Garin put his back to that terrible field of arcane insanity and began flying home, toward Tyr's Court.
Tyr must do something, he fumed. This destruction, this loss of life, cannot continue.
No, he insisted to himself. Questions, doubts, and anger are the signs of a faith beginning to waver. That is not who I am. I am a good, devoted follower.
But I harbor disloyal feelings. I presume to know what is in Tyr's heart. I presume to wonder why he leads in the direction he does. Down that path lies sorrow, ruin. Micus knew this. Micus was strong. Micus was not afraid to confront those who question Tyr's ultimate wisdom. Would he challenge me if he were here?
He would if he could look into my heart, Garin decided. I am an imperfect being. For the sake of Tyr, I must try to right my course.
By the time the Court was in view, Garin had vowed to redouble his determination. He would not stray from the path set before him by those wiser than he. He would serve to the best of his abilities, especially in the most trying of times. He was a dedicated and devout soldier, loyal to Tyr.
The angel's resolve lasted until he reached the outer plaza.
The entire mountain roiled in chaos. Petitioners filled every open surface. Devas and even a few planetars and solars worked hard to keep order, but the uproar consumed everything. As Garin got near enough, he could tell that many of the citizens of the Court argued. In several instances, pushing and shoving broke out.
Blasphemy, he thought. Never has such behavior been contemplated, much less tolerated, within Tyr's domain.
He landed atop one of the higher plazas and had to dodge numerous folk shouting to him to help them before he could slip inside. He hurried down and across an open courtyard toward the Hall of Requisitions. Even before he reached it, though, he could tell the angels there were barely able to maintain order.
The whole House has lost its way, Garin realized. There's too much disruption.
Then another thought slipped unbidden into the angel's thoughts. Tyr is losing control.
Garin wanted to shake those impure notions loose, cast them away from himself, but the unease he felt prevented him from completely ridding himself of them.
Is this what it comes to? Is this how a deity finally succumbs to the ravages of chaos? Is even Tyr bound to the strictures of time and change? Am I witnessing the end?
Garin did not want to think such thoughts, and he staggered momentarily under the weight of his own trepidation. His vision blurred and he found it hard to breathe. The thought came that perhaps Tyr sensed his lack of loyalty and was sending a harsh reminder of the price of faithlessness. He fought his own despair and stood straight again.
Don't think about any of that, he told himself. Just do your job. The rest will work itself out. Have faith.
The inside of the Hall of Requisitions was in no better shape than the courtyard outside. Though no petitioners milled within, celestials filled the place, all clamoring for assistance. Most of them were devas, like himself. From the snippets of conversation he caught, Garin realized they had been on the outskirts of the House, battling untamable magic too. No one's tactics were effective. They all needed reinforcements and new instructions. They were all trying to fight the good fight, as he had been, and they were all beginning to lose hope.
Garin spied an angel he recognized off to one side. He did not know the deva well, though they had served Micus together on a few occasions. Nilsa was young but competent, if Garin's memory served.
He worked his way through the crowd, trying to reach Nilsa. When he finally got near enough for her to hear him calling above the din, she looked up. Garin motioned for her to join him, then he slipped outside again.
They found a relatively quiet spot atop a wall dividing two sections of the Court that looked out over several lower levels. When they were both seated and comfortable, Garin took a deep breath and spoke.
'I hadn't expected to see things this bad. I've been near Deepbark Hollow-or rather, what's left of it. I came back for reinforcements, but that doesn't look very promising.'
Nilsa sighed. 'It's the same all over. Everyone is trying their best, but there just aren't enough of us. And the numbers dwindle every moment.'
'What?' Garin asked, looking up into the younger angel's face. 'Why?'
Nilsa looked carefully at him. 'You haven't heard, have you?' she asked. 'You have been away.'
'Tell me,' he insisted, fearing the news.
'Many are abandoning Tyr,' the other angel said, her voice cracking with emotion. 'They are leaving his banner and flocking to other gods. Mostly Torm.'
Garin pursed his lips. 'I had a subordinate do that today,' he said. 'I would not have dreamed so many would abandon the Blind One.'
'I can't say that I blame them,' Nilsa continued, drawing a sharp stare from Garin. 'No, wait.' She held up her hands to forestall his admonitions. 'I do not agree with them, but I do understand. What with Tymora's departure, and the-'
'What?' Garin interrupted, unsure he had heard correctly. He stared at her, shocked. 'Tymora has left the realm?'
Nilsa was silent for a long moment. 'I do not know everything,' she finally said, 'but whispers have suggested that, in light of Cyric's manipulations, Tymora cannot be certain of what is real and what is contrived between Tyr and her, and she is departing to spend time in contemplation.'
Garin could only shake his head. 'Blessed Tyr,' he breathed.
'That's not all of it, though,' Nilsa said. 'The High Council has dissolved.'
Garin felt his eyes widen. That cannot be! He opened his mouth to protest, but he could not find the words.
'The membership was too sharply divided on many things, and once the High Councilor quit in protest over some of the other members' actions, everything else crumbled.'
'This must not be allowed to continue,' Garin said, but he felt weary, without hope. 'The law of Tyr must stand supreme. If Micus taught me nothing else, he taught me that. Tauran was a pale imitation of him, and unworthy of his status. He and those fiends brought much of this upon us.'
'If you truly believe that, then I need your help,' Nilsa said. 'I came here hoping to find a companion or two to aid me in a very important task, but I was on the verge of giving up and going alone when you spotted me.'
'What is it?' Garin said, giving the other angel his full attention. 'What are you talking about?'
Nilsa studied his face for a moment, perhaps judging his sincerity, then she said, 'Come with me.'
Intrigued, Garin nodded. 'If there is a way to honor what Micus fought for, then I am ready to serve.'
Together, they took flight, and Garin followed Nilsa toward another part of the Court.
Tauran remembered scouring, burning pain.
Zasian would succeed because Tauran had failed.
The priest's schemes would come to fruition because Aliisza had betrayed Tauran.
Cyric would triumph.
All was lost.
No. It must not happen that way, Tauran thought. He flailed helplessly, felt the searing fire consuming him.
No!
Tauran awoke with a start. He heard himself screaming. His voice was raw.
The angel drew a ragged breath and willed himself to relax.
Foulness assaulted him in every conceivable way. He could sense the taint of evil hanging in the hot, fetid air. He felt it in the very stones beneath his body, tasted it on his parched and swollen tongue.
'I am forsaken,' he gasped. The words were barely more than a croak.
'Just about,' came a reply in a familiar voice.
Tauran turned toward the sound. A dim glow filled the otherwise dark space around him. He lay upon hard ground, uneven rock that poked and dug into his shoulder and thigh. Overhead, the jagged ceiling of a cave hung low, with several stalactites dangling even lower.
Beside him, another figure sat slumped in dejection. The figure looked at him, ebony skin and red eyes framed by silvery hair.
