35

Miraveh couldn't tell the goblin girl why she had felt compelled to embrace her. After asking the girl her name, Peknida, Miraveh urged her not to use the relic and allowed her to return to her fellow goblins. After all this time, to finally find the Candidate felt as though a weight had fallen from her shoulders, but she needed to think and consult far more clever minds than her own.

With one of Mandelar's fellow Witches watching Brothimir, Miraveh gathered Sialira, Turotara and Mandelar to the side. She wished Daras were here, but he had not yet returned from his scouting mission. She trusted the young man's judgement as much as she trusted anyone's and she could have used his no nonsense words. And his light-hearted attitude.

"She can't be the Candidate." The words surprised Miraveh, coming from Sialira. Of them all, the young Witch had always appeared the most welcoming and caring. "She's a goblin! We don't even know what kind of people they are. I've read stories about them, from the past. Not all of it is good."

"I agree with our young sister." Mandelar, sat upon the ground, her legs crossed, hands in her lap, nodded towards Sialira. "Every lore I have read says the goblins have always been antagonistic. I have heard of the Pillars of the Gods and they have always been human."

Sialira and Mandelar shared knowing, aloof looks and Miraveh knew that look. She had seen it from many Witches. A look of superiority. Of absolute certainty that they, and they alone, were the arbiters of right and wrong, the past and the future. Despite her revulsion at the Hunters, especially their methods, Miraveh could well understand their dislike of the arrogance Witches displayed at every opportunity.

She looked towards Turotara, the imposing woman didn't look to anybody. Her eyes held by a piece of wood in her hands that she whittled at with a small knife. Miraveh wanted her opinion, whether Turotara wished to give one or not, but she let the woman listen to the other arguments before consulting her.

"Why can't the Candidate, or even a Pillar, be a goblin? I've read about them, too, and it seems to me that those who win battles write the histories of them." She turned, waving a hand in the direction of the goblins grouped together. "Do they look like the descriptions? Twisted, saw-toothed creatures, black as night. Were it not for the eyes and noses, they could pass for small humans."

"But they fought wars against humans! They were brutal, vicious. They killed any human they met. Man, woman, child, they didn't care!" As always, Sialira wore her emotions for all to see. Miraveh could see the fear in her eyes, and the conflict. "Rescuing them is one thing, no-one deserves what the Hunters did to any of the captives, but they're free now. Let them go to their dark holes in the ground and we'll find another Candidate. A human."

In the years without magic, the years of slumber for the magical creatures and peoples of the world, humans had still fought wars. Still had to suffer terrible atrocities and death. Those things were an awful consequence of conflict, not of race. There were plenty of tyrannical humans during the years without magic and they did not have the excuse of coming from underground and looking different.

She needed Daras. Of them all, he would see the truth within the stories. He would see the goblins for who and what they were, not what dusty tomes, written by biased hands would tell him. Or, at least, she thought he would. He had come so close to Sialira, she wouldn't put it past him to take her side, regardless of his own thoughts.

"Seems to me, it's not our choice to make." Turotara surprised everyone with her calm, steady voice. She shaved another sliver of wood from the stick and looked towards Miraveh. "This 'Seeker's Urge' you talk of? Are there any other Candidates you sense? No 'urge' to travel elsewhere? Some higher power, higher than the gods, perhaps, has brought you to that girl. Who are you, or we, to decide who should or shouldn't be this 'Candidate', or a 'Pillar'?"

Turotara moved her eyes towards Sialira, and then to Mandelar, and neither could hold the guard's gaze. When Turotara returned to her whittling, Miraveh saw both Sialira and Mandelar share a glance. The Witches would stand together no matter what the situation. Turotara had no obligation to fall on one side or the other. Not on their side, or on Miraveh's. In that moment, Miraveh understood her mistake.

This was not a situation for consultation. Finding the Candidate and keeping them safe was her task, one she had no control over, but one she had come to accept as her responsibility and no-one else's. She could take advice on where they should go, how they should defend themselves and any number of other decisions, but this was hers and hers alone. In that, it made Miraveh feel more than a little isolated.

Once again, she gazed across to the goblin campfire, where Peknida sat with the others, separated from both humans and elves. All the races sitting apart, ignoring each other. Ancient prejudices had resurfaced almost as soon as magic had returned, with new, rage-filled prejudices added all the time. In that, at least, the Hunters showed an equality in their hate. They hated magic in all its forms, whether wielded by elves, goblins, or humans. Race made no difference to them. Only magic mattered.

Thinking that made her look towards Brothimir, to see him laid back, resting upon an elbow, as though he had not a single care in the world. He didn't look at anyone, in particular, or not at anyone. It didn't seem to bother him at all that people he had sworn to eradicate surrounded him. Standing, Miraveh thanked Sialira, Turotara and Mandelar for their advice before moving towards their captured Hunter O' The Dark.

"You could have stayed in Comragon. You could have kept the relic you took from me, instead of destroying it, and acted like you had arrived to help your fellow Hunters." She squatted by Brothimir's feet and his eyes fell upon her, as they always seemed to. "Thank you. For getting me out of there and ... I can see why you want a new relic. They are ... compelling."

"I could never go back to the Hunters and, besides, they would know the relic was not mine if I ever used it. That, alone, would make them suspicious of me." That gaze of his never seemed to falter, never turned away when she came close to him. From anyone else, it would make her uncomfortable. It should from him, but didn't. "I have another path to follow now."

"Tell me, if a commander, or leader, whatever you call each other, tasked you to find and protect someone, and you only found out later that that someone was a Witch, what would you think?" Now Brothimir's eyes moved, looking back towards where Miraveh had sat with Sialira and the others. Turotara had wandered away, but the two Witches remained in conversation. "What if they gave you no indication that it was a Witch, but they did say they were needed for something more important than you could ever imagine?"

Brothimir's eyes returned to Miraveh's and held them, unblinking, neither angry at her, nor liking her. No hate, no empathy. Only a deep, insatiable interest. Miraveh didn't know what the man could find interesting about her. It didn't seem like attraction, at least. It was something else. Something less clear and less obvious.

To the side, Miraveh could see the Witch assigned to guard Brothimir. The man tensed, fingers rising towards one of the relics they had taken from the Karline in Comragon. Something had made him tense up, but Miraveh couldn't see what. For certain, she didn't sense any new magic in the area and her sense of magic had a far greater scope than anyone else's, whether they held a relic or not. She wondered whether the questions she had raised with Brothimir had spooked the Witch.

"I would have performed my duty. Explanations were not necessary. If my commanders told me to do something, I did it. No questions. No hesitation. That is the job of a soldier. Not the killing, that is a consequence. Following orders is the job." Brothimir made a sharp movement and smirked as  the Witch gripped the relic, the dirty, ancient magic blooming in an instant before diminishing as Brothimir settled again. "So, what is this duty you have been given and how does it involve the goblin girl? Yes, I noticed. You are an exceptional wielder of magic and, despite your gruff exterior, you draw people to you, but you have no guile. Intrigue and secrets are not among your talents."

For the tiniest fraction of a moment, Miraveh considered telling Brothimir everything. From the very first day Yusuvur entered Donsa village in search of Kay and, as it turned out, Miraveh. Through the dark days and terrifying encounters of the years spent searching for the Shards of Mirrorwood. To the final confrontation with the Shade of Xirasir. She considered telling him everything. At least, with Brothimir, there would be no undue expectations of competence.

Before she could begin to speak, she heard a disturbance coming through the night. The sounds of hoofbeats upon dry, packed ground. From out of the darkness, Daras emerged, another horse and rider following not far behind. As soon as he saw Miraveh, he jumped from the horse before it even stopped, racing to pull her into his arms.

"I am glad you are back among us, my friend. Very glad." He stepped back, gripping her upper arms and looking desperately around the assembled former captives. "They are coming. I do not know if their Karline gives them magical strength, but they never stop. The Hunters O' The Dark are catching up!"

-+-

Miraveh gazed around the campfires. So many people, humans, elves and goblins, and the horses, all travelling in the same direction and pulling along a cart, no less. She didn't know how long they had travelled while she was unconscious, recovering from her magical efforts, but she could not see any signs of civilisation. No lights, no shadowy forms of buildings. In the darkness, she could see mountains in the distance, closer than they were before, but not close enough to reach and hide amongst.

Of course the Hunters O' The Dark had tracked them. With this many people, they could not have hidden their trail. Of everyone there, she could count only three people that could fight with conventional weapons. Herself, Turotara and Daras. She didn't doubt Brothimir could handle a sword, too, but she could never trust him to fight alongside them. That left a couple of dozen magic wielders far from their full strength, starved, exhausted and with only five remaining relics.

They could not survive a battle, they could not run and they could not hide.

Now she saw others gathering around, news of the chasing Hunters soon travelling throughout the camp. Her hand rose to her chest, where she held the ring given to her by the Phrenica of the Jukunashar Witches coven. She could use that. Call for help, but what help the Jukunashar Witches could give, she did not know.

"We could create a portal." Sialira had seen the look upon Miraveh's face, coming to stand at her side. "With a relic, I ... I think I could open one."

She didn't sound at all certain and, after Miraveh's experiences with relics, the sickening feeling of losing herself to the magic, she balked at the idea of the young Witch suffering the same. She didn't know for certain, but she had a good idea that a portal would force Sialira to rely on the relic's power, possibly changing her for the worse, as Miraveh felt she had changed.

"You could, sister, but you do not know these lands." Mandelar now joined them, hands clasped at her waist, fingers twisting together, though she sounded calm. "You cannot simply open a portal and expect it to lead somewhere safe. You must know where you wish to go. Visualise it."

"Could you do it? The others?" Even as she said it, Miraveh doubted they could. All the former captives were still painfully thin. Backs stooped. "Or I could? I could try, though I have never seen a portal open, if I'm shown ..."

Miraveh felt Sialira's hand rest upon her arm and the girl shook her head. Miraveh knew as soon as she had said it that she could not. Even now, she could not even suppress her magic. Something she had learned to do almost without thinking. She could still feel her magic, but it felt distant, out of reach. Her mind wandered towards the relics once again.

"I could do it." Several pairs of eyes fell upon Brothimir, leaning upon his elbow, his gaze had moved towards the flames of the fire, shadows dancing across his features. "With a relic and someone to teach me. I know these lands as well as my brother and sister Hunters. Better than most."

Sialira's hand upon Miraveh's arm turned to a claw-like grip. She tugged upon that arm, drawing Miraveh away from Brothimir, away from the others, and Miraveh allowed the girl to lead her away. Daras came to join them, glaring at the prone Brothimir as he passed. Sialira led Miraveh back to where they had spoken before, began to speak and waited for Turotara to join them, the guard noticing the urgency of Sialira.

"It would be a mistake. You know this, Miraveh." Daras spoke first, coming to stand beside Sialira, his hand curling into hers. "I'm not one to hold grudges, or think that people cannot change. I am a thief, I don't care who knows, not among people I care for. I will always be a thief and he will always be a Hunter O' The Dark. Years of hatred do not simply melt away."

"I ... I can't trust him. The things Hunters have done ..." With one hand, Sialira tightened her grip upon Daras, the other still held Miraveh's arm. "But ... Mandelar is right, portals are not something to be played with. None of the others are well enough and I could teach him. If I must."

To the side, Turotara twirled the piece of wood, she had whittled upon, in her fingers. The tip looked sharp, ready to plunge into a body, if Miraveh knew the muscular guard well. The most tactically astute of them all, Turotara still reminded Miraveh of Alran. He, too, would take time to assess situations before speaking. After a few seconds, Turotara nodded to herself.

"We are in no position to fight, as you well know. No cover, not enough trained fighters, no offence, thief. The Witches are ill, underfed, weak and you are not nearly at your full strength." She winked at Daras' feigned look of outrage, then used the stick to point towards Brothimir. "I don't trust him, either, but I've spent more time with him than any of you. I think he means it. For his own reasons, for certain, but he'll do it. Of that I am certain."

Every minute that Miraveh delayed making a decision brought the Hunters O' The Dark closer to them all. The people they had saved were staring recapture in the face. Of herself and her companions, she and Turotara would die fighting. Daras would protect Sialira to his dying breath and Sialira ... Miraveh could not stand to see her taken by the Hunters. She would kill the girl herself before allowing that to happen.

"How long do you need to teach him?" Miraveh didn't need to turn around to know that Brothimir watched her from a distance. Instead, she made certain Sialira could tell she listened to her. "I know you don't want to, but we have little choice."

"An hour? If he's intelligent, which I believe he is, I could teach him enough to open a portal, but it would take longer to teach him how to maintain it." Her fingers relaxed upon Miraveh's arm as Sialira began to do what she did best, to explain things. "Minds tend to wander and if a mind wanders while a portal is open, it could move. If someone is travelling through it while that happens ... Well, death isn't always the worst thing that could happen."

"And the Hunters?" Miraveh turned to Daras, but his eyes remained on Sialira, his shoulders slumping before he looked back to Miraveh. He sighed. "How long before they reach us?"

"Less than an hour." Daras would not have even tried to pretend they had longer, as to-the-point and truthful as always.

Miraveh turned away, hand rising to her head, fingers brushing against her fast-growing hair. Turotara was right, she did need another hair cut. Her hand fell to her hip but she still had not found and returned the sword Alran had given her to her side. She needed the comfort of that well-worn grip in her hand. The soft leather and the memories of her mentor. All things she found strength in in such times.

As she gazed out into the darkness, looking in the direction from which Daras had returned to the camp, she thought she could see faint hints of torchlight. Perhaps she could, or perhaps the night played tricks with her eyes. Less than an hour before the Hunters arrived, but longer than hour needed to teach Brothimir how to open a portal.

With her hands upon her hips, she kicked at the ground, sending a puff of dust into the air. It reminded her of what she had done within Comragon, though she remembered little of what she had done, or how she did it. A vision of a dust storm laid heavy on her mind, only adding to the weight of everything else there. She tried to reach out with her magic, to lift even a small dust storm, but the twisting, writhing purple energy barely manifested.

"Teach him. As fast as you can." She lifted her head, jerking her chin to indicate Brothimir to Sialira. As she looked around them, she saw Turotara still twirling that pointed stick and made a tight, cough of a laugh. "I don't suppose you could whittle another hundred of those, could you?"

"No." Turotara looked at the stick in her hand, used the pointed end to scratch her temple, then pointed towards the campfires. "But I wonder if magic could?"

Miraveh's head turned and, for the first time in those few minutes, she began to feel a little hope. At their feet, beside the campfires, out in the long grass, were sticks. Remnants of a long-gone copse of trees, or a wood, perhaps even a forest. None of that mattered. Miraveh had seen Sialira, with what little magic she had, manipulate roots and branches with ease. If the young Witch could do that kind of magic without much thought, Miraveh couldn't help but imagine, to hope, that the poor, unwell Witches they had freed could do so, too.

"Sialira, go, teach Brothimir to make a portal. And if he can learn faster, that would be very much appreciated. Daras, keep an eye on him. Watch him close." Sialira and Daras moved away towards Brothimir, leaving Turotara. "See what you can do about getting those Witches to make those sticks. The elves and goblins, too, if they can. The more the better."

A plan began to press upon Miraveh's mind as Turotara saluted with that pointed stick and moved away towards the campfires. One that had no guarantee of success, for certain, but, as Alran had always said, never trust anyone that guarantees a victory. It wasn't about fighting the Hunters. It wasn't about winning. This was about survival and giving Sialira and Brothimir precious time.

She headed towards the horses, searching through the packs until she found Alran's sword and fastened it about her waist. Even that small gesture made her feel more confident. Things were soon going to become difficult, dangerous, and she wasn't certain how many would survive, but that sword would give her the confidence to try and save everyone.

Even, especially, that goblin girl, Peknida, that could prove more important than everything and anyone. She saw her, joining the circle around Turotara, bending her neck to look up to the tall, burly warrior. It had to work. All of it. Or it could spell disaster for the world.