The Road to Death

14

Kandler couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a sunrise so much. He hadn’t seen the sun for over a week, and the way it rose out of the tall, endless grasses of the Talenta Plains as he, Sallah, Burch, and Brendis rested on the Cyre River’s eastern shore made his heart feel lighter than it had in weeks. Rosy hues painted the distant wisps of clouds in glowing orange and pink, pushing the blackness of the western sky toward a deep and vibrant blue.

The justicar breathed in deep through his nose, smelling the damp, black earth that lay all around. His mouth watered as he caught the scent of the breakfast Burch cooked over an open fire the shifter had built out of the branches of a dead shrub he’d found on the river’s edge. He’d been at it for a while, and Kandler and the others had long since eaten their fill.

“Gotta cook it all,” Burch said. “Eat as much as you can. Outside the Mournland, meat killed there turns fast.”

Kandler rubbed his full stomach and waved the shifter off. “As soon as you’re done with that, we get moving.”

“Where are we going?” Sallah asked. Her tone told Kandler that she was trying not to anger him, and that annoyed him even more.

“After Esprë,” he said, daring her to ask the questions for which he had no good answers.

He should have known better than to dare a Knight of the Silver Flame. Still, Sallah hesitated for a moment, and Brendis stepped into the breach.

“On foot, we chase after a wounded airship we haven’t seen in days. We might as well search for poor Xalt at the bottom of the river.” The young knight stared into Kandler’s eyes, measuring the justicar’s reaction, ready to defend himself should Kandler lunge at him. “This is madness.”

Kandler spat into Burch’s fire. “We’re trying to save my daughter and maybe the whole of Khorvaire while we’re at it. I thought your child prophet gave you marching orders to bring Esprë in, to ‘save’ her from everyone else.”

“Watch your blasphemous tongue,” Brendis said. “As Knights of the Silver Flame, we do our duty as best we can in whatever way we see fit. The changeling has swept the girl off to only the Flame knows where. We have lost over half of our number since we left Flamekeep, including our glorious and honorable Sir Deothen. We have failed.”

The young knight shot a sidelong glace at Sallah, who bowed her head in momentary grief at the mention of her father. Kandler hadn’t known the man was Sallah’s sire until after Bastard had killed him. That spoke volumes about the kind of relationship the father and daughter had—distant at best—but the justicar knew that Sallah had loved him still. Despite that, she hadn’t stopped to grieve for him yet. There hadn’t been time.

“What would you like me to do?” Kandler said, offering Brendis an open hand. “Give up? Forget about my daughter?” He shook his head, anger and frustration burning in his eyes. “That’s not going to happen.”

“We should go back to Thrane,” Brendis said. “There we can consult with the Voice of the Flame. She may be able to divine the elf-maid’s location, and we can construct a new plan from there. We need information that only the light of the Flame can provide. Otherwise, we wander lost in the darkness.”

“Even on fast horses it would take more than a week to reach Thrane. We’d have to either go back through the Mournland or go around through Karrnath, and then we’d have to come back.” Kandler spoke through gritted teeth. “Esprë might be dead.”

Brendis looked up at Kandler with mournful eyes. “Likely she already is.”

Before Kandler even realized what he was doing, his fist lashed out and smashed into Brendis’s chin. The blow knocked the young knight back on his rump.

Kandler took one step toward Brendis but stopped dead as Sallah slipped between them. He glared past her at the young knight, who sat on the turf rubbing his bruised chin. Then he spun on his heel and stalked away toward the shore.

“Kid,” Burch said loud enough for the justicar to hear, “you’re just lucky he hit you before I could.”

Kandler sat steaming by the river, gazing out at the dead-gray mists that separated the Mournland from the living world. He was mad, not at Brendis but at himself. He’d let himself lose his temper, not because the young knight was out of line but because Kandler feared he was right.

The justicar held his head between his knees. It felt like it might burst at any moment. When he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, though, instead of pricking the veneer holding him together like an overfull wineskin, it deflated him. He kept his eyes locked straight ahead as Sallah knelt next to him and slipped one of her slender arms around his shoulders.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said softly.

Kandler stuck out his jaw as he bit back one bitter response after another.

“No,” Sallah said. “I mean, you didn’t have to worry about what Brendis said. He’s not the senior knight here. I am.”

Kandler kept staring into the mist. “What would you have me do?”

“Go after your daughter, of course,” Sallah said. “I may have only known you for a week, but it’s clear that there is no other path for you.”

Kandler hung his head. “I know,” he said, “trying to find Esprë at this point is a fool’s errand.” He looked up into Sallah’s emerald eyes, and her beauty stopped his tongue for a moment. He had to turn his head again before he could speak.

“If you and Brendis want to go back to Flamekeep for reinforcements or advice or whatever else, then go. I won’t try to stop you, but I’m going after her the best I can. Now.”

Sallah leaned against Kandler and gave him a squeeze. “Of course.”

“And you?” he asked.

“I will not leave your side until Esprë is safe,” she said into his ear.

Kandler turned his head. His lips hovered only an inch from hers. He could taste her breath on his tongue. She waited there for him, not moving forward, not pulling away. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and for a moment, the beat froze him like a chorus of drums in the darkest jungle.

Then he leaned toward her, and their lips met in a soft, supple kiss.

If anything, Kandler’s heart raced faster, but in delight rather than dread. They held the kiss for an eternal moment before parting again. He looked into her face, and her smile told him everything he wanted—needed—to know.

“Then,” he said, “everything will be all right.” He leaned in to taste her full, round lips again, but before they met, something came splashing up at them out of the river.

Kandler leaped to his feet, his blade already in his hand. Sallah stood beside him, her knife at the ready. In that instant, the way they reacted together, as one, as if they’d fought alongside each other in a thousand battles, felt as right as that sweet kiss that still lingered on Kandler’s lips.

“Something in the mist,” Burch whispered from behind the duo. Even without looking back, Kandler knew the shifter would be kneeling there to one side, his crossbow loaded and ready, hunting for prey for its hungry bolt. “In the river. There!”

Kandler stared at the shape coalescing out of the swirling mists, a dark form that grew darker and more solid with every splashing step. The justicar felt the heat of Brendis’s blade approach as the young knight dashed up behind him. Even though he’d hit the man, Brendis still had his back, and the thought made Kandler smile.

“Hello!” the figure said in a familiar, metallic voice. “Hello! I hoped you hadn’t gone too far yet. I’ve been searching the shore for you.”

“Xalt?” Burch said, recognizing the warforged first. The shifter let out a little war whoop of delight.

“By the Flame,” Brendis said as Xalt trundled out of the water and into his friends’ embrace, “I had not dared hold out hope.”

Kandler grinned. “Oh ye of little faith,” he said.

Sallah slapped the justicar on the shoulder, a wide smile on her face. “You claim your faith is stronger than his?”

Kandler rubbed the top of the warforged’s head. “Not my faith. I knew Xalt would make it.”

“How?” Brendis asked the warforged. “When that boat sank, I thought for sure you would go down with it. Are you not too heavy to swim?”

Xalt nodded. “I did not try. Warforged do not need to breathe. I fill my lungs only so I can talk.”

“You sank to the bottom of the river and then …?” Brendis could not complete the thought on his own.

“I walked east until I found the shore. Once I did, I kept to the mists for fear of running into more of Ikar’s bandits, but I kept my ears open for your voices. It was only a matter of time until I found you—or so I hoped.”

“Lucky,” Burch said.

Kandler shook his head at the shifter. “Why do you think I let you take so damn long cooking that meat?”

Xalt put a hand on Kandler’s shoulder. “You have my thanks,” he said.

“For your bravery in dismantling Ikar’s ship,” Sallah said, “you have ours.”