Kellanved's Reach

But she was at the door and descending the circular stone staircase. The mage shouted something after her, but she shifted in mid-stride and was gone.

She stood at the bottom of a deep ravine of bare rocky cliffs, their faces pockmarked by cave openings. The light was dim here, as it was late afternoon and the ravine lay in shadows. She clambered up to the nearest cave.

Within, she found four bearded hermit ascetics, naked but for soiled loincloths, seated on dirty reed mats. Were she a normal person the stink of excrement, urine, and long unwashed bodies would have caused her to gag; instead, she surveyed the men then pointed to the opening.

‘Out! All of you! Get out. Take your damned mats and go squat elsewhere.’

The four blinked up at her, uncomprehending, and she realized that they probably weren’t even certain she was really there before them.

She sighed, then raised her hands into the air and announced: ‘Get thee hence! Spirits are stirring and they demand private communion! Dare not witness their glory!’

All four drew sudden breaths and bowed to her, two so vehemently that they bashed their heads on the bare rocky ground. They hurriedly gathered up their mats and shambled out.

‘You!’ she called to the last to leave. ‘Bring firewood.’

He bowed again.

Alone, Sister of Cold Nights surveyed the dark filthy cave and shook her head; why K’rul favoured such desolate, out of the way locales was beyond her. She raised her chin, shouting, ‘K’rul! Come to me, damn you! You know why!’

Perhaps as a measure of the gravity of the question – or the heat of her anger – she only had to wait that night, the following full day, and part of the next night. During her vigil the firewood kept being delivered, and she noticed a growing crowd of the valley’s ascetics, hermits and pilgrims gathering outside the entrance like some sort of gawking audience.

She paced the entire time before the fire, clasping and reclasping her hands at her back as she worried about that sudden renewed presence she’d sensed; everything had been quiet since, after all, and that was quite unlike them.

She turned in her pacing and there he was, hunched cross-legged before the meagre fire, in a dirty hooded cloak. Sister of Cold Nights nearly pounced on him. ‘There you are! Did you foresee this? Did you?’

The hooded head nodded. ‘Yes, Sister—’

‘Tellann awoken?’

‘Yes, Sister. I—’

‘The very worst eventuality I would wish?’

K’rul raised his hands imploringly. ‘Please, Sister. Hear me out …’

Sister of Cold Nights crossed her arms, jerking a nod. She suppressed her rage, but so great was its power that she saw the flame of the fire jump, while the ground beneath her feet shuddered. Loose rocks fell from the uneven ceiling and a great gust of dust and sand burst from the cavern mouth.

She heard the gathered crowd’s distant murmur of awe.

‘Sister,’ K’rul began, ‘be assured we are in accord. We agree that the only way forward is to leave behind these ancient vendettas and crusades. And I know the Jaghut in particular concern you, though they remain indifferent to your efforts.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘They are a … difficult … kind. In any case, ask yourself: how can a conflict end if one of the contestants remains hidden?’

‘It was peace!’

K’rul shook a negative once more. ‘It was but an interregnum.’

Arms crossed, she scowled down at him. ‘This is a catastrophe for all kind. A return to the ancient conflicts.’ She jabbed a finger. ‘Do not fool yourself! The K’Chain and the Forkrul are sure to take note of this!’

‘Such is the hope. Now none dare remain indifferent. Change is difficult and a risk – but it is the only way forward. Yes?’

‘There will be blood.’

‘Yes. It is necessary. All fates are in question now – mine included.’

Sister of Cold Nights lifted a sceptical brow. ‘Even you, brother? I find that difficult to believe.’

‘Look to yourself, sister.’

She dropped her arms with a sigh, returned to pacing. ‘I committed myself to this ages ago, brother.’

After a long silence, empty but for the crackle of flames, K’rul spoke, his voice soft. ‘Your path will be hard.’

‘I am ready.’

‘Then we are done.’

A curt nod from her. ‘Indeed. And there is much to do.’

‘Fare thee well, sister.’

‘And you, brother.’ She gestured and disappeared in a swirl of dust.

K’rul began to fade away as well. As he did so, he murmured, ‘May it be worth it … for you, and me.’

It was another day and night before any of the valley ascetics dared edge into the cave. Finding it empty, the four original occupants eyed one another in wonder, then fell to their knees in prayer.

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