Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5)
Read Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) Online
Authors: Robert J. Crane
A(nother few) Word(s) From the Author
Thy Father’s Shadow
The Sanctuary Series
Volume 4.5
Robert J. Crane
THY FATHER'S SHADOW
THE SANCTUARY SERIES
VOLUME 4.5
Copyright © 2013 Midian Press
All Rights Reserved.
1
st
Edition
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Author’s Note
With the exception of the Prologue and the Epilogue, this book takes place during chapters 22-33 of Defender: The Sanctuary Series, Volume One. The Prologue and Epilogue take place during Chapter 116 of Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four.
Maps of Arkaria and Saekaj Sovar can be found for your convenience at
http://www.robertjcrane.com/p/arkaria-maps.html
Prologue
“Alaric is dead,” Terian said. The sound of his boots echoing against the stone surface of what remained of the Endless Bridge was the least of the noises clamoring for his attention, but he noticed it nonetheless. The gentle wash of the sea against the supporting pillars of the bridge below and the buzz of muted conversation from the nameless, faceless grunts in the Army of Sanctuary that still gathered in clumps atop the bridge vied for Terian’s attention as he strode toward the shores of Arkaria.
“He was the Ghost of Sanctuary,” Samwen Longwell said, carrying that barbaric pig-sticking lance of his over his shoulder. “I find it hard to believe that a man who can go incorporeal on cue somehow drowned in the wash of the strait below.”
“He was not invincible,” Curatio said stiffly. Terian turned to see him sweep his white robes behind him as he walked. “And while he was certainly a proficient swimmer, I do not think he would be able to swim out from under the multiple tons of stone he brought down upon himself just now. Nor if he had, would he deceive us by hiding his survival.” Curatio’s normally quick smile had been absent of late—
for most of our journey across Luukessia
, Terian reflected.
Well, our retreat. Which may be the reason it’s gone missing
. “I think it is safe to say—”
“That he’s dead,” Terian said, the heavy thump of his boots coming back to his ears. “Much as I said just a moment ago.”
Much as I’ve been thinking since he cast that damned spell and ruptured the bridge
. He nearly swore aloud but curbed it.
Damn you, Alaric, for saying what you did, for being what you were and then—
And then—
Terian glanced off the edge of the bridge and stopped, placing a palm on one of the grey stone pillars that stretched like towers above them. He took a long, slow breath of the sea air, felt the salt breeze wash through the holes in his helm to chill the sweat gathered beneath in his hair, on his face.
Gods, what a fight.
He felt his chest deflate, felt his stomach drop. What a year.
It’s all been a fight. From beginning to end.
“So what do we do now?” The voice came from Odellan, a blond-haired elven soldier who looked entirely too pretty to Terian’s eyes. Terian looked sidelong at Odellan, who stood earnestly waiting for an answer as the others—the whole damned army—stood knotted on the bridge, waiting.
“Cyrus is swimming along the bottom of the bridge,” Curatio said, and Terian turned his head to look at the healer. Every word he spoke was like venom squirted into a wound. “We need to go to him; he is the General, after all. We will go to him, and then we will … determine our next move.”
Terian felt his arm shake where it stretched out against the bridge support.
General Cyrus Davidon. The favorite son. Of course we have to go find out what he has to sa
y. Terian felt his face twist in anger—in anguish—some combination of the two, like a knife thrust into his heart.
“What do we do without Alaric?” This voice was smaller—near quiet. It was J’anda Aimant, the dark elven enchanter who asked, in a voice that was barely audible.
“We go on,” Terian said, surprised his voice did not crack. He pushed off the bridge support and stared at the beach far ahead, barely visible in the falling darkness that heralded the arrival of night.
Like he would want us to.
Chapter 1
Three Years Earlier
“Do you want me to leave?” Terian stared at Alaric, the Ghost’s only eye looking back at him with a strangely impassive expression. Alaric was many things to many people; unreadable was not one of the things he was to Terian.
They just don’t know him well enough
, Terian thought.
“No, I do not wish you to leave,” Alaric said, standing by his chair. The Council chambers felt mildly cold, in spite of the Plains of Perdamun’s utter rejection of typical winter in favor of warmth nearly year-round. The sun was below the horizon now, and Terian looked past the Ghost to the windows to see the darkness fallen over the plains. The fires were crackling in the hearths on either side of them, and Terian heard them acutely; there wasn’t any smoke to speak of, but he could smell the faint aroma. “I wish you to do your duty as an officer.”
“He’s scum, Alaric!” Terian let loose this time, unrestrained, his voice hitting a defiant tempo. “Orion is a piece of self-absorbed trash, whose only reason for being here was to trade up. He’s been waiting for an excuse to leave, to move up in the world, and we’re better off without him.”
Alaric stared at Terian with an even eye. Only minutes earlier they’d seen members of the guild walk out the doors, almost countless.
Half the guild, for all I know
. “That is certainly your opinion,” Alaric said quietly, “which you have every right to. However, you are the Elder of Sanctuary, and there are things expected of you, duties—”
“Don’t lecture me on duty,” Terian said. “I just did what was best for Sanctuary, letting that poison be excised. Orion and the gnome have been destined for this collision for months, circling each other while the wound grew more and more infected. I just got it all out in one burst.”
Alaric moved quickly, sweeping his hand across the table and knocking his own helm to the ground. Terian took a step back, flinching at the motion. “And lost us half the guild in the process!” the Ghost snapped, his face drawn in a look of quiet fury. “Your duty is not simply to your internal feelings about what is best for Sanctuary; it extends to our bylaws as well, to enforcing our system of justice and law, so that our members are not left rudderless, guided by whatever presiding whims come upon our officers on any given day!”
“What is right,” Terian said, trying to regain his mental footing after the Ghost’s outburst, “goes beyond law, goes beyond whim … it goes to the very heart of the direction you’ve chosen for Sanctuary, Alaric.”
How can he not see the truth of this?
He pointed a finger at the paladin. “You told me when I came here that this was to be a place where we would fill ourselves with a purpose—defending the people who can’t defend themselves. Fighting the fights nobody else will.” He let his eyes fall as that unreasonable darkness settled itself around his heart once more, the one that had plagued him for so long. “Making amends for … sins past.” His eyes came up again and found Alaric’s lone eye watching his. “You sold me on the idea that we wouldn’t be bound by the politics and strictures, the petty stupidities that keep the Kingdoms and Sovereignties and Confederations from doing right. Now you’re telling me it’s not so?”
“Our ability to do right rests in our bylaws,” Alaric said, a calm quiet settling upon him. “It is grounded in the idea that there is process and law to hold back our baser natures. To ‘do right’ without any restriction is the slow path to tyranny. Many a despot has thought himself ‘right’ as he inflicted untold horrors upon his people. Many a tyrant has thought he was treading the path of righteousness when he had lost his way years earlier. Our bylaws guide us. They are our North Star to keep our intentions and our lying hearts from leading us astray in the heat of emotion. They bind us from hasty, foolish action.”
Terian let out a low snort of disbelief. “They bind us from righteous action.”
They keep us from our duty
, he thought but did not say. “They stack the deck of Sanctuary against those of us who care for her and put more power in the hands of those who would use her for their own ends. They keep us from expelling low trash such as Orion, even when it becomes obvious he is not the sort that will give us any aid beyond that which will profit himself.”
Alaric’s lone eye narrowed, and the room seemed to grow hot to Terian. “You do not know how it would have played out. You do not know what further consequences will rise from what you have let happen this day. Orion had done no real wrong, had not crossed any lines beyond simple selfishness. Had he done anything of the sort, anything provable, there would have been action from us, you know this—”
“I don’t know anything, anymore,” Terian said with deep disgust.
How can he be so blind to what that worm was? What his deceitful little trollop was doing?
“He was using us. He was biding his time, waiting to make a move—”
“And now his move is made,” Alaric said with unsubtle calm, “and along with him, we have lost half the guild in an unsettled dispute gone amok.”
“We’re better off without them,” Terian said, waving his hand dismissively. He wanted to sit in his chair, felt the vague pull of it, but resisted.
“So say you,” Alaric replied. “But it was not your decision.”
“It was,” Terian said, “it was my decision in the moment that they started going at it in front of me, bringing their grievance to the fore and having it out. It was my decision, and I let it be, let it play the way it did.” He took a deep breath. “And I would do it again, for the good of Sanctuary.”
Alaric stared back at him. “So this is what I can expect from you? A man unfettered by rules, by restraints?”
Terian didn’t glare, but it was close. “You helped elevate me to officer, then to Elder. You know who I am, what I have done—what my aims are. If you don’t trust that I’m doing what is right for the guild—”
“I don’t trust intentions,” Alaric said, his head bowed. “Not yours, not mine, not those of anyone, truly. Not to operate without oversight, without restriction, with absolute power. Decency goes adrift in small moments first then larger ones when someone believes they are unfettered by any rules. You may set out to do good by this guild, but without rules, you would play favorites. Those who were annoyances to you would not be treated the same as those who have ingratiated themselves to you. There is no equality of members in such a case, and soon enough someone who is outspoken would become your target, and you would land upon them with all your grievous fury. Your guildmates can become your enemies without the rule of law to help guide you, without it to equalize your reaction.”
Terian felt the pull of hot anger in his blood. “Do you truly think me so petty? So low? Do you think me without scruples or decency?”