Page 33 of The Sundered Blade

“I know little of Modrevin,” Yvane said, “But I will tell you what I can. And then…” She shook her head. “I do not know exactly what I must do, but my heart insists that this peaceful life I have built here will soon come to an end.”

It was sobering, Vaniell reflected, to regard one’s own tragedies in the light of another’s, and realize that such pain was not, in fact, unique. Perhaps there were more people in the world who had suffered great betrayals than those who had not.

But rather than casting him into despair, the thought gave him hope. For so long, he’d imagined himself alone, cast out by the depths of his guilt and the shame of his own actions. Watching others lead ordinary lives, wondering if that simple joy would be denied him forever.

But now that he had come to know others like Jarek, Karreya, Leisa, Kyrion, and Yvane, he wondered if perhaps isolation had been his greatest mistake of all. What if he’d allowed himself to know others long before necessity had forced his hand? What if he’d listened to their stories, shared his own, and discovered sooner that he need not fight alone?

It was Kyrion who broke the silence between the four of them, and his tone was as heavy as Yvane’s. “I do not pretend to understand what strange twists of fate have brought us to this moment,” he said. “Nor do I counsel that you continue in your quest for absolution. What you have done in the service of those who used you as a thing rather than a person is not your guilt to bear. But I do feel that it is right to tell you this. Not because I harbor ill-will, but because I believe you would wish to know. Leisa, whose life you saved alongside mine, is also entangled in this story of yours.

“Twenty years ago, her mother left her behind in Arandar, fleeing in the night because she had learned of a threat that endangered the lives of everyone she knew.”

Yvane turned ashen.

“Yes,” Kyrion said softly. “Leisa is Senaya’s daughter.”

CHAPTER10

The closer they came to the walled city that awaited them, the greater the numbers of travelers on the roads, and the more difficult it became to pass unnoticed.

Each night, they were forced to travel far from the well-used road to find a place where they could camp unseen, so that Leisa could continue to discover more about her magic. With Senaya’s reluctant guidance, she’d begun learning to change the shape and contour of her mirror, and to sense the power that lay behind its mysterious surface.

Karreya had no part in those moments—indeed, she felt more than a little like an intruder as mother and daughter attempted to bridge the awkward distance between them. So instead, she slipped away from camp and explored the lands through which they traveled, noting the moods and character of its people, the colors and rhythms of this land that had lured her father far from home with the promise of… what? Power and riches?

The Throne of Garimore was indeed beautiful in its own way. Covered in farms and forests, with no barren, sandy desserts or towering sandstone cliffs. There was no urgency to its beauty, no threat in its rolling green hills—only the gentle passage of days and seasons and years. Its people were farmers and craftsmen, whose lives seemed rooted in complacency. They grew trees and flowers for their own sake, tended grass for no other reason than appearance, and even the common folk frequented shops filled with unnecessary goods.

But with each village they passed through, the nearer they came to the capital city of Hanselm, there was less of good humor and complacency. Less of peace or prosperity or whimsy. Eyes shifted. Jaws clenched. Hands clutched at weapons. Children hid behind their parents, and merchants barred their doors.

Farm fields lay barren and orchards went untended, even in the middle of what ought to have been the growing season. And soon, new forests seemed to spring up in the midst of those untended fields—forests of tents, filled with the sounds of horses and armorers and the clang of blade against blade. Heavy boots trampling the fertile ground.

Garimore was preparing for battle.

It was late one morning as they rode through a small farming village that they encountered a group of armed and armored soldiers pulling men forcibly into the street. From late teens to the middle-aged, they simply took them from their homes, from their work, or from their families. One man still wore the floured apron of a baker, and another had a sobbing child clutching tightly to his leg.

Conscriptions, meant to swell the ranks of their army. But with every farmer, every blacksmith, every baker they forced to take up the sword in the name of conquest, the people went unfed. Horses went unshod. All to add a few extra swords in the hands of those who had neither the ability nor the desire to kill. Even the Empire did not rely on conscripts, except in newly conquered territories. There was no need. It was an honor to serve the Empress, and the families of her soldiers were well compensated.

And as Karreya rode past them, with the anguished cries of parents, children, wives, and friends ringing in her ears, she wondered how she ought to feel knowing that this had all been brought about by the man she’d once called Father.

She’d recognized her desire to seek justice for those he had destroyed in his quest for power. Decided that she could not stand by and allow these people to pay the price for his misplaced ambition. She had even discovered how deeply she wished for other mages to live without fear of prejudice.

But what did she feel forherself?

It was a strange question. One she might never have contemplated had she never come here and met Niell. But now it demanded her attention, as it followed on the heels of her discovery that not all emotions were a liability. If she had feelings about the well-being and circumstances of others, why not her own?

When they were just past the outskirts of town and the sounds of misery had finally died away, Leisa reined in her horse and dropped back to ride beside Karreya.

“Are you well?” she asked in a low voice.

“I am feeling… thoughtful,” Karreya responded. “I am thinking about what my father has done. About everything he has broken and destroyed. And I am wondering what those things should mean to me. Whether I should be feeling shame that he shares my blood, or anger at his abandonment. Perhaps hope that he will listen to me… I do not know, and it perplexes me.”

“There are no easy answers when it comes to feelings.” Leisa dropped her stirrups, rested her reins on her horse’s neck, and stretched her arms over her head with a grimace. “I’ve gotten so used to traveling with Kyrion, I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to ride for this long,” she groaned. “But truly, there is no ‘should’ or ‘should not’ when it comes to what we feel. It’s more about naming those feelings and choosing what to do with them, so that they do not have the chance to rule our actions.”

Naming her feelings…

“I do not think I know the right words,” Karreya admitted. “There is something heavyhere”—she tapped her chest—“and something urgenthere.” She tapped one finger against her temple. “I have the desire to move faster, to arrive sooner, and to speak the words in my head. To know what my father will say to me. But I cannot tell what words I wish to hear from him. I first thought this would be like confronting any other enemy. I know well how to formulate a strategy, and how to provoke a response, and I believe I can force him to act rashly. But what then? I cannot tell whether it is right to hope for a certain outcome, or to simply make my plans and act on them.”

To make a plan and act on it… That was at the heart of her training. She knew how to assess and how to move that assessment towards action. She knew how to improvise as more information became available. How to achieve her ends through whatever means necessary.

“I have always known that I must be willing either to kill or to die,” she murmured. “That in order to act swiftly and decisively, I must understand what I am truly fighting for. Whether I fight to protect others or myself. Whether I fight for a cause or a person, or whether I place greater value in my convictions or my life.”

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