This was our chance to redeem ourselves, in our own eyes as well as theirs. For me, it meant making up for the losses we had suffered and becoming stronger so that no one who fought alongside me would die again. For Tahlis, it meant retaking control of his guild, reasserting his dominance over followers whom he had not been able to control before. But for Ganyir it meant so much more.
The significance of the moment showed in the lord’s every movement. He paced slowly at the front of the temple, his head bowed in resignation as much as prayer. His steps were methodical, his movements slow, as if weighed down by a great burden that threatened to overbalance him if he made one false move. His gaze was cast constantly down, watching the worn stone beneath his feet. His gauntleted hands were clasped together.
“Here, my Lord.” Tahlis handed Ganyir the largest of the robes we’d taken from the defeated army. It had been made for one of the larger members of the Steadfast Horn Guild, making it just large enough to fit over not just Ganyir’s bulky frame but the armor he now wore at all times. It would be a tighter fit than the robes were meant for, but as long as no one looked too closely, and as long as he kept his hood up, the Lord of the Gonki should be able to pass as just one more Augmenter.
The rest of us were also putting on robes. We’d had to pick through the ones we’d captured, abandoning the most bloodstained or the ones scorched by fire techniques. Drek had tried washing some of them, but Tahlis didn’t have good soap or laundry tubs in his temple, and the blood was thoroughly soaked in. In the end, the dwarf had reluctantly given up on his task and accepted a set of robes too long for him with a few blood spatters on the back, small enough that they should go unnoticed until we got up close.
The distinctive sound of a whetstone running over steel rang out through the temple as Onvar and Vesma sharpened their blades. Elorinelle checked the fletchings of her arrows and the fastenings of their heads, then looked down each one in turn to make sure that the shaft hadn’t warped. Kegohr’s mace didn’t need much tending to, so he instead practiced martial arts, turning theoretical strikes into muscle memory.
There was no point in me tending to my weapons. The magical power of the Sundered Heart Sword and the Depthless Dream Trident meant that they kept themselves. Both were wickedly sharp and ready for a fight. My spirit weapons were as much companions as they were tools. The memory of Yono’s visit from the night before lingered, but it almost seemed like a dream. She wasn’t present in the morning, and she merely sighed when I tried to talk to her within the trident.
“Of all of us, I didn’t expect to see the Swordslinger sitting idle,” Tahlis said with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Shocking behavior from our fearless leader.”
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Really? Then what do you call this?”
Tahlis prodded my chest. I looked down, expecting to see something wrong with my robes. Instead, I got the flash of his yellow scaled hand rising up to slap me.
“Ha! Got you!” Tahlis said. “If you were really ready, you wouldn’t get caught off-guard by a poor old lizard man.”
“And if you had any dignity, you wouldn’t be trying cheap tricks like that.”
“Dignity is overrated. It doesn’t help you win.”
Tahlis walked past me along the line of initiates and allies. I sent a sliver of Frozen Armor running down my leg, through my feet, and along the stone floor. The lizardman didn’t see it coming, and he slipped before promptly falling on his ass.
I walked over to him and helped him up. “Good thing you don’t have any dignity, because you’d have lost it all by tripping over your own feet.”
“My own feet!” Tahlis looked exasperated before he looked at the melting ice at his feet. “My, my, you are a devious one, Swordslinger.”
I shrugged. “And you’re a cooky one.” I smiled at him as he whirled around in a huff and went to examine the initiates.
“Very good, Elorinelle,” he said as he sniffed the air in front of her. “You’re almost ugly enough to be an Unswerving Shadows guard.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said. “I think.”
“And what’s this?” He stopped in front of Onvar. “You’ve got the belt backward!”
“You’re obviously blind, Master, because my belt is the right way around.” Onvar looked up from his sword. “You’ll have to do better than that to find a mistake I’ve made.”
“That’s the problem. You’re just too meticulous. It’s not fair on our opponents.”
“Fairness is overrated. It doesn’t help you win.”
“Someone is learning!” Tahlis slapped Onvar on the shoulder and carried on his way.
A mixture of sharp clacks and soft footsteps came down the stairs. Zedal emerged, one hand holding a crutch that Elorinelle had carved for her, the other carrying a sword. She was wearing one of the looted uniforms.
“I’m ready,” she announced. “What about the rest of you?”
I looked at Tahlis, who frowned, then brightened.
“Just the initiate I was looking for,” he said. “I have a very important job for you, guarding the temple while we are away.”
Zedal glared at him. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” she hissed. “The temple doesn’t need guarding. Either we win and take the fortress or we lose and die. Either way, there’s no point keeping this place safe.”
“Fine. You can’t come because you still need to recover. Happy now?”
“I’ve got this.” She waggled the crutch. “And this.” She held up the sword. “I can fight, and you need every warrior you can get.”
I stepped forward to join the conversation. “I get that you’re
