Emberly
wagon that day. The only people he saw, Roark and the sergeants, came and went, sensing they were not welcome. His back still hurt from his fall off the prison wall. His bandaged arm stung where he had wounded himself.
Something grew inside him. It was in his head, in his chest, and in the room all at once. He summoned it against his will.
He longed to speak casually to someone, but the thought of asking for that embarrassed him. So he turned inward and made himself busy. Unwilling to leave the wagon but scared to be alone, he would even have settled for Arumin’s sparring and scheming.
He had spoken little to the bishop in the past few days, ever since Nor told him one of his men had attacked Shada in the waytower. Emberly had been trying to account for a missing soldier whom no one had seen since that night, and the monk had related the story Shada had told him and the other holy men.
Emberly had gone to Arumin in a rage, demanding to know why the bishop had not already reported this to him. Arumin had raged right back, demanding to know why the captain had taken his men on a mission from the waytower while the bishop lay upstairs, asleep and unaware. Emberly had replied that he needed no one’s permission to command his soldiers, and the argument had only intensified from there.
It seemed Shada’s attacker, who had tried to steal the Lady, had been working for someone. None of Emberly’s soldiers had been close to the man, most regarding him as strange and hard to get along with. They could only speculate why he had done what he did.
His employer’s identity was a separate issue, and Emberly could think of no comforting possibilities. The perpetrators of separate attacks on the temple and on the Unheard in Ronia were still unknown, and his imagination connected these events with the attack on Shada. Again, all speculation.
Since he knew nothing more, he had agreed with Arumin to limit knowledge of the attack to those who already knew. Emberly would only tell his lieutenants and sergeants. No use draining his men’s tenuous morale with paranoia about secret agents among them.
As usual, thinking of Arumin soon led Emberly to think of Brin. But that thought had become much easier to endure. He had seen the man’s face enough recently that he no longer attached it to the pale, frightened boy’s face in his memory. Brin the child and Brin the man were different people now, and waves of emotion no longer greeted the sight of the man’s face. Father Brin seemed to look at Emberly more easily too. For these things, the captain gave thanks.
He gave thanks again when Merin and Hulgar stepped into his wagon, though the business ahead was grim.
The room was a tight fit for the three of them. This was mostly because of Hulgar, who stooped. Merin fit himself into the remaining space like a puzzle piece.
Emberly took his time before speaking. “Thank you for coming. Now that we have a moment to breathe, I want to talk to you two. I’ve heard you are heroes.” He put a hint of grave sarcasm on the last word.
Hulgar did not react, but Merin’s face brightened. He said, “Thank you, sir. The men have been kind to us, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He looked at Hulgar. “How are you feeling, Private? You’ve been acting strange.”
Hulgar seemed more alert than he had since they left Ronia. “Better, Captain. Had some nightmares is all.”
Emberly nodded, hiding his surprise at the baldness of the admission. A Ronian soldier must care little for others’ opinions if he admitted to being bothered by bad dreams. “I’ll be glad to leave this planet. And you, Merin?”
The private looked uneasy. “I feel better, sir. Since the battle, the men have treated me differently, like I belong.”
Another uncomfortable admission: loneliness.
Merin stared at the floor in a boyish manner that embarrassed Emberly. “I’ll be honest, Captain. I’ve dreaded this moment.”
“I’ll be honest in return,” said Emberly. “You should feel more than dread. You should feel shame. You betrayed all of your comrades.”
Merin’s mouth opened.
The captain continued. “Did you think acts of courage had erased that? When you opened the doors of the waytower, you risked everyone’s lives—the holy men, the caretaker, even the Lady herself. You should indeed dread facing me, a man you betrayed.”
“Sir, I—”
“Do you know who you should dread more? Dread your fellow soldiers, who know they can’t trust you. Dread Lieutenant Roark, who won’t forget that you attacked him. Dread the Lady and the Goddess herself, who sees all and judges all. She’ll forgive the sins of everyone on this crusade, but only if you keep your oath.”
“Captain, we had no choice. The doctor says—”
“No choice? Did the swarm move your feet and force you to flee the waytower? Did it grab your arm and force you to open the tower’s doors?”
“No, but—”
“And you, Hulgar. Did the swarm press your hands into fists and force you to strike an officer?”
Hulgar stood silent and unmoved.
“Unless the answer to all of these is yes, you chose to turn your back on the cause to which you’re sworn.”
He glanced between the two men. “I spoke to Doctor Staubel. His excuses for you make me doubt his judgment. So you were tempted. You were afraid. I have no tolerance for cowards or the weak.
“So your actions in the battle impressed the men. Congratulations; you did your duty. You fought the enemy. When their excitement dies, do you think they won’t remember your betrayal? Trust isn’t rebuilt easily.
“If you want a place among them, here’s what I would do. Starting now, devote your whole selves to being the best, the bravest, the holiest men this army has ever seen. Put the Lady herself to shame, and perhaps you will earn your way back.”
His anger had taken hold as he spoke, and now his breath was short. He stopped and waited.
“Yes, sir,” Merin replied in a small voice. He shrank, and his eyes fixed on the floor.
“Hulgar?” Emberly said.
The private rumbled, “If Lieutenant Roark has words for me, he can tell me himself.”
“He will,” Emberly snapped. “He has my permission to deal with you as he sees fit. I would take one of him over twenty of either of you.”
He leaned forward. “The next time some mystic force compels you to commit treason, if you can’t bring yourself to resist it, your standing order is to kill yourself. Do it quickly, before you put anyone else in danger. Now, get out of my sight.”
Merin left in a daze. Hulgar, unmovable as a boulder, waited a second longer. But soon, he lumbered out.
Emberly watched the door shut. He faced the small desk in the wagon’s rear and stared at its surface. He cupped his hands to make a tunnel around his eyes, blinding himself to everything but the grain of the wood. He could not avoid the thing inside him, but he would try.
He heard footsteps near the closed door. They sounded as real and solid as any other noise. This time, he was determined not to turn around.
A smell reached his nostrils. It was sweet and nauseating, a rush of air from another place.
The footsteps halted behind him. “Look at me,” said Rayan.
“I won’t. I know now that you aren’t there.”
“You must look, at least.”
The captain clenched his jaw. “You won’t be there. If I keep looking, you will never stay away.”
“Things are different now, Cyril. I’m here, whether you believe it or not. I have nowhere else to be.”
Emberly gave in. He turned slowly, his hands over his face, peering at the floor.
He saw an upright pair of boots and the bottoms of trousers. Both crawled with insects. The captain exhaled and gulped.
A ghostly white hand reached into his field of vision. Its fingers touched his chin, and the smell of death filled his nostrils. The fingers tugged gently but insistently, turning his face upward. He resisted.
“Come on,” said Rayan. “You’ve come this far.”
Emberly let his face tilt up toward his brother. Part of Rayan’s jaw was missing, taken off by the captain’s bullet. Rayan’s words came from his opened throat as clearly as if they’d come from an intact mouth.
“My Goddess,” Emberly whispered.
“What did you think I would look like?” asked the pale visage.
“I…”
“Yes?”
Emberly’s throat was dry, and his voice was desolate. “I gave them your body. They burned you.”
The face glared. “No. Not me. After you told them about my bargain with the wraiths, they left me out, hoping the wraiths would eat me.”
“Forgive me.”
“Forgiveness isn’t mine to give anymore, brother, for anything you’ve done. You missed your chance. I could only forgive you while I was here.”
The captain crossed his arms and shivered. “Then… what do I do?”
Rayan tilted his head in resignation. “You can make it all better, I think. But it’s not my place to say when. You’ll know when the time comes. Meanwhile, you must start working toward it right now.”
Emberly nodded eagerly. “Yes.”
“Good. Now… Should I leave?”
“No. I’m alone here. Stay.”
The thing that had been his brother pulled its remaining face into a half smile.
Emberly shut his eyes. He had to steel himself to look again.
The thing said, “Very well. You need me, Cyril. You always will.” It took the captain by the shoulders. “I should tell you something. I love you, brother.”
It opened its arms to Emberly, who slowly accepted its embrace with a tearful smile. Its stiff arms squeezed him, and he felt heat deep inside it. Blood flowed anew from its face, warming Emberly’s shoulders, running down his chest and back.
“Thank the Goddess you’re real,” he said. “I thought I was crazy.”
“I’m real, and I won’t leave again. I promise. You’re going to need me more than ever. You’ll need the wisdom of a killer.”