“Of course.” Hebkya said and once they were in the corridor, they continued on in opposite directions.
The conference was to be held, not in the great hall as usual, but in the King’s very own chamber. Why the King had called his council there, Faine could not say but as he made his way up the six flights of stairs, he could feel his heart grow heavy with dread.
Outside the King’s chamber, now stood four sentries, all watching with intent eyes as the King’s council shuffled their way inside. Faine was one of the last to enter after Captain Filip and the first thing he noticed about the room was the smell. The room was stale with the scent of smoke from a fire. Faine looked to the hearth but saw only soot. No fires had been lit there for some time.
There were five others in the room with Faine; Captain Filip Mousley of the Axendrian army; Lord Arvant Hunt who had traveled all the way from Tyos with his small army when the trouble had started; two of the King’s advisors, Samuel Dowsy and Lady Tany Elyas, the King’s own cousin; and of course, the King himself.
King Alaron had seated himself at the foot of his bed with a glass of wine held limply in his hand. The glass was tipping and with each slight movement the King made, a little spilled out the top, staining the sheets of the bed. King Alaron did not seem to notice or care. Instead, he looked up to his council with weary, tear stained eyes- eyes that were dark and heavy and seemed to hardly see them. The circles beneath them and the King’s pale complexion told Faine that he had not been sleeping.
Finally, the last member of council entered the chamber. Hebkya moved silently through the dreary room and stood next to her brother, wrapping her hands around his arm and whispering; “both were sound asleep”.
Faine nodded and thanked her, then turned his attention back to the King.
“I want all of you to go to the balcony and look at what has become of our beloved city. I want you all to see what I have been witnessing these past two days. I want you all to live the nightmare that I have lived, and know that it is all our fault!” Faine had never before heard the King’s voice so full of malice and he was suddenly afraid to look, but he knew he could not defy his King’s orders, so with a sigh of dread, he shuffled his way to the balcony along with the rest of the council and quickly drew in a breath at the sight that unfolded before him.
The smell of smoke was suddenly explained. The city below was aglow with the fires of destruction. The smoke that rose billowed and spiraled menacingly into the air. The entire city had been set to flame. Faine clutched tightly to the balustrade as the faint sound of screams in the distance reached his ears.
This cannot be! He knew he could not have saved the city and was prepared to deal with the aftermath of his failure. But standing there witnessing its destruction for himself was too much to bear. He stepped away and clumsily stumbled back into the King’s room. He knelt next to the bed before his King and bowed his head solemnly. He said nothing but began to sob. The King seemed to understand his pain and placed his hands on Faine’s shoulders.
One by one the rest of the council began shuffling slowly back into the room. They formed a half circle around the kneeling, distraught Faine and stayed silent, not wishing to disrupt his grieving.
When Faine stood, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and backed away slowly, keeping his gaze fixed upon the King. King Alaron’s eyes followed Faine and a brief moment of understanding seemed to pass between them. They knew each of them was ready and willing to give their lives to save what was left of the free people of Kaena.
“Your Grace,” Lord Arvant Hunt said, taking a furtive step forward, “you must launch an attack and drive them out of the city.”
King Alaron was about to nod his head in agreement when Faine said in a firm voice; “no!” All eyes turned to him in astonishment. Only Hebkya looked to him with understanding. She knew what Faine was about to say.
“Attacking would be madness. Captain Filip has informed me that our numbers are down by two-thirds. If we attack, we will die- all of us.” The solemnity of the room thickened with his words and Faine knew none of them would agree to his plan. But it must be done! There is no other way. I must convince them of that. And so he was willing to tell the council the grisly truth, not sparing them any grief.
“What do you suggest we do then, my Lord?” It was Samuel who spoke now.
“I suggest you do nothing.” An audible, tense inhale resounded throughout the room and everyone seemed to stiffen. King Alaron’s face darkened even more as he stood on shaky legs. He raised a finger and pointed it at Faine.
“Are you suddenly turning coward on me?” His anger rose in his cheeks, making him look flush and his accusing finger began to shake.
“No, your Grace.” Faine replied, softening his tone to try to alleviate the King’s anger. “I have a plan to end this war which requires only myself. No more innocent lives need to be lost on account of that monster.”
“You are going to face your brother alone on the battlefield?” Tany asked. Her soft, wispy voice could barely be heard even in the quiet of the room but Faine still flinched at the word brother. It was not a word he used to describe Amag’mar any longer.
Faine nodded. “I am.”
“This is madness!” Lord Arvant spat. “If by some chance you manage to get past the shadow walkers in one piece, you cannot fight the Lord of Death on your own. His fire alone would destroy you even before you were within striking range!”
“Faine has created a new weapon.” Hebkya spoke. She stepped in the center of the circle next to the King and looked deep into his eyes. Faine suddenly stiffened, knowing what it was that Hebkya was doing.
Their older sister, Haneah, was the one who taught them how to mind-meld. Faine had found it an appalling act, being able to enter into someone else’s mind and possibly control them was not something he was willing to do. He had abandoned his lessons early on but Hebkya had continued, and though she was not as powerful as Haneah or Amag’mar, she could, on occasion, read a person’s thoughts, thereby shifting the conversation to her favor. This, Faine knew, is what she was doing now with the King. She would convince him to allow Faine to continue with his plan. And though he hated when she mind-melded, he was grateful to her now for her abilities, for it may just save all their lives.
“What sort of weapon?” The King asked, gazing deeply into Hebkya’s eyes, unaware that she was making the decision for him.
“A sword; the most powerful sword this world has ever seen. Its magic is the only thing that can destroy Amag’mar’s source of power. And when that is gone, his minions will fall, the cultists will scatter and Amag’mar will die.”
Faine held the sword in both hands, turning the blade over and over again to examine every inch of the steel. It glistened brilliantly in the firelight. Both edges were sharp to the touch and strong. The sword itself was heavy, heavier than Faine’s own sword but the balance of the blade fit so well in his hand, he hardly noticed the extra weight as he began swinging it in practice.
Shinira stood against the far wall of the hut with her arms wrapped tightly across her chest. When Faine had returned to her to tell her of his vision, she demanded to go with him to the blacksmith shop to see the sword. They left Edward with a castle nurse.
Burton sat in the corner of the hut next to the furnace, dabbing his sweaty brow with a dirty cloth. “Are you satisfied?” He asked.
Faine stopped swinging the sword and turned his attention to the blacksmith with a large grin upon his face. “I am most pleased, Burton. Your craftsmanship is truly a work of art.” Burton smiled at the compliment.
“But the sword is not yet finished.” Burton’s smile faded. Faine knew the old man must have been dreading having to do more work but what Faine was about to do did not require the blacksmith’s aid.
He turned and carefully handed the sword to Hebkya who took it with caution, bracing for the weight of it. He walked to where Burton stood and lifted an iron bowl from the countertop. He stood before the
forge, looking to the burning embers with anxiety.
There is no going back after this. Once I do this, I will forever be a changed man. He reached a hand to the stone that rested at his breast and held it tightly for a moment, wanting to the feel the cold smoothness of it one last time.
Hebkya seemed to understand his reluctance and stood next to him. “Would you rather I did it?” She asked.
Faine was shocked by the question. He knew Hebkya was just as willing to do anything to end this war as he was but the thought of her being willing to make the sacrifice for his sake was truly comforting. He smiled and placed his palm on her shoulder.
“No. It must be mine. I am bound to the stone and so shall I be bound to the blade.” Hebkya nodded in understanding and took a step back as Faine pulled on the chain that was wrapped around his neck until it broke and the stone now rested in his open palm.
Faine dropped the stone into the bowl and placed it inside the forge. Steam immediately began to rise from the bowl and Faine heard the sizzling of the stone as it melted into a milky white liquid. He took down the tongs that hung on the wall next to the forge and carefully pulled the bowl from the fire without spilling the liquid.
Hebkya grasped the sword with both hands tightly and held it up so Faine could pour the contents of the bowl over the steel. Burton stood from his chair and Shinira pushed herself away from the wall and both gathered around the sword, curious to see what the two were doing.
The still sizzling liquid of the stone fell upon the blade and ran along the center, turning the glistening steel white. Faine watched with fascination as the liquid was immediately soaked into the steel, something that did not seem possible; but the stone was pure magic, after all. Even Faine did not fully understand what the stone could do.
When all the liquid had been poured and the sword was dry, Faine felt a sudden wave of weakness wash over him. He felt the power of the stone flush away, as though his own soul was leaving his body. He closed his eyes for a moment and swayed under the new, unwelcome feeling. The power of the stone was gone from him. He opened his eyes and looked to the sword that had stolen his gift with a feeling of resentment. He took the blade from Hebkya and ran his open palm down the center, feeling the difference in the steel and the melted stone. Where the stone had seeped into the steel, it had become as smooth as glass. Faine smiled.
“With this sword, our enemy shall be vanquished.”
Hebkya shook her head. “It is not yet complete, brother.”
Faine gave Hebkya a sideways glance and asked; “what do you mean?”
Hebkya sighed in frustration and said; “do you not remember the vision? The sword requires life.”
Faine remembered. He remembered how his hand had bled, feeding the sword the life it required. He smiled and gave the sword back to Hebkya then pulled up his sleeve and held his bare arm out for her to cut.
Hebkya shook her head once more. “It needs more than that.”
“In my vision, the blood came from my hand and seeped into the blade. That is what gave it life.”
“In my vision, the sword pierced my heart and took life from there. Blood is not enough. A life must be given to the blade in order for it to have a life of its own.”
Faine felt a sudden shudder run through him. “You are saying that someone must sacrifice their life in order for the blade to work to its full potential?”
Hebkya nodded. “Yes, dear brother.”
Faine was devastated. He knew he could not ask anyone to willingly give their life for his cause. If the sword needed a life, it would have to be his. Someone else would have to wield the blade and destroy Amag’mar’s stone.
With a heavy heart, avoiding his wife’s gaze, he said; “if a life must be given to the sword, then that life should be mine.”
“No!” Shinira shrieked and ran to his side. “Do not do this!” She begged.
“Be calm, Shinira.” Hebkya said. “It will not be Faine who gives his life to the sword.” Shinira smiled and planted a grateful kiss upon his cheek.
“It cannot be anyone else.” He protested.
“You are the master of the sword. It is your stone within the blade and only you can wield the magic within.” Hebkya took a step forward and placed a palm upon her brother’s shoulder. “I willingly give my life to the blade.”
Shinira shrieked again. “Hebkya, you cannot! You are a Watcher; the last one after Amag’mar. If you give your life to the sword and Amag’mar is destroyed, the Watchers will no longer be in existence. Without you, the world will crumble.” Faine and Hebkya both knew Shinira was right. Without Watchers, the world would cease to grow and thrive. Everything would die eventually, leaving nothing but a barren wasteland where they were no more than a memory. The power of the stones had to be preserved, whether that power resided within a sword or a person. Faine had already given his power to the sword. It would be too risky for Hebkya to give hers up as well.
“Shinira is right, Hebkya. You cannot give your life to the sword.” Faine said.
“What will we do then?” Hebkya asked. Her face darkened with dread.
“I will call a council. Someone must help us.”
Hebkya looked skeptical. “You really think that any one of them is going to willingly die for something they barely believe in?”
It was true that most did not believe in the power of the stones. Many people assumed that their powers were simply a gift they had been blessed with at birth. To an extent, it was true. Faine and all his siblings had been born with these powers. And that is why the Gods chose us to find the stones. The stones amplified their existing strengths. But there was no way of proving this to an onlooker.
“I have to try. It is the only way.” Faine said. He looked to the magical sword in his hand and sighed. As he studied the blade that was their only hope of ending this war, his heart began to fill with doubt.
King Alaron sat across from Faine at the great oak table with his head resting in his open palm and his eyes scanning the room, scowling at all the shouting men around him. Faine had explained to them what the sword needed and now all of them were on their feet, telling Faine that they would not sacrifice their own lives for the sword.
“If the sword needs a life, why not give it your own?” Lord Arvant shouted in anger.
Faine had expected this question and was about to give his reply when the King slammed his balled fist upon the table, making everyone around the table go silent and turn their attention to him.
King Alaron placed his palms upon the table and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, as though the action was too strenuous. The firelight of the hearth made the expression of the King’s face appear grim and Faine knew that he was the cause of the King’s anger.
“No one will be sacrificing their lives for the sword.” He said in a low, guttural voice that pounded away any hope left in Faine’s heart.
“But, your Grace, the vision I had clearly showed me…”
“Enough!” The King shouted in anger. Faine let his hands fall to his lap where the sword rested and he began to stroke the sharp edges, wondering if it would ever be put into use. “A sword is a sword; cold steel and nothing more. There will be no sacrifices and I am surprised at you Faine, for even requesting such a thing!” Faine looked down in shame, unable to stare into the accusing eyes of the King any longer.
“Every day that monster returns to the castle to look up at me and mock me. Every day more of the citizens of Axendra are murdered and their homes are burned. I will tolerate it no longer! You will gather the army and lead them into the city and drive out our enemies!” The King was pointing his finger at Faine.
Faine let go of the sword and glowered back at the King. He was now the one full of anger. Though many of the council did not believe in Faine’s magic stone, the King certainly did. But to accuse him now of telling lies was bordering on heresy and Faine could not control his shaking hands.
“I will not lead any of our men into the city. That i
s exactly what Amag’mar wants us to do. Why do you think he mocks you? He is trying to draw you out.”
“I do not care!” King Alaron shouted. “I will tolerate your indolent behavior no longer!”
“Indolent?” Faine grasped the hilt of the sword tightly and stood. He tried to take in a calming breath, knowing what stress the King must be under but he still fumed with rage at the King’s harsh words.
“Yes; indolent! You have done nothing since your arrival at the castle to rid us of your brother! You have hidden behind these walls while the people of Axendra have been tortured and killed.”
“I have spent the last three years tirelessly fighting on the battlefield!” Faine protested.
“It is not enough. You will assemble the army and march into the city tonight, or I shall have you hanged as a traitor!” With that, the King turned and stormed out of the council chamber with the rest of them following at his heels, all except Hebkya, who stood next to Faine with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You cannot do this!” Hebkya was shouting at Faine’s turned back. He wished that she would leave him in peace. If he was to die on this night, he did not want his last few moments spent being scolded by his sister.
“I can and I must.” He said barely above a whisper as he pulled his tunic over his head. He grasped for his leather jerkin next and slid his arms through. When he turned, he was met with his sister’s fuming gaze. He turned away from her angry gaze and looked to the sword that stood idly in the corner of the room. Faine found it even more difficult to look at the blade, so he looked down to the floor and pushed his way past Hebkya.
On the other side of the chamber, Edward gave a small whimper and Shinira lifted him from his cradle to hold him close to her breast. She walked over to Faine with tears streaming down her cheeks and stood before him, blocking his way and preventing him from reaching the rest of his armor.
“If you go out there, you will be killed.” She said in a quavering voice. “Edward will never know his father.”
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 46
