'Do not speak to me of the rumours and tavern hearsay of lowlanders,' Corryn warned the male standing before him. 'Speak to me of fact and truth. How certain are you?'

The scout, well-built and bearded, stood taller.

'I am certain, Corryn,' he said. 'Torrik of Zybar is dead. We heard it in a Tavern in Virheim, then again from a smith near the foot. Slain at the King of Calate's war council.' The male slid his gaze to where Theodan stood, arms folded near the corner of Corryn's pavilion. 'By a Leoth soldier.'

'What do you know of this?' Corryn asked, following the man's gaze.

Satisfaction coursed through him, regret too. Regret that it had not been his own blade, but he had kept his promise to her; in part, at least. Now Torrik's male line would follow. Had she been there to see it done? Had she rejoiced? Did she know it was by his design?

'Have you nothing to say?' Corryn urged him.

Theodan pretended to think about it. 'Have you any darkwine we might celebrate with?'

A smattering of restrained laughter spread through the group of Corryn's Raksha: men and women whose names he did not know. They sat cross-legged before him on well-worn woven rugs. Vala, Draden, and Ismene stood to his left.

Corryn was distinctly unamused. In fact, a dark, angry cloud had rolled over his eyes. 'You planned this? Without telling me of it?'

Theodan did not care for his tone. He stood straighter, turning his body fully toward Corryn Vane. 'I sent a soldier to Calate as an escort for the princess. I told him should he have the chance to wipe Torrik or his male line from this realm, then he should take it. For Leoth.'

'Tell me, Theodan, when were you planning on informing us of this?'

'If he succeeded, then I planned to inform you exactly as I am informing you now - when news reached us it was done. If he failed, then I had no plan to inform you, for it would be of no consequence.'

Anger stained Corryn's cheeks now. 'Of no consequence?'

'None.'

'You think that slaughtering - or indeed attempting to slaughter - Calate's ally in their war council before their king, would be of no consequence to us? It's true I do not have the working knowledge of Ethis's political factions as you do, Theo, but what do you think such an act might invoke? He is wed to Torrik's daughter for Gods' sake. You cannot think he will ignore this?'

'He will not go to war over Torrik of Zybar,' Theodan said.

Corryn looked stunned. 'You do not know that.'

'Torrik's death strengthens him. We've given him a gift, not a cause for war,' he reasoned.

Corryn said nothing for some moments. 'If you are wrong...'

'If I am wrong, then Azura in no worse a position than she is in already.'

He still looked angry, but said no more, turning back to his scout. 'What else did you find out?'

'Only that the princess Fara has returned, alive,' he said. At the mention of her name, Theodan felt some knot inside him loosen, a softening at the pit of his stomach. She was home. She was safe. It comforted him.

'What did the Azurians think of this news?' Corryn asked, flicking his eyes briefly to him. 'What do they say of the princess?'

The scout shrugged. 'Some curse her for bringing Zybar to their shores, some curse the prince Galyn, some say that Calate let them perish. But they curse the Zybar most of all. There was cheering in some villages at news of the dog king's death.'

'What news of the Leoth soldier who sent Torrik to the Gods?' Theodan asked. 'Have they already taken his head?' A slice of pain cut across him at the thought of Elyon being lost to this mortal realm.

The scout shook his head. 'Of that we heard nothing.'

Draden spoke up then. 'They would be sure to make an example of a Leoth soldier... we'd have heard of it, I'm certain.'

Theodan nodded in agreement. They would not execute a Leoth soldier in private. Which meant he was alive, though for how much longer he did not know. Had Fara spoken for him? Stayed her brother's hand? Zybar's hand?

'That is all?' Corryn asked the male.

'There was one other thing,' he said.  'When we reached the starving pass, the sky was clear - we had a view all the way to the Bay of Uzroth.'

'And?'

'And we saw a fleet of Zybar ships leaving Calate.'

'For Azura?' Theodan asked, tensing.

The scout shook his head. 'They sailed south. For Zybar.'

'They go to bury their king.' This from Vala. Then they would choose another. In a ceremony which could take many moons, or which could be quick and decisive and see them back on these shores within a turn. He looked at Draden, who nodded. His mind saw it too; the attack on the Golden city should happen now, while Zybar from Azura's shores in droves.

Corryn too could see it - any warrior would - but unlike Draden, he did not agree with it. 

'We're not ready,' he said with a shake of his head.

He was right. The Sun Kin were not ready. Outside, the Leoth trained the kin, sharpening their warrior instinct, honing their hunting skills for battle instead of scavenging. Meanwhile, the camp had only begun its preparations to move. Before the attack the camp needed to move further, deeper, into the mountain to ensure that any failure did not mean discovery by a Zybar counterattack.

'And we must wait for Hadden's reply.' He had sent a messenger to make overtures to Hadden Wycliffe of the Windswallow; a tribe who commanded close to eighty ships. Not enough to take the bay from a fleet of Zybar ships, but enough to distract them while the attack came from the north.

'Waiting will risk this opening,' Theodan said, coming toward Corryn now. 'Surely you see that an attack on the city now offers us the best chance of success?' He looked around at Corryn's Raksha. 'Between us we have enough skill to overcome the small Zybar force left behind.'

'With all respect, Theodan, you do not know the force left behind is small,' Corryn countered. 'You think Zybar would risk losing the city now? Whatever size of force they have left behind would have to be strong enough to hold it. I'll not risk my tribe unnecessarily. We will await Hadden's response before moving in on the city.'

It was a closing of the matter. He regretted then promising that he would allow Corryn to lead this thing. 'It will be no more than a week's wait,' Corryn added, clearly feeling the weight of Theodan's disapproval. 'We expect them to dock at Sullace in three moons, and from there it is but four days' sail to the Golden Bay.'

'With good wind,' Theodan said. 'And if he refuses you? If he refuses to fight with Leoth? Or perhaps he will refuse to be drawn into the disputes of the realm, as you have both always done. What then?' He kept his tone as measured as he was able. This was Corryn's council, Corryn's men. The risk, he knew, was his too. 'I propose a vote upon it. I vote to move upon the city at once; else the chance shrinks and the risk grows. More men will die if we wait.' He looked around the tent at Corryn's men, implored them. 'In this I think of only the soldiers of the Sun Kin, be assured of that. With your knowledge of the city and its people, and our knowledge of the Zybar's army, I have every faith in it. This is our best chance.'

'If we wait a week and Hadden refuses to aid us, then the plan is unchanged from what it was when we first decided upon this. We had planned to attack with or without Hadden's support.' Corryn argued. 'With or without the absence of a Zybar fleet in the bay.'

'But if the Gods, and Elyon's sacrifice have offered this opportunity to us no then we would be fools not to take it.'

Corryn shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, uncertain. Finally he looked to his tribe, those voices of it before him now. 'I am no tyrant, no commander. Any move we make within this tribe is voted upon by this tribe. Those who wish to wait for the word of the Windswallow before an assault on the golden city, take a stand.'

There was but a moment's hesitation from two of Corryn's Raksha before one by one, they moved to stand. Theodan's plan was outvoted.

'So then Leoth shall never have the numbers here.'

'If a plan is sound, it shall find support amongst my tribe.'

Theodan gave him a skeptical.

'We move on the city as planned - when the soldiers are ready,' Corryn said before dismissing his men. With a look, Theodan dismissed Vala, Ismene and Draden too.

When they were alone, Corryn stood, gave him a heavy look, before wandering beyond the partition to the living quarters of his large pavilion. Moodily, Theodan followed.

After pouring himself a jug of ale from the spout of a large barrel, Corryn moved to sit on one of the fur-covered settees. While he sipped, he fixed him with an open look. 'Say it or you may form an ulcer otherwise. Or do your kind not have the pleasure of such afflictions, I so often forget we are not the same.'

'You are making a mistake.' 

Corryn shrugged. 'Perhaps; but who was there to question the flaws in your plan when you sent a soldier to execute a king?'

'That's what this is about? That I did not tell you?' Theodan shook his head and settled down onto the settee opposite Corryn. 'I told you why I kept it from you - it was not guaranteed to work.'

'But it did work, and now you have put my tribe in greater danger.'

'The danger to your tribe has not changed, Corryn,' he told him pointedly. 'The blame shall lay firmly upon Leoth's for what I have done. In fact, it diverts Zybar and Calate's eyes away from this land and across the ash sea.'

Corryn watched him closely for a few moments. 'You sent Elyon to complete this mission of yours? Knowing he might not return?'

'Elyon is a warrior. He volunteered his sword for a noble task willingly, as any warrior would.' He took a moment then to consider what might have happened had he been the one to return Fara home. If he hadn't gone to convince the Visier against war, what might have become of the succession then.

'What in the Gods is it you fight for, Theodan?' Corryn asked. 'For it is no longer Leoth.'

'You already know. I fight to right the wrongs I have done upon this realm.' He recalled Fara's words to him the night they made their deal. She told him that releasing her was not a gift, not something she had to earn from him or show gratitude for - it was something he should do for honour. Penance.

This was why he fought.

'Have you considered you may offer them the Prince in return for Elyon?'

It had crossed Theodan's mind. And he let Corryn know it now with a single look. But he may yet need the prince; for if the attack on Azura failed, or indeed if it succeeded, the prince's value to him and his brother would undoubtedly increase.

Could he risk it now? To save Elyon. To see Elyon again, to have his council now. Gods, if only he could access the Visier's gift now, to see which path was the right one.

'As long as they know Leoth have the Prince - that he is unharmed and alive - then I do not think they would risk executing Elyon. Perhaps their word is enough to stay Zybar's hand for now too.'

Every moment Elyon remained in Calate brought his death ever closer, but until he could think of another way to save him, then it was all he had.

Theodan set down his cup and stood. 'I will lead the Leothine attack on the Golden city when the moon rises on the morrow,' he said. 'I do not ask you to send any of your men with us, but I would ask your scout to tell us all they know of the ways into it, where our Varveh might be safe, how to get word to you after we take it. When you receive word from the Windswallow, then get it to us.'

As Theodan strode from the tent, he heard Corryn let out a tired sigh.

The camp was bustling as always, and as he passed by a clearing set out with long tables and benches where the tribe ate together in small groups. He frowned at the sight of a male dressed in the uniform of a Calatian soldier. He slowed, watching as he took the bowl proffered to him before moving to sit on the furthest end of an already crowded table.

That a Calatian soldier would be here in Corryn's camp was odd, but that Theodan drawn to this one odder still. He felt his vision sharpen as he stared at him, and it was then the Calatian seemed to sense his gaze.  He turned and almost dropped the wooden bowl. As their eyes met, a curious sense of familiarity bled through him, though Theodan was certain he'd never seen the human before.  Then, suddenly, like an upswell of wind, he felt his gaze tunnel into that of the soldier. 

He scented Fara's fear as though she stood before him. Heard her voice echo through his mind.

Lower your blade, I am Fara, your princess!

He could scent the lust then, vile and dark. 

Violence swirled in his blood, a singular power building deep within him, before he felt a crack of lighting sear through his entire body. Then he saw again through his own senses.  He let out a low growl and leapt across the camp toward the male.  As the human attempted to run, he tripped and fell backwards into the mud. Theodan was upon him in an instant, teeth bared in a raw growl.

'You must have known I would find you, human?' he hissed. 'Think you will live to see another sun after harming one such as her?' He flattened his palm into a row of blades and drew back his arm. 'I will do unto you every injury you inflicted upon her. Then I will tear out your throat with my teeth.'

'I did not harm her!' The man protested, his boots flailing into the mud in struggle. 'I swear it upon the Gods I did not harm her! She - pardoned - me! She let me go!'

Around them a crowd had gathered, Corryn's men torn between intervention and fascination for this human was not one of theirs.  Behind him, he heard a voice address him.

'Leoth, this man has been given shelter here, has pledged to fight with this tribe against Zybar. You will unhand him.' He recognised the voice as the scout who had delivered the news of Torrik's death.  Still, rage thundered through his ears, the memory of Fara's fear too powerful to ignore.

The male coughed as he pushed the blades of his claws into the shallow flesh beneath his jaw. 'She — pardoned — me. I swear it, I did not harm her...' He felt the corded muscle of the man's neck resist the push of his claw, felt the desperate struggle.  Then he felt a force wrap itself around him and wrench him from the male. Draden' shook with the effort as he pushed him into the mud, restricting him there. There was a plea in his eyes.

'Get that male away from here if you want him to live!' Draden roared over his shoulder. Theodan saw the scout move to help the male to his feet and drag him away from the clearing. Theodan thrashed and fought against his friend's hold, his body trembling from rage. 'If you want these men to fight with you, then you need to be calm, you need to let this go, whatever it is.' Draden whispered, calm. 'Let it go... let it go...'

He breathed in deeply, his lungs burning with unspent rage, then released it. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

oOo

'I saw it, felt his intent. He sought to harm her. Fara.'

Theodan nodded. They sat now in the tent Corryn had given him. A modest circular space with a grated brazier in its centre and a hole cut into the tall peak.

'You saw it?  As it happened?' Draden's grave expression turned to surprise. 'That is not normally the way of your visions? You have said they like broken parts of a dream.'

'This did not feel like a vision.' He shook his head, dragged a hand through his hair. He must speak with Ismene. 'But like... a memory. A memory which was not not my own.'

'You think it was a message? From the Dark One?'

'I do not know...' He felt the weariness inching through him, gnawing. It had begun. The sun's drain on the Leothine blood. Did Draden feel it as he did?  He glanced up at the darkening canvas of the sky; the moon's peak would revive him a little, but the sun would take it back, greedier.  But one thing could imbue the power and strength upon him again, restore to the Leothine which the sun stole. And under the morrows moon they would take it from Zybar.

Doubt clawed at him. He looked at Draden. 'We are right to attack now? While Zybar sail for the Bay of Uzroth?' It troubled him he had this little confidence in his own plan, said too much about the state of his mind. When had his thoughts last felt assured? Solid? Certain? Then he realised; it was when she had stood next to him, all the power of the moon but with the all the glory of the sun.

Draden nodded. 'I believe so. Our strength fades even now. Corryn too knows it is the right move, but he fears for his people.' There was no judgement in Draden's voice, only clear-sightedness. 'We have asked much of him. It is right that the risk is ours.'

Theodan observed him closely for some moments. 'You have said nothing of Torrik's death. Of my part in it - of Elyon's sacrifice.'

Draden considered it, in the same way he considered all things.  'This world is much improved by Torrik of Zybar's departure from it. He was a traitor to Leoth. But neither did I fight his war here with my conscience clear.'

'But you fought... We all fought.'

'Because it was what He commanded of us,' Draden said. 'We are by his grace, humble servants of his command. His blood runs through us.'

Fara's words to him in the meadow of the Goddess rang through his mind, hollow and cold.

'Fara of Calate called it blind obedience,' he told him. 'Now I see how right she was. Gods, she was right about everything. We looked down upon the human realms for their need to worship their Gods in temples and prayer - yet how we worshipped ours was far worse. It has been in our arrogance, in our belief in our own superiority, in our blind obedience.' His words dripped with scorn now. Was this the reason he could not accept the Visier's gift? Because his heart and soul had turned so completely from his God? 'The humans of this world would worship us if they knew. If they saw what our blood holds. We have within us the power to cure every human ill, our bodies capable of immeasurable power and awe, and yet we have used it for nothing but destruction and to build fear; to fight the wars of other kings. Is that our legacy?' He asked Draden. His friend looked unsettled. Finally, he glanced away from Theodan's eyes at the straw-blanketed floor. 'Not to speak of what we do to our own kind.' Draden brought his eyes back to his, baffled. 'Females with power, Draden. Exiled from their home, left to die.'

Draden's head snapped back up. He blinked, stunned. 'The Foresworn? But they are a myth?'

Theodan shook his head. 'I have seen them. Felt their rage.'

He saw a note of fear creep across Draden's eyes, but he swallowed it down. Behind him, the entrance to the tent parted and Vala appeared in it. There was some lingering animosity in her eyes, but it had lessened.

'The Prince of Calate asks for an audience,' she said. 'Or rather, he demands it.'

He nodded, and she motioned over her shoulder. She stepped aside as the Prince of Calate ducked into the space. He took in Theodan first, then Draden, before looking to Vala.

'I would speak with you alone, Leoth.' he demanded. Despite his appearance - dirty, bound at the wrists, and unwashed - he still held himself with all the arrogance of a Calatian noble. The blood and entitlement of a royal.

'Take care to which Leoth you speak,' Vala snapped. He saw the prince's eyes linger on her, a glint of something in his eye, before he turned to glare at Theodan. 

Draden needed only a single look to pull himself up from the floor and excuse himself from the tent.  Vala threw a last look of warning at the Prince, then to him, and did the same.

Curiously, he watched the Prince's eyes linger on her as she went. 

When Panos of Calate turned to him, he gave him an expectant look. Without an invitation the prince sat, making himself comfortable on the small fur-covered hassock across from Theodan.

Theodan reached into his belt to retrieve his small cube of whetstone. Then pulled the blade from his boot and began to sharpen its edge carefully. 'Speak whenever you are of a mind to, your grace.'

'They say Torrik of Zybar is dead,' said the prince. 'Is it true?'

He saw no point in lying to him. 'It is true.'

'Then Valdr will be disappointed.' He saw Panos smiled to himself.

'I had not thought to consult him first.'

'He does not take the counsel of others well... it would have served no purpose.'

'And tell me prince, for what purpose are you here?' He asked, turning his focus back to the sharpening of his blade.

'I would know your plan for me.'

Theodan paused his task, looking up at him. He said nothing. The prince leaned forward on his thighs, closer to the brazier.

'I assume you are not going to kill me. For surely it would have been far less trouble to leave me in that cell you broke me out of.' He waited to see if Theodan would confirm his thinking. Again, he said nothing. 'Meaning that you still have some purpose for me. Meaning too that I bear some value to you.'

'You make many assumptions for a human who knows me not at all, Panos of Calate.'

'I may not know you, Leoth, but I have observed you. With your men, with these men, with my sister.' The prince's gaze sharpened.

'And tell me, what have you learned?' He lowered the blade and stone and settled his attention fully upon Panos of Calate.

'These human men despise and fear you in equal measure. Those around you dislike you - but they trust you. Humans and Leoth alike. My sister trusted you.'

Fara trusted him. She'd told her brother of this?  He felt exposed suddenly, and so he skirted his eyes back to his tool and blade. 'Your sister had little option.'

'That does not mean that her trust was misplaced.'

'What is it that you want from me, prince?'

The prince sat upright, eyes gleaming with intent. 'I want us to help each other, Leoth.'

Theodan could not hold back his smile. 'Your sister once proposed the same to me.' 

'Because she is smart, and she is a survivor.' An odd look skipped over the prince's face. He glanced away. 'She's perhaps the greatest warrior I've ever known....'

Silently, Theodan agreed. 'Our realms are at war. I am an exile in a realm I helped destroy less than twenty moons ago. What help is it you think I can give you? Or perhaps rather I should ask, what possible help could you offer me?' He could see nothing the prince might offer which would aid him now. His home was lost to him. Paeris sat upon the Isdar's seat. The Visier was dead. And his own crimes too many to count. The rebellion had begun.  If Leoth moved upon Calate now, then he would have no option but to watch the bloodshed unfold from afar. Or worse still, take up arms against his own realm in order to protect the female he loved.

'I shall give you something to take back to your council,' he said. 'Something which shall prove your loyalty to your realm beyond doubt.'

Theodan narrowed his stare. 'And what might that be?'

A glimmer of uncertainty flickered over the prince's copper coloured eyes. Then he straightened his spine. 'My brother's head.'