50 - Epilogue

Nights became cold with such speed, here at the north-west tip of the western horn of the continent, that Kay would have preferred to lay under the thick, fur covers of his bed, but he had tasks to perform. Dvesa could keep herself warm and snuggled beneath those covers until Kay had finished his duties, but he longed to fall into her willing embrace.

The fire pit crackled as he stretched his spine before it, the flames dancing high giving off heat that soon dissipated in the cold air. A hand rubbed at the wound in his side that still gave him pain, even after weeks of leaving most work to others. He hated not pulling his weight, so used to having to do things himself, but the others would not allow it. Not in these times.

He could hear the activity outside but it was not yet time for him to emerge from his tent. So much had become theatre surrounding him that he almost wished for the days when he and Miraveh had played in the countryside outside Donsa village. Those days were simple, but lost. Gone as all such days passed, into memory and longing. He could never return to such simplicity. The world would never allow it.

With a casual thought, he reached out with his magic, bright strands of yellow, like thick cords of golden hair, and lifted the bottle of Grujun wine, carrying it through the air to his hand. He had come to appreciate little things like the biting drink that warmed his stomach. For years, before he had fought the Shade of Xirasir and emerged triumphant, if damaged, he and Miraveh, Yusuvur and Alran had lived a sparse existence, keeping to shadows and less trodden paths in their quest for the Shards of Mirrorwood. He would have considered a bottle of wine a luxury back then.

Dvesa stirred beneath the covers, but she did not wake. Another luxury that he thought he would never experience. Love. He loved Miraveh, but not in this way. Miraveh was as much a sister as a friend. Dvesa was passion. She was fire and lust. In bed or on the battlefield, Dvesa gorged herself upon every experience, delighting in everything as though she had spent her entire life hidden away. To Kay, that passion enriched him and fulfilled him, for he had little passion of his own.

A biting wind bent the flames almost flat as the flap of the door became pushed aside and Kay knew exactly who had entered without turning to see them. Only one person dared to enter his tent without announcing themselves and his suspicions became confirmed at the disgusted 'tut' from the woman that had invaded this tiniest of sanctuaries.

"Yusuvur. I didn't hear you knock." Not that she could upon the thick canvas of the tent, but the point still stood. He turned, taking a drink from the wine bottle, his golden yellow magic fading from his hands. "And what urgency prompts your unexpected return? A demon horde from the Nightmare Realm, perhaps? Or the undead marching across the face of Dred-al? I'll have to put them on the list as I'm a little busy with the last assignment you gave me."

"Jest all you wish, but I ask nothing of you that I do not demand of myself." The elder Witch strode to the fire pit, rubbing her hands toward the flames. Her sneer at the wine bottle did not mean Kay would not keep drinking. "I trust the hussy keeps you warmer than the fire."

The forced smile fell from Kay's face and he glared at Yusuvur. She could say what she wanted about him, but to insult the woman he loved could prove costly. For everyone. More than once, Kay had almost abandoned his task. He had spent too long, suffered too much and barely managed to stay alive enough times that he felt he had done enough for this world. But he could not abandon it. It was his destiny. And his burden.

"Keep your words to those that are relevant, old woman. What I do in the privacy of my tent, and with whom, is none of your concern." He saw Dvesa's eyes peeking out from beneath the covers and gave an imperceptible shake of the head. "You have news, I take it. Best give it now, before I have to perform my duties."

With a scowl and a sniff, Yusuvur moved toward a chair, dragging it close to the fire pit, before moving to the nearby table and pouring herself a cup of water. She strolled and sipped at the water before taking her seat, resting the cup upon her belly, cradling it with the entwined fingers of both hands. All a play to let him know that she spoke in her own time and never to his tune. She gave him an unblinking stare until he turned his head. The only person in the world that could make him do that.

"Miraveh." Yusuvur knew exactly how Kay would react at mention of her name. The wine bottle almost fell from his hand as he feared the worst. "She failed to keep the Candidate alive and the Pillar of Grace is now dead. I swear, that girl could make mountains appear less stubborn! Though she has finally embraced her magic."

"Is she safe? Is she well?" He could feel Dvesa's eyes upon him, but she knew how much Miraveh meant to him. If she was jealous, that was something she would have to deal with herself. "I could send ..."

"She is more than safe. She has become a warlord, if you can imagine it." Something happened, then. Something Kay could not remember happening in the entire time he had known Yusuvur. She laughed. "Sitting in a stronghold, surrounded by fanatical followers. She has become quite a surprise, that girl. And she shares a similar ally to your own. Though 'ally' is, perhaps, not the word for your relationship with it."

"She is far from a girl anymore. You saw to that." He took another drink of wine. The relationship Yusuvur mentioned bit into Kay's soul. He had wanted it another way, but, sometimes, things required persuasion. "Is she ... a threat?"

That thought came uneasy to Kay's mind. He had changed much over the years, as had Miraveh. Yusuvur, of course, never changed, remaining the coarse, calculating, devious woman she had always been. Kay did not want to think that Miraveh had changed that much, but becoming a warlord, with fanatics as followers sounded far more different than he could ever have expected.

"I'm not certain." Yusuvur sipped at her water, her eyes remaining locked upon Kay. "If she is, would that be a problem? The Candidates must be found and become the Pillars. If anything, or anyone, gets in the way of that ..."

Yusuvur allowed that unspoken statement to hang in the air. It felt like a threat. Sounded like a threat toward Miraveh, but Kay could not imagine his childhood friend changing that much. A powerful wielder of magic, or not. A warlord, or not. Miraveh was a good, kind person inside and that would never change. Stubborn she may very well be, but he knew he could count upon her when he needed her. He had to believe that.

A hand slapped twice against the canvas side of the tent and his head dipped. He had not looked forward to this, but he had little choice in the matter. He gave Yusuvur one last glance before moving to the wooden armour horse, where he removed the chest plate. He didn't need his full armour, but the chest plate showed his symbol, the dragon enchained. He needed those outside to see who he was. With the armour fastened loose, but comfortable, he wrapped his sword belt around his waist, easing the sword in its sheath. Of the other weapon, he left that wrapped within its casket. Then he flung the red cloak about his shoulders, fastening it to the clasps upon the armour chest plate.

"I'm certain you have more to say, but I must take care of this." He avoided her eyes because he knew she would not approve. Nor would Miraveh. Or, at least, the Miraveh he once knew. "If you want to stay in here, do so, but do not disturb or insult Dvesa. She will tell me."

"No. I will accompany you to this display." Tipping the cup, Yusuvur emptied it and stood, dropping the cup onto the seat of the chair. "Though I have to wonder whether this is necessary. You won the battle, did you not? What purpose does this ... entertainment hold?"

"It sends a message." He paused at the door flap before sweeping it aside and striding out into the night.

He did not look toward the impossibly tall structure to the side. Larger than some castles, it had taken a great number of artisans to create and a similar number of Witches to enchant. Now, it stood tall and strong, the wards glowing to those that could sense the magic. Ignored, too, were the assembled soldiers. They lined up, shoulder to shoulder, torches held high and illuminating a star-less night as clouds hugged the land, hiding the light of the broken Moon.

He did not ignore, could not ignore those kneeling, bound, upon the ground within a wide circle left by the soldiers. The four people, tall, fair of hair, with pointed ears and an ethereal beauty about them all, showed no signs of fear as they saw him emerge from his tent. They could not fear someone they believed were beneath them, as these Gaele believed of everyone not Gaele. A fifth Gaele stood at the edge of the wide circle, held and bound. A witness.

"Three cheers for the Lord! Three cheers for Kayrian God-Bane!" One man at the front called out, pumping his torch in the air. "Horrah! Horrah! Horrah!"

It felt as though the entire world joined in the cheer, but Kay immediately raised his hands, calling for silence and calm. He needed this to end as soon as possible and then he could put the entire, sorry affair behind him.

"Men of the Gaele. You are guilty of slaughtering unarmed prisoners, torturing them, humiliating and abusing them. We cannot stand for this." He felt thankful the wine had cleared his throat as he raised his voice to the army before him. "Thus, you have a lone witness to relay to your superiors what we do to people like you. Open the gate!"

Now he looked to the structure and watched as several Witches used their combined magic to lift the gate. Inside, there appeared only darkness, for a short while, until Kay saw large, golden eyes blink in the dark. The ground rumbled as the creature rushed from its cage and the soldiers almost lost their composure. Even after all this time, they still suffered the fear. Those without magic, at least.

The dragon, released and able to stretch, reared its head high into the air, bellowing and screeching, but held back by a thick, magically enhanced chain. The dragon tested the chain before turning baleful eyes toward Kay and Kay saw ancient malice within those eyes. Without saying another word, Kay pointed toward the four Gaele on their knees in the wide circle. Now they showed fear, trying to stand and run, but their bindings keeping them upon the ground.

With a sharp intake of breath, the dragon filled its lungs, its chest expanding. It towered above the quivering Gaele before dropping its enormous snout and belching molten fire from its mouth. The Gaele died even before the full force of the dragon fire reached them, but the dragon continued to emit its flames until only ash remained of the Gaele.

At the edge of the circle, the fifth Gaele had fallen to their knees, weeping, and Kay knew he had sent his message. The Gaele thought they could keep the Candidate for themselves. Use the Candidate for their insane dreams of usurping the gods. Kay would prove them wrong on all counts, even if he had to find and kill the Candidate so the Gaele could not have them.

He turned to speak to Yusuvur about his plans to invade the Gaele islands, but she had already gone. He couldn't blame her. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. The Pillars of the Gods needed to remain strong, and, one way or another, Kay would make sure of it. Whatever he needed to do to achieve it.