“It doesn’t have a name,” Aeden replied.
“Oh but it does. This is no ordinary blade, not if I’m correct in my summation. It is one of a handful made long ago, by none other than the prophet Majorem,” the Jal leaned forward and whispered as if fearing to wake the resting blade, “he called it Kan Savasci.”
“What does it mean?” Aeden asked, silently repeating the name to himself, Kan Savasci.
“Fate Walker, Blood Warrior, it has many meanings, some I cannot understand or translate,” the Jal paused, collecting his thoughts; “it is imbued with a unique characteristic.”
Aeden wanted to ask what it was, but he knew he was playing into the Jal’s hand. He didn’t like being a puppet. He didn’t like being played.
“Aren’t you curious?” the Jal inquired.
Aeden stood silently, wondering if this is what his father had been waiting to tell him nearly two years ago. The thought of his loss still pained him, but the emotions were no longer fresh.
“Pick it up,” the Jal said off-handedly, but something about his tone unnerved him.
Aeden looked at the Jal a moment longer before reaching for the Templas sword. It seemed to hum under his touch. His arm tingled as he clasped the hilt. It felt cool and comforting.
“Draw the blade,” the Jal said.
Aeden drew the blade. The soft note of steel rang in the air.
The guards both looked to the Jal before pulling their own swords free.
The Jal held up a hand to reassure them.
“Interesting, so it is true,” Jal Isa Sha’ril whispered.
Aeden saw the guards staring intently upon him. He then thought of the other guards in the palace and of his shackled brothers. Now was not the time. He sheathed his sword and held it by his side.
“I give it back to you,” the Jal said magnanimously, “having faith in the prophet Majorem, may his power never wane.”
Aeden nodded heavily. Once again the burden of responsibility threatened to crush him. The air felt thick with obligations waiting to be met. The bitter taste of revenge rose in his throat like bile and threatened to make him sick.
“We have much to discuss,” the Jal’s voice changed pitch and he leaned forward, finally gesturing for Aeden to take a seat.
Chapter 60
“Struggle defines the shape of a man.” Saying of the Thane Sagan
“Where are you going?” Adel asked.
Aeden stood at the doorway, not daring pass the threshold. Guards stood not far from them, ever watchful. Neri was hunched over in the corner whispering to the mouse he cupped lightly in his hand.
“I cannot say,” Aeden replied. He looked from Neri back to Adel, “I hope to buy your freedom.”
“At what cost,” Adel asked.
Neri glanced up at Aeden for the first time since he had come down. Aeden didn’t dare meet their gaze. The cost of a life for two would be hard for them to understand. It was something he didn’t want to think about. He had spent a sleepless night trying to justify what he was about to do, yet couldn’t come up with a rational reason to move forward. He had hoped seeing his brother monks would serve as the motivation to follow through.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Again silence stretched between them, exacerbating the distance that stood from Aeden to his fellow monks. Time had drawn an invisible line between them, slowly pulling Aeden down another path, a bloodier path, a path leading to revenge.
“Then may the lord Salvare watch over you and guide your steps brother,” Adel said.
His tired eyes met Aeden’s for a moment and held the weight of the last months upon them in red lines running as tiny rivulets of blood cracking the periphery of his dark pupils.
“May the Holy Order rise again,” Neri uttered, escaping back to the mouse nibbling upon some hidden morsel on his outstretched hand.
“May the Holy Order rise again,” Aeden repeated almost automatically, the words sounding somehow different to his own ears. It reminded him of the words he was forced to remember as a boy for the trials of becoming a man.
He continued to watch them for a moment, almost reluctant to go. He leaned heavily upon the door frame as if for support. Their words echoing like rippling waves in a pond across the chasm of his mind.
With a tired breath he nodded to them, even though neither were paying him any attention. Somewhere in the quiet recesses of his consciousness he knew that he was a monk no longer.
Aeden looked away and steeled himself for the upcoming task. The cold hands of fate seemed to be guiding him blindly down some unseen path, a sadder and more violent path than the one he’d already experienced. He only hoped Odilo would understand.
Epilogue
“The trouble with the truth is that it needn’t make sense.” Herlewin’s Letters of Apology
The annalist left the opulent rooms of the Caliph and exited the gilded compound of the Emperor of A’sh.
The sun was now fully in the sky casting its feverish light upon the lands in a vengeful act of malicious intent. The air was still as if the very city of Sha’ril had paused, taking in a breath, waiting desperately to exhale.
The heat slowed the annalist’s mind. It preyed on his skin and sucked at what little moisture he had in his mouth. He licked at his parched lips as he replayed the exchange with Jal Isa Sha’ril.
There had been deceit in his eyes, in his words. There were so many layers of lies that the truth was hard to decipher. Even for one as skilled as he. The annalist, however, wasn’t willing to kill the Caliph for answers. Not yet anyway. He had proven too powerful an ally against Sawol and the damned city of Q’Bala.
There were others in Sha’ril with information. Perhaps they would lead the annalist to the path of truth. The truth was all that mattered now. The hidden web that once divined would lead to the Kan Savasci’s hidden fortress and to his weakness.
The annalist knew who he needed to seek out for he still had questions that needed answering. Perhaps then he could find out who Aeden had been ordered to kill.
The pieces were coming together, just not nearly as fast as the annalist had promised. Not nearly fast enough in a time of war.
He just hoped the new Deacon of Sha’ril would have the answers he sought. Verold could only wait so long before being torn apart by those he had awakened.
Table of Contents
Copyright
PART ONE Thane Sagan
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
PART TWO Heorte
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
PART THREE Pilgrimage
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
PART FOUR Sha’ril
Chapter 54
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br /> Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Epilogue
Tears of a Heart Page 35
