Dawn of Swords (21 page)

A cold wind blew, making him shiver. He pulled his woolen blanket tighter around him, wishing he’d thought to bring warmer clothing. Having never ventured out of Safeway and the shadow of the Sanctuary over his twenty years of life, he’d never felt the sting of a northern night. In the south, the first week of autumn was like the last week of summer, with the heat of day persisting late into the evening. Sure, he’d been told of the northern winters, of snow and frost and how it seeped into your bones. And he had always bobbed his head, believing he understood. Now he knew how great a fool he’d been, thinking he could understand such a thing through mere words. Here, camping just off the Gods’ Road in the woodlands a few miles north of Mordeina, the moon was like an icy sun casting frigid blue light through the branches of stunted trees.

A silken hand caressed his knee, and Roland glanced to his left. There sat Brienna, her crystalline eyes staring down at him. Her hair was pulled back from her face, bunched in a glossy tress that cascaded over her shoulder, revealing the fine contours of her cheeks and dainty nose. She was quite beautiful in a strong yet youthful way. Roland adored her and thought her far more welcoming than any of the other elves he’d met. He especially appreciated her untamed spirit and bright eyes, so totally unlike her usually calculated brethren. She seemed to be the perfect match for Jacob.

“What’s wrong?” Brienna asked. “You’re trembling like a woodpecker’s jabbing at your soul.”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m worried about my master. He’s been gone for too long.”

Brienna laughed. “Jacob’s fine, Roland. He’s a resourceful man.”

“But the wolves.…”

“The wolves hold nothing over him.” She had that sly look about her, a playfulness Roland had often seen. “The creatures of the wood
tremble in his presence. He is the most perfect creation in the land. I think he’ll be fine.”

“And I think you give the man too much credit, Brienna,” mumbled Azariah, stirring from his rest. The Warden lifted himself up on his elbow. The light of the fire cast a haunting shade of red on Azariah’s normally pale complexion, making Roland shiver once more. “As timeless and perfect as he is, Jacob is only human, and like all of us he can falter.”

Brienna eyed him devilishly. Her relationship with Azariah often baffled Roland. Though they obviously enjoyed each other’s company, they constantly passed barbs back and forth. Rarely, if ever, did they agree on anything. About the only thing they had in common was their mutual admiration for Jacob.

“You’re no more human than I am, Az,” Brienna jested. “Actually, I’m not sure you even know what you are.”

“I very much know what I am,” replied the Warden, sitting up straight and throwing off his blankets. “I am Azariah, brother of Judarius and Laconia, son of Azekiel and Caterina—”

“Yes, but what
world
were you born on, Azariah? Was it here with the rest of mankind? No, I don’t think it was. You’re a Warden of Ashhur. You’re as far from a human as I am.”

Azariah glared at her, but he could not keep a straight face. Brienna grinned, and the Warden erupted into a hearty bout of laughter, which the beautiful elf was quick to join. Roland chuckled as well, and he noticed that the chill that had been weighing down his bones seemed to be ebbing.

When the laughter died down, Roland sat there grinning, poking at the fire with a long branch. He was glad Jacob had asked Brienna and Azariah to join them on this mysterious journey into the north, after passing his mentorship of Benjamin Maryll to Judarius. Whatever their flaws, both his travel companions knew how to lighten the atmosphere and set his soul at ease. The only thing he regretted was that the feeling never seemed to last.
Soon his nerves stirred again, just as the crackling of the flames reemerged, along with the chirping of the insects and the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. The coldness came back to him as well, and he inched closer to the blaze, his face scrunched into a grimace.

Azariah and Brienna exchanged a frown.

“And still the boy is ill at ease,” said the Warden.

“I’m just cold,” said Roland.

“Come here,” said the elf. “I’ll warm you up.”

Brienna inched closer, wrapping an arm around him. He smelled the alluring aroma of her jasmine-scented skin as a strange feeling washed over him from the inside out. It was similar to the one he got when he stood close to Mary Ulmer, a girl of undying faith who never seemed to notice how his mind turned to mush each time they spoke.

“The boy doesn’t need warmth,” said Azariah. “It’s fear he faces, and before it he’s clueless as a newborn babe.”

Roland squinted at the Warden over the flames, his pride stung.

“I’m not some child,” he said. “I’m twenty—old enough to be a man now.”

Azariah laughed. “Are you a man? It takes more than age to make a man, boy. What pain have you suffered? What struggles have you overcome? What scars mar your body? Right now, you are a tree stripped of bark. I’d hearken to guess that
none
of the wards of Ashhur’s Paradise have grown up yet.”

“Shush, Az,” said Brienna, shaking her head. “Don’t do that to the boy.”

Azariah ignored her, leaning in closer, the reflection of the flames dancing off his irises. “Tell me, Roland, what do you feel right now?”

Roland cocked his head and stared back at him, unsure. “I…I don’t know. It’s like my body won’t do what I tell it to. Back home, if it’s hot, I tell myself not to feel it, and it gets cooler. When
it gets cold in winter, I do the opposite. But here…no matter how hard I tell myself it isn’t
that
cold, I shiver and shiver. I keep seeing the wolves ripping apart that carcass, and the shiver becomes a quake.”

Azariah stared at him with those penetrating eyes. He’d always understood people, more than any of the other Wardens.

“You see more than just a wolf and a deer, don’t you?” he asked. “What is it that flashes before your eyes when you close them? What nightmare won’t let you sleep?”

Roland bowed his head. Shame worked its way into his gut, a feeling of weakness that was unrelenting.

“I also see Martin Harrow’s body,” he said. “I see his mother and father weeping. I see Ashhur standing over them as they buried him in the dirt, telling them their son is in a better place…but when I see their faces, I know they don’t believe him. But how? How could they not believe him? Ashhur is their god, and he created us all. Why do they doubt?”

His shame grew, and he blurted the words out before he lost his courage.

“Why do
I
doubt?”

Azariah shifted onto his knees. He was one of the shortest Wardens, and yet his height was still impressive.

“Ashhur speaks the truth. Martin
is
in a better place now, lounging in the golden plains of Afram, the void in which the gods mold an afterlife for their people, drinking wine with his great-great-grandparents. It is natural for you to doubt, and you should feel no shame. But belief in the truth is often thwarted by the great killer of hope, a foe you know so terribly little about.”

Brienna sighed.

“What is that?” asked Roland.

“Fear.”

Roland sat up straight, even as Brienna tightened her grip on his shoulders.

“You keep saying that,” he said. “I’m not a fool. I know what fear is—all of us do. When Master Jacob was visiting the delta, I had many dreams that he would not return, and it frightened me. When I was younger, I used to worry that my parents would scold me when I ignored my chores.”

“Such terrible fears,” said Azariah. “Have you already forgotten the wolf?”

Roland fought back his shudder.

“That too,” he said.

Azariah shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“You’d rather pretend it’s not there than face it. None of you in Ashhur’s Paradise can face fear; none of you can stand tall and make it your servant instead of your master.”

“Az, don’t,” said Brienna.

“The boy needs to know,” the Warden answered. “There might be danger where we are headed.” He fixed his eyes on Roland. “Here in the west you have been greatly sheltered,” he said. “All of Ashhur’s children have been, so do not feel that it’s your fault. What is there to do in Paradise but breed and pray to the god who walks among you? A simple life, of oneness with the deity, the land, and your family. But that is not all there is. You know nothing of pain or of loss. Never has anyone in this land died before his or her time…Martin was the first. That is why you know nothing of it, Roland. You’re soft. In many ways, it is a beautiful thing, and the people of Paradise cherish one another in a way that exists nowhere else in this world. But we’ve left that land now. We are in the wild, and nature is a far harsher mistress.”

“You act like you know any better,” said Roland, a bit harsher than he intended. “You’ve lived there with us. You’ve been…been…as coddled as we are! What do
you
know of it?”

The Warden’s fire-flickering eyes darkened for a moment, then grew wistful, almost sad.

“I know much. We all do. Ahaesarus, my brother, Icariah, Ezekai, Torian, Uriel…we all experienced a life before Dezrel. Before we came here. Before we lost everything.”

Roland immediately regretted his words, almost wished he could take them back. But his curiosity got the better of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “How did it happen?”

Azariah smiled a gloomy smile.

“I was a carpenter once, working in my corner shop in a small city on a distant world we called Algrahar. I had a wife and children, and I loved my family dearly. And I also loved my god, whom we worshipped each night before the shrine of Rana that sat on the outskirts of the city. Life was full of joy, and much like you, we knew nothing of pain. As with Brienna’s people, our god had blessed us with unnaturally long lives. Those I loved remained by my side through the entirety of my existence. It wasn’t until one winter day during my sixty-sixth year that I knew even a moment of terror.

“You must understand that in our world, with its two suns burning brightly on either side of the horizon, it was always daylight. Sometimes the world darkened, and we could glimpse the brightest of the stars, but we never had nightfall or true darkness…not until that day. Suddenly the sky split as if a black dagger had sliced through the heavens. From the swirling mists within that darkness emerged a horde of flying beasts. They wore strange armor and bore giant black wings on their backs, and they were legion. We stood dumbfounded, not understanding what was happening until it was too late. The creatures descended upon us, attacking us with swords and spears. Those who fought back were destroyed instantly. The streets of our city ran red with our blood, and the air resounded with our dying screams. My wife was sliced from shoulder to hip before my eyes. My children were lifted by the evil beasts and carried high into the nightmare sky, then dropped down on the streets below.

“It was no coincidence that I lived. The beasts slaughtered the women and children, leaving us, the men who surrendered, to be rounded up and herded into pens. It was there my brother, Judarius, and I awaited the judgment of whatever dark force had brought this misery down upon my people.”

Azariah paused, staring into the fire as if he were worlds away. Brienna shifted uncomfortably beside Roland, holding him tighter against her.

“Do you know what the worst of it was?” Azariah suddenly asked. “It seemed as though our god had abandoned us. As hundreds of us sat in that grimy pen, watching our captors soar over the gates, we realized that we were alone. Rana heard our prayers no longer, and his light had been extinguished from the world. That is when we knew fear. That was when we looked into the abyss and saw its darkest face.

“Nothing is as frightening as the thought that only blackness will greet you when you leave this life. Not strange creatures falling from the sky and murdering our families. Not the lack of understanding nor the promise of death every time the gates to our prison opened. No, our despair came from thinking that Rana’s teachings were all a lie, and that when we perished we would simply cease to be, never to see our loved ones again in the shimmering forever.
That
, boy, is a fear you’ve never felt before, a fear that changes you, twists you in its maw.”

Roland breathed deep, a rasping breath that filled his shivering lungs. “So it wasn’t true?” he asked, both spellbound and horrified. “The words of your god?”

Azariah smiled, and his dark expression lifted.

“No, they were. After the invasion, when the razing of the other cities was completed and we were near starvation, a bright light appeared before us. The light filled our vision, washing out the horror surrounding us. That was when Celestia appeared, shining so brightly we could not look upon her face. Rana had summoned
her to protect us. Ashhur was by her side, and the god-made-flesh offered us safety, asking us to join him and his brother in a brand new world. Of course we said yes, and Celestia whisked us away from our now-dead world and into this one. We were made wardens over the lives created by the brother gods. To have Ashhur arrive when he did, presenting my brothers and me with a chance to live out the rest of our lives in peace, rekindled my faith.”

“So you’re saying you’re not one for coincidences, are you, Az?” asked Jacob, leaning against one of the stunted trees at the far edge of the camp. A grin spread on his face as he dumped six large logs beside the fire.

“How long have you been eavesdropping?” asked Azariah.

“Long enough,” replied Jacob as he took a seat beside Brienna. She shifted away from Roland, sliding into Jacob’s arms and planting a kiss on his face. Roland watched and couldn’t help but feel jealous. Still, his master was alive and well, and that overwhelmed any of his more petty feelings.

“What took you so long?” asked Brienna, nudging her lover in the ribs.

“Ran into a couple farmers from the Durham Township,” Jacob said, pulling his blanket tighter around him. “They must have thought I was a predator hungry for their sheep, because they came at me with weapons raised. I couldn’t help but laugh. What predator do they think their sharpened twigs would repel? Certainly not
me
.”