Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy 1)

Somehow, Syntara found the strength to simply smile. ‘Refreshingly direct, corporal. It is true: we have known the pleasures of many men. I am High Priestess Syntara, and these priestesses accompanying me are under my charge. I would speak with Commander Urusander, for I have news from the Citadel.’

The young man’s eyes studied her for a long moment, and then he nodded. ‘There was a rumour, I now recall. I see the paleness of your face beneath that hood, High Priestess. Very well, we shall escort you to the keep.’

‘Thank you, corporal. As you can see, our journey was made in haste and without the necessary amenities proper to the daughters of Mother Dark.’

‘We can summon a wagon if you do not mind waiting, High Priestess.’

‘Or, corporal, you and your troop can yield some room on your saddles, if the embrace of priestesses will not discomfort you too much.’

His brows lifted slightly, but he did not smile. A moment later, he edged his mount closer, kicked one foot from the stirrup, and then offered her a hand.

Syntara remained silent on the ride to the keep. She had given considerable thought to what she would say to Urusander, but in taking the measure of these common soldiers she could see that this was a troubled army, and that in turn was a reflection of those in command, and Urusander in particular. The soldiers had answered the summons, but now awaited orders, and none knew what those orders might be. Civil war exposed the flaws in a people, and though each faction would view its cause as just, the illness revealed was endemic, and so weakened everyone.

Urusander might well have recalled his soldiers in some misguided attempt to protect them. But then, protect them from what? Hunn Raal had unleashed renegade troops into the countryside. From themselves, then. If I am right in this, then I understand the tensions I see here. This civil war could see Legion soldier hunting Legion soldier.

But even that was not the end of the troubles. There could be Deniers among them. Or at the very least, sympathizers.

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Somehow, Syntara found the strength to simply smile. ‘Refreshingly direct, corporal. It is true: we have known the pleasures of many men. I am High Priestess Syntara, and these priestesses accompanying me are under my charge. I would speak with Commander Urusander, for I have news from the Citadel.’

The young man’s eyes studied her for a long moment, and then he nodded. ‘There was a rumour, I now recall. I see the paleness of your face beneath that hood, High Priestess. Very well, we shall escort you to the keep.’

‘Thank you, corporal. As you can see, our journey was made in haste and without the necessary amenities proper to the daughters of Mother Dark.’

‘We can summon a wagon if you do not mind waiting, High Priestess.’

‘Or, corporal, you and your troop can yield some room on your saddles, if the embrace of priestesses will not discomfort you too much.’

His brows lifted slightly, but he did not smile. A moment later, he edged his mount closer, kicked one foot from the stirrup, and then offered her a hand.

Syntara remained silent on the ride to the keep. She had given considerable thought to what she would say to Urusander, but in taking the measure of these common soldiers she could see that this was a troubled army, and that in turn was a reflection of those in command, and Urusander in particular. The soldiers had answered the summons, but now awaited orders, and none knew what those orders might be. Civil war exposed the flaws in a people, and though each faction would view its cause as just, the illness revealed was endemic, and so weakened everyone.

Urusander might well have recalled his soldiers in some misguided attempt to protect them. But then, protect them from what? Hunn Raal had unleashed renegade troops into the countryside. From themselves, then. If I am right in this, then I understand the tensions I see here. This civil war could see Legion soldier hunting Legion soldier.

But even that was not the end of the troubles. There could be Deniers among them. Or at the very least, sympathizers.

And what of me? What place will I take in what is to come? Is my fate for Urusander to decide? Shall I crawl into his presence? ‘Corporal.’

The gate was directly ahead. ‘High Priestess?’

‘I would hope I have opportunity to redress my travelled state before seeing the commander.’

‘I would expect so,’ he replied, ‘as he is very busy. Do not be offended, High Priestess, if your audience with him is delayed by a day or two. In the meantime, of course you will be given attendants to see to your needs.’

‘Very good,’ she replied. A day or two? She felt her face growing hot. ‘I feel I need to emphasize again the urgency of the news I bring from the Citadel.’

‘I will be sure to convey that, High Priestess.’

As it turned out, she was given no time at all in which to cleanse herself, as the keep’s castellan, a perfunctory man named Haradegar, assumed responsibility for her at the keep’s entrance and, after attaching a score of servants to her priestesses, led her into the keep for immediate audience with Lord Urusander. She assumed no tactical subterfuge in this haste; rather, it spoke to her of the commander’s respect for her title, and if he was witness to the evidence of her plight, then perhaps she could make use of that.

Haradegar guided her to a chamber with shelves lining the walls, on which rested countless books and scrolls. One long table commanded the room, consuming most of the floor space. There were two well-made comfortable chairs, and one was in ruins.

After the castellan departed, she stood contemplating sitting down in the surviving chair. A moment later, Urusander arrived. ‘High Priestess, I have heard of what has befallen you. But still, I must ask: what are you doing here?’

Syntara would not beg. In Urusander, she saw a man under siege. She well understood the ambitions of those behind him. Men like Hunn Raal dreamed of their commander standing beside Mother Dark, as husband to the goddess. Once she and he were past the first moments of awkwardness between them on that day of her arrival, she said as much to Urusander, when they stood in this very room. ‘Lord, alone you have nothing to withstand her, and yet you must — but not as her enemy. Rather, present yourself as her one hope for peace. With my help, Lord, you can save Kurald Galain.’

He had moved past her then, only to turn and face her once more. ‘You must know her mind, High Priestess, as much as anyone can. What fate awaits Lord Draconus?’

‘Lord, she took a consort because she knows no man is her equal. Indeed, in her solitude, she seeks to protect everyone else. As it stands, any union with her will be unbalanced. This is what needs to change.’