Colors of Chaos

CXXVIII

THE STARS, PINPOINTS of light in a black-purple sky tinged with green, began to fade as gray seeped from the horizon. A few insects rustled and chirped in the short spring grass. Cerryl stood in the shadows of a tree he did not recognize, looking out almost sightlessly from the low bluff overlooking the gray waters of the River Gallos.

“You got up early,” said Leyladin, slipping through the darkness to stand behind him, encircling his waist with her arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was supposed to find whatever traps the smith laid. I didn’t. Faltar, Ryadd, Myredin, Bealtur…the others with them, some I didn’t even know, they’re all dead.”

“You’ve found most of his traps.”

“I didn’t find the ones on the river, and I didn’t find whatever he put under the road. Jeslek and Anya were not kind in their words. I cannot blame them.” Cerryl took a deep breath.

“Do not be too kind to Jeslek. He put you out there to trigger such traps.” Leyladin snorted softly. “In that, he failed as much as you, and for that I am most grateful. Anya only looks for ways to show you have failed, whether you have indeed or not.”

But you did fail…and Faltar, your first true friend…he died. Cerryl shook his head. You can’t bring him back. “The smith used the order of the paving stones…the order of the darkness-damned paving stones…”

“You told me that,” Leyladin said softly. “Going over it won’t help. What could you do differently?”

“If the levies and the mounts traveled the shoulder of the road, I could sense anything in the ground itself. It was the paving stones…something about them.”

“Then tell Jeslek that.”

“It won’t help Faltar.”

“No, it won’t,” she agreed. “You did the best you knew how then.” The healer paused. “Sometimes, our best isn’t enough. Even for mages and healers. It’s hard to accept that.”

Sometimes our best isn’t enough…“Yes…” The word dragged out. But it should be.

“You’re a better mage than most, Cerryl. Better than any, I think. You’re still a man. Even the ancient White demons failed at times, and so did the dark angels.” The healer tightened her arms around him, letting the warmth of her dark order enfold him.

Cerryl kept looking at the dark gray waters of the river, flowing northward to the cold Northern Ocean. “I’m not a demon or an angel. I’m a mage.”

“They lost friends, too, I’m sure. They were people, too. They hoped; they dreamed; and they failed and conquered.”

Cerryl swallowed. “I haven’t been that much help on this…whatever it is.”

“What good will it do if you turn your back on all this now? Would you leave Anya and Jeslek to their devices?”

“They’ll do as they please.” He pursed his lips.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

They stood in the dimness by the tree as two other figures walked the path below them.

“I don’t understand, Jeslek. You raised those mountains, you brought Axalt down into rubble, yet you won’t use chaos against these worthless traders.” Anya’s sharp voice carried uphill. “You were too gentle on Cerryl…for his failures.”

“I do not have to justify what I do. But, to please you, dear Anya, I will.” Jeslek’s voice oozed irony.

Cerryl winced. Didn’t Anya understand?

“She still thinks she brought down Sterol,” Leyladin whispered in his ear.

“Best it remain so.” Cerryl smiled bitterly to himself. “I would not be the one to tell her otherwise.”

“Axalt was a city of parasites, adding to the cost of trade and siphoning off coins that better should have gone to Fairhaven. Likewise, the middle highlands of Gallos were worth little to any but herders. Spidlar, on the other hand, is rich in farmland, rich in timber and even in metals. Those make the land valuable, and you wish me to turn it to cinders?” Jeslek laughed once, harshly. “I will bring down another city as I did Elparta, but only if that will place all Spidlar within our hands.”

“You are letting lancers die.”

“Lancers will die. That is their job.” After a moment, Jeslek added, “Besides, the prefect has sent fivescore Kyphran lancers and an additional tenscore heavy foot. He would rather send those of Kyphros. They are less loyal than those from the north of Gallos.” The High Wizard turned and gestured. “Cerryl! Come on out. I can sense your chaos blazing.”

Leyladin let go of his hand, and Cerryl stepped from the shadows of the tree and began to walk toward Jeslek.

“I see you, too, could not sleep long.” Jeslek’s words were mild, far milder than those he had used upon Anya.

Unseen chaos coiled around Anya, almost as strong as that which entwined the High Wizard, but the redhead did not speak.

“So…how do you propose that we avoid these latest traps?” asked Jeslek. “I presume you have thought upon this.”

The younger mage repressed a sigh. “Ser…I have checked. He can only hide that much black iron under something ordered-like the paving stones. The ground is dry, now, and if we march beside the walls…”

Jeslek nodded, his eyes cold, as Cerryl explained. Beside the High Wizard, Anya’s pale eyes made the High Wizard’s seem warm.