In Thy Name

Part II: Follow the Sword | Chapter 15 - Into darkness

Selengged was silent a moment. Then she put her hand on his arm. Like always, they didn't bother hiding their feelings from one another, and so she knew his pain. "I'm sorry, brother. I shouldn't have teased you on this subject."

Kuya shrugged. "It's all right. I have been a bit doting toward our little mage, haven't I?" He laughed half-heartedly and Selengged smiled wanly, though they both knew this didn't erase his heartache.

They walked in silence for a while, letting the ache fade a bit before speaking again. Kuya yawned. He had sat up for two watches the night before, not wanting to awaken the exhausted and unhappy mage.

"Did you hear what happened?" Kuya finally said. "The Forest-Born Decadarchos broke the link between their beacon rocks. The mage can no longer feel him."

"So...that means he may have betrayed us, and the Consul may be onto us."

Kuya nodded.

"So we'll have be even more careful not to be noticed in Dalaïda. We definitely can't risk spending the night."

Something occurred to Kuya, which made him nearly leap with excitement. "Sister! What if the Forest-Born Decadarchos cut the link on purpose to keep the Consul from finding us?" He longed to tell the mage about his idea right away.

"That's possible," Selengged said slowly. She eyed him coolly. "You want to tell the mage, don't you? To cheer him up?"

Kuya nodded. Why not?

"But what if you're wrong? He could have betrayed us. He could even be dead. The mage will only feel worse when he finds out in the end, having had false hope."

Kuya nodded again. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. Perhaps he could merely suggest obliquely that the circumstances around the beacon rock might not be what the mage thought.

"You're still going to tell him anyway, aren't you?" Selengged said in mock exasperation.

"You know me," Kuya said with a little shrug, warmth rising to his cheeks again.

"You're hopeless," Selengged said.

Kuya glanced back at the mage. He was looking around suspiciously, as though he felt the trees pressing too close to him, which he probably did, after the openness of the desert sands. He turned his head, and his eyes met Kuya's and paused for a moment, desolation sharpening into animosity, before he gazed off into the forest again.

Kuya turned forward again. He didn't have to sense the mage's emotions to understand. He blamed him, blamed the two of them, for whatever had happened to his friend. And he was probably right. If the mage and the decadarchos hadn't gotten swept up in whatever had happened to Selengged's sword, they would still be together in the desert.

Guilt settled like a weight in his stomach. The mage hadn't just exhausted himself to save them, but he had possibly lost the person who was dearest to him. Selengged was right. He couldn't play with the mage's emotions by giving him false hope. In any case, the mage wouldn't let him.

Kuya sighed inwardly. For some reason, he wanted to help the mage, wanted to soothe his wounds just as the mage had started healing his face—but it seemed like every time he went a step forward, it was followed by two steps back.

***

They reached the road after a candlelength and a half of walking. On their way, they had climbed to the top of a mountain, and seen the verdant Great Valley opening up to the northwest, a shimmering finger of the Mirrorwater just barely visible around the feet of the mountains. The High Road wound like a white river through the valley, leading to the walled city of Dalaïda—the Gateway to the Desert. The city spanned a pass between two mountains; its walls and buildings climbed up on either side in a crescent shape. A wide street ran from the North Gate, through the center of the city and out the other side into the desert, a band dividing the city in half. The real divisions, however, were the concentric circles radiating outward from the center of the city: the Streets of Moonlight and Starlight in the center, the district of the silver and gold clans; the Streets of the Smiths, where the copper and iron clans dwelt along with merchants, craftsmen and ordinary soldiers; and pressed up against the city walls, the Alleys which were given over to the non-Gladiari inhabitants of the city.