there was something about those markings that Urik had discovered.
If that were the case, Endric needed to work with them. He needed to help understand because it would help the Antrilii. Endric wanted to help the Antrilii—as long as it didn’t impact other his tasks.
“Why were you so insistent on finding Tresten?” Urik asked.
Endric shook the thought away and realized that Urik had been watching him. What had he seen? Urik had a keen mind and the things that the man might have seen, and what he might have uncovered, bothered Endric. Likely they were things Endric wanted to keep hidden, secrets that he wanted to keep to himself.
“Because he asked me to,” Endric said.
Urik grinned. It was a wolfish expression, one that changed his entire face, that reminded Endric of how dangerous he could be. “He asked you to?”
Endric nodded. “When we were chasing your Ravers, he remained in Thealon and asked me to remain.”
He hadn’t done so directly, but had intuited that he would have been open and willing to have Endric remain. What would Endric have seen had he remained with Tresten? There had been almost a sense of hope on Tresten’s behalf, a
desire for something, though Endric wasn’t certain what that was. At the time, he hadn’t thought Tresten had any need of him. If anything, Endric needed Tresten more than the Mage needed Endric. It was the reason he had wanted to head to the north, to see what he could learn of the Antrilii and to see what he could understand about himself.
“And then when I began my return from the Antrilii lands, he sent word again, asking me to find him.”
Urik’s eyes narrowed. “He sent word to you?”
Endric nodded.
“Did your father know?”
Endric frowned. Had he revealed to his father that Tresten had sent a message to him, asking Endric to join him? He didn’t know. It hadn’t mattered, because the message had directed Endric to reach him in Vasha, where Endric was heading anyway. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“Probably. If you had told him, your father would never have left Vasha.”
“What does that mean?”
Urik chuckled. It was a dark sound, one that carried out to the sea before being overshadowed by the sounds of the waves crashing along the shore. “You are so ignorant, Endric.”
Endric tensed, squeezing his hands. “You keep reminding me of that fact.”
“Then change it,” Urik said.
Endric studied his breathing. “Change it? How am I to change it when I’m trying to do everything I can to keep alive?”
“Do you think the world will be any easier if you remain ignorant, or do you think that you will have a better time—an easier time—of knowing what you should do if you understand the workings of the world?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing? Why do you think I went to the Antrilii lands?”
“You went for selfish reasons.”
Endric clenched his jaw. It was the same argument he’d had with Urik before, and the same argument that others of the Denraen had made, including Pendin. He hadn’t thought that he’d gone to the Antrilii lands selfishly, but had he? Had it been more about personal need than about the needs of the Denraen?
No. He needed to understand who he was if he were to serve the Denraen in the way they needed. It might have been selfish, but it was selfishness that served the greater good of the Denraen.
“And what do you think I should have been doing?”
Urik considered him for a long moment. Even here, firelight seemed to reflect in his eyes, dancing brightly. His face had a severe quality to it, and the shadows made it even more so. Gone were the days when Endric found his face plain and unassuming.
“You should have been doing the very same things that I have been doing. You should have been searching for understanding, and you should have been looking for ways to learn, understanding the secrets of the world.” He nodded toward the sword strapped to Endric’s waist. “You’ve learned about teralin. How could you learn about something like that and not question that there is something more to the world, something that you would need to understand in order to be a part of it? How could you see the Deshmahne, face them and nearly be defeated by them, and not question your role in all of it?”
“I did question. That’s why I went north.”
“Do you really think the Antrilii have answers? They’re warriors, but they’ve chosen to remain separate from the world.”
That comment more than anything else told Endric all he needed to know about Urik’s understanding. “I’m not the only one who’s ignorant. I might not know everything that I need, but I’m willing to consider sources that don’t fit into my preconceived ideas. The Antrilii that you disparage? If you would pay attention, if you would have any interest in them, you would know that they serve a purpose that might be greater than the Denraen.”
Urik watched him, biting his lip as he studied him. “You saw them.”
Endric blinked. Could it be that Urik knew? Was he only testing Endric?
Spending time with Urik made him question everything. It forced him to think about all of the possible permutations of what he said and the way that Urik might take it and twist it. It forced him to think of possibilities in ways that Urik might have planned that Endric had not yet accounted for.
“I saw what?”
Urik grinned. “You saw them. You wouldn’t make the claim of the Antrilii need had you not.”
Endric flicked his gaze past Urik and noted that Tresten still stood along the shore. Should he reveal to Urik what he had seen? Did it matter if Urik knew about the groeliin? “I saw them,” he said. “How is it that you know of them?”
Urik smiled, and this time there was no predatory quality to it. “What were they like? Can you describe them?”
Endric stared at him, incredulous. Could Urik really want him to describe the groeliin? His asking reminded Endric of Novan and the way the historian probed and took notes. It was the first time that he had ever seen the historian side of Urik.
“What’s there to describe? They are creatures, horrible creatures. They attack in swarms and destroy everything in their path if that’s possible.”
Urik shook his head. “Not swarms, hordes.”
Endric grunted. “Yes. Hordes. The Antrilii refer to them as broods.”
“The guild has not been able to learn much about these creatures. We know they exist and suspect they have existed for a thousand years or more. There is a reason for the destruction we find evidence of. But we find no sign of these creatures, other than rumors and stories that drift out of the north, stories that always seem to have something to do with the Antrilii.”
“I can tell you that these are more than stories.”
Urik sighed. “I would have loved to have seen them.”
“I doubt that you would have loved it. Likely as not, you wouldn’t have survived.”
Urik tipped his head, studying Endric. “You’re a skilled swordsman, Endric, but you’re not so far above me that I would have fallen as easily as that.”
Endric just nodded. It wasn’t for him to reveal that there was something to the Antrilii bloodline that allowed him to see the groeliin. Let that remain a secret, one that he would not reveal and that he would not share with the historian guild.
“Had you not twisted teralin the way you did, perhaps you could have seen them,” Endric said.
Urik squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out heavily. “I have made many mistakes, but I’ve always served the same ideals.” He opened his eyes and met Endric’s. “Can you say the same?”
“All of us make mistakes. It’s what we do when we make them that defines us,” Endric said.
Urik smiled again. “Who said that one to you? Was that your father, or your brother, or was that something of Listain?”
There was derision in his tone, a reminder that though Urik might surprise him at times, the man still had a hint of darkness within him, and maybe more than a hint. It may not be that all of him remained dark, that only his heart might remain dark.
“That was me.”
He stepped back and noted the way that Urik tapped the kindling on the ground. An idea came to him. He hadn’t reached Urik so far, though he had tried. All he wanted was to try to get through to him, to find answers from the man and see what he had known and why he had felt the need to force Endric out of Vasha. In addition, he wanted to get Urik to open up about the strange pattern that had elicited such a strong emotion. There wasn’t a good way to do it, but maybe he’d been going about it the wrong way. Maybe it wasn’t that he needed to force Urik to share and instead needed to try to work with him to gain his trust and alliance.
“Would you like to spar?” he asked.
Urik looked up, confusion twisting his gaze. “Spar?”
Endric tapped his stick on the ground. “Spar. Like we do in the Denraen? I imagine it’s been quite a while since you’ve had an opportunity to spar, and I just thought…”
Urik frowned. “Is this your way of wanting to harm me?”
Endric shook his head. “This is my way of offering to spar. Consider it a selfish request. You’r
e a skilled swordsman and I suspect there are things I can learn from you by practicing with you.”
As he said it, Endric realized that was truer than he had anticipated. There would be things he could learn from Urik, likely catahs that he would not have learned from his father, patterns that Dendril wouldn’t even know. Endric wanted to learn all that he could and master as many of the catahs as he could discover so that he could integrate them into his fighting style.
“You realize that practicing with me also helps me gain skill,” Urik said.
Endric shrugged. “I realize that. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I just thought…”
Urik watched him for a few more moments. He tapped the kindling stick on the ground and his brow furrowed. He chewed on the inside of his lip, his mouth working as if trying to solve some difficult problem. Endric imagined Urik’s mind was racing, struggling to decide what ulterior motive Endric had in offering to spar. Likely Urik would be surprised to realize that Endric really had no ulterior motive. All he wanted was a chance to practice and he thought Urik would offer a challenge.
Finally, Urik nodded. “I would like that.”
25
They continued their path along the sea. Tresten led them, now walking the horses rather than riding them. He spoke little, though when he did, he often referred to an urgency to what they were doing. Wherever they were heading, there was a timeframe that was important to him.
Urik had been different since the night Endric first sparred with him. He had been less withdrawn, and while he did not share anything more than he had before, when he spoke to Endric, there was less rage bubbling underneath the surface. They had sparred each night since and fell into a pattern that reminded Endric of Denraen patrols.
It had been nearly a week since they left Thealon and were deep into Gom Aaldia but had not seen any sign of soldiers. Endric was relieved. Oftentimes the men of Gom Aaldia could be difficult, even to the Denraen. They were pleased when they were chosen, though most men chosen from Gom Aaldia came from Saeline or from Gomald itself. Few from the outlying kingdoms were ever chosen. Endric didn’t know if that created a sense of resentment or if they were thankful for the fact that they were rarely selected.
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