Ashes And Spirit (Book 3) (51 page)

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to elaborate on that, Master Po.” Kellinar tied a piece of leather thong around the now coiled rope to hold it and then dropped it next to the pile Po had created. He picked up another length of rope and started shaking the tangled loops out. “I’m not quite seeing what the problem is.”

“The problem is all my students, young man.” Po waved his hand toward the crowded tents. “If I leave now, many of the New Sharrens will lose the progress made. It must be used to be remembered. I suppose I could send a few of the more intrepid, younger scholars to continue teaching here, however, I fear the conditions aren’t conducive to proper learning.”

Kellinar smiled. So that’s what Po wanted. “You wish the New Sharrens to be transferred to Galdrilene with you.”

“That is a fabulous idea, Di’shan Kellinar!” Po’s wrinkled face beamed at him with innocent surprise.

Po had led him straight into that. With a rueful shake of his head Kellinar said, “Do you think that would really work out?”

“I don’t see why not. The Shaderians are being welcomed in Kanther. The Calladarans will be welcomed, no doubt, among the Boromari. Where will the New Sharrens go? Markene runs short on everything. Not to mention they are now on the front lines of this war. Are the New Sharrens destined never to know peace? If they stay here, this camp has no chance of survival. Only those who manage to make it inside the city gates before they’re closed will have any chance at all.”

It was true the New Sharrens had seen their fair share of war. Kellinar’s gaze swept the encampment. “Even Galdrilene won’t be permanent for them.”

“No, it won’t. But it will give them a chance to breathe. To continue their education and continue learning new trades.” Po set the newly finished coil on the pile. “The New Sharrens are a hardworking lot. I think they could easily be integrated into Galdrilene for the time being.”

Kellinar ran a hand over his braids and sighed. “Where will they go in Galdrilene? There isn’t enough room in the Dragon Hold for all of them.”

“The people of Galdrilene will take them in. From the main city all the way down to the docks, they could find places to stay.” Po nodded toward several New Sharren children as they ran by. “Most of the children can stay at the University where they can continue their studies. It’s a chance for them to recover, Di’shan. A chance to grow and to live.”

“I will speak with the other riders. And of course, as city leader, Tarik will have to be consulted with.”

Po nodded. “You do that. I will remain in Markene until I hear word either way.”

“You don’t have to wait if you don’t want to.”

“These ropes aren’t going to coil themselves, young man.”

Kellinar chuckled. “I’m sure another could be found for the task.”

Po nodded, his attention focused on the next rope. “Mayhap, but I agreed to do it. With so many tents coming down the ropes were everywhere. I told everyone to pile them here, and I would organize them.”

“I will let you know as soon as I know.”

“May the Fates favor your day, Di’shan.”

“Yours as well, Master Po.”

Vaddoc stood on the wall that encompassed the south side of Markene’s castle and stared out over the massive encampment of Markeni, Kantherian, and Boromari soldiers. The few Ke’han that had survived the border battles camped at the edge of the armies, the Nagi and Nagas with them. Fires from the gathered armies lit the rolling grasslands on both sides of the river like stars descended from the night sky. Every now and then, a torch led a group of warriors through as the surviving Border Guards from both Calladar and Shadereen joined them.

The large group of Fire mages that returned with the riders also were hard at work. Every night they set fires in the camps, which required tremendous energy. Their weaves created fires that burned for a full day and night, fueled by nothing and leaving little smoke, however, it was necessary to prevent Markene from being stripped bare of fuel resources. Thankfully, the amount of fires needed had already lessened.

The Shaderian refugees now resided in Kanther. Vaddoc hoped his mother and sisters were settling into their new, temporary home. The New Sharrens had gone to Galdrilene. In the morning, Kirynn would accompany Taela to Boromar to make the same request on behalf of the Calladarans.

For now, all was quiet as both the remaining refugees and the city itself settled into slumber.

Sleep remained elusive for Vaddoc. The horror from the final battle for Shadereen had burned itself deep into his mind and heart. Standing there on the wall, he found nothing to distract himself from the memories. Nothing needed done at the moment. And so he wrestled with the emotions that filled him. His mother and sister were safe, but the nation he had grown up in, had fought for first as a Border Guard and later as a rider, was gone. Completely. Along with a large portion of its inhabitants.

The images of Welan burning while the people were slaughtered wouldn’t give him peace. And worst of all was the thread of doubt that tugged at him. Three nations had been wiped out in a single day. What hope did they really have of protecting the world from the Shadow Riders? If five hundred years before, Guardians with far more experience than any of them now possessed had been unable to stop the tide of shadows, how were they supposed to?

Even Namir remained silent on those questions and that, more than anything, planted a seed of fear for the future deep in his heart that he couldn’t dig out. If the dragons were beginning to doubt they would find victory against the Shadow Riders…

Vaddoc shook his head. He needed to stop thinking in that manner and just focus on one battle at a time. Yes, they had lost those. Perhaps next time, they could at least hold their ground. It was all the hope he could summon. The possibility of pushing the Shadow Riders back was too much to ask at this point.

Apiatan, one of the few Ke’han to survive the border conflict, walked toward him along the wall. Vaddoc watched him approach out of the corner of his eye. Though he still struggled to resolve how they looked with how they acted, he didn’t feel quite the same aversion to the Ke’han that he once had.

The Ke’han hadn’t wavered even for a moment in the defense of Shadereen. They may look like Kojen, but Namir had been right. They were no more Kojen than he himself was a Shadow Rider.

Apiatan stopped and leaned against the parapets next to him. Like Vaddoc, he stared at the assembled armies below. They stood next to each other in silence for a long time before the Ke’han glanced at him and asked, “How do you do it?”

Startled, Vaddoc turned his eyes on the Ke’han. “Do what?”

“Find peace.” Apiatan sighed and gazed out at the myriad of fires, his expression troubled. “The Ke’han have never witnessed such butchery. Not even when we came to the place called Trilene to help. My men have trouble finding sleep. They are not alone for I cannot find it myself.” He looked at Vaddoc again. “Given that elder Ke’han are not available to seek advice from at this time, I thought perhaps one such as you might know how one finds peace after such a thing.”

Vaddoc turned his gaze to Apiatan, seeing him truly for the first time. Though he fought with the skill of a well-trained warrior, now that they stood within arm’s length of each other, it was obvious the Ke’han was young for his position as headman over the others who had come west.

His horns weren’t as heavy as Hakan’s. Wide-shouldered and wide-chested with well-developed muscles, there was still a lankiness to Apiatan. “How many years have you seen?

The Ke’han looked back at the fires. “I have seen nineteen summers.”

Vaddoc sighed and followed the Ke’han’s gaze. Apiatan was six years his junior. The same age he’d been when he first graduated to the rank of Border Guard. Lenyi’s death at the hands of Kojen still haunted him. Trilene lingered on the edges of his mind, and Shadereen filled it with a kaleidoscope of sickening images. Vaddoc wished he had something to offer the Ke’han.

Reaching up, Vaddoc clasped one hand on Apiatan’s shoulder. “If I knew, I would gladly tell you, my friend.”

Vaddoc leaned against the parapets and gazed out at the army while he struggled to keep the seed of fear in his heart from sprouting into a noxious weed. Doubt had no place in this war. Vaddoc’s sleepless night moved slowly on and still he remained on the wall, standing quietly with Apiatan as they both tried to come to terms with everything that had happened.

Kalila shuffled through more reports of foreign and domestic soldier numbers in the light of several low burning candles while the half-moon made its way into the western sky outside her open windows.

Through the open door to the other sleeping rooms in the apartment, the quiet snores of one of the mages provided background noise. The temperatures of late summer had returned and occasionally a breeze would sweep into the room and rustle the papers on her desk.

She sighed in frustration when she lost her train of thought and had to reread the reports. Though Markene was her focus and enough to think about on its own, a small part of her mind and heart, the part that remembered it was still a youthful young woman who hadn’t quite reached her eighteenth year, wanted to wander off onto subjects that needed to be left alone. That part of her wanted to think of Loki and the budding love it had found with him.

To his credit, even though he was again in Markene, he had left her alone to concentrate on her nation. In the time he’d been gone, Kalila found she missed him. She had Lalani and Sehlas as advisors, however, they weren’t someone she could truly confide in.

What she wanted, or maybe even needed, was the young man who had been her friend. Who would likely become more than a friend if she gave it even a moment’s chance. He was the only one she’d felt comfortable crying in front of or sharing her fears with.

Since Loki left, Kalila kept everything buried deep inside, never letting it show. It wore heavy upon her. As queen, she needed to be a solid rock in the storm that was beginning to rage all around her nation. She needed to be a leader that didn’t hesitate or show doubt. Never could there be a moment of weakness before her personal guard, mage instructors, Heads of Houses, and most all, the people of the nation who depended on her.

The papers fluttered to the desk as she dropped them to rub her temples. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to keep it all inside. After what happened on the border, how much time did any of them really have left? Was it fair to deny herself any personal pleasures? Was it fair to her nation even to think of herself? If she died in the next month, would there be any regrets?

Kalila pondered that last question. With Markene, she could find no regrets. She had done and would continue to do everything possible for her nation, keeping the best interests of her people in every action she took.

But with her personal life, all Kalila could see were regrets and missed chances. It wasn’t enough just to survive. One needed to live as well, to find happiness where it could be found in each day, to embrace it all or in the end, what was the point?

Making a decision, Kalila stood and wrapped her light cloak over her nightdress and walked to the door of her chambers. The Galdrilene Defenders in the hall gave her a startled look, clearly surprised to see her in the middle of the night. “Do you require something, my queen?” the ranking Defender asked.

“I must speak with Loki immediately. He has once again taken his rooms within the keep, has he not?”

The Defender nodded. “He has. Jocelynn and Varnen too have returned to their rooms, and many of the other riders reside in the keep as well.”