‘Then why run at all?’ Annev said, still pleading his case. ‘Are the servants of Keos chasing me so I can’t kill their dead God?’ Annev rolled his eyes.
‘Keos will reveal himself when he is ready,’ Sodar said, ignoring Annev’s tone. ‘His servants are another matter. Some are patient and cunning. Others are impulsive and unpredictable. They will all come for you, no matter whether Keos is alive or dead. The witch you encountered in the Brake was likely a tiny component of the greater whole.’
Annev’s skin crawled at the mention of the wood-witch, yet it also triggered something in his memory. ‘What do the Younger Gods have to do with all this? The witch said something about them hunting for me.’
Sodar stroked his beard, his face grave. ‘I’m afraid I have no answers there. The Younger Gods went into hiding after the Battle of Vosgar, and they’ve learned to survive by not taking sides. That should mean their interests are benign, but if the witch is right in saying the Younger Gods are hunting you, that might not be the case. Do you remember her exact words?’
‘Only the names of the gods she mentioned – Dorchnok, Tàcharan, and Cruithear – and that they couldn’t reach me. I think she was talking about the magic that protects Chaenbalu.’
‘Problems on top of problems.’ Sodar shook his head. ‘All right, boy. We’ll stay for now while I work this all out, but don’t get comfortable – and no more leaving the village. No gathering firewood. No running errands for Tosan. Nothing that will take you beyond the standing stones. Understood?’
Annev nodded, relieved he would still become an avatar and have the chance to court Myjun. Yet his relief was poisoned by knowing Sodar might whisk him away at any moment. He suddenly understood why the priest had kept it secret; the notion that he could be pursuing his dreams one moment yet have them ripped away the next was almost paralysing.
But did it have to be? Crag’s words came back to him: Things are never as complicated as they appear, and you don’t have to follow a path someone else set out.
I don’t have to go with Sodar, Annev realised. He’s taking it for granted that I will. But if he decides it’s time to go, I still have a place here. With Tosan. Annev sat and weighed the implications of that.
If he stayed at the Academy without Sodar, he’d become an avatar and court Myjun. Eventually, he’d be promoted to Master Avatar and have adventures outside the village. He’d still heed Sodar’s warnings whenever he was on a mission – he wasn’t a fool, after all – and he’d hasten back to Chaenbalu after each assignment. Duvarek did that, and he was one of the most decorated avatars at the Academy. He’d be able to marry Myjun. It was everything he had ever wanted – he had even killed two people and severed a pair of ears to get it. Against that, he’d be disappointing Sodar … and without his glove, there was a real danger that the Academy would find out about his missing arm. If that ever happened, the Academy and villagers would unite and stone him to death – only his avatar skills giving him a chance to escape – at which point, he could probably leave and join Sodar anyway. To him, the risk seemed equal to the reward.
Alternatively, Annev could accept everything Sodar had said about his heritage. They’d stay in Chaenbalu and, when it was time, they would leave. They’d be on the run for a while, but they would eventually pass outside the Academy’s reach and start a new life – assuming that a host of feurog, the Younger Gods and other servants of Keos didn’t prevent them from doing so. It sounded a riskier path, one in which he would be relinquishing control of his own life and allowing old men and obscure prophecies to dictate his dreams. That notion didn’t sit well with Annev, particularly as there was no guarantee he and Sodar would ever be completely safe; it offered a prospect of the world – a life of excitement, magic, and no Academy rules – but without being an avatar or seeing Myjun. Given those two choices, Annev knew which he preferred. He just had to find a way to tell Sodar without the man feeling Annev was committing some grand betrayal.
‘You need time to process all this,’ Sodar said, rising from the table. ‘Take those items to Tosan, then hurry back and get dressed for the last night of Regaleus. The celebrations will be louder and longer, so—’
‘I can’t come back!’ Annev snapped. ‘Don’t you remember? Tosan relieved me of my deacon duties.’
Sodar paused. ‘I’d forgotten. That’s another good reason to hasten our departure … but never mind that.’ He tried to mask the pain clearly etched on his face. ‘I can prepare the chapel on my own, and I’m sure I’ll find a way to communicate with you when it’s time to leave. For now, you should go and get your title. You’ve earned it. I’ll pack your things and send them along to the Academy.’
Annev lit up. Sodar was right. He had earned this, and he wasn’t going to let his worries about the future cloud his enjoyment of the day.
‘Thank you, Sodar.’ He hugged the old man – and his resolution immediately crumbled.
There has to be a way to make it all work, Annev thought, clasping his mentor tight. I can solve this puzzle. I can find a way to have my dreams without crushing Sodar’s.
They released each other and Annev watched the old man shuffle off with the sword and axe. I’ll stay, he decided. Sodar has watched over my family for centuries, so waiting a few more years won’t harm him and he won’t abandon me. Maybe after Myjun and I get married, and after Tosan has died, I could convince her to leave with us … or convince Sodar that the danger has passed.
Part of him knew his hopes were impossible – that his sense of foreboding was real and should not be ignored – yet he refused to face it, clinging to the hope he could make it work instead.
He acknowledged, a little wryly, that Tosan’s evaluation of him had been entirely correct: he couldn’t accept the choices fate had given him. That habit would probably bring him more grief once he was living at the Academy, but he wasn’t about to change.
Annev grabbed the linen-wrapped ears from the table and collected the sack he’d left in the shed, pausing to drop the phoenix lantern into his clothes chest. As he stripped off his tunic to change into clean clothing, he saw a glint of metal: the strip of gold he’d taken from the Brake, a shard from one of the feurog. It was a grisly trophy, one that was too grotesque to keep yet too valuable to get rid of. He supposed Sraon could smelt it into a handful of sunbeams, but even carrying the rectangular clips of metal would remind him of their origin. He’d have to do something with it.