let him in.
“When he saw this, Gaurraenan felt true fear in his heart for the first time. He’d planned so well, been so patient-he’d thought nothing could go wrong. But seeing the Alvritshai nailed to the doors, seeing their dried blood staining the stone, his confidence shattered. Panic gripped him. He turned to order his Phalanx back to his own halls, back to the pass and the tunnels and safety-
“But it was already too late. From the height of the ledge, from the base of the tower, he turned to find Cortaemall and his House Phalanx emerging from the dense forest below. Ten thousand strong, against Gaurraenan’s six thousand, Gaurraenan realized that Cortaemall meant for there to be no survivors.
“There was only one chance of escape: the passage he had carved beneath his own House.
“Gathering his forces, he charged Cortaemall’s men before they could completely organize on the field below, surprising the Tamaell by giving up his advantage on the heights. Cortaemall had thought Gaurraenan would keep hold of the tower and defend the ledge to the last man. He had not planned on Gaurraenan fleeing. But he met the charge and when Gaurraenan gained enough ground to retreat to the west, Cortaemall hounded him with his own men the entire length of the Hauttaeren Mountains. It was no true battle, only skirmishes as one force caught up with the other before it could break away. Thousands fell, on both sides, as Gaurraenan’s flight grew more and more desperate. But Cortaemall was relentless, outflanking his army, ambushing them in close valleys, hitting them as they forged rivers and streams, harrying them without end. Until finally Gaurraenan reached the pass that led to his tunnel. He could taste the safety of the passage, even though the pass was now choked with snow. He could smell the darkness of the stone depths of his own halls.
“But Cortaemall was waiting for him. He’d brought the remains of his army, still seven thousand strong, to the pass. And as Gaurraenan and his men broke at the sight of the tunnel entrance-so close-Cortaemall fell upon him.
“It was a vicious battle, Gaurraenan driven mad by desperation, Cortaemall murderously calm. Blood stained the snow of the pass a bright, gaudy red in the pale sunlight of that winter’s day, and then the snow and blood churned to mud, trampled as the battle surged back and forth across the narrow valley. Gaurraenan arrived at the pass with only three thousand men remaining, and a thousand of those died within the first hour. The rest were whittled down to a mere five hundred, then a hundred, until those that were left were surrounded completely by Cortaemall’s Phalanx. And they were still a thousand paces from the tunnel entrance.
“When Gaurraenan realized he had gained no ground and that the fight was hopeless, he raised his sword high and ordered his men to stop. The battle ground down into silence, and Cortaemall walked across the bloody field toward where Gaurraenan stood. The two stared at each other for a long moment, Gaurraenan exhausted, beaten, Cortaemall’s eyes filled with rage. And then Gaurraenan gasped, ‘I concede. I surrender.’ He threw his sword to the ground at Cortaemall’s feet and collapsed to his knees, too weakened to stand.
“Cortaemall stood silently over him, breathing heavily, his face unreadable except for the rage.
“And then he raised his sword with both hands and severed Gaurraenan’s head from his body.”
Shock filled the eyes of the Flame and those in Aeren’s Phalanx.
“Gaurraenan had surrendered,” Colin said into the stunned silence. “Cortaemall should have honored that surrender, seized Gaurraenan’s House and declared it fallen. He should have banished Gaurraenan, exiled him to the glacial wastes farther north, or abandoned him in the southern lands. It was the honorable thing to do.
“But he didn’t.
“Beheading Gaurraenan might have been overlooked, but Cortaemall went even further.” He saw Siobhaen shaking her head and thought about her song, about why it had been her favorite, but he continued on. “Cortaemall ordered the hundred that had stood with Gaurraenan on the field in that pass beheaded as well. And then,” he said leaning forward, “he took his remaining Phalanx through the tunnel and into the heart of Gaurraenan’s House and he slaughtered every man, woman, and child that he found there. He rid himself of Gaurraenan and the stain the lord had made of his House completely.
“He declared Gaurraenan’s House ora-khai. He forbid any Alvritshai to speak of it, or its members, for all time.”
5
“Do you know what ora-khai means in Alvritshai?”
Colin glanced to where Aeren rode beside him. It was an hour after dawn and they were nearing the last village before the group would need to break away from the roadway and begin the ascent to the pass and the halls beneath the mountain. After he’d told the story of Gaurraenan and his House the night before, neither the members of the Flame nor the Rhyssal House had felt the need to converse any longer. They’d all turned in, wrapping themselves in blankets, most of their faces troubled. Colin had stayed awake long after the rest had fallen asleep, and none of them had slept well, tossing and turning on their stone pallets. Colin had kept the fire lit all night, throwing on a log or branch at odd intervals.
He hadn’t been able to sleep either, knowing what they would walk into the following day, knowing how it would affect him.
He shrugged his unease aside and addressed Aeren’s question instead. “It means ‘forgotten.’?”
Aeren nodded. “I have to admit that it’s not a term I’ve heard used before, because we have another word for forgotten. But ora-khai,” he shook his head grimly, lips pressedtight. “It means more than simply forgotten. Khai means banishment or exile. Adding the ora in front of it means not only banished but purged-from sight, from voice, from thought, from memory. Eradicated as completely as possible, from every facet of life.
“Cortaemall must have been truly enraged to have declared not only Gaurraenan but his entire House ora- khai.”
“Enraged,” Colin said mildly, “or insane.”
Aeren shot him a black look. “Perhaps both,” he finally said grudgingly. “The Alvritshai have been raised to believe that Cortaemall was its greatest Tamaell since the dawning of Aielan’s Light. It is hard to accept that what you say actually occurred.”
“It did,” Colin said sharply. “I know it did.”
He was hoping he could control what had happened before, that neither Aeren nor the Rhyssal or Flame members would notice anything wrong at all.
When they reached the village, they left their horses at a stable yard, Aeren paying for their keep until their return, even though the Alvritshai-older even than Aeren-nearly fell prostrate at the feet of Vaeren and the rest of the Flame, offering up his services to Aielan. The caitan managed to keep him standing, and through the heavy bowing and genuflecting and muttered prayers learned where in the village they could find clothing and footwear more suited to traveling through snow.
Once provisioned, huddled now in fur-lined jackets with additional layers packed away in their satchels, the group continued west down the road, the woman who’d provided the jackets watching them while shaking her head in consternation.
Hours later, Colin abruptly halted, a prickling sensation coursing down his back. Squinting, he stared to the north, up into the reaches of the mountains, where the jagged, snow-covered peaks gleamed white in the sunlight, the sky free of clouds. The land sloped upward at a gentle angle away from the road, but he could see where it steepened before the tree line, a fold in the land jutting up before leveling out and vanishing behind the rocky side of the mountain.
“Here,” he said to himself, his voice soft. He tensed, felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead that didn’t come from exertion or the overly-warm jacket, caught the flicker of a shadow out of the corner of his eye, an impression of a figure there and then gone.
He shuddered and turned to find that the rest of the group had halted.
He motioned with his staff. “There. The pass is up there.” They looked, faces skeptical. “You can’t see the pass itself,” he added. “It’s hidden behind the outcropping of the mountain. And the entrance to the hall is above the tree line.”
“In the snow,” Vaeren said.
“Yes. We should climb until we reach the tree line, then make camp. We can get to the hall before nightfall
