Chapter 122: Tests

Chapter 122: Tests

The Seer spoke of his dream, telling the people that he had seen a mighty forest grow up from the land. It was strong and bountiful, and its trees grew tall. But the largest among these trees continued to grow without end, and their branches spread to cover the sun. The forest withered and died in their shade. In the end there was only one tree remaining, and nothing but death beneath it.

As he finished speaking, the Seeker stepped forward to share her dream. In hers the men foresaw the danger and cut away all of the trees before they could rise to too great a height. After they had done this, though, the rains came through and washed the soil away. The forest became bare rock, and nothing more grew there.

Upon hearing these two visions, the people despaired. What hope does the future hold? they cried. Is there no other end but desolation?

The Seeker and the Seer conferred, and after a time they spoke to the people once more. What we have seen are the two failures of man, the Seer said. If none challenge the world, then the world shall overcome us.

If all seek to smother opposition in its cradle, then we shall destroy the world, the Seeker said. There must be a balance, and it rests upon the courage of man. We must allow ourselves to be tested, sacrificing our peace and comfort so that the world may rise to meet us. In return we shall reap its bounty, and ascend to greater heights.

The people were uneasy, and asked what would happen if they failed in their task.

Then the world shall destroy us, and perish in union, the Seer replied. Keep this end always in your mind, and do not seek to forbid it. Failure and glory enter through the same door. The sweat and blood of men keep the balance; none can say how much of each must fall.

The Book of Eight Verses, the Verse of Union. (New Kheman Edition, 542 PD)

The wind bit into Michaels skin, tearing at his clothing; Amira grunted in pain as the gust drove grit into her exposed wounds. She had screamed, at first, while she could still walk on her own. Now Michael carried her awkwardly on his shoulders while her head lolled to the side, her arm dangling behind them as he ran.

It was barely enough. The storm was expanding rapidly, scouring Ghar clean of everything that dared rise above the ground. Michael saw trees flying through the air behind them, uprooted by the gale and reduced to splintered remnants. A few times he felt in danger of flying away himself, Amiras body catching the wind like a sail; he held her close to him after that.

She was the only reason they had escaped that first rapid expansion of the storm, as Lucs souls continued to pulse in the heart of Gharons ruins. Light, then dark, then light once more. The heat from those spasms blasted outward, upward, whipping the wind into a frenzy; almost immediately they had lost sight of Lucs distant light amid the maelstrom wall.Follow current novels at novelhall.comiras soul had carried them through the worst of it, lending them the speed and endurance to break free from the core of the storm before her injuries had proved too much - but that wall of dust and lightning was pushing outward at a terrifying pace, nearly as fast as Michael could run. It dogged his footsteps, forcing him to give his utmost.

All around him was featureless dust and shadow. It had been evening, but he could not tell if the sun had set or was obscured. Sobriquet whispered quietly into his ear, guiding his course, but for the most part left him to run. Long stretches of time fell away to the rhythm of wind and pounding feet. The former lessened gradually as he pulled ahead, falling from its rending height to something merely intense.

Halfway to the Safid encampment, Michael was still running in dust clouds. He could tell that it was night, at this point, but held little hope of seeing the sky itself. Sera, he rasped. You may need to move farther out.

Were waiting for you, she protested. You two arent in any shape to run farther.

Michael shook his head. The storm is expanding. Fast. Its slowing as it grows, but its - feeding on Luc, on his soul. You saw what happened in Ardalt when he used Stellar too much, too quickly; this is a hundred times worse. The men need to be back across the mountain pass as quickly as possible.

Thats still more than a days march to the north, she protested. You think itll go that far?

You tell me, he asked. He ran for several paces in silence, his feet crunching over the dry soil.

Her voice came back quiet, concerned. Well march, she said. But youd better make it to the pass.

Michael managed a dry chuckle, spiced with entirely too much dust. Doing my best, he muttered.

Sobriquet didnt speak for a while after that; Michael had found his way to the main northern road and now followed that up the coast towards the Safid border, making steady progress against the storm. He could see somewhat, now, picking out the occasional structure on the roadside. Farmhouses lurked as half-seen silhouettes, a rare light or two burning in their windows.

They vanished as Michael ran on, lost forever to the murk.

The pace of his flight north faded into the back of his mind, the steady drum of his feet dwindling to the same unnoticed rhythm as his breath, his heartbeat. There was only Michael, pushing forward.

A hoarse voice interrupted his reverie, speaking next to his ear. Youre carrying me, Amira murmured.

Michael turned his sight to look at her, adjusting his grip; his impulse was to stop, to put her down, but they could not stop without losing ground to the hungry storm. Well, he said. You fell over. How are you feeling?

Mmm, terrible. She laughed, or tried to. A rasping cough was all that came out. The pain is incredible. Incredible. I feel the wind scouring to the core of me. I think you shall have my soul.

Michael grimaced. Not anytime today, thank you, he said. Ive had quite enough of death.

Another rasping laugh. Since you asked politely. She let her head loll back to the side. Michael felt a rare flash of emotion from within her, a bone-deep sorrow that flickered once in her yawning void. I think Ive had enough too. I want to - to-

She paused before speaking again. I would talk with Saleh, when I had something that needed talking about. We talked, and he listened. I thought he listened. I dont know anymore. Her voice caught. He understood. I know he did. He understood.

Michael pressed his lips together. Maybe he did, he said. But Saleh was always going to act in whatever way he pleased. You know that.

Maybe you saw him more clearly than I did, she said. Another pang of misery rang out from her, echoing. There is a parable, in the book. About a - farmer, a farmer who dreamed of being anything else.

I think I remember that one, Michael said. I got through most of the parables on the train in Esrou, but that one stood out for being particularly depressing. He tried being a smith, and a carpenter, and a soldier-

And after being burnt, sawed and stabbed he realized a farmers life was what he was meant for, only to find he had lost the strength to move his plow. Her lips bent into a pained smile. Saleh read that passage to me once, called it important. Said that prestige and glory were - poison, he said, if they could only be found, found by stepping off the path, and yet he - stepped, he stepped, and he didnt look back even though he told me, and I was waiting-

Michael turned his sight back as Amira slipped into slurred mumbling. Stick with me, he muttered. Im not sure I can handle facing what you think I am right now.

And nothing has changed since then? Sobriquet said, raising her voice; she moved to stand over him. Were out of options, unless you mean to hang your head and concede that Luc can do whatever enters into his addled little mind-

No, Michael replied. But she was the one that did her part in the fight, and it was her that saved my life near the end. He tapped his hand against his chest, where a dull heat still lingered. This all started because I wanted to savepeople. I wouldnt let them slip away into the void without a chance to leave - something, anything behind. Well, they did.

Michael stood from his bunk, his hand still pressed to his chest. They left behind a better version of me, one that they knew could win this fight for them. Im trying to prove them right, and they cant be right if Im not that person. He clenched his fist and let it drop. You think the hundreds of Safid within me would watch silently if I murdered Amira and took her soul? Not to mention the thousands more still walking around the camp. Id be forced to kill more than just her, and Id gain more souls - and then Id have to destroy them, because they wouldnt stand to be mine.

He looked at Sobriquet. Or I could force them to accept it, steal the parts that are left over, and then Id have what Luc has. Parts, a big ugly mass of them, with Clair and Charles and all the others among the toll. Killing Amira wont work, Sera. I cant justify it or clothe it in necessity, I cant lie to myself like that anymore because I cant lie to them, and their truth is what gives me any hope of defeating Luc in the first place! He stepped closer to her, his voice rising. Their image of me, their belief in me! None of that is mine!

She looked quietly back at Michael in the silence that followed his words. He let his breath out and stalked to a corner of the tent, exasperated. I have to be Michael Baumgart, he said, because I said I would be, and they believed me. And I dont - know. I dont know if theyre right to trust me. Does that make sense?

He turned to look at her, his eyes blank and bloody.

Sobriquet looked back for a long moment, then walked over to put her arm around him. I forget sometimes, she said, about a young man I met a few months back. He was nervous and timid, and unsure about everything. Not like you in the least.

Michael managed a smile at that, returning the embrace. I barely remember him. Honestly, its amazing he didnt die in a ditch somewhere along the way.

Maybe, she said. But even then, there was something that clung in the air around him. Some people have a weight to their lives, and not only from the things theyve done. Its the things they might do, that hover at the edge of possibility, that press against all the rest of us and make us think - there is a man who will be great, someday.

She looked up at him, then stretched up to kiss him lightly on the lips. It was slow, lingering, and Michael let it go on until she pulled back once more. Im talking about Luc, of course, she said.

Michaels face split into a grin, and he looked to the side. Of course.

She laughed, then sighed, her smile fading. All right, she said. Amiras off limits, and also out of action. Sibyl is wherever shes at, and likely about as useful as I would be against a giant angry fucking storm. All the rest of the Eight are either with you or Luc, now, and you dont think its going to be enough.

He shook his head, and Sobriquet paced away with a thoughtful look. After a moment, she turned back to him. We go back to Daressa.

Michael shook his head. Im not sure that will be enough, he said. You saw how far the storms spread in Ardalt.

The look she gave him was withering enough to provoke a twinge from his burns. We go to Rouns, she said, speaking very slowly, because thats where Antolin is, along with the entire Mendiko force still on the continent.

I had thought about that; Im less than optimistic about Mendians willingness to intercede, Michael said, sitting up. But Antolin may be able to do something about that if we can convince him of the threat. And itd be good to speak with him about Luc, hes probably got more firsthand knowledge of Stellar than anyone who wasnt its bearer. He paused. Hes likely put a lot of effort into reviewing Smokes capabilities as well, now that I think about it. Saleh was his main strategic rival for most of his career.

Yes, youre right, Sobriquet deadpanned. Hed really be an asset. What a wonderful suggestion.

Michaels lips cracked into a smile. Im sorry, he said. I havent been thinking clearly, today was - difficult.

She gave a dark chuckle, then turned towards the tent flap. You have a gift for understatement. So were decided, then? To Rouns to regroup?

That seems to be our best option, he agreed, wincing as he rose up off the bunk. I figure we can fall back to whatever the nearest Safid town is, then find transport to the Daressan border.

What are you going to tell the men? Sobriquet asked. Im not sure if youve noticed the mood around camp-

Michael nodded, grimacing. News of what had happened was no secret, and he could feel a quiet dread seeping down the rows of tents. Ill talk to them, he said. Find some of the officers, have them gather everyone in the mustering field.

The assembly was dark and chaotic, but the men filed into their ranks even so; they clung to the order amid the nights chaos. Before long the field was full, and waiting for Michael to speak. He climbed up upon a low platform and raised his hand for quiet.

The Great Flame is dead, he said. His soul has gone to the Heart-Eater. A pulse of despair rang back from his words; a few men cried out. The Shield lies wounded. I have been wounded, myself. Our enemy is greater than ever. He paused, considering his words; he did not want to crush their hope, but neither would he lie to them.

Im not Safid, he said. You know this, and I wont pretend otherwise. I wasnt raised to think of tests and trials. I dont think souls are particularly holy - nor am I, no matter what name you give me. He held his hand up again to quiet the murmurs of discontent spreading among the men. He felt their unrest threatening to overwhelm the fragile structure of their ranks.

But I do think we are being tested, he said. Not as part of some story or greater purpose, but because the man at the center of that storm has lost hope. He pointed south, towards Gharon. He thinks we cant be trusted to determine our own fate, that well fall to self-destructive squabbles over power and influence. Hes not wrong - unless we prove him wrong.

Michael turned back to the crowd of soldiers; their murmurs had stopped. Now they waited for him to speak.

That storm is not a test for any of us, he said. Its a test for all of us. Your task is to fall back to the north and evacuate the towns there from its path. Spread the word, and get people ready in case it moves further. Keep them from the Heart-Eaters path.

The murmurs started up once more; not all of them liked what Michael had said, but more than a few were nodding along with it.

Im going to go east, to seek allies there, Michael said. That was less popular, provoking a ripple of angry muttering among the men; he held his hands up for quiet. I said all of us. I didnt mean all of Saf. This isnt part of the War. This is about if humanity deserves to live. He pointed to the south once more, beyond the mountains. This is about if hes right. Is he?

Michael swept his gaze over the crowd. Is he? he asked again. Is the only test you can pass one of bloodshed? Or do you have the courage to run from this new enemy? The strength to forgive an old one? The Heart-Eater is here to fight men like Saleh Taskin, and he gets stronger every time we let him do it. He dropped his arm, suddenly feeling very tired. So keep away from him. Evacuate from the storms path, and wait for my return.

The mood of the crowd was mixed; there was anger at his dismissal, fear at the lack of direction. Michael could feel things skewing towards disorder. They needed more than he had given them. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath; he felt a profound weariness take hold of him.

I will defeat the Heart-Eater, he said quietly, feeling paths slip away as he spoke the words. In the distance, a light still glinted unbearably bright; now it shone upon him brighter still. It is my task. Yours is to deny him strength. We both have our parts to play. Can I count on you to do yours?

The change in phrasing tipped the balance; a ragged cheer went up from a few of the men. Michael spread his arms. Men of Saf, can I count on you? The cheer came back, stronger this time; the ones who were still unconvinced remained quiet.

Michael hoped that it would be enough. He stayed there for a moment longer, giving them time to exult in their role, their piece of the struggle - then turned, and went to see to his own.