Page 57 of Bound By Blood
"That was unexpected," Eirian observes once we're alone.
"Desperation makes people unpredictable." I watch Beric unsaddle his mount with the careful efficiency of someone who's learned to value what little he possesses. "Question is whether his desperation makes him useful or dangerous."
"Both, probably." She follows my gaze to where the last Ellionne tends his horse with gentle hands. "But sometimes desperate people are the only ones willing to take risks necessary for change."
Change.The word carries implications that extend far beyond immediate political concerns. Yesterday's battle proved that cooperation with all of us produces results neither could achieve alone. Today's negotiations with Ravencrest established a precedent for peaceful resolution of conflicts. Now Beric offers an opportunity to extend that cooperation beyond military necessity into lasting alliance.
"The elders won't like it," I mutter.
"The elders didn't like me either, initially." Eirian's smile holds memories of arguments, challenges, small victories won through persistence rather than force. "Give them time to see the advantages before asking for final judgment."
Night falls with the controlled chaos typical of military camps settling into rest. Cooking fires burn low while warriors tend weapons and wounds, sharing stories that grow more elaborate with each telling. Already, yesterday's battle has become legend, complete with impossible feats and divine intervention.
But I find myself drawn away from the familiar comfort of clan fellowship, pulled toward the sacred grove where the totem fire burns with steady light. The flame never gutters, neverrequires additional fuel, sustained by energies that predate written history.
The grove feels different at night, transformed by shadow and silence into something that transcends simple geography. Here, surrounded by standing stones carved with ancestor-names and clan-memories, the leadership feels less like a burden and more like a sacred trust.
I settle beside the totem fire, watching flames dance with patterns that seem almost familiar, almost readable. The artifact itself rests in its place of honor, wrapped in ceremonial silk that can't quite contain its inner radiance. Since yesterday's battle, the thing has hummed with energies that resonate through stone and bone alike.
As if summoned by thought, Eirian emerges from the shadows carrying two cups of the bitter tea that helps wounded warriors sleep without dreams. She settles beside me with the natural grace of someone who belongs here, whose presence has become as essential as breathing.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asks.
"Too much to think about. Too many possibilities." I accept the offered cup gratefully, inhaling steam that carries hints of mountain herbs and ancient wisdom. "Twenty years of war, and suddenly peace seems possible."
"Not just possible. Inevitable, if we're careful." She sips her tea while studying the totem's glow. "Look at how the flame responds to our presence."
She's right. The fire burns brighter with both of us near, responding to some resonance that exists between the three of us—warrior, healer, and artifact. More than that, I can see the Kheval glyph that marked our first joining pulsing beneath my skin in rhythm with whatever energies flow between us.
"The binding goes deeper than ceremony," I realize aloud.
"Much deeper." Eirian extends her arm, showing how her own mark—the willow and chalice that appeared during her clan-adoption—glows with the same rhythm. "We're connected to it now. All of us. The totem, you, me, probably the clan itself."
The implications stagger me. Ancient magic doesn't simply disappear when battles end. It evolves, adapts, finds new purposes aligned with those who channel its power. If the totem has truly bonded with us, then yesterday's cooperation represents just the beginning of something unprecedented.
"What does it want?" I ask, though speaking of artifacts as if they possess desire feels strange even after everything we've witnessed.
"Peace, I think. Or maybe just balance." Eirian reaches toward the wrapped relic, stopping just short of contact. "It responded to need yesterday—the need to end senseless violence, to protect innocent lives. Maybe it's been waiting for someone willing to use its power for healing instead of harming."
"And now?"
"Now it has us. Orc and human, warrior and healer, strength and compassion working together." She meets my eyes, grey depths reflecting firelight like storm clouds touched by lightning. "The question is whether we're ready for what comes next."
What comes next.The words echo through my mind as I consider the magnitude of change already set in motion. Eirian's transformation from captive to clan-daughter. Yesterday's alliance against common enemies. Today's negotiations with Crown representatives and desperate nobles seeking redemption.
"Beric's proposal isn't really about House Ellionne," I realize. "It's about proving that cooperation can extend beyond battlefield necessity."
"Exactly. If a fallen house can find redemption through service to former enemies, other nobles might consider similar arrangements." Eirian's quiet excitement shows as someone glimpsing possibilities beyond immediate circumstances. "Trade instead of raids. Alliance instead of conquest. Mutual protection instead of mutual destruction."
The totem fire flares briefly, as if responding to words that align with its ancient purpose. In that moment of intensified light, I see patterns in the flame that might be approval, might warn, might simply be my imagination seeking meaning in random dance of energy and air.
"It won't be easy," I warn. "Fifteen hundred years of conflict don't disappear because we will them gone. There will be resistance from both sides, people who profit from warfare and fear peace more than death."
"Then we'll face them together." Eirian's hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with the same natural fit that marked our first touch. "Clan-bound and fire-blessed, whatever comes."
The Kheval glyph pulses brighter at her touch, responding to contact between marked flesh. Around us, the grove's standing stones seem to hum with harmonies just below conscious hearing, as if the ancestors themselves approve of bonds forged between their descendants and former enemies.
Together.The word carries weight that extends beyond romantic partnership into something approaching destiny. Yesterday proved that Orc and human could fight side by side. Today established precedent for peaceful negotiation. Tomorrow will test whether cooperation can evolve into a lasting alliance.
