Sorak felt an unwholesome thrill of anticipation run through him. It was not his feeling at all. It made his skin crawl, and yet, at the same time, he somehow felt what the other was feeling, and it repelled him.
“Let us go, my silent friend,” the templar said, rising to her feet. “It is time for you to do what you do best. You will not have the sort of audience you are accustomed to, but I will be close by. An audience of one, but one who has a true appreciation of your craft. And soon, very soon, you will have an opportunity to test your skills against one who should, by all accounts, provide a proper challenge to your abilities. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
An eager nod.
“Yes. I rather thought you would. But tonight, if our reports have been correct, there will be some fine amusement for you. And by tomorrow, all of Altaruk will be abuzz with talk of your doings… and the Veiled Alliance will know the meaning of fear.”
* * *
“Sorak! Sorak! Oh, Sorak, wake up, please!”
Ryana bent over him anxiously. He blinked several times and brought his hands up to his forehead. It felt as if his head were splitting, and he was covered with sweat.
He was lying on his back on a bedroll spread out on the ground. The first orange-tinted light of dawn was visible on the horizon as the dark sun slowly rose over the Sea of Silt. He sat up slowly, with a groan.
Kieran came and knelt at his side. “You had us worried, my friend,” he said. “You were gone for a long time. Over four hours. And whatever it was you saw, it must have been a nightmare, judging by the way you thrashed and moaned.”
Sorak took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, sitting with his head in his hands.
Ryana put her arm around him. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “Whatever it was, it’s over now.”
He shook his head. “No, it is not over,” he said in a dull voice. “It is only just beginning.”
“What did you see?” asked Kieran, gazing at him intently.
“Death,” said Sorak.
“Whose?” asked Kieran, frowning. “One of us?”
Sorak shook his head. “No. I did not know them.”
“Them?” Ryana said. “How many?”
“At least half a dozen,” Sorak said. “Members of the Veiled Alliance. We must get to Altaruk with all speed,” he said. “They are being butchered.”
“Who is doing this?” asked Kieran.
Sorak shook his head. “I could not tell. But this time, it was different. I think it was the same killer I saw before, but this time I was seeing through the killer’s eyes, feeling what the killer felt, and it was…” He shuddered, unable to complete the thought.
“Can you can recall any more?” asked Kieran.
Sorak nodded. “Yes. A templar. One of the senior templars of the Shadow King.”
“In Altaruk?” said Kieran.
“She seemed to be directing the killer,” Sorak said. “And she knew about the Shadows’ attack on us. I think she was involved somehow. It may have been because of me. I’m the one they’re after. But I am not the only one.”
“So,” said Kieran, “the defilers are making their bid to control Altaruk. And I thought this was going to be a simple, boring job. But where do you fit in? Why do they want you?”
“Because of who I am,” said Sorak. “And what I represent.”
“Then the bard’s tale was true?” said Kieran.
“In part,” said Sorak. “But there is much more to it. Have you ever heard of the avangion?”
“The myth of the preserver dragon?” Kieran said. “The legend of the Sage?”
“The avangion is neither myth nor dragon,” Sorak said. “And the Sage is more than legend.”
“You mean to say he actually exists?”
“He was once called the Wanderer,” said Sorak.
“The pilgrim who wrote that journal of his travels? He is an adept?”
Sorak nodded. “He is also my grandfather.”
Kieran exhaled heavily. “Gith’s blood,” he swore softly. “I knew there was more to you than met the eye, but this…” He shook his head. “You know where he is, don’t you?”
Sorak nodded.
“Who else knows?”
“Only the pyreen elders. And Ryana, of course. It is my task to do what my grandfather cannot. Not only to serve the cause, but to make it known. And in some ways, ways that I still do not understand, he has prepared me for it.”
“You mean the Sight?” said Kieran.
Sorak nodded again. “And the blade. And I do not know what else. There is much about myself I have yet to discover. It would be difficult to explain. I had hoped there would be more time, but it seems I’ll not have that luxury. The Shadow King has other plans.”
“More than just the Shadow King, if all you say is true,” said Kieran.
“You doubt him?” asked Ryana. “I can attest to the truth of everything he says. I was there.”
“Oh, I would not question your word, my lady,” Kieran said. “But it does strain one’s credulity. I wish I did not believe it, for it means you will both be targets for every defiler on Athas. You must admit, that argues against a long life, for you and anyone with you.”
“You still want me for your lieutenant?” Sorak asked wryly.
“Well, it will make things interesting,” Kieran replied with a smile. “I was getting bored in retirement, anyway.”
“Well make a preserver of you yet,” Ryana said with a grin, punching him in the shoulder.
“We should all live so long, my lady,” Kieran said. “I have no magic blade, and your friend here just threw his away.”
“I did that once before,” said Sorak, “but there are some responsibilities one simply can’t avoid.” Kieran’s eyes grew wide as Sorak reached down and drew Galdra from his belt. He held the broken blade up before him, and it sparkled with a faint blue aura.
“Now that was a neat trick,” said Kieran.
Sorak smiled. “Just don’t ask me how it’s done,” he said. “A moment ago, it wasn’t there.
