Chapter 9: Sealed in Blood

Under a cloudless morning sky decorated only by the occasional hawk wheeling high in the air, the Dwarven army marched, the Sorral Plain stretching away to the north and west, and the Emerin Forest looming darkly in the south, the vast wood home to as many myths and fables as there were trees. Riding alongside Noah near the head of the long column of mounted soldiers, Elaina stared off to her left wistfully, smiling sadly as she recalled the long years she’d spent there, alone most of the time. It had all been worth it, though.

Moving an army this size through a dense wood was arduous at best, painful at worst, so Burin had moved the force out onto the plain as soon as possible, making the rest of the journey longer as the crow flew, but much faster. There was little danger in travelling in the open; no force existed that could challenge ninety thousand drengr, at least in this part of the world. Unless the Heralds decide to empty their cities and come south, she thought sourly. The idea was unlikely; the Heralds had taken Ironshire but lost the town soon after to darkspawn. Routed, the Heralds had fled north, to Maralon or even further, to their fortified cities called the Dawnguard, which occupied a large section of the northern coast of Ekistair. Either way, Ironshire needed to be taken back.

Of a size with Vesovar, the retaking of Ironshire was likely to be bloody. She absently fingered the leather-wrapped haft of Shatter where it lay strapped across the front of her saddle as she remembered that night not so long ago, fighting in the dark and the rain, protecting a defenceless Noah against waves of monsters. And I’d do it again, she thought grimly. Though I hope I don’t need to. I’d like to live a little longer, yet.

“And what has turned your thoughts so dark on such a bright day?” Noah enquired, taking his slate-grey eyes off the landscape for a moment to regard her. Tall and slender and dressed in leathers and furs, with bushy red hair and a matching beard, he gave the appearance of a wild man from the Edincairn, though it was just an appearance.

Elaina gave him a brief but genuine smile. “Darkspawn, war, Heralds of Dawn. Any one alone would be enough, my love, but all are weighing heavy on me, this morning.”

“I see,” Noah replied. He studied her for a moment. “Are you not glad we will be with your friend, soon? Henley?”

She was glad for that. To see Henley again in the flesh would be a ray of sunshine penetrating an otherwise stormy sky. Thinking of storms added another worry to her growing pile; there hadn’t been a wild, unpredicted storm for two weeks, now, when for the past several months they had been more regular. Why had they stopped? She should be pleased for it, but something told her the reason for the quiet weather was not a good one. “I am,” she answered Noah. “Truly. It will be grand to be together again. You will like him, I think.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Noah said, glancing behind him to check on his sister, who rode a short way back. Pale and pretty, with a light smattering of freckles that matched her deep red hair, Edda Stoneman was staring at her rotund horse’s mane - though not really seeing it - while doing breathing exercises.

Elaina smiled when she noticed. Edda was a quick learner, and the death of her sister and parents had ignited a fire in her, a deep desire to grow strong. She would make a great Paladin, if Elaina could keep her from letting that fire consume her. So far, she seemed to be balancing her training and her grieving well, though Elaina was watching her carefully for any signs of emotional struggle.

Thinking of Edda’s family made Elaina think of her own. A mother, father, and brother whose faces she had not seen for over thirty years. She’d turned Vesovar upside-down searching for them after the battle, but to no avail. Maybe they’d moved from the city already and were living somewhere else, or maybe their bodies were still there somewhere, missed by her searching. She hoped they were well, wherever they were, though a small part of her was relieved she had not found them, alive or dead.

She still remembered the look in their eyes on the day she’d left. Her mother and father, staring at her as if they’d never seen her before. Her little brother, Edmund, his wide-eyed gaze full of fear, as if his sister had become a monster right in front of him, or perhaps had been a monster all along.

Sadness welled in her, but it was an old ache, a far cry from the terrible, raw pain she had endured as a young woman of eighteen.

“You are thinking about them again,” Noah observed accurately, sparing her a compassionate glance.

She sighed. Not many people knew about her family. Henley did, and Aran, of course. Noah had pulled it from her after watching her comb Vesovar for three days with no explanation. “I just thought if I found them,” she began, “I would at least get some closure. The not knowing is almost as bad as finding them dead would have been.” She winced as soon as she said that; Noah’s family were in very fresh graves, and he was still reconciling his own grief. “I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I did not think.”

He only smiled at her, though. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he told her graciously. “I know you meant no hurt.” After a moment he added, “But you are wrong in what you said. Anything is better than finding them dead, my heart.”

He was right, of course. He knew better than most. Her meldin fell silent for a time after that, and she gave him some space. Wanting to do something useful - and to get away from her troubled thoughts - she fell back a bit to ride alongside a young man who was very lucky to be here at all.

Deven Blake rode alone in a small pocket left for him by the surrounding soldiers, all of whom considered him to be the enemy. They were under orders from Burin to leave the young Herald - former Herald, now - alone, but that didn’t stop them from casting menacing stares in his direction.

Barely twenty years old, plain-faced young Deven had been buried in rubble and an hour or two from death when she’d found him in Vesovar. A few days in Dwarven care had seen him on the path to recovery - it had taken some convincing to make the Dwarves tend a sworn enemy - and now all that remained of his injuries was a bandage around his temples and a slight limp. He rode hunched in his saddle, however, as if he expected a knife or arrow to find him any moment, though in reality he was safe enough; the drengr would not disobey Burin’s orders. He appeared lost in his thoughts, his dark eyes pensive. Elaina knew all about that, these days.

“Are you well, Deven?” she enquired gently as Willow fell into step beside the roan gelding that had been found for him. He looked up briefly and nodded, then hurriedly averted his eyes, his cheeks colouring. Elaina grinned despite her sombre mood; seeing a young man’s reaction to her face added a little brightness to the morning. He had given her the same yesterday, and the day before that.

“Well enough, miss - uh ... madam.” He stumbled over what to call her.

“Elaina will do,” she told him kindly.

Another brief glance, though this time he held her eyes for a second. “Elaina,” he repeated, then withdrew again, uncertain of himself.

“Are you being treated well? If there are any problems, please tell me, and I will resolve the matter.” Five days she had been coming to him, to make sure he was well, and the Dwarves weren’t making his life miserable, but each day he had chosen to remain quiet. She could have aligned with him, but something told her not to use her abilities with him, just yet.

Deven winced as if she’d just hit him, which didn’t make sense. She was just trying to show the boy some kindness, something he’d no doubt been in short supply of. “What is it?” she asked. “Have I said something wrong?” She got a shock when his head came up, his eyes blazing.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he demanded. This was the first real life she’d seen in him since she’d found him in Vesovar. “You know what I am!” Some of the nearby Dwarves shifted in their saddles. A few hands strayed toward weapons, but Elaina held out a hand to stall them. There was no danger, here.

“What you were,” she corrected firmly, but Deven scoffed. Despite his sudden incensed attitude, it was nice to see some spirit from the lad.

“You don’t understand!” he said angrily. “It is not so easy as you think.”

Elaina frowned. “What isn’t?”

He appeared ready to say more, but then just shook his head in resignation. “Never mind.” He withdrew again, shutting her out.

“Deven,” she said softly, leaning close to him. He didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was listening. “I’m trying to help you. Is there a way you can help me to understand?”

His lips curled in the beginnings of a grimace, or maybe a snarl, but then a tear escaped the corner of his eye. “They’ll find me,” he said in barely more than a whisper. “They will. And they’ll punish me before they execute me in public. That’s what they do to traitors.”

Elaina finally understood why he’d been so silent. “And the more you speak with me, the worse it gets for you.” She didn’t need his nod to know the truth. “Did you believe in them, Deven? The Heralds?” The poor lad looked like he was about to be sick.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “My beliefs make no difference.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Elaina countered gently. “And if you’re so afraid of them that you never question, never leave, they get exactly what they want.”

“All it takes is one, Elaina. One spy, one pair of eyes to see me with you and I’m done.”

Elaina nodded. “I agree. Which is why I’m going to protect you.”

The younger man’s shoulders shook with mirthless, silent laughter. “It won’t make a difference,” he said flatly. “They have ... ways ... of killing even people like you.”

Elaina’s mouth twisted with distaste. He was speaking of the Nameless. “I am aware,” she replied. “Believe me.” That statement brought his attention back to her face.

“You have seen them? You have survived?”

“We are harder to kill than your superiors would have you believe,” she told him firmly. “There was an attempt on my life not so long ago. As you can see, it failed.”

Deven held her eyes for a few seconds before dropping them again. “I used to talk with Rem about it, quietly, where we couldn’t be overheard.” He sounded as sombre as his downcast face. “But he didn’t make it. Vesovar. They came in the night. We weren’t ready. Shouldn’t have even been there, really.” Elaina put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn’t flinch.

“Rem used to say,” he went on, “That there was something wrong in the Heralds. Something deep.” His expression became thoughtful. “What was the word he used? Fundamental, I think. He was always smarter than me, was Rem.”

Deven was finally opening up, and Elaina wanted him to continue. “He was the one with you that night, in Maralon, yes?” Aros, it felt like years since that night, sneaking into Maralon to rescue Ayla and Tavish with Aran and Henley.

Dev actually chuckled. “He sure was. We always tried to get assigned the same detail so we could be together. He didn’t really like anyone else, and neither did I. Anyway, after meeting you and your friends, we stayed in that cell until the next watch came.” He fingered his left eye almost fondly. “We wanted it to look convincing, so we clocked each other good.”

Elaina grinned, more for Dev’s memories of his friend than for what the poor lads had no doubt endured after that night. That thought pulled the grin away quickly enough. “You made a great sacrifice that night, Deven,” she said earnestly. “Truly.”

Dev nodded. “I know. Not sure how, but somehow I know.”

“I hope they didn’t punish you too harshly.”

“Got away easy, we did,” he replied almost brightly. “Two whippings each, was all. Barely even a scar, now.” Elaina was shocked at how lightly he spoke of it. Then again, she wasn’t sure anything she heard about the Heralds was really so shocking. A hot burst of anger flared in her gut. They needed to be dealt with, and soon. Up ahead, Noah turned in his saddle, his eyes finding her quickly after feeling her anger. She smiled and shook her head to let him know all was well.

“After that,” Dev went on, “We weren’t trusted with anything more important than night watch in a town where nothing ever happens.” He shrugged. “Suited me just fine, being away from Maralon and all. They just thought we were stupid, and I suppose you could say that I’m not the sharpest tool on the rack, but Remen? Well, he was clever as they come. Bright as a button.”

Elaina smiled sadly. “You miss him a lot, don’t you?” When Deven nodded, she added, “We’re going to take them down, Deven. I’m not sure how, yet, but the Heralds will not be allowed to continue as they have been. This I swear.”

“I want to believe that, Elaina,” he told her earnestly. “I really do, but they’ve been in control for a thousand years. How can they be stopped? They’re everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Elaina replied. “You would be surprised how many places in the world do not feel their touch. Not directly, anyway.”

“I don’t know about any of that,” Dev said stubbornly, his mouth set. “Unless you mean the places where Humans don’t go.” His eyes briefly cut to the Dwarves riding closest to him, and his tone said he didn’t care for those places much.

“It is a shame,” Elaina said quietly as she looked up. A hawk’s screech had pulled her attention that way. As she watched, the bird folded its wings and stooped sharply, aimed at the prey it had spied somewhere in the tall grass. The hawk vanished behind a low rise in the distance, lost to sight. “That most Humans do not see the lands and cities now lost to us. The Ten Rings of Dun’Arghol, carved from the very mountains of the Amarion Peaks, or the Great Tree of Ildernass, tall enough to be seen for a hundred miles, her branches so wide the Elves use them as roads.”

“Why did you help me, that night?” Dev asked suddenly, not taking the bait. “If the Heralds are wrong, and you’re right, you should have killed me and Remen.”

“That is not what we do,” Elaina said softly. “We sensed the goodness in you, Deven, the conflict. You are not the Herald you claimed to be.”

“I just wanted to do something that mattered, you know?” he confessed, his voice cracking. “I wasn’t born special, but I thought the Heralds might teach me how to make something of myself anyway. But they frightened me, Elaina. Every day was another rule, another threat, another punishment.”

Elaina’s heart ached to hear it. It must have been terrible to live under oppression like that. “This is your chance to do something that really does matter,” she implored. “To help us remove the Heralds from power and end a thousand years of tyranny. We know too little about their inner workings, and your knowledge would be most valuable, if you’ll share it.”

Deven sighed despondently, though he did meet her eyes for longer, this time. “I’m dead anyway,” he said fatalistically. “So, I suppose it won’t matter either way if I help you or not.”

Not exactly the answer she was hoping for, but she let it go, for now. He was willing to help, at least. Wanting to make the most of the opportunity, she began to ask him about life among the Heralds.

Much later, with the sun touching the horizon in the west, Elaina navigated her way through the sprawling camp, an organised series of square blocks of low-peaked tents, with the command tent in the centre. Meat cooking over small fires between rows of tents filled the air with a pleasant, appetite-inspiring smell. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it; there would be time to eat later.

“You need to eat,” Noah remarked, echoing her thoughts. He was shadowing her in the twilight as she made for the command tent. “I can feel how hungry you are.”

She eyed him briefly over her shoulder. “I am aware of this, my meldin, “ she replied wryly. While she was turned, a Dwarf carrying a steaming kettle of stew stepped into her path. She stepped around him smoothly without looking away from Noah.

Noah met her stare evenly. “Then why are you not eating?”

“Because I must speak with Burin.”

“Can it not wait an hour or two? Burin might appreciate a late-evening visit even more. Especially from you.”

She chuckled at his sly tone. Noble king or not, Burin had all the appetites of a man, and when his evenings weren’t occupied by talks with his captains and general, he amused himself with a small collection of concubines that he’d brought on the march. Nothing compared to the harem he’d left back in Dun’Arghol, of course, but bringing two dozen women just for the king’s pleasure had no doubt been considered excessive, even for the Lord of the Ten Rings.

While Noah had been healing, she had spent a few evenings with Burin herself. They had been enjoyable nights; Burin was both charming and educated, with an edge of arrogance she found equal parts attractive and frustrating, depending on the moment and the topic of conversation. Noah was well aware of her interludes with the king - a meldin could not hope to keep such a thing secret from another - and he trusted her decisions well enough. The man had quickly grown accustomed to the liberal ways of the arohim, and had even begun to enjoy himself apart from her when she was busy with Edda or Burin.

As they walked through the camp, Noah received the occasional look of interest from a female drengr in passing. Not as many as Elaina received from the men, but then he had no vala.

“Perhaps you are right,” she told him lightly. “Perhaps his majesty would prefer to meet with me in private, later. While I am there, perhaps you can spread yourself among some of your many admirers.”

Behind her, she sensed him stumble, then right himself quickly. A hot flash of embarrassment burst through the melda from him. Well, perhaps he wasn’t completely accustomed to this life, yet.

“Relax, my heart,” she said gently, offering him a smile. “This is a hard life, but it has its rewards. I am glad you are receiving them.” He smiled back, and a moment later they were in front of the command tent, a wide, square shape, squatting in the growing darkness. Two burly guards in heavy iron plate flanked the entrance, though they nodded respectfully when they saw her approaching. Elaina was treated as something close to royalty, these days. Noah said she was growing into something of a legend, according to what he heard among the drengr. One of the ancient arohim returned who had saved the king’s life and fought off a horde of darkspawn alone at Vesovar.

Entering the tent - a wide, square space with thick, finely woven carpets on the floor and a heavy round table in the centre for planning - Elaina’s eyes fell on Burin immediately. The king of the Dun’Arghol Dwarves was a handsome man, if a little hard-faced, with long black hair and a matching beard cinched with silver clasps at intervals along its length. He was standing by a brazier off to one side with his hands clasped behind the small of his back, staring into the burning embers thoughtfully, his dark eyes reflecting the orange light.

His gaze came up as she and Noah appeared, and whatever he felt about their presence remained a mystery as he returned to watching the brazier. The feel in the air was ... broody. Elaina wanted to sigh. Four days in five, Burin was centred, focused and capable, but sometimes he had the tendency to slip into a somber, pensive state, particularly when dwelling on his sister. Not the darkness he’d displayed while under Maharad’s influence, but still enough that it could be dangerous to a leader of many. Elaina worried for him - for all the Dwarves - when he was like this. I hope you’re right about Glinda, Aran. If she dies, I fear Burin will follow her.

As soon as she sensed the king’s mood, Elaina touched Noah’s arm to get his attention and subtly jerked her head, indicating he should let her handle this alone. Without hesitation, he nodded and left, pushing through the heavy tent flap with barely a sound. He really was a good partner, loyal and brave, if a little overprotective at times. No doubt he would take up a place not far from the command tent where he could reach her quickly if she needed him.

As soon as she was alone with Burin, she extended her vala toward him gently, as if wrapping a blanket around him. “Your presence warms me as these embers do,” he said softly without looking up. “Though today, I fear my heart is chilled beyond hope.”

Elaina moved to stand by him at the brazier. “There is always hope, Burin. Always.”

“Have you come to take my mind off my troubles?” he asked in the same quiet tone. “I will confess, you are a difficult woman to refuse, Elaina arohim, but tonight my heart is heavy.”

“You are thinking about her again,” Elaina remarked gently.

“I often do. I very much desire to know what has become of her.” An edge grew in his voice as he spoke. “This man - this ‘Demon’ that has taken her for his own will pay a heavy price indeed.”

Elaina studied Burin from the corner of her eye as she pretended to be absorbed in the brazier’s glow. His dark eyes flashed momentarily with his anger, then ebbed into sadness. Even Burin knew that his anger was pointless, this far away.

“Yes, he will,” she agreed. “And I will work with you to see it done.”

“If I fall,” he began, looking up at her for the first time. “Will you lead the drengr in war?” His eyes were different, now; intent, sharp, fixing her to the spot.

He wants me to lead them? Where is this coming from? She opened her mouth to protest, but he overrode her.

“Before you answer,” he said quickly, “Know that I do not ask this of you lightly. Baelin says you have the makings of a fine general, and Fathvir and Finya would follow you without hesitation.”

Elaina struggled to find words. Not only was she unsure she could command a force this size - all she knew of war was what Smythe had taught her and what she’d read from the old texts at the Chapel - she couldn’t fulfil her duty as a Paladin and also be a general, responsible for the lives of almost a hundred thousand Dwarves. What if Amina, or Aran needed her elsewhere?

“Burin, I...” She took a deep breath and continued. “I am honoured, but I fear my duties as a Paladin may conflict with commanding your army.”

“Nonsense,” he retorted. “They are one and the same, as things stand. Both you and I are trained on the same target. Once that end is accomplished, you may relinquish command as you see fit.”

He was discussing this like it was already decided. “You expect to die soon?” she asked him directly.

His beard swung slightly as he shook his head. “No, but a good leader always has his next in command in line in case things go badly.”

“But wouldn’t the drengr prefer to follow one of their own?”

“In every other case, yes,” Burin replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. “But you are a Dwarf at heart, Elaina. Strong, resilient, mighty.” He raised a clenched fist to punctuate the last word. At least he was pulling free of his gloomy mood. “My soldiers would follow you to the Dawnwall and beyond, if you asked it of them.”

Elaina thought for a long moment, searching her own feelings before searching Burin’s. Even without aligning, she could well enough feel his emotions, this close. He was all hopeful intensity, now, though beneath were streaks of fear, carefully controlled. What was he so scared of? Glinda’s death? She didn’t think he was afraid of his own death, somehow. The future of his people, perhaps?

“Why?” she demanded, fixing him with an intent gaze of her own, twin emeralds boring into ebony. She opened herself further, letting more of her vala flood around him.

He held her eyes for a moment, then sighed. “I cannot keep the truth from you. I have led the Dwarves from our mountain home for the first time in memory, out into a world that may reject us, or even destroy us. Our future is more uncertain than ever before, because I could not face the notion of Glinda’s death, no matter the cost.” He turned and walked to the back of the tent, where there was a white silk privacy screen that hid his private sleeping area. Instead of going through the screen, he began to pace back and forth, once again clasping his hands behind him.

“I must bind the Dwarves to hope,” he said as if repeating a thought he’d had more than a few times. “To a future where we have a place in the world beyond the mountains in the back end of forever.” Elaina just listened and let him speak. “The other kings all hid from the troubles, protected us in the mountain, and we grew strong again, but also isolated.” He was speaking the truth; after the Purge - called ‘The Cleansing’ by the Heralds - all peoples not Human were either killed or forced out of the lands reclaimed by men, driven to find homes in the far reaches of the world where the influence of men grew thin.

“You are that hope, Elaina,” he said, halting his pacing and approaching her. He almost looked... pleading, if King Burin Stonedeep could ever be said to plead for anything. “That is why the command will be passed to you should I fall. Do you see now?”

She saw. And it meant she could not refuse him and hope to live with herself. The future of an entire people in my hands. This must be how Aran feels all the time. To Burin, she bowed deeply. “I see your plight, King Burin, and I accept command of your army, should you fail or be rendered unable to lead, and I will see that your people are well-tended, should the command fall to me.”

Burin exhaled, and Elaina felt much of the tension leave him. He smiled for the first time since she’d arrived. “Just promise me you will do your utmost to remain alive as long as can be arranged,” she told him dryly.

He barked a laugh. “You have my word, Elaina arohim,” he replied, inclining his head with mock formality. In a flash, there was a knife in his hand, the hilt all silver and studded with rubies, the blade slightly curved. Elaina watched with some surprise as he cut his palm, no sign of pain on his face. “Will you seal this bond in blood?” he asked her as blood dripped from his clenched fist to the carpet below.

Elaina thought refusing him might be like slapping his face, so she took the silver-hilted knife from him and cut her own palm before clasping hands with him.

“Honour and strength,” Burin said gravely.

“Love before hate,” Elaina said, adding the mantra of the arohim. Burin nodded as if accepting an offer before releasing her hand.

Moving to a table off to one side holding a washbasin and pitcher, he retrieved two cloths and brought one to her while wrapping his own around his cut hand. “Now that the formalities are done,” he began as he crossed the tent to the other side, where another, smaller table held flasks and silver-chased goblets. “We should celebrate our pact, yes?” He glanced over his shoulder, thick eyebrows raised. When Elaina nodded, Burin busied himself with pouring two drinks from one of the flasks. Her enhanced sense of smell picked up the aroma of good brandy well before he brought her a goblet, which she took readily.

“To the future,” Burin said, raising his cup.

“To working together,” she returned with a smile before tilting her head back and draining the entire thing in one swallow. It really was good brandy. When she lowered her chin again, Burin’s eyebrows were up again.

“You drink like a drengr tunneller,” he observed approvingly.

She shrugged in response. “There isn’t much point, for me,” she confessed. “I’d have to drink a whole barrel to get drunk, but I do like the taste.”

“I will remember that,” he replied wryly as he took another sip. “Will you stay for a time? My evening is otherwise unoccupied.”

Seeing no reason to say no - from what she could sense of Noah he was enjoying himself not far away, no doubt with one or two of the aforementioned admirers in the camp - she nodded and let Burin lead her behind the privacy screen, which hid a combined sitting room and bedroom, an area she was already quite familiar with. Surprisingly, Burin appeared content to sit and talk, for now, despite the fact Elaina would have been quite happy to take him to bed; there were better ways to celebrate a pact than drinking, as far as she was concerned.

Once they were seated in the comfortable chairs and sipping fresh cups of brandy, the conversation flowed freely, Burin showing himself much more at ease since securing their agreement. As the evening wore on, however, she began growing distracted by the strong pulses of pleasure coming through the melda from Noah, who had apparently decided to take his enjoyment further.

Burin was in the middle of a story about his first year as king when she slowly stood and began to undress. To her immediate satisfaction, the king’s tongue froze in his mouth as he watched her unlace her shirt and pull it free of her breeches. His eyes dropped to her chest as she peeled the shirt off and let it fall to the floor. She knew the effect her breasts had on men, and she enjoyed it to full effect now.