‘Take this to your people, then. The Legion is but a herd. Dangerous, yes, but even wild beasts can prove dangerous, so that detail should not alarm you. The enemy will behave just as a herd would, but instead of fleeing the sight of you, they will rush towards you. This is the only difference. Have your chosen leaders apply their guile to that.’
‘Narad Yedan, I will do as you say. Thank you.’
‘You considered that good advice?’ Lahanis demanded.
‘It speaks to our habits, Bordersword. We were not told we must be remade. The Watch gifts us his wisdom. We understand the way of hunting the great herds.’
‘But you will be fighting here, in this forest, not upon a plain!’
‘Bordersword, often a herd will break apart, with smaller groups fleeing into woodland. We know to anticipate such a thing. The forest poses no obstacle to our understanding the words of the Watch.’
With a frustrated snarl, Lahanis marched away.
Still behind Narad, Glyph sighed, and then moved to stand alongside him. ‘She bears too many wounds upon her soul.’
Narad grunted, and said, ‘And you do not?’
‘She is young.’
‘The wounds you speak of are indifferent to that.’
‘Our own children were slain. She reminds us of this—’
‘More than you realize, Glyph. Had your children lived, they would be just like Lahanis. Think on that.’
The Denier was silent for a time, and then he sighed again. ‘Yes. You remind me that there is a difference between the wound survived, and the wound that slays. Only in the first is a new hunger born. We speak of vengeance, but even the loss within us is borrowed. So it is and so it shall remain, for as long as we live.’
‘Indulge Lahanis,’ Narad said, closing his eyes upon his own pain, his own borrowed wounds. ‘Her fire will be needed.’
‘I feared as much.’ Glyph paused, and then said, ‘The Legion soldiers in the forest are thinly scattered. Our hunting bands will know how to deal with them.’
‘The habits of the arrow.’
‘Just so. Yedan Narad, do you fear the night to come?’
Narad snorted. ‘Why should this night be any different?’
‘In your dreams, you walk the Shore.’
‘I have told you this, yes.’
‘Will glory be found there, Yedan?’
Narad knew he should open his eyes, shift his gaze to Glyph, and reveal to the man the raw brutality of an honest reply. Instead, he did not move, barring the sudden trembling of his soul, which he was sure none other could see. ‘Glory. Well, if it needs a name … we can call it such.’
‘What other would you choose?’
The death of innocence? The loss of hope? Betrayal? ‘As I said, it will suffice.’
‘Yedan Narad, upon the day of the war’s end, you must lead us. None other will serve. But this day, as we begin the war, you have already served well enough. We see at last the path we must take, to become slayers of men and women.’
‘The same habit of hunting, Glyph. Only the prey has changed. I said little of worth.’
After a time, the Denier slipped away. Eyes still closed, Narad stared out upon a raging shoreline, argent with furious fire. He felt the weight of his sword in his hand, hearing but otherwise ignoring its muted peals of glee, while beside him a woman spoke.
‘My prince, our spine is bent unto breaking. Will you not return to us? We need your strength.’
Narad grimaced. ‘How is it that you make a virtue of my refusal of your lives, my refusing your right to them? For that is what you now ask of me. Stand fast, I will shout. Bend we shall, but break they will.’