Song of the Ascendant

6. Lost and Found

Fifteenth of Harbinger

Arak was, as usual, one of the first to wake. He had spent most of his life as a warrior, both in service of his clan and as a mercenary. It was entirely instinct that made him rise before dawn every morning and wander the compound to check for danger. The Children of the Wind had many enemies, though none of them had ever dared to attack their home. The compound had no official name, though over the years students had come to call it the Citadel. It was both a home for the Order and a fortress within which they could learn and experiment without interference. There was no palace so secure as the Citadel, Arak was sure of that. They were deep in Ikari territory, which served as a defence in depth against any serious assault. The Order's reputation was enough to scare off most enemies, and anyone who overcame both fear and the Ikari still had to face the mages themselves. Arak was paid well to teach them combat skills to rival that of orcs and he did it well, crafting generations of the most lethal fighters on the continent. When that was combined with their ability to control life forces, they were a formidable force to reckon with. Individual Brilhardem may have been killed throughout the years, but no one had dared attack the Order as a whole. Nonetheless, every day Arak made his circuit of the Citadel to check for breaches. He hadn't lived this long by becoming complacent.

He made his way towards Brimur's home, finding that the elf was already readying his horse.

"Has Sashai woken?" Brimur asked when he saw the orc. Arak gave an amused grunt.

"I think she was exhausted by her trials," he replied with a smirk. "No movement yet."

"We have five days of riding ahead of us," Brimur mused. "Let her have another hour."

"I still think it is a mistake leaving this soon," Arak cautioned. "Belkai is secure in Narandir. We have time."

"I'm not so sure," Brimur told him. "Things are moving far quicker than we had expected. We can assume nothing."

Arak didn't argue. He knew there was no changing Brimur's mind, so with his protest made, he let the matter go and helped his friend gather supplies for the journey. He glanced up at a window and saw Brimur's wife, a tall, grey-eyed wood elf named Salatia, standing there with a pained look in her eye. She felt it too, Arak realised. Something was coming, and Brimur was headed in the wrong direction.

***

While the northern regions of Lustria were riddled with mines, the south lived off the riches that they brought to the nation. The capital of Torleight was a few miles from the border with the Tios Principality, and was a shining example of the wealth produced by the miners' labours. It was a stunning contrast to the small farming town where Shontelle had lived most of her life. Solstia, it had been named, a local trading centre in southern Svaleta and the only home she had ever known until it had been destroyed by the Sons of Retribution in their attempt to kill Belkai Androva. Shontelle stood before a bronze statue that dominated Torleight' central square, her dark hair blowing gently in the breeze. The statue was of a great horse racing, its rider standing in his stirrups with one hand raising a sword in the air. His mouth was open in an eternal war cry, his eyes wide with fervour. Shontelle shivered as she studied the sculpture. She had never seen anything like it.

"His name was Fernaldi."

She almost leapt at the sudden voice, and turned to see a Lustrian soldier standing there, a warm smile on his face. He was surprisingly scrawny, the black and red uniform doing little to make his frame seem more powerful. He spoke in the common tongue, and if Shontelle had lived in Lustria long enough she would have recognised a northern accent.