Revival - Chapter 216 The Long Patrol

Chapter 216 The Long Patrol

The soldiers of Norhollow March had begun calling them long patrols from Blackstone Watch, although Captain Verren thought there was something almost dishonest about the simplicity of the name.

There was nothing simple about leaving walls behind.

The patrol would depart shortly after sunrise, march until returning before nightfall became impossible, spend one evening beneath the open sky, and then circle home along another route. Their purpose was to search the abandoned roads, farms, and villages for signs of the Shadow Bloom, locating the nests that seemed to appear wherever the beasts remained long enough to gather.

If they found a small nest, they destroyed it.

If they found something larger, they marked the location and returned with enough soldiers and mages to deal with it properly.

At least, that was the theory.

The other purpose was considerably less glorious.

They needed to come home again.

Thirty-two soldiers passed through the northern gate that morning, accompanied by two mages and enough supplies for three days. Captain Verren had deliberately packed an extra day of food because experience had taught him that plans remained perfect only until something noticed you were making them.

Twenty-one of his soldiers were professionals.

The others were Norhollow levies who had survived enough patrols, ambushes, and frightened nights that nobody bothered calling them inexperienced anymore.

They knew how shadow beasts hunted.

More importantly, they knew what happened when men became careless around them.

Magus Serrin walked near the center of the column, carrying a short sword he claimed he could use and a heavy staff everyone knew he could not. The elementalist possessed considerable talent with earth and fire, although his usefulness depended heavily upon how much power he had already spent.

Magic was not an endless well.

That lesson had cost lives.

Brother Caldus traveled beside him, wearing the gray-and-white robes of his clerical order beneath a battered leather breastplate. His mace hung from his belt, although Verren suspected the healer carried it mostly because soldiers became uncomfortable when someone entered dangerous country without a weapon.

Caldus could mend broken flesh.

He could stop bleeding that should have killed a man.

He could sometimes draw infection from wounds that would otherwise become fatal.

What he could not reliably heal were injuries caused by the shadow beasts.

Something remained inside those wounds.

Nobody understood exactly what it was.

That uncertainty had become another companion walking beside them.

The company followed an old northern road through farmland that had been abandoned only weeks earlier. Summer wheat remained standing in several fields, already beginning to bend beneath its own weight because nobody remained to harvest it.

Verren found that strangely offensive.

Men had plowed those fields.

Families had planted them.

Children had probably complained while carrying water through them.

Someone had spent years removing stones from the soil, repairing fences, digging drainage channels, and fighting every miserable problem that came with convincing the earth to feed people.

Now nobody remained to gather the harvest.

The Bloom had accomplished what war often required armies to achieve.

It had simply frightened everyone away.

Verren raised his closed fist.

The column stopped behind him.

Thirty-two soldiers became silent almost immediately.

Serrin moved carefully toward him.

"What have you noticed, Captain?"

Verren pointed toward the roadside ditch.

Flies gathered above something hidden among the weeds.

There were hundreds of flies.

Verren drew his sword slowly.

"Harlen, Piet, Colm, and Darrow will accompany me."

None of the four men appeared particularly grateful for the honor.

They moved from the road with shields raised, spreading enough that one attack could not reach everyone simultaneously. Verren followed several paces behind them while the remainder of the company turned outward.

They found the wagon first.

It had overturned inside the ditch, leaving one wheel shattered and another completely missing. Pieces of the broken wheel had been thrown almost twenty feet into the surrounding grass.

The horse remained attached to the traces.

Well, most of the horse remained there.

Harlen stopped beside the ditch.

"Gods have mercy upon them."

Nobody answered the quiet prayer.

There were bodies beneath the wagon.

Verren counted a man and woman first, followed by two children pressed together beneath what remained of a woolen blanket. Something smaller lay several yards farther into the grass, although Verren decided there was no reason to investigate closely enough to determine what it had once been.

The family had been traveling south.

Everyone traveled south these days.

They fled villages where livestock screamed at empty fields during the night.

They fled farms where strange mist gathered despite the summer heat.

They fled forests where hunters disappeared without leaving tracks.

Mostly, they fled the things following behind them.

Darrow crouched beside the wagon.

"They almost reached the crossroads."

Verren looked south along the road.

The crossroads were perhaps three miles away.

That distance had probably seemed insignificant when the family started traveling.

Now it represented everything they had failed to reach.

Piet suddenly raised his spear.

"Captain, something dug beneath there."

Verren followed the spearpoint.

Loose soil had been pushed from beneath the wagon, leaving a dark opening beside the broken axle. The tunnel looked barely large enough for a grown man to crawl through.

That meant it was large enough.

Verren felt his stomach tighten.

"Everyone needs to move backward."

The soldiers obeyed immediately.

Something shifted beneath the wagon.

"Move away from it now!"

The shadow beast exploded from the darkness.

Harlen managed to raise his shield.

That probably saved his life.

It did not keep him standing.

The creature struck hard enough to lift the soldier from his feet, throwing him backward into the grass as though a horse had kicked him.

Verren saw gray flesh, exposed ribs, and streaming darkness before the creature landed where Harlen had stood.

Calling the thing a dog insulted dogs.

Its shoulders reached nearly to Verren's waist, while its limbs appeared too long for its narrow body. Gray-black skin hung loosely across its frame, sagging beneath the belly and peeling backward around the shoulders.

Mist streamed from the creature whenever it moved.

The darkness did not surround it.

The darkness came from within.

Piet attacked before Verren could give an order.

His spear entered the beast's shoulder.

The creature twisted violently.

The spear shaft snapped between Piet's hands.

Darrow stepped forward with his shield.

The shadow beast seized its edge.

For one absurd heartbeat, man and creature struggled over possession of the shield.

Then Darrow lost the argument.

The beast tore it sideways with enough force to drag the man from his feet.

Verren drove his sword downward.

His blade entered behind the creature's shoulder, sinking deeply enough that the impact jarred his wrist.

Black fluid sprayed across his hand.

The liquid felt impossibly hot.

The beast turned toward him.

Verren saw its eyes clearly.

There was no animal anger inside them.

There was no fear either.

Something looked back at him, but whatever intelligence lived behind those eyes possessed nothing he could recognize.

Then fire struck the creature.

Serrin stood upon the road with one hand extended.

Flame rolled across the shadow beast's side, driving it into the weeds while mist boiled from its burning flesh.

"Keep that bastard on the ground!"

Three soldiers rushed forward.

Three spears entered the creature.

One shaft immediately shattered.

The beast still tried rising.

Piet abandoned his broken spear and drew his short sword, striking repeatedly at the creature's neck while another soldier pinned one foreleg beneath his shield.

Verren stepped closer.

His sword entered the base of the skull.

The creature finally stopped moving.

Nobody approached the body immediately.

The soldiers had learned that lesson already.

Shadow beasts sometimes stopped moving before they were finished killing.

Verren waited several breaths.

"Someone check on Harlen."

Brother Caldus was already moving.

Harlen had managed to sit upright, although his left arm hung at an angle no healthy arm should ever choose.

Caldus knelt beside him.

"Please do not move that."

Harlen gave him a strained look.

"I had reached that conclusion on my own, you bastard!"

A few men laughed quietly.

The laughter disappeared almost immediately.

Verren returned his attention toward the burrow.

"Someone needs to search underneath."

Serrin stared at him.

"You can search that yourself."

Verren considered the dark opening.

He reconsidered his instruction.

"That seems entirely reasonable."

Serrin stepped carefully toward the wagon before pressing one hand against the earth. He closed his eyes and remained motionless while the soldiers waited.

The ground trembled beneath them.

Soil collapsed inward.

The burrow disappeared beneath several tons of earth.

Serrin opened his eyes slowly.

"I cannot sense another creature."

Verren looked toward the collapsed hole.

"Does that mean nothing remains?"

"It means exactly what I said."

Verren sighed heavily.

"That answer inspires great confidence."

Serrin gave him a tired smile.

"Then my work here is finished."

They continued north.

Nobody looked back toward the wagon.

They killed three more before midday.

The second shadow beast came from beneath the exposed roots of an ancient oak. One of the levies spotted the mist before the creature moved, giving the spear line enough warning to turn toward it.

Four spears met the charge.

Two broke immediately.

The creature reached the soldiers anyway.

Serrin raised a ridge of stone beneath its hindquarters, throwing it sideways long enough for three men to surround it. They killed it against the road embankment after a struggle that left one soldier with a broken wrist and another with teeth marks across his shield.

The third attack came from the grass.

That encounter taught them something new.

Shadow beasts could crawl almost completely flat.

The company had been watching the field.

They had been watching carefully.

Nobody saw the creature approaching.

One moment the summer grass rolled peacefully beneath the wind.

The next moment Colm disappeared.

The beast struck him sideways with enough force to carry both of them several yards from the road.

His breastplate saved his life.

Several ribs paid the difference.

The soldiers reached him before the creature could bite through his throat.

Serrin slammed both palms together.

The earth beneath the beast split.

One hind leg dropped into the opening before the ground closed around it.

The creature screamed.

Verren had never heard that sound before.

He wished he never had.

The shadow beast twisted until its trapped leg broke.

It still tried reaching Colm.

Eight soldiers killed it.

They used spears first.

Then they used swords.

Finally, one of the levies struck its skull repeatedly with an iron-shod club until nothing recognizable remained above the shoulders.

Nobody criticized his enthusiasm.

Brother Caldus spent twenty minutes with Colm.

The healer finally stood.

"He can continue walking."

Verren studied the wounded soldier.

"Can he continue fighting?"

Caldus hesitated before answering.

"He can probably hold something."

That was not the same thing.

Verren accepted it anyway.

The fourth encounter happened shortly after noon.

That one almost ended the patrol.

They found another wagon beside the road.

This wagon had burned.

The people around it had not.

Verren ordered the company around the wreckage.

Nobody needed to examine the dead.

They already understood what had happened.

The first beast dropped from a tree.

It landed inside the formation.

The second erupted from beneath the wagon.

Everything orderly disappeared immediately.

Men shouted warnings nobody understood.

Someone lost a spear.

Someone else screamed about the left flank when nobody could determine which direction he meant.

The creature inside the formation seized Barret by the shoulder.

Barret stabbed it repeatedly with his short sword.

The beast shook him violently enough that his feet struck another soldier.

Verren forced his way through the formation.

His sword struck the creature's back.

The blade hit bone.

Barret screamed again.

A spear entered the beast's belly from somewhere behind Verren.

The creature released Barret.

Then it turned toward Verren.

He barely raised his shield.

The impact threw him backward.

His boots left the ground before his back struck the road hard enough to empty his lungs.

The creature stood above him.

Mist poured from its mouth.

Verren smelled wet earth.

He smelled rotting meat.

Beneath everything else came something strangely sweet, almost like flowers left too long beneath the summer sun.

The jaws opened above him.

A stone struck the beast's skull.

The impact snapped its head sideways.

Serrin stood twenty paces away.

"Captain, you should probably move."

Verren rolled without questioning him.

Fire crossed the road behind him.

The beast vanished beneath the flames.

Soldiers rushed forward with spears.

They stabbed into the burning creature.

Nobody waited for the flames to die.

Nobody cared whether it suffered.

They only cared that it stopped moving.

Across the road, the second beast had reached Brother Caldus.

The healer had lost his mace somewhere.

He had also abandoned whatever dignity his clerical order normally required.

Caldus was beating the creature across the snout with his shield while two soldiers attempted to pin it against the burned wagon.

"Someone get this thing away!"

The beast lunged forward.

Caldus fell onto his back.

Its jaws closed around his boot.

He screamed as the creature dragged him across the road.

A soldier named Tarris buried an axe between its shoulders.

Another drove a spear into its ribs.

The creature twisted hard enough to throw both men away.

Caldus kicked it repeatedly with his free foot.

Serrin turned toward them.

The elementalist raised both hands.

Nothing happened.

Serrin stared at his fingers.

Verren understood immediately.

The mage had spent too much.

Magic always collected its price.

Verren ran toward the healer.

The creature dragged Caldus farther across the stones.

Tarris recovered his axe.

He struck the beast again.

The blade buried itself deeply.

The creature released Caldus and turned.

Tarris tried stepping backward.

He was not fast enough.

The jaws closed around his forearm.

The sound carried across the road.

Everyone heard the bones break.

Tarris screamed until his voice failed.

Verren reached them.

He struck the beast across the neck.

Another soldier attacked from the opposite side.

A spear entered beneath its jaw.

Someone drove a sword through its chest.

The creature continued fighting.

Verren struck it again.

The other soldiers followed him.

By the time the shadow beast finally collapsed, six men stood around it breathing hard while blood covered the road beneath their boots.

Tarris sat several yards away.

He stared at his arm.

His hand was gone.

Nobody told him what he already knew.

Brother Caldus crawled toward him.

"Someone bring me the tourniquet."

A soldier produced one immediately.

"Put it above his elbow."

They tightened the leather strap.

Tarris screamed again.

Caldus wrapped both hands around the ruined limb.

White light appeared between his fingers.

For several moments nothing changed.

Then the bleeding slowed.

Tarris collapsed backward.

Caldus remained kneeling beside him.

Verren approached cautiously.

"Is he going to live?"

The healer looked exhausted.

"He has a reasonable chance."

Verren had learned to hate answers like that.

They stopped three miles later.

Verren did not want to stop.

The wounded decided otherwise.

Tarris remained unconscious.

Barret could walk, although his injured shoulder had been bound tightly against his body. Harlen's arm had been set, while Colm breathed carefully because every deep breath reminded him of his ribs.

Thirty-two soldiers had left Norhollow that morning.

Nobody had died so far.

Verren found himself considering that successful.

He hated himself for thinking it.

They made camp upon a low hill surrounded by open ground. There were no trees close enough to conceal anything, while the grass remained short enough that even a rabbit would struggle to approach unseen.

The soldiers still dug a trench.

Then they dug another one.

Serrin spent what remained of his strength hardening the earth along the outer edge, creating a low barrier that might slow something for several heartbeats.

Nobody pretended several heartbeats were insignificant anymore.

They avoided lighting a large fire.

Nobody cooked anything with a strong smell.

They ate hard bread, dried meat, and cheese while the sun descended toward the western hills.

That was when the fear changed.

Daylight allowed men to imagine control.

Darkness belonged to everything beyond the fire.

Verren doubled the watch.

Nobody complained about losing sleep.

Brother Caldus moved quietly among the wounded while Serrin sat near the center of the camp staring at his hands.

Verren eventually joined him.

"How much strength remains tonight?"

Serrin continued studying his fingers.

"Enough for perhaps two workings."

"What kind of workings remain?"

"That depends upon what attacks."

Verren waited patiently for more.

Serrin finally looked at him.

"I could manage one serious fire."

"And what about the earth?"

"Perhaps two smaller workings there."

Verren glanced toward the darkness.

"Could you manage anything larger?"

Serrin shook his head slowly.

"Nothing larger without risking collapse."

That was not enough.

It would have to become enough.

A sound carried from somewhere north.

Every conversation around the camp ended.

The howl came from far away.

That distance offered little comfort.

The sound stretched across the countryside, rising and falling with a broken quality that belonged to nothing Verren had ever heard before the Bloom.

Another howl answered the first.

Then a third answered both.

Soldiers reached for their weapons.

Serrin slowly stood beside Verren.

"Those are not very close."

Verren kept watching northward.

"That does not comfort me."

Another howl rolled across the darkness.

Three more followed from different directions.

Then so many voices answered that Verren abandoned any attempt at counting them.

Nobody slept much afterward.

They found the nest after sunrise.

At first Verren thought they had discovered another abandoned farm.

A stone farmhouse stood beside a barn whose roof had partially collapsed. Empty fields stretched toward a distant tree line, while an old well remained beside the road.

Nothing moved around the farm.

That immediately bothered everyone.

There were no birds.

There were no insects.

There was nothing alive enough to make noise.

Only the mist moved there.

Thin strands crawled across the ground around the farmhouse, collecting beneath the barn and disappearing behind the stone walls.

Verren stopped the column.

Serrin moved beside him.

"We should not enter there."

Verren studied the buildings.

"Do you believe that is a nest?"

Serrin watched the drifting mist.

"I believe something wants us closer."

Brother Caldus joined them.

The healer looked exhausted after the previous night.

"That mist comes from something."

Verren glanced toward him.

"The beasts always produce mist."

Caldus shook his head slowly.

"There are no beasts visible."

That was when Verren noticed the mound.

It rose behind the barn.

Perhaps twenty feet across, the mound looked as though something beneath the earth had pushed upward until the soil could stretch no farther.

Bones protruded from the dirt.

Some belonged to animals.

Others clearly belonged to people.

Pieces of wagons had been worked into the mound alongside clothing, broken furniture, harness leather, and things Verren deliberately chose not to identify.

Near the top rested a small wooden horse.

One wheel remained attached beneath it.

Someone had made that toy for a child.

Verren stared at it longer than he should have.

Then the mound moved slightly.

Nobody spoke for several moments.

Mist escaped through dozens of small openings.

Serrin shifted beside him.

"That is definitely a nest."

Verren looked toward his soldiers.

Thirty-two had left Norhollow.

Thirty-two remained alive.

Several could barely fight.

His elementalist had exhausted much of his strength.

His healer had spent half the night keeping Tarris from dying.

They had found what they came to find.

That did not require dying beside it.

Verren removed the map from his belt.

He marked the farm carefully.

Harlen watched him from nearby.

"We are leaving this one?"

Verren folded the map again.

"We are returning with friends."

Something moved inside the nearest opening.

Verren drew his sword.

The first shadow beast crawled outward.

A second appeared beside it.

Then another emerged farther along the mound.

The soldiers began backing toward the road.

"Keep the formation together."

A fourth creature appeared.

Then the fifth followed it.

Mist spread across the farmyard.

Serrin moved toward the center.

Six shadow beasts now watched them.

Another climbed onto the farmhouse roof.

One emerged from beneath the barn.

Verren stopped counting after ten.

The creatures did not charge.

That frightened him more.

They simply watched the soldiers retreat.

Thirty-two men backed along the northern road while the shadow beasts remained among the ruins, their loose skin shifting beneath the mist that poured endlessly from their bodies.

One creature began following them.

Another joined it moments later.

The soldiers continued withdrawing.

"Nobody breaks the formation."

They passed fifty yards.

Then they passed a hundred.

The shadow beasts finally stopped.

Verren continued moving south.

Nobody lowered a weapon until the abandoned farm had disappeared behind the hills.

Nobody suggested returning to destroy the nest.

They had accomplished what the long patrol demanded.

They had found the enemy.

They had marked its location.

Now came the more difficult part.

They needed to reach home.

Verren looked toward the southern horizon, where somewhere beyond the rolling fields stood the walls of Norhollow.

Less than one day's march separated them.

That distance had never seemed greater.

A howl rose behind them.

Another voice answered moments later.

Then another joined the chorus.

Verren tightened his grip around his sword and kept walking.

"Keep everyone moving toward Blackstone Watch."

The company marched south beneath the morning sun, carrying their wounded between them while the abandoned countryside remained silent around their passage.

Behind them, hidden beyond the rolling hills, the Shadow Bloom continued to grow.

The White Beyond the Dark

Ser Cuthred had spent most of the morning reading bad news.

That was hardly unusual for a man standing in for the Lord and Lady of Avalon, yet Lady Seraphine’s latest correspondence had troubled him more than most.

The reports concerned the shadow bloom north of the great lake.

Cuthred knew those lands well.

He had fought throughout the Upper Hollow, hunted Reach creatures through frozen ravines, and seen shadow beasts tear apart men who had survived ordinary wars without fear. He understood their speed, their strength, and the terrible mist that streamed from their bodies when they charged.

More importantly, he understood the Reach itself.

The Reach Mountains ended before the northern lands beyond the lake.

Shadow beasts might wander.

Predators might be driven from familiar ground.

Yet a bloom establishing itself there was something different.

Cuthred leaned over the map.

“Someone has kicked the nest.”

He disliked the phrase immediately.

Whatever had happened, something had disturbed the old order.

The knock at his chamber door came before noon.

The guard came and did a hurried dip.

”It’s Hedge-witch Elira you mentioned,” the guard supplied, his brow crinkling as the lord rose suddenly at the name.

Cuthred remembered the name instantly. Hedge-witch Elira of Avalon – old enough that one-or-another’s mother likely visited her as a child. She was one of the old users, not from any of the formal colleges or orders; no, the closest any hedge-witch of Avalon ever came to an official position was the respect farmers, soldiers, midwives, and low lords paid her for over half a century.

Cuthred respected such people.

The old ways survived because some of them worked.

“Bring her inside with honor.”

Elder Elira entered several moments later.

Age had bent her back without making her seem frail. Her silver hair was braided beneath a dark hood, and several small leather pouches hung from the belt around her waist.

Dust covered the hem of her dress.

She had traveled hard to reach the Citadel.

Cuthred came around the table and bowed his head.

“Elder Elira, Avalon receives you with respect.”

She studied him carefully.

“You are Ser Cuthred, representing the Lord of Avalon?”

“I carry that burden today.”

A faint smile touched her face.

It vanished almost immediately.

“I came because my castings have changed.”

Cuthred gestured toward the chair beside the map.

“Then tell me everything you know.”

Elira lowered herself carefully.

“For several weeks, I have seen darkness upon the horizon.”

Cuthred remained silent.

“At first, I thought it was weather.”

She folded both hands around her staff.

“Then I thought it might be war.”

“And now you think differently.”

“I believe something has awakened.”

Those words settled heavily between them.

Cuthred glanced toward Seraphine’s letters.

“Something is already happening north of the lake.”

Elira’s eyes sharpened.

“What kind of something?”

“Shadow beasts and signs of bloom.”

The old woman became completely still.

“North of the lake?”

“That is what the reports say.”

Elira looked toward the map.

“That should not be happening.”

Cuthred tapped the parchment.

“The Reach ends before those lands.”

“Then something has crossed an old boundary.”

“Or broken one.”

Elira slowly nodded.

She opened one of the pouches at her waist and removed a bundle wrapped in faded cloth.

Small bones clicked together inside.

“My castings began changing before I knew any of this.”

Cuthred watched as she opened the cloth.

Nine pieces rested inside.

Most were old and yellowed.

One appeared almost black.

Another was pale enough to seem nearly white.

Elira gathered them into her hands.

“The first casting showed darkness along the horizon.”

She released the bones across the table.

“The next showed more darkness.”

Her finger flicked over each of them.

"Each and every casting has been worse still. What stands against it?"

Cuthred examined the design.

Elira touched the cold, white bone. "This does."

Cuthred scowled. "And what is that symbol for?"

“I do not know.”

He looked toward her.

“You traveled to the Citadel because you do not know?”

“I came because I know where it belongs.”

Her finger remained upon the white piece.

“Avalon.”

Cuthred’s expression hardened.

“What must Avalon do?”

“The white must oppose the dark.”

He disliked the answer immediately.

“With soldiers?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“With mages?”

“I cannot tell you that either.”

“Then what exactly is this white?”

Elira’s face became unsettled.

“That is what frightened me.”

Cuthred waited.

“I have seen white in castings before.”

She looked down.

“I have never seen this white.”

The pale bone rested apart from the others.

"It doesn't feel like sunlight."

Her voice became soft.

"It doesn't feel like flame."

Cuthred looked at her keenly.

"Does it feel like magic?"

"It may well do, though I cannot tell in which way." She moved the blackest bone pieces.

“The darkness grows.”

Then she moved the pale bone closer.

“The white grows as well.”

Cuthred understood immediately.

“The longer they remain apart, the greater both become.”

Elira nodded.

“And when they finally meet, the effect becomes greater.”

How much more?

How much more than she couldn’t feel, couldn’t perceive with any sense he had known how to employ. “I cannot quantify it,” the crone answered her frankly.

“Then give me your fear,” the lord stated.

The aged woman turned her gaze upon him.

'The casting will fragment early if they collide.'Cuthred's brow furrowed.

'Be more specific.'

'The darkness will no longer expand cleanly.” She split a few of the bones apart.

'The pattern becomes ambiguous.'

'What if they collide later?'

She pushed the two pieces of white and black toward each other.

'The casting will extend further.'

Cuthred’s voice became quieter.

“How far have you seen?”

Elira hesitated.

“I stopped after seeing the darkness reaching the coast.”

Cuthred did not move.

“Not Avalon's coast.”

“No.”

The meaning settled between them.

“The continent.”

“I fear that possibility.”

Cuthred turned toward the window.

The Citadel remained busy beneath the afternoon sun.

Soldiers crossed the courtyard.

Servants carried baskets between buildings.

Hammers rang somewhere beyond the inner wall.

Ordinary sounds continued everywhere.

He had lived long enough to understand how quickly ordinary things vanished.

“What should I tell Lady Seraphine?”

Elira considered carefully.

“Tell her the darkness is moving.”

Cuthred waited.

“Tell her Avalon appears in every casting.”

She gathered the bones slowly.

‘Tell her the white must oppose the black while either can become overgreat, and should she ask you of what it is meant by white.” Elira touched the bones neatly. “Tell her I have not known them before”

Cuthred searched round for the paper.

The old woman's voice rose again, “Tell her do not any call this the good against evil.”

Cuthred peered towards her. ‘I certainly should not;’ ‘Yet others shall.’

Her expression became severe.

“The casting showed no virtue.”

She paused before continuing.

“It showed no wickedness either.”

Cuthred understood.

“It showed forces.”

Elira nodded.

“Pressure meeting pressure.”

“Growth meeting growth.”

“That is closer.”

Cuthred dipped his quill.

“When did the white first appear?”

Elira looked toward the bones.

“It was always there.”

Cuthred stopped writing.

“Then what changed?”

The old woman looked toward the northern map.

“The darkness became large enough for the white to turn toward it.”

Neither spoke afterward.

Far beyond the Citadel, something was growing where it had no reason to exist.

Whatever window remained would not remain open forever.