Read Online Leaves of Flame by Benjamin Tate - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Benjamin Tate
Ads: Link
two work well together.”
“Fine. Send word and have them gather here by dawn.”
“No.”
Both Lotaern and Vaeren turned toward him in surprise. Colin knew it was petty, but he didn’t like the sudden loss of control he felt. “If you want me to have an escort, assemble it now. I’ll give you an hour.”
“There’s no reason—” Lotaern began, but Colin halted him with a look.
Vaeren nodded, sent his fellow member of the Flame off in search of the two brothers, then gave Colin a threatening glance before stalking off into the depths of the Sanctuary, leaving Lotaern and Colin alone.
Colin watched his retreating back. “He doesn’t approve of me.”
“He doesn’t revere you, as so many within the Order do, acolytes and Flame alike. He sees you as a threat to the Order, to me.”
“Do you?”
Lotaern met Colin’s gaze, held it for a long moment. “You are not Alvritshai, not part of the Evant, and you have your own motivations, your own agenda. But the greatest threat you represent is that you are… unpredictable.”
Colin smiled. “Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
Colin turned away from Lotaern’s scowl and moved into the depths of the main chamber. One of the acolytes looked up from his prayers at the scuff of his feet on the flagstone floor, then reached forward, rubbing his fingers in the soot that had stained the low stone pedestal beneath the wide bowl, spillover from when the bowl was filled with fire. He smudged the soot onto his cheek beneath his eye, as Colin had seen Aeren do so long ago, when he’d first met Lotaern. Then the acolyte rose and drifted from the chamber.
Colin moved to the edge of the bowl, where the acolytehad knelt, and stared into the empty depths. The scent of oil was stronger here, as if it had leached into the stone of the basin. The contours of the room amplified the sounds surrounding him, but blurred them as well. He heard murmurs from the depths of the Sanctuary as acolytes conversed, the scuffle of feet, and the flutter of wings from a bird trapped in the upper reaches of the chamber.
He glanced up and caught sight of the bird as it flitted from one of the stone-carved arches above to another, settling in a corner niche, its brown coloring blending into the gray of the stone.
“I never intended the Winter Tree to be a burden,” he said suddenly, his voice louder than he expected in the depths of the room. “I thought you’d welcome the protection it would bring the Alvritshai from the Shadows. I thought I’d have your support.”
Behind, he felt Lotaern still, then shift forward into the chamber. In the eighty-odd years since Colin had arrived with the Winter Tree’s seed in hand, they had rarely spoken of that day in the Evant. Even while working on the knife with Aielan’s Light they had carefully skirted the topic.
When the Chosen finally spoke, his voice was guarded. “I did welcome the protection, as did all of the acolytes and the Order of the Flame. The years without it, with the sukrael attacking Alvritshai lands, were horrible. The Flame and Phalanx did their best to protect the Alvritshai, but the sukrael were too difficult to track and attacked at random, without warning. The Phalanx could not harm them, their swords useless, and so they were relegated to evacuating towns and villages and cities when necessary, or diverting the sukrael with their own lives. And the Flame…”
He’d moved into the periphery of Colin’s sight, and Colin saw him shudder. “I went there with them, of course. We tried to use Aielan’s Light against them, and it worked tosome extent. The Light burns them, harms them. But to be effective we needed to prepare, which meant we needed to know where the sukrael were going to attack ahead of time. If we arrived after the attack had begun, the sukrael would simply flee before we could bring Aielan’s Light to bear.” He shook his head, mouth pulled down in a grim frown. “It was hideous:
“Fine. Send word and have them gather here by dawn.”
“No.”
Both Lotaern and Vaeren turned toward him in surprise. Colin knew it was petty, but he didn’t like the sudden loss of control he felt. “If you want me to have an escort, assemble it now. I’ll give you an hour.”
“There’s no reason—” Lotaern began, but Colin halted him with a look.
Vaeren nodded, sent his fellow member of the Flame off in search of the two brothers, then gave Colin a threatening glance before stalking off into the depths of the Sanctuary, leaving Lotaern and Colin alone.
Colin watched his retreating back. “He doesn’t approve of me.”
“He doesn’t revere you, as so many within the Order do, acolytes and Flame alike. He sees you as a threat to the Order, to me.”
“Do you?”
Lotaern met Colin’s gaze, held it for a long moment. “You are not Alvritshai, not part of the Evant, and you have your own motivations, your own agenda. But the greatest threat you represent is that you are… unpredictable.”
Colin smiled. “Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
Colin turned away from Lotaern’s scowl and moved into the depths of the main chamber. One of the acolytes looked up from his prayers at the scuff of his feet on the flagstone floor, then reached forward, rubbing his fingers in the soot that had stained the low stone pedestal beneath the wide bowl, spillover from when the bowl was filled with fire. He smudged the soot onto his cheek beneath his eye, as Colin had seen Aeren do so long ago, when he’d first met Lotaern. Then the acolyte rose and drifted from the chamber.
Colin moved to the edge of the bowl, where the acolytehad knelt, and stared into the empty depths. The scent of oil was stronger here, as if it had leached into the stone of the basin. The contours of the room amplified the sounds surrounding him, but blurred them as well. He heard murmurs from the depths of the Sanctuary as acolytes conversed, the scuffle of feet, and the flutter of wings from a bird trapped in the upper reaches of the chamber.
He glanced up and caught sight of the bird as it flitted from one of the stone-carved arches above to another, settling in a corner niche, its brown coloring blending into the gray of the stone.
“I never intended the Winter Tree to be a burden,” he said suddenly, his voice louder than he expected in the depths of the room. “I thought you’d welcome the protection it would bring the Alvritshai from the Shadows. I thought I’d have your support.”
Behind, he felt Lotaern still, then shift forward into the chamber. In the eighty-odd years since Colin had arrived with the Winter Tree’s seed in hand, they had rarely spoken of that day in the Evant. Even while working on the knife with Aielan’s Light they had carefully skirted the topic.
When the Chosen finally spoke, his voice was guarded. “I did welcome the protection, as did all of the acolytes and the Order of the Flame. The years without it, with the sukrael attacking Alvritshai lands, were horrible. The Flame and Phalanx did their best to protect the Alvritshai, but the sukrael were too difficult to track and attacked at random, without warning. The Phalanx could not harm them, their swords useless, and so they were relegated to evacuating towns and villages and cities when necessary, or diverting the sukrael with their own lives. And the Flame…”
He’d moved into the periphery of Colin’s sight, and Colin saw him shudder. “I went there with them, of course. We tried to use Aielan’s Light against them, and it worked tosome extent. The Light burns them, harms them. But to be effective we needed to prepare, which meant we needed to know where the sukrael were going to attack ahead of time. If we arrived after the attack had begun, the sukrael would simply flee before we could bring Aielan’s Light to bear.” He shook his head, mouth pulled down in a grim frown. “It was hideous:
Similar Books
