Song of the Ascendant

8. The Brilhardem

Sixteenth of Harbinger

Belkai rose that morning to the sound of birds in the trees. She laid there with her eyes closed, a soft smile on her face as the warmth of the morning sun rested on her through the open window. The bed was empty beside her, Davos having risen early to join Lithmae and Loranna on a hunt. She was free to indulge her morning rituals without interruption. She didn't move as she whispered,

"In the flow of the air I feel life itself. In the dawn of the sky I see your face. In Elkur I have life, through Elkur I touch life."

The mantra served to still her mind and help her release the darker thoughts that came with the night. As she went silent, she reached out with her senses, a mental stretch equivalent to her husband's morning physical exercises. She traced the sparrows as they flitted about above her cabin before they searched for food. A mouse rummaged in the bushes nearby, and Belkai guided it to some choice delicacies. The creatures of Narandir had learned the voice of their new lord and welcomed her embrace. It hadn't been like that at first. They had resisted, as little as a bird could resist her power. But what little fight they put up had faded as they learned not to fear this strange influence. She did not seek their slavery, as Mishtar had, only desiring to enjoy their beauty. Growing up in the Dominion, she had heard stories of forests and the woodland creatures, but she had never imagined just how vibrant they were. From the moment she had first entered Narandir searching for the Recluse she had been overwhelmed by its natural glory, the whispers of the trees and the abundance of life. It couldn't last, she knew. That was the morbid reality. How certain she had been those weeks ago when she had heard Delorax's compromise and refused to submit. Since then things had been quiet, a calm before the inevitable storm, but a calm that made her more afraid than outright conflict would have. Whatever the Arcane's next move would be, they wouldn't stop with threats. War would come to Narandir, Belkai was certain of that, and it was her fault. If she won this fight, there would be another. It would not stop until either Narandir was burned to the ground or the Arcane were destroyed. There would be no middle ground. In her quest to save herself from Ashelath, she had brought Narandir to a point of no return. She felt tears forming in her eyes as her mind followed a hummingbird somewhere in the distance. What had she brought upon this forest that had become her home?

"Have mercy on me," she found herself whispering – but to whom? There was no reply from the morning air, just a growing mourning for what might soon be lost.

***

The day was drawing past noon when a lone horse and rider approached the Citadel. Arak had placed some of the elven mages along the walls to serve as lookouts, and the youngest of them was the first to alert him to the arrival. Arak took the stairs three at a time and stood beside the child – at eighteen, he was far younger than the orc – as he looked to the east, away from any local civilisation. Even at this distance, he could tell that the rider was an orc. He frowned. Most of his kin preferred to walk rather than use an animal best suited for carrying weapons and supplies. It was a holdover from the days of infighting between the clans and, later, warfare against the enemies of the Palians; a mounted orc was an easy target for enemy archers. Dismounted, you had more time to find your opponent and kill him before he could take a second shot – and the horse was an effective shield. Orcs weren't known for their love of animals. Only a desperate or wounded orc rode a horse, and only a comrade rode directly for the Citadel instead of following the road towards the nearby village.

"I'm going out there," Arak told the lookout, who nodded without saying anything. He could no doubt feel his concern, Arak knew, once again appreciating the benefits of working with these mages. So much could be left unsaid, making room for more important conversations. They also accepted orders much more easily than the average orc. It was easy to trust someone when you knew what they were feeling.