“And so the name of the forest is the name of the lake,” Woruld said. “Darkwater.”
“Come,” a voice called from outside the glow of our brazier. “The water is shallow.”
“Father!” Erendella’s voice cried. “Run! It’s a trap.”
Laughter rebounded from the surface of the lake. “Of course it is,” Cesla said, “but he knew that when he entered the forest.”
“We have light,” I called, but my intended defiance met only more laughter.
“Yes, my servants told me.” Scorn, a trace only, filled Cesla’s voice—as though my defiance didn’t merit anything greater. “Bring your light, if you wish.”
We stepped into the cold of the water, our boots splashing before sinking into the mud. After a few paces, the footing became firm, unyielding, as though I walked on stone.
“Sire,” Woruld said.
I nodded. “I feel it.”
After a hundred yards, I saw figures arrayed in an arc around Cesla, the man who had been Eldest for centuries. They were men and women of no particular note or gift, but they held themselves ready, their hands on knives or swords. All of them wore layers of gauzy cloth over their eyes.
I pulled the stench of death and decay into my lungs and lifted my voice. “Release my daughter.”
Cesla threw back his head and laughed his scorn until the canopy of leaves above him fluttered. “But of course, Boclar. Here.” He flourished a bow and motioned Erendella forward.
She took a few tottering steps, unsure, suspecting treachery, but Cesla made no move to interfere, and his men raised no weapons against her.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You’ve taken her simply to release her to me?”
He lifted one hand, tapping his chin with his forefinger. “What would you have me do, old friend?”
A hint of sound came from behind us. Woruld turned and I heard him sigh. “Your Majesty.”
I nodded. “We’re surrounded.” And we were. Cesla’s men were arrayed in a broad arc that I and Woruld with all his gifts could never hope to defeat. “What do you want?”
Cesla cocked his head, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Erendella’s mind is her own, though she has spent a week here in the forest. Am I not merciful?” He paused to give a theatric shrug. “Even the liturgy says that Aer’s mercy has its price. Mine is no different. Your daughter and your man may go with my blessing.” His face contorted into a parody as he made the sign of the intersecting arcs in the air in front of him. He stopped just short of completing the gesture. “But I think I would enjoy the pleasure of your company for a time.”
“Sire,” Woruld said, “you cannot stay here.”
I turned to my faithful guard, my friend. “Take her.”
“Yes,” Cesla said, “by all means. I assure you, your sovereign will be only a day behind you, though it’s a pity you only brought the one fire.”
Woruld shifted. If need be, the brazier holding the fire could float for a time. I heard movement behind us.
“If you make any move to threaten the king or his daughter,” Cesla said. “I will kill you where you stand.”
My last hope died. “Take her Woruld. Protect her as you have me.”
“Father.” Erendella threw her arms around me to whisper in my ear. “Kill me, then yourself. We must not leave here.”
“What has he done to you?” I asked.
“Please, Father,” she begged. “I cannot.”
Her hands fumbled in the inside of my cloak, but when she touched the hilt of my dagger she jerked as if burned.
“Please,” she sobbed.
I pulled my head up from the wealth of my child’s hair. “Woruld, take her and the light and go.”
My friend and my heart, both of them, walked away, heading south until the light of solas powder vanished and I was left in darkness. “Ah, Boclar,” Cesla crooned my name. “Do you know what you have done?”
I tried to laugh my defiance at him, but it died in my throat. “My soldiers will not surrender the field because you hold me, Cesla. You and yours will die here in the forest, cut off from light and love.”
Cesla’s laughter succeeded where mine failed, held genuine mirth. “I have lived uncounted centuries, Boclar.”
The canopy of leaves overhead blotted out the light from the moon and stars, but splashing sounds came to me, near and far across the lake. The sound of shovels hitting earth and water accompanied grunts of effort, and I strained to see.
“My purposes are myriad, Boclar, and I give you the honor of being a part of them. Centuries from now your descendants—if I allow you any—will mark this as hallowed ground, and I will have them worship me here.”
“Worship? You’re insane.”
“Do you know the problem with your world, Boclar? It’s not a lack of faith—it’s the lack of will to create the singularity of it. Even before the Merum split from the southern church, your leaders allowed people their doubt, their moments of disbelief. There is a new faith coming, Boclar, one that will unify the world, because I will place it in every mind.”
I knew the reference from the liturgy. “And every heart?” I asked. The nearest of Cesla’s men were at least three paces from me. Escape from the Darkwater was impossible, but I clutched my dagger and contemplated freedom of a different sort.
“No, I will allow them to keep their hearts, just as I will allow you to keep yours. Why kill a man when you can torture him? Behold!” From the throat of every man and woman around me, there arose a low moan of infinite despair that grew in intensity until the forest shook with the wail of countless damned souls. Cesla laughed his counterpoint.
I turned to run, but his hand caught my bare arm with the strength of a vise. Frantic, I reached
