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I don't like this, Darris thought as he clutched his long spear in a white-knuckled grip. Trickster's bones, I don't like this at all.
For as long as the Red Hand had existed, it had followed the Captain faithfully. But recent times and many enemies had made the creation of the Lieutenants necessary. They were chosen for their age and courage and for more years than Darris had been alive, his mother had been among their number. There were always hostilities between Lieutenants as each vied to help their men. But never like this. Never so blatant.
"Your son has brought demons into our camp, Tames!" Arelen of the E'dan banged his fist on the soil, glowering at the men and women gathered around the crackling firepit. There were fewer Lieutenants than there had once been, since so many died or left the Hand before they reached the appropriate age. Five people held sway over the Hand's next move - and, Darris knew with a sick heart, over Mai's life.
His mother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A channeler is not a demon, E'dan. I too can touch idar. So can Kiri and Denneth, unless you have forgotten."
"Tames are too trusting," Liessa of the Na'se said softly. "And E'dan are too brash."
"Aye." Laret of the Ka'ton glowered both at Arelen and Darris's mother. "Don't think we haven't heard stories, E'dan. There are stories about what you do. Rape and pillage. Keep what should be given freely. And you, Tames. How many times have we heard of you and yours working for the Black Tower?"
E'dan and Tames stirred angrily among those gathered around the Lieutenants. Keiran threw Darris a worried glance before moving to stand beside him. Although it was against tradition, Darris found his little brother's company a comfort. Save for Laret, he was the only other Ka'ton present.
"Are you all blind?" Aleren snapped. "Haven't you seen the mark on the girl's face? The symbol of the Worldbreaker! She's a demon - a false Paladin!"
"She's Rand A'Tor reborn," Darris heard himself saying. Sheer shock at his audacity almost stilled his tongue. No observer ever spoke directly to the gathered Lieutenants. But he had not risen to Ka'ton without being stubborn. "Without her the Dark One's shadow will cover the land and we will be helpless before it. She has to be protected, not killed."
His mother exchanged one of those looks with the other female Tames. Darris glowered at them, but before he could say something that would really get him in trouble, Aleren spoke.
"You may be Ka'ton, but you're still a lovesick boy. What did that whore promise you?" he demanded.
White-hot rage exploded inside him. "Take that back!" he demanded, aware of the derisive laughter from the other E'dan.
"Are you challenging me?" Aleren shot back. His knife was already in his hand.
"Does Ka'ton stoop to challenging E'dan?" Larat countered. He probably intended to head off a bloody fight, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"Whore-son!" Aleren spat.
Darris drew his knife. "Shadowed!"
His mother was on her feet, eyes wide and alarmed, but voice as steady as stone. "Hurt my son, Aleren, and I swear you will not see the next dawn."
"What would she know?" someone shouted from the murmuring crowd. Rith, it sounded like. One of the Na'se. "Her son's demon's get!"
"And what would you know?" Darris shouted. "Tashiri-born bastard's whelp!"
Something flashed among the gathered Red Hand. Metal. More out of instinct than anything else, Darris dove to one side as something whistled past his ear. Idan flooded into him, fire and ice bringing every sense to life.
A bowstring sounded once. Someone let out a gurgling cry.
Keiran dropped his bow from shaking hands, his eyes wide and terrified as he stared into the crowd. He's never killed before, some coldly analytical part of Darris said softly. He's just a boy. He's never even fought Tashiri before.
Eleri of the E'dan lay in the center of the Red Hand, an arrow protruding from her throat.
He's never killed anyone. And now he's killed because of me. Without thinking, Darris channeled a shield of Air around his little brother. Just in time, too. Blades flashed in the firelight. The fragile peace had been shattered. Tames and E'dan hurtled themselves at each other, faces dark and contorted with hatred. Darris grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him away from the conflict, toward the tiny tent sitting off in the corner.
"I killed her," Keiran whispered. Somehow it was louder than the impossible fight happening behind them. "Darris, I killed her."
Darris could only shake his head soundlessly. There was no sign of his mother, although he thought he heard her voice shouting for calm. Certainly someone was channeling, if the cold on his skin was anything to go by. Why was this happening? Red Hand had never fought Red Hand, not even when differences threatened to rip the Band apart. How could this have happened?
Mai, he realized with a sick, sinking feeling. Somehow everything comes back to Mai.
***
There was nothing to do but wait and hope and pray. Elza had never been good at any of those things. She was a whole-hearted pessimist whose faith in the world and the Creator was too small to be worth a bent copper. To make things worse, she was happiest when she was doing something, even if it was just complaining to the world in general. She had taught herself to read and write solely for that purpose.
For the entire day and most of the night, with the sun or stars glittering bright and clear overhead, she had been forced to do the three things she was so terrible at. Because there was nothing else to do.
Brendell stirred fitfully in his makeshift bed of cloaks and leaves, his pale face damp with cold sweat. There was no point in making a fire despite the night's chill - it would draw the attention they were so desperate to avoid. Despite this, there was some illumination on the small camp besides that from the heavens. It had given her a splitting headache and left her feeling as if she was sitting in a heap of manure, but Elza had been able to make a small globe of blue light, just enough to see her "cousin".
She told the others that Brendell had made it in his sleep.
"Has he ever done this before?" Per asked as they sat near the boy, huddled together for warmth, waiting for Katerina to return with food.
Elza shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore." She shivered - as much from her own fear as from the cold - and leaned on Per's shoulder. "Do you ever have the feeling that there's something happening all around you and you're too blind to see it?"
"I used to."
"But not anymore?" Elza smiled tightly. "You've seen too much of the world, is that it?"
Per moved away from her. Not consciously, perhaps, but it was as if he was trying to draw in on himself. Despite her best efforts, she felt a twinge of guilt. Her own problems were big - huge, actually - but that did not mean she was the only one who had been made false promises by life in general. She switched tactics as cheerfully as she could. "I know what we could do to when we get to civilization: get you a shave." She tugged at his enormous beard -
And froze. There, rough even under the coarse whiskers, was a brand.
"H for a heretic." She was barely aware that she had spoken aloud. Slowly she brought her hand around and touched his other cheek. "S for a Shadowed."
Per just watched her. He made no move to shrink back from her touch or to deny his marks. "I can hide them," he said softly. "You wouldn't have been able to."
"Why didn't you get rid of them?" she asked, unable to remove her hand from the ugly welts. "Any A'sh'man would have done it for you."
"Does a soldier remove his scars?" A snarl, slight but still contemptuous, twisted his lip. "The Order did this to me. I won't clear their conscience by erasing what happened."
Elza nodded slowly. Suddenly Per's willingness to help her made a sort of sense. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"
"Only if you do the same."
Well. So it came to that, then. Elza took a deep breath and explained as tersely as she could. "I was a girl when the Border Wars with the Tashiri broke out."
"Where were you?"
"In Therindelle." She did not need the sympathy on Per's face to remember those awful nights huddling in a horse trough or hanging by a frayed rope in a neighbor's well as screams came from all directions. "There were seven of us: my parents, my three brothers, my sister, and me. I was separated with two of my brothers when the Tashiri destroyed the gate. I was only eight years old."
Per watched her for a long, solemn moment. "How many survived?"
"Just us three. If we had gone with the rest of the family, I wouldn't be sitting here now." She hugged her knees and stared off into the darkness. "We got into the countryside and hid in a field, but soldiers came riding after us. A girl came up to us and bought us some time. She had a banner with a creature on it." By the faint light, she drew the shape in the dirt: a serpent with four legs and a mane.
Per drew in a sharp breath. "That's the Worldbreaker's symbol." He looked up at her sharply. "Are you telling me the Paladin saved you?"
"I don't know. I... I don't think she was the Paladin." Brendell had said he saw her in his dreams. That seemed strange and horrible enough. But when she thought about the girl who had saved her life...
"She was the Queen Pretender," she said suddenly. "She must have been."
"Morgaen Dalor?" Per seemed startled by the very idea. "You're a few men shy of a full battalion, girl."
"Why else would she be carrying that banner?" Elza demanded. "Everyone knows the Queen Pretender disappeared during the Tashiri incursions. Now you know why. She died saving the lives of three children."
"And the rest of your family?"
Elza made herself meet his eyes. "They hid in the Order's sanctuary. Just like everyone else."
There was a long silence broken by Brendell's slowly steadying breaths. "Your family died there?" he asked finally.
"Because the Brothers and Sisters sold them out to save their own bloody hides." Elza felt something catch in her throat and swallowed down a lump before it could turn into sobs. "We hid in a burned-out barn and just watched." There had been big wooden doors. The Brothers had slipped out of them and sealed them shut before handing the keys to the Tashiri captains. "They just walked away," she said woodenly. "And one of the captains set the sanctuary on fire. The Brothers thought they were selling slaves, not sending people to their deaths. A few of them turned around and tried to help."
"And the Tashiri killed them."
"No. Their own companions did." Suddenly Elza could not keep the tears from leaking out of her eyes. "I see their faces every day. I don't care what anyone says, Per. Those men were the real demons. The Dark One can't be as evil as they are." She managed to steady her voice long enough to spit out the rest. "One of those men was Elador Illumata Imperion. I would bet my hope of rebirth on it."
"Imperion was one of the Brothers?" Per stared out into the darkness, his eyes troubled.
"Why would I lie?" Elza bit out.
"I believe you, for what it's worth. About that, anyway." His gaze flashed to Brendell briefly. "You're a strange woman."
"And you are branded a heretic and Shadowed," Elza pointed out as icily as she could. "What was that about?"
Per's smile had no humor in it, just as his eyes had no light. "I helped someone I shouldn't have."
"Oh?"
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I rescued the real Paladin from the High Seat."
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