The attempt turned out to be pointless. Less than a half hour later, Anrui was back on the beach. Dawn shuddered over the horizon, leaving the outline of massive gouges where the Gault ship had beached the night before, as well as trails of footprints leading up to the main quadrangle, where still lay the bodies of six cadets, and the dust of dozens of Gault tribesmen. Anrui Frost, still clad in nothing but a now-sodden bed sheet, climbs among the tattoos in the sand, the ametrine Bangle that hides his dread sword Chimecleaver still glowing, steaming from use.
One other, lone figure made its way out on the beech, a tall sentinel bare feet touching cold, damp sand where the white foam of the oceans spray dances to wet the hems of her breeches. Sahren had a defeated slump to her shoulders, hair whipping in a plait behind her, caught in the wind and buffeted. The cold had long left her fingers blue tinted to match the bangles at her wrists, but she didn’t seem to feel anything, looking out to nevermore, to the distant shores of home.
Anrui perked up a bit at the sense of someone else on the beach, finally coming out of his dedicated haze. He stands up in the small ditch and turns, finding Sahren with his eyes.
“There’s no way they should have even landed,” he says softly, shaking his head and looking out to sea. “No way they could have gotten past the Line.”
Sahren glanced up, shock rimming her bright eyes, the blue watery, shining with tears that haven’t yet fallen
“But they did…Didn’t they?” Her words are softer than the sea on the shore, wavering, eyes soon falling away, timidity curling her tall form to look smaller than she was.
Anrui blinked, startled.
“Yes,” he agree. “Somehow they did.” The Regulator turned, climbing languidly out of the ditch. “How are you holding up? I see you’re getting on with Rhayd and Kintere.”
“There are only four of us left, and without the others I would be stretched out under the sky myself.”
“And you’re stronger for it.” The Regulator reached her side and crossed his arms, his eyes distant. “This is proof the war is getting closer. I have no idea where it will fall, when it hits the mainland. But obviously the Dornans now have the Sek’im and the Xul involved. We can’t make mistakes like letting the Gault in. They claim to be independent from their Xul ancestors, but they’re less mercenary than they think.”
“We? We are a we now…” It seems to confuse the young woman, the way his talk included her as a part of it, those too wide, too innocent eyes of hers flying to his face “The war was just a warning tale told to me to make me behave until I came here, now I can still smell nothing but blood and hear only screams….”
“I know. Every soldier knows that feeling. Remembers the days after their first encounters. It never goes away. But it does stop acting like a roar in your mind. Eventually, this night will become the voice of caution and you will likely learn to trust it. But for now, I should say the next few days will be a time of rest. A time to recoup our own energies, and keep ourselves in check.” The Weaver steadied a hand and rested it on Sahren’s shoulder, bowing his head. “Never isolate yourself. You seem to have been doing that a lot. It’s not your strong suit.”
Sahren looked at his hand, as if it were something alien, the large fingers seeming to dwarf her frame. For a moment there’s the slight flicker of a smile on her lips, but it fades at his words. Her pale sky blue eyes get lost out to sea again, the confident power of his gaze too much, even if her wiry frame does seem to lean to him a little, flower growing towards the sun.
“It’s all so big, I’m not like these people, I don’t fit here…All I’ve been wanted to do is go home, but they don’t want me there either, not anymore…I have this gift” She speaks the words like it’s a curse “Rhayd and Kintere love it…You can tell, I don’t want to know this feeling, Sir.”
“They’ll learn to hate it.” The words drop like lead weights. Anrui lifted his hand, the ametrine bangle singing softly, a call to bring life to its captive weapon. “Talent is an obligation, Sahren. It doesn’t open doors. You know better than most, it closes them.” The Regulator let his hand fall to his side again, the bangle humming in disappointment.
“Power comes to live inside the willing. Those too eager find themselves devoured. Like the Grey Man, Grevault Anginock. Those who hope for something often get it – they devour instead, like Ansolen Lemiticron. It’s those of us who loathe what we can do, but understand the necessity of learning to control our abilities who survive the longest. Eventually, everyone comes to respect their own power.” He turns to face Sahren, the bright blue spidery writing of his Arbiter’s tattoo shimmering liquid in the dawn light. “I was a lot like you when I came here.”
About Ian
