the thin line of blood welling up on his throat but didn’t bother to wipe it away.
“If Keegan must sacrifice himself to save the world,” the monk continued, “I believe he will do the right thing.”
“What if the cost is even higher?” Scythe demanded. “What if he has to sacrifice me?”
Her question caught Jerrod off guard. Keegan’s feelings for Scythe were obvious. If he had to choose between saving her or fulfilling his destiny, would he hesitate? Would he make the wrong choice?
“I won’t have any problem sacrificing for the cause,” Scythe continued when he didn’t reply. “Me, you, Keegan—whatever it takes. You just make sure Keegan feels the same way.”
Jerrod nodded once, acknowledging the truth of what she said.
“I’ll take over the watch,” Scythe told him. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to think about.”
—
Andar walked quickly through the streets of Ferlhame, making mental note of the state of repairs and reconstruction as he passed. It would be years—maybe even decades—before all of the buildings that had fallen during the dragon’s attack were rebuilt, but though there was still a long way to go, it was heartening to see that progress was being made.
Though we would be much farther along if the Queen hadn’t led us into a war with the Eastern clans.
The High Sorcerer frowned; though accurate, those kinds of thoughts were counterproductive now. The Danaan people were still reeling from their crushing defeat, and many were bitter and resentful over what had happened—too many lives had been lost, and they had nothing to show for it. Despite this, however, Andar knew they still believed in their monarch. They still wanted guidance; they still wanted to follow her down the proper path.
But will she lead them?
As he reached the gates of the Royal Manse, the guards stepped aside and bowed. It wasn’t long ago that Andar had been a prisoner accused of treason. But in the aftermath of their retreat from the battle at the Giant’s Maw, much had changed.
During most of the campaign against the Eastern Barbarians, Rianna had been under the spell of Orath—the vile creature that had raised the ogre from the Black Lake. But the Minion had fled the battlefield when the tide of battle turned, and with his disappearance his hold over the Queen had been broken…though at a great cost.
Rianna had been unconscious, her mind withdrawing into itself once Orath released his hold, unable to wake or respond. As a result, the war council—five of the Queen’s most trusted advisers—had invoked a state of regency so they could serve in her stead. As their first acts they had pardoned Andar, restored his position as High Sorcerer, and elected him as their leader. Even Lormilar, the man who had been named High Sorcerer after Andar had been deposed, voted for him.
They’re good people. They only want what is best for the Danaan.
Or maybe, a small part of Andar’s mind whispered, the direness of their situation had simply forced them to put aside any thoughts of political advancement or self-interest. Far too many Danaan had died in the final battle, but many more had been in danger of perishing during the long journey back to their homeland. The Frozen East had lived up to its name, as winter had buried the plains under snow and ice. Supplies had been critically low, and many of the troops who had survived the battle were badly wounded. Even those who were healthy had been exhausted and demoralized.
A bad turn in the weather would have devastated their ranks. A fierce blizzard could have reduced their numbers from thousands to hundreds. But by some miracle the weather held, and they had reached the borders of the North Forest with far fewer casualties than any of them expected.
By then the Queen had regained consciousness though she could only remember small bits and pieces of the last few weeks. Once she learned all that had happened, she had fully supported the council’s
“If Keegan must sacrifice himself to save the world,” the monk continued, “I believe he will do the right thing.”
“What if the cost is even higher?” Scythe demanded. “What if he has to sacrifice me?”
Her question caught Jerrod off guard. Keegan’s feelings for Scythe were obvious. If he had to choose between saving her or fulfilling his destiny, would he hesitate? Would he make the wrong choice?
“I won’t have any problem sacrificing for the cause,” Scythe continued when he didn’t reply. “Me, you, Keegan—whatever it takes. You just make sure Keegan feels the same way.”
Jerrod nodded once, acknowledging the truth of what she said.
“I’ll take over the watch,” Scythe told him. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to think about.”
—
Andar walked quickly through the streets of Ferlhame, making mental note of the state of repairs and reconstruction as he passed. It would be years—maybe even decades—before all of the buildings that had fallen during the dragon’s attack were rebuilt, but though there was still a long way to go, it was heartening to see that progress was being made.
Though we would be much farther along if the Queen hadn’t led us into a war with the Eastern clans.
The High Sorcerer frowned; though accurate, those kinds of thoughts were counterproductive now. The Danaan people were still reeling from their crushing defeat, and many were bitter and resentful over what had happened—too many lives had been lost, and they had nothing to show for it. Despite this, however, Andar knew they still believed in their monarch. They still wanted guidance; they still wanted to follow her down the proper path.
But will she lead them?
As he reached the gates of the Royal Manse, the guards stepped aside and bowed. It wasn’t long ago that Andar had been a prisoner accused of treason. But in the aftermath of their retreat from the battle at the Giant’s Maw, much had changed.
During most of the campaign against the Eastern Barbarians, Rianna had been under the spell of Orath—the vile creature that had raised the ogre from the Black Lake. But the Minion had fled the battlefield when the tide of battle turned, and with his disappearance his hold over the Queen had been broken…though at a great cost.
Rianna had been unconscious, her mind withdrawing into itself once Orath released his hold, unable to wake or respond. As a result, the war council—five of the Queen’s most trusted advisers—had invoked a state of regency so they could serve in her stead. As their first acts they had pardoned Andar, restored his position as High Sorcerer, and elected him as their leader. Even Lormilar, the man who had been named High Sorcerer after Andar had been deposed, voted for him.
They’re good people. They only want what is best for the Danaan.
Or maybe, a small part of Andar’s mind whispered, the direness of their situation had simply forced them to put aside any thoughts of political advancement or self-interest. Far too many Danaan had died in the final battle, but many more had been in danger of perishing during the long journey back to their homeland. The Frozen East had lived up to its name, as winter had buried the plains under snow and ice. Supplies had been critically low, and many of the troops who had survived the battle were badly wounded. Even those who were healthy had been exhausted and demoralized.
A bad turn in the weather would have devastated their ranks. A fierce blizzard could have reduced their numbers from thousands to hundreds. But by some miracle the weather held, and they had reached the borders of the North Forest with far fewer casualties than any of them expected.
By then the Queen had regained consciousness though she could only remember small bits and pieces of the last few weeks. Once she learned all that had happened, she had fully supported the council’s
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