Shadows of Destiny

But in his childhood that wonder had been bright and beautiful, song and light. It was a dark wonder that now filled him. Fear and grief and a bottomless, aching loss for the men who had died under his command, and the many more who would die in the war to come.

It would be Tuzza who would lead those men—the same men who now sulked sullenly under the eyes of their Anari captors—once again into battle. He would lead them into battle with an Anari host at their sides and a Bozandari host before them.

And more would die at his hand.

Chapter Two

They danced until their bodies were weary, yet their minds did not tire. At last, Archer and Tess slipped away from the revelers and into the quieter night beyond the city of Anahar. Above, the stars looked cold and unforgiving, and beyond the warmth of Anahar’s walls, the wind held a bitter bite.

The unnatural winter, which to the north had left so many to starve and freeze to death, now at long last was reaching the normally warm lands of the Anari. Never had snow been seen in Anahar, but Tess suspected that would soon change.

“His breath still blights the land,” Archer murmured. Lifting his cloak, he drew Tess within its warmth, against his side. “Can you tell yet how many Ilduin he has subverted?”

Tess shook her head, grateful for the warmth Archer shared with her. “Other than the two I have already found, I cannot yet tell for certain.” Her hand lifted to touch the pouch of colored stones that hung around her neck. Each stone belonged to one of the twelve living Ilduin. When she held them in her hands, she could draw on the power of her sisters, or communicate with them. But some yet remained out of reach, beyond her ability to call. Two she was certain belonged to Ilduin who had fallen into Ardred’s clutches. But others remained a mystery to her.

“I am sorry,” she said after a few moments. “If I knew all the other Ilduin, it would be easier. But so far I have met only Cilla and Sara. Some of the others I can reach, while others yet remain untouchable to my mind. It may be that they themselves have not yet discovered their powers.”

“Indeed. Many believe the Ilduin long dead and gone from this world. Why should not some of the Ilduin be among the nonbelievers?”

He sighed. A gust of wind at that moment snatched his cloak and lifted it, blowing its icy breath inside. Tess shivered.

“I fear,” he said presently, “that Ardred must claim more than two of your sisters. This winter he inflicts on us is a sure sign of his growing power.”

“I fear it, too.”

“With the Bozandar Empire lying between us and the lands to the north, it is impossible to learn how many others he and his hive-masters have drawn in. We will need Tuzza’s help to pierce the veil and glean information.”

“I know.”

“A relief army will be leaving Bozandar soon, to come look for Tuzza’s army. There will be a terrible battle. But Tuzza has not yet found a means to convince his men to fight beside the Anari against the greater evil, especially since it may require fighting their brothers-in-arms.”

“It is essential we gain the cooperation of Bozandar.”

“Aye.” He looked down at her, his face unreadable in the starshine. “I would hear any suggestion you might have.”

That was when she realized that he had at last begun to trust her. Always before there had been a sense that he doubted her real purposes. It was a doubt for which she could not blame him. After all, she could remember nothing before the horrific day the past autumn when she had awakened among the slaughtered caravan, knowing not even her own name.

Sometimes she wondered if she should trust herself. At times she had felt the touch of the Enemy, Lord Ardred, like a dark shadow in her mind, seeking, always seeking, something from her. It had been a while, though, since she had felt that chilling, oily touch in her mind, and for that she was grateful.

“I wish I had a suggestion,” she said finally. “I don’t think asking those soldiers to become traitors is going to be easy for anyone, no matter how silver-tongued.”

She felt, rather than saw, his agreeing nod.

“Yet,” he said after a moment, “they will not be traitors, but saviors. Saviors of all men.”

“So go in and tell them who you are. It worked with Tuzza.”

A sigh escaped him, barely heard before it was snatched away by the wind.

“How many will believe that I have lived for so long, hidden among them?”

“I find it hard to believe myself. Has it been as awful as I suspect?”

“It has been a curse. Death would have been welcome countless times. And yet it is a just punishment. My deeds led to the end of the Firstborn. Why should I not wander the world, a stranger among strangers, for the rest of eternity?”

“Not your deeds alone.” She turned to face him, allowing the icy wind to come between them. “Just because you have a conscience does not mean that you alone are responsible. I have looked into the past in my dreams and in the old stories, and what I see is that many were responsible in different ways. Say what you will, Annuvil, the guilt is not yours alone.”

“Mayhap not. What does it matter? I have been preserved for this time, these events. Perhaps if I acquit myself well and do what is expected of me this time, the gods will set me free.”

She tilted her head back to better see him. “You would wish your own end? Are you sure that is a good wish for a man who will lead us in the war against Ardred?”

Surprising her, he chuckled. “There are many ways a man can be set free. Perhaps at last I will be free to be mortal. Perhaps it will be something else. How should I know? The minds of the gods are ever opaque.”

“I am coming to know that well.” She felt a wave of relief at his laughter, though she couldn’t have blamed him for being bitter about his lot. Nor could she imagine how awful these centuries must have been for him.

“It’s a wonder,” she said slowly, “that the years did not drive you mad.”

“Sometimes they did. I am grateful that I have little memory of those times, however. They are blurred in my mind, and all sense of time was lost. I sometimes lived like a beast in the forest, I believe.”

“I’m sorry. Sorry and awed, for I cannot imagine surviving such a thing. How did you make yourself go on?”

“I was promised,” he said slowly. “I was promised that someday my Theriel would be returned to me.”

She stepped back even farther, and ignored the cold wind. For some reason she could not readily name, she felt…hurt. “Who promised you?”

“Elanor. She came to me after…after the destruction. She promised that if I served her well, in the end I would see my wife again. I have clung to that promise.”

“Are you sure you can trust Elanor? Or any of the gods?”

He shook his head. “No. I freely admit I cannot. Their purposes are not ours. But…it is all I have. My heart died with Theriel, and the remaining ember is all that I have left. I must believe.”

“I can see that.” She turned from him, letting his cloak fall away, letting the wind sweep over her and chill her to her very bones. She spread her arms as if to embrace the winter night. A snowflake, such as had never fallen in this valley in the memory of men, drifted down and landed on one of her fingertips.

“I don’t know who I am,” she said slowly, watching the flake melt. “I don’t know where I am from. I have no promises to uphold me. Yet here I am, and I do what I must.”

“Then perhaps your burden is the greater by far.”

She turned suddenly and faced him. “What do they mean when they call me the Weaver?”

“It is said that one day an Ilduin would come who could touch the warp and woof of reality, and bend it to her will.”

“And they think I am that person?”

“You wielded the Weaver’s sword in battle.”

“Anyone could have wielded that sword.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not as you did.”