“Because he serves the Conclave,” Endric said.
“It is more than about his service to the Conclave. There’s something about Novan that I have yet to determine.”
“You mean his ability to see the groeliin.”
Dendril paused and glanced over. “What was that?”
“You didn’t know?” When his father shook his head, Endric frowned. How could he not have asked Dendril about this before now? “Novan can see them. The Antrilii can see them. Which means that Novan has connections along the same lines as the Antrilii.”
Dendril started smiling to himself. “That sneaky little…”
“What?” Endric said.
“He must be descended from the Magi.”
“If he were descended from the Magi, why wouldn’t he have come to Vasha to train with them?”
Dendril glanced up at the third terrace, where the Magi palace loomed over everything. Endric could practically feel the pressure of the power that radiated from that palace. “There are some who feel the values of the Magi are too restrictive,” he said. “And just because he shares the heritage doesn’t mean he shares the power.”
“But how can he learn to use his abilities without training with the Magi?”
“There are others who have similar—and lessened—abilities.”
“Could he have learned it from the Conclave?”
“There are some within the Conclave who might have been able to teach him, but I’m guessing that if anything, Novan learned what he did before he joined the Conclave.”
Endric smiled to himself. He could only imagine Novan gloating over the fact that he had the same ability as the Magi and yet chose to use it differently.
That wasn’t quite true. Novan didn’t gloat about anything. He simply was. There was something unique about Novan, and Endric had always appreciated that about the historian.
“Now that we have that decided, I expect you were going to ask that we spar,” Dendril said.
Endric looked over at his father. “Is that the best thing for us to do?”
“Why do you ask? I thought you enjoyed our sparring sessions.”
Endric grunted. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy them, it’s that if we were to spar now, it would carry with it a little different connotation, I think.”
“Is that right?”
“You know that it is. You know that if we were to spar now, I would defeat you and it would raise questions within the minds of your men.”
“They’re your men, too. And they’re the questions the men are already asking. They feel it’s my time. And perhaps they’re right.”
“You know about that.”
“Of course I know about that. There isn’t much that happens within the Denraen that I don’t hear about. My sources might not be nearly as connected as Senda, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have access to resources that tell me what the men are thinking.”
Endric could only shake his head. If he ever were to assume the role of general, he would have to develop assets in much the same way. That was not something that he looked forward to. How was his father able to do so and still lead the men? He didn’t know what was required for him to draw out that information and wondered if maybe it was something that Listain had taught him, a technique of convincing men to bring information to them.
Then again, it was possible that his father simply listened. It hadn’t taken Pendin all that long to come to Endric with the word of rumors within the Denraen, and he suspected it wouldn’t take long for his father to have heard the same rumors, though Pendin was much less noticeable—and had frequented different places—than Dendril. The general of the Denraen trying to sneak into a tavern would raise suspicions.
“No,” Endric said. “To answer your question, I don’t intend to spar with you.”
“That’s disappointing. I could use the opportunity.”
“The opportunity to get beaten?” Endric asked with a smile.
“I seem to recall that the last time we truly sparred, you were soundly defeated.”
“And I recall that I haven’t exerted myself with you in many years,” Endric said.
Dendril sighed. “It really is nearing the end of my song. It’s your turn and time for your song to begin. You need to assume leadership.”
“And like I’ve told you, I will, but only when I’m ready. And right now, I’m still not ready.”
“Only because you choose not to be.”
“You know that it’s much more complicated than that.”
“It’s only as complicated as you choose to make it,” Dendril said. He sighed, looking all around him. “It has been my greatest fear, you know.”
“What has?”
“Knowing what will happen to the Denraen after I’m gone. Like every general before me, I have tried to train the men—and women—as best as I could to ensure that the line of succession was intact.”
“It’s not like that with the Denraen. It isn’t always passed from father to son.”
“It’s not. My predecessor is proof to that, but there has been enough connectivity between generals within the Denraen that I had begun to worry about what might happen if I couldn’t find a worthy successor. At first, I thought it was going to be your brother.”
“Father—”
Dendril shook his head. “I’m not saying that to reminisce about what happened or to make either of us mourn him any more than we already have. I am stating it as fact. Your brother was a natural leader, but even he had things I needed to work on with him. When he passed, I began looking for alternatives. After your foolish attempt at challenging me”—Dendril shot him a hard look that told Endric that he still hadn’t forgiven him for that, even though it might have been the reason that Vasha had survived—“I started to groom Listain. He had never wanted command before, and even as I worked with him, I could tell his reluctance to take on any more of a role than he already had. He was far too happy staying in the shadows. He felt that was his natural role, and he had pushed himself enough simply accepting the position of authority I had placed him in.”
Endric hadn’t known that. The entire time he had been in the Denraen, Listain had served as his father’s Raen.
“He remained convinced you could be groomed, but I was not. Even after you returned, I still wasn’t certain that you were fully committed to the Denraen. You seemed far more eager to chase after the mystical part of our world rather than the mundane.”
“Is there anything mundane about our world?”
Dendril smiled. They were standing at the edge of the entrance to the officer’s quarters, and Dendril glanced over his shoulder, almost as if to check to ensure that no one approached. “Not as often as we would like, is there?” Dendril smiled sadly. “And then you managed to defeat Urik a second time, and that time, you stopped an attack that even Listain hadn’t seen coming. It was then that I began to wonder whether or not you might be meant for more than simply serving the Denraen.”
“Have you ever simply served the Denraen?” Endric asked. He didn’t know why his father was telling him these things and certainly didn’t know why his father was speaking in such a way. It was almost as if he were trying to talk Endric out of continuing his service toward the Denraen and taking command.
“I was different than most who come to the Denraen.”
Endric frowned. He hadn’t heard his father’s story, not more than what he’d gleaned from his time in the Antrilii lands. “How did you end up with the Denraen?” Endric asked.
“I was approached by Tresten.”
“Tresten?”
Dendril smiled to himself, shaking his head. “He was younger then, but not much. Even then, I realized somehow that he was something more than a mere mage. Our people referred to them as damahne, and I knew Tresten had to be one of the damahne. He certainly was much more powerful than any Mage I’d ever encountered.”
“How many Magi had you encountered while living with the Antrilii?”
<
br /> “We ventured south during our training expeditions. I had come to enjoy those, and came across several Magi on my journeys, though as far as I know, they never saw me.” Dendril smiled to himself. “It was on one of those journeys where I first encountered Tresten. He was the first Mage who had ever seen me before I had a chance to see him. Then again, Tresten has never been merely a Mage. I was offered an opportunity to serve the damahne, and after having the importance of it explained to me, I agreed. What choice did I have?”
“That’s why you joined the Denraen?”
“I came in as an officer and had served only a few years before Tresten encouraged me to challenge for command. I wasn’t certain at the time, but I saw the need to stabilize the Denraen.”
“Stabilize them?”
This topic was surprisingly fascinating to Endric.
“The Denraen had grown complacent. It was a reason that Tresten had come to me, reaching out, knowing that with my understanding of the Antrilii and the way that we served, facing the groeliin and protecting the north, I would not fall victim to the same complacency. I was eager, perhaps too eager, to take command.”
Dendril looked over at him.
“In that, you are more like me than I have ever wanted to admit. Your brother was far more measured in his responses, and perhaps that would have served him well in the Denraen, or perhaps it would not have. I doubt very much that your brother would have recognized the risk Urik posed, and I know for certain that he would never have gone to learn about the Antrilii.”
“You don’t know that,” Endric said.
“I’m not disparaging your brother by saying that. He was a soldier. He was a Denraen. He never wanted to know that he was something else.”
And Endric had eagerly gone. The moment he had learned he was descended from the Antrilii, he had wanted to know more about them. Meeting Nahrsin and the other Antrilii had left him with questions, and when his father hadn’t been willing to answer them, Endric had been more than willing to go after them on his own.
If had he not?
Had he not, the Antrilii would have suffered.
“I don’t know why you’re telling me these things, but it’s because of the experiences I’ve had that I have become the man that I have become, Father. I wouldn’t change any of them.” That wasn’t entirely true. He might have changed some of what he’d experienced when traveling through the Antrilii lands. He had nearly died—repeatedly—and his survival had never been guaranteed.
“It is because of those experiences, but it’s also those same experiences that threatened to tear you away from the Denraen.”
“The Conclave wants me to serve the Denraen.”
“And that’s why you’re here. That doesn’t change the fact that I—and the Denraen—need for you to choose to be here.”
“I have chosen to be here.”
“No, Endric. You have chosen to do as the Conclave asks of you. And knowing the way the Conclave serves, I don’t fault you in that. The Conclave plays a valuable role in the world, but it’s one where they have others with similar abilities to fill. The Denraen only have one man like you. The Denraen need Endric to lead them.”
Dendril looked over at Endric, fixing him with the intensity in his eyes that he always seemed to manage. The wrinkles along the corners of his eyes seemed deeper than they used to, but the weight of his gaze was no less than it had been before. There was still strength within Dendril, probably enough that he would pose no small amount of difficulty if Endric were to challenge him for leadership of the Denraen. But then, if Endric were to do that, he needed to be ready for leadership, and he needed to be prepared to accept that leadership if it were thrust upon him.
Could Dendril be right? Could it be that he was here because he had chosen to serve the Conclave and not because he had chosen to serve the Denraen?
“If it takes you escorting Elizabeth south, and if it takes you learning what the guild might be planning before you choose to serve the Denraen—truly serve—then so be it, but if you don’t foresee a time when you will ever serve the Denraen willingly, perhaps it’s time for me to continue my search for my replacement.”
“Father,” Endric started. Dendril began to turn around, and Endric reached for him. “Dendril,” he said, grabbing for his father’s arm.
Dendril glanced down at him, a frown creasing his features. “All I ask is that you don’t waste our time. Serving the Conclave is valuable. Everything that you have experienced with them has proven that to be true. You can find just as much value in serving the Denraen, but only if you choose it.”
Dendril pulled his arm free and headed into the barracks, leaving Endric standing alone. He watched his father depart before turning and looking back at the rest of the barracks. Hundreds of men worked, sparring and training, and all of them were technically under his command, but was that what he wanted?
He hadn’t given it much thought since returning from Salvat, mostly because he believed that he came for the right purpose. How could he not? It wasn’t as if he had returned wanting anything other than to take his place within the Denraen, but then again, he had returned at the direction of Tresten and the Conclave.
Could his father be right?
It wouldn’t surprise him. His father was often—no, always—right.
It left Endric troubled. What did it mean for him? And even if he came up with an answer, was there anything that he would do differently?
5
Endric sat in his room beside a stack of books. He’d piled them on his desk but still hadn’t managed to work his way through them all. At the other end, a lantern glowed.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the fatigue that washed over him. He’d been here for hours, ever since leaving his father, and still hadn’t managed to get a better understanding about the inner workings of the guild. If they were going to approach the guild, to bring Elizabeth there, he wanted to be ready. He had long ago learned that preparation was the key to success in everything. The more that he knew about the guild, the better prepared he would be for whatever it would take to understand why they had gone silent.
And maybe it was nothing more complicated than their own natural tendencies to protect their secrets.
Elizabeth didn’t think that was the case, and he knew her well enough to know that if she didn’t believe it to be so, it probably was not.
He’d found nothing. There were plenty of volumes that told him about the guild, and he had one book that listed names of guild members, but there wasn’t anything there that told him much more than that. It was almost as if the inner workings of the guild had never been as well recorded as everything the guild itself had observed.
Would Novan find the irony in that?
Maybe he was the only one who found that interesting.
Endric sat back when he heard a knock at his door.
“It’s open,” he hollered.
He looked over to see who was there, half expecting Pendin to enter.
It wasn’t Pendin.
“Senda,” he said when she pushed open the door.
She smiled, pushing back a strand of her dark hair and tucking it behind her ear. “I wasn’t expecting to find you in here,” she said.
“No? Where were you expecting to find me?”
“Well, I thought that maybe you would be out in the yard working with the men, but they told me you’ve already been there and departed.”
“I didn’t want to bore them too much,” Endric said with a smile.
Senda pulled the chair out from the corner and took a seat.
“Did you find everything that you needed?” Endric asked.
“I wouldn’t have returned if I didn’t.”
“What did you find?”
She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “We can talk about that later.”
“Really?” He glanced over his shoulder, looking at his bed. “I thought I would do some work for a while, but since you’re o
ffering…”
Senda laughed. It was the one thing about her that had changed since her recovery following her illness on Salvat. She laughed much more easily than she ever had before. There were times when Endric worried about it, wondering whether it was natural for her to laugh as much as she did, and other times he simply enjoyed the fact that she did.
For so long, she’d been tense, struggling to understand her place in the Denraen and caught between a desire for her position and a desire for Endric to embrace his role. When he had returned and shown a willingness to assume greater command, she had stepped down. With as sick as she had been, she might have needed to step down regardless, but doing it the way she had gave her the chance to do so with grace and dignity, and few among the Denraen had ever questioned her reasoning.
Then again, Senda had not hesitated to share that Endric had been the one to defeat Urik. Everyone within the Denraen knew what Urik had done, and all praised Endric for doing it. None knew that he hated to have been the reason Urik had died. There had to have still been good within him, even if he hadn’t been able to find it.
“I thought I would ask you a little bit more about what Elizabeth wants from you.”
“You heard about that already?”
“You know I couldn’t return to the city and not report to my commander.”
“I’m your commander.”
“You are second-in-command,” she said, smiling and throwing her legs over the arms of the chair. “And I’m the Keeper of Secrets. Those secrets are meant for the general.”
“Don’t tell me that you intend to start in on me about taking a greater leadership role again.”
“I hadn’t intended to, but is this something I need to do?”
“No,” he said.
“It seems as if there’s a story here.”
“No story. It’s just that I’ve had Pendin and my father and even Elizabeth all questioning my devotion to the Denraen, all wanting to know when I intend to challenge for greater leadership, and this after you spent the time out on patrol doing the same.”
Soldier Song (The Teralin Sword Book 6) Page 6
