It didn’t require much of a debate to know when you’re hungry. When you had people you cared about, the caring came just as naturally.
Killian looked around him. The streets of Salvation seemed so much smaller now.
The buildings were all of the same uniform grey stone — squat, ugly structures of one or two levels. He had forgotten how many people there were in Salvation, hordes of them, all fighting for space.
There were no soldiers in Aynar. No lords or loremasters. In Aynar everything was run by the Assembly of Templars. The priests took care of the souls of the people. The templars took care of the more secular aspects of life.
There seemed to be more templars than ever before. The white uniforms with black trim were everywhere. Killian caught the eyes of a solidly built templar, his hand on his sword, and quickly looked away. Those yellow eyes looked menacing.
He stopped in the street and looked up at the solitary mountain that was the destination of so many pilgrims. Stonewater. The resting place of the Evermen’s greatest relics. Home of the Assembly. Residence of Primate Melovar Aspen.
He’d only ever entered Stonewater at a summons from the Primate. Now, with the Primate leading the Black Army, he had to find another way to get inside.
Killian only hoped he wasn’t too late.
He’d returned the Alturan Lexicon to Ella. Moments later the High Enchantress would have held it in her hands.
But the Halrana Lexicon had been in the Primate’s possession for many weeks. If the Primate destroyed it, the Halrana animators would be no more. They would cease to exist as people, and would be absorbed by the Primate’s motley forces.
And it would be Killian’s fault.
He cursed his strange ability. He felt dirty, used, lied to. What did the Primate really know about his abilities? Who was he? Where were his parents? Were they even still alive?
He remembered Ella’s words. "Have you ever tried any other runes?"
It was clear to him now. The Primate had kept him in the dark. He’d wanted a thief and nothing more. What was he capable of?
With a heavy heart he rounded a corner and crashed into a templar.
"What are you doing?" the man turned strangely yellow eyes on Killian. "Stop right there."
Without quite knowing why, Killian ran.
He felt the pattern of the streets come back to him, and quickly lost the templar. He dashed through an alley and entered an area of taverns and eating houses. Picking one at random, he walked in, casting a final look over his shoulder.
Some things never change, he thought to himself. Still being chased by templars around the streets of Salvation.
People threw stern glances at the commotion when Killian burst into the open tavern room. Wooden benches and tables were filled with townsfolk, all intently looking at the raised dais.
A man sat on a high-backed wooden chair, his arms gesturing wildly. He looked at Killian but continued to speak. Killian found himself a seat — he would blend in here — and ordered a tankard of beer.
He was an interesting looking man. He wore a faded white priest’s cassock, the sun of the Assembly barely visible. His hair was white, but it must once have had colour as there were flecks of ginger in his scraggly beard. His eyes were his most noticeable feature, piercing blue, like Killian’s own.
The voice was rich and deep. "Lorelei had killed his enemy, but Suhlan had been grievously wounded. Her body lay crumpled on the stair. Lorelei ran to her, screaming her name.
"He threw away the accursed sword that had caused him so much trouble," the man made a throwing motion. Some children giggled, and then were hushed by their parents.
"Lorelei fell down beside Suhlan’s body, watching the lifeblood flow from her veins. Her eyes fluttered, she opened them, to say her last words." The man paused, looking out over the crowd. They hung on his every word, entranced. "She touched her finger to the blood on the ground. There was so much of it.
"The tears flowed down Lorelei’s face. Suhlan whispered something, but he could not hear. The breath was leaving her body." Killian found himself becoming caught up in the story. He wished he had been here for the beginning.
"‘Please, Suhlan, don’t die!’ Lorelei screamed. Her finger moved, to the wound on her neck. She drew a symbol there, in her own blood. Lorelei’s fists clenched with frustration, he could not understand what she was trying to say."
"What was it?" one of the women said. She was hushed by the other patrons.
"Then he looked at the symbol. It was a rune, a simple rune of mending. Suddenly Lorelei understood.
"He knew she was different. There was only one thing for him to do. He took the crystal bottle and ivory scrill from his pouch and he traced over the rune she had drawn in blood, this time with essence."
"But it would have killed her!" the woman called. She was instantly hushed.