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“What did she call him? What did she call him?” Karn asked himself aloud as he made his way to the lower levels of the tower that night.
He stopped midway down some steps and paused a moment. The memory was coming back to him.
“Dominicon,” he murmured.
He continued his descent. It had happened. It had to have happened.
However, as he came out onto the lowest level of the tower, he couldn’t see any stairs that descended below ground. He then tried some of the closed doors in the room but they were all locked. He was certain there were stairs leading down behind some of them and, for a moment, he contemplated fetching some of his ‘tools’ from his room to pick the locks. They would probably do the trick. But he didn’t want to resort to breaking and entering. Not yet.
He let out a breath of frustration. “Damn.”
For a little while, he paced around the room with his hands behind his head, trying to work out what he was going to do from there. If what he believed had happened the night before had actually happened, then going into Dominicon’s lair was probably a stupid thing to do but he still wanted to go there.
Then it struck him that there could be other ways down. He remembered that the cave structures beneath Bellasaire were quite expansive and he knew that the base of the palace was much wider than the room in which he was standing. That meant there was quite a large area in which to look for ways to access the rooms beneath.
He had already observed that the whole building was a very large and complicated structure. It was more likely than not that Shaala did not know the full extent of its rooms, passages and staircases.
He ran back up the stairs and took a random passage. Then, after a quick exploration, he found a dingy room with a large square hole in its stone floor and stairs below. There were no windows here and he had to draw on the gift to see in the darkness. He descended several more levels until he reached the familiar cave–like rooms from the night before and after a few more minutes of searching, he found Dominicon’s lair. The previous night’s events had not been his imaginings.
Fortunately, this time, while he could see Dominicon, the man couldn’t see him.
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An hour later in his own room, he sat at a small desk in which he had found a drawer full of paper, pens and a pot of ink. He had decided to write notes about his experiences in Bellasaire so he could better keep track of them.
Karn had an excellent ability to remember a vast array of things in precise detail but he felt that under the current circumstances, it would be wise to keep some type of written record. After the previous night, someone – probably Shaala – had tried to make him forget what had happened and if they tried again, he wanted a contingency plan in case they succeeded.
Dominicon, he wrote. Shaala never speaks of him. He revels in his own solitude and he is immensely strong. Also, he does not seem quite human. He is gigantic in build and he seems like a hunting beast, permanently poised to attack.
He paused to dip his pen back in the ink well before continuing. Shaala. She has been very kind to me during my stay here so far but she is a mystery. She knows about Dominicon and seems to have some arrangement with him, although I don’t know what it could be. I am also uncertain now as to why she asked me here. So far, she seems to have no interest in discussing the war and any time I try to bring it up, she finds a new topic of conversation. Surely, she couldn’t have invited me here just for company.
As Karn put his pen down, he glanced up and noticed all the old books on the shelf above the desk. The very old books. He took one down and opened it.
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The next day in Ensildahir, Lord Adeus greeted a messenger. “Welcome back, my friend. What’s the word from Tal?”
The man smiled. “We have the garrison.”
Around them, many people were still sorting out debris of the battle and to the south, a number of horse–drawn carts were carrying fresh food supplies from Ensari and the nearby countryside.
“Tal intends to take his group on to Kalishar,” the messenger continued. “It’d be nice to know what’s happening on the other side of the mountains.”
“Well, with the Angdar out of Arahir, we should now be able to open a line of communication between all our contingents,” Lord Adeus said. “Anyway... so Tal wants me to send more men and supplies over to the garrison then. Well, he shall have both shortly.”
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At the garrison, it was quiet as the soldiers there bided their time, waiting for the reinforcements and supplies from Ensildahir.
Outside, Keld was sitting on a rock near the edge of the woods. The gate to the garrison, a few hundred yards behind him, was wide open but nobody was concerned. The Angdar would not come back any time soon and more likely than not, they would not return for the garrison at all. Rumor was they now had their sights on Kalishar.
That made sense to Keld. If they could bring the war to Kalishar, and an army large enough to overwhelm its defences, then they could take Ensari from the land.
He then heard someone approaching. It was Gandon.
“How are you holding up?” his friend asked, sitting down beside him.
“All things considered,” Keld said, “I’m holding up well. How about you?”
“A little hungry,” Gandon told him, pulling out some dried bread from a satchel at his side. “Do you want some?”
“It’s not that bad,” he added, taking a bite himself to prove it. “Really.”
Keld smiled. “No thanks.”
“By the way,” Gandon asked, “have you seen Lorial?”
“I thought she was with you and the others in the guardhouse,” Keld told him.
Gandon shook his head. “No.”
Hearing this, Keld got up. “She’s probably gone into the woods. I’ll go and look for her.”
“Why?” Gandon asked him. “If she’s in the woods, then she probably wants to be left alone.”
“Right now, that’s the last thing she’d want.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Gandon offered.
“No, stay here,” Keld said. “I’ll talk to her.”
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In the woods, Keld still saw signs of the battle – weapons lying about and the occasional dead Angdar beneath the trees. He and the others had gathered a lot of the dead and burned the remains earlier but clearly they hadn’t found them all.
Every now and then, Keld would also see the bodies of their own soldiers. He wondered what the names of these men were and whether they had loved ones waiting for them somewhere, not knowing that they were never coming home. He knew that by rights, he and the others should also be gathering these men and cremating their bodies, paying them the respect they were due. And by rights, their families should know that they had died with honor, fighting to defend them.
However, they’d never be able to find all the dead and tell their families where their sons were. Not now. The survivors of the battle were weary and they needed rest. The likely attack on Kalishar also loomed like a storm cloud for those who were going there, occupying all their thoughts and Keld himself was preoccupied with the coming journey north. But more importantly right now, his thoughts were on the living. Lorial needed him more than these men did.
He pressed on farther, moving up into the foothills. He didn’t notice straightaway but he was walking towards the small clearing where Ishtvan had died, and where they had thrown his ashes to the wind. As he reached it, he saw Lorial sitting on the edge of an embankment facing the mountainside that lay beyond.
Lorial heard him as he walked over and sat beside her. He didn’t say anything at first and neither did she but she was glad of his company.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he said at last.
“I didn’t want to stay in the garrison,” Lorial told him. “It felt like a cage.”
Keld nodded. There was something claustrophobic about the place. “I know what you mean. Hopefully, the supplies from Ensildahir will be here soon and then we’ll be off to Valahir.”
Lorial turned to him and smiled. “We?”
Keld chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. I meant Gandon and myself. You should probably stay with the main group and go to Kalishar. There’s a certain safety in numbers.”
Lorial sighed. “Keld, what are we doing? We’re not like the others. We don’t have families of our own to fight for. We don’t even have homes any more.”
Keld frowned. “What about Ensildahir? You still have a home there.”
“There’s nothing for me there,” Lorial said and her gaze drifted downward. “There never was.”
Keld put a hand on her shoulder.
“I never had friends or family in Ensildahir,” Lorial told him. “I’m from a small town not far from here. That was my home. That was where my family lived.”
“They’re dead?”
Lorial nodded. “Most of the townspeople died. And the town was burned to the ground before Sól got me out of there.”
“I’m sorry,” Keld told her.
“Actually, until I met you,” Lorial said, “Sól and Ishtvan were the only friends I had. And now that Ishtvan’s gone...” She trailed off.
Keld held her hand. “I’m still here for you. And I’ll be here for you as long as I live.”
Lorial smiled again. “Then, really, I should go with you to Valahir.”