The air in the small office felt tight with tension as Verdan waited for Bastian to continue. Deep inside he knew that this was exactly why he’d come here; something had driven him to come to Bastian, even beyond what he’d already said. The meddling of a god, perhaps?
If so, it had been faint beyond his perception, and as much as the thought unsettled him, Verdan couldn’t begrudge it. Not when he was finding exactly what he needed. The thanks from the warriors outside alone had been enough to remind him of the value of what he’d been doing.
Bastian took a deep breath, stirring from whatever memory he’d been momentarily lost in. Looking up, he met Verdan’s eyes and began to speak.
“I was a Cleric of Gwyll first, you see. I rendered Gwyll’s judgement and acted as an unbiased third party for countless disputes. My sister, Ella, was a Cleric of Rharth. Where I acted against human transgression more often than not, she fought monsters. Rharth teaches us that protection comes with a cost, one that a few bear for the good of the many.”
“What happened?” Verdan asked softly, his voice seeming to draw Bastian out of his reflections.
“Ella died. Not pointlessly or without cause, but she died all the same. Rharth gave her everything he could, but it wasn’t enough, not with how diminished the gods are. There was a symbolic power in the two of us. One sibling for one sibling. With Ella gone, we were unbalanced. I prayed for days, communing with Gwyll as best I could. He mourned her loss, just as I did, and offered his brother a compromise.”
Verdan knew this much at least. “That they would share you.”
“Not quite,” Bastian said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Sharing would imply a lessening of what Gwyll has given me. No, it was more like Rharth was able to place his own blessing on top of what I already had. Any other pair of gods would fail to do this, I’m sure, but Gwyll and Rharth are unique. They are two sides of the same coin, and their blessings will co-exist. Perhaps not always comfortably, but it works.”
Verdan remembered the raw power that Bastian had shown when he killed the Cyth Scerrd that had come so close to fully corrupting the Daith Tree. That had been a display of Exeon and celestial power beyond anything Verdan had seen from modern Clerics.
“So, blue for Gwyll and grey for Rharth?” Verdan asked, drawing a laugh from the Cleric.
“Not quite, but you’re not the first to say so. My sister’s eyes were grey. A relic of the blessing once belonging to her, or sentimentality from Rharth, perhaps? I don’t know for sure.”
Verdan wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, and a shiver ran down his spine as he stared at Bastian’s grey eye. Now that he knew, it felt like it was more than just a colour change, it was like his eye had been completely replaced.
The Cleric noticed Verdan’s stricken look and chuckled. “Some people find that story unsettling. If you’re one of them, I’m sorry. My point is, though, that my sister did everything she could, and the consequence of her actions was her death and the death of her closest allies. She did everything right, and it wasn’t enough. There is no perfect choice, Verdan. There is no path through this broken world that would let you achieve everything we’re trying to without innocents being hurt. You can’t predict the future, you can only choose where you will make a stand.”
“And what if that stand causes more harm than good?” Verdan asked, staring down at his hands. “Fighting the Cyth Host left the city open. Hundreds, maybe thousands died here because we weren’t present to save them.”
“And if you hadn’t joined the alliance who knows what could have happened,” Bastian said, spreading his hands palm up. “The Daith Tree would have fallen, that’s for sure. I doubt the city would have survived either, not with the Host picking up thousands more innocents and corrupting them.”
Verdan sighed and rubbed his face. “Intellectually, I know all that is true. Arber and Hobson have got in my head, that’s all. Maybe it’s guilt that I couldn’t find a better way.”
“Regret and guilt have their part to play, just don’t let them overwhelm you,” Bastian said, leaning forward in his chair. “I regret everything that happened with Ella, but I’ve learned to live with it and I honour her memory by carrying on her work. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
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“I think so.” Verdan let it all sink in for a moment before nodding. “I accept that we’ve done the best we can with what we have, and I honour those who died by continuing on and not letting these small-minded fools stop me.”
“Not quite the wording I’d use, but that seems like a good answer to me.”
Putting it into words had definitely helped, and while Verdan was still angry at how the council had treated him, he felt more at peace with his actions. He’d done what felt right, and he’d done his best to make sure that no one was harmed because of it. That hadn’t always worked, but by no means was he at fault for everything.
“Thanks, Bastian. I appreciate you taking the time for me like this.” Verdan got to his feet and held out a hand to the Cleric, which Bastian took with a firm grip.
“All part of the service, though normally not really something my Patrons get involved with. Speaking of my normal duties, I’m going to go speak with Ciaran soon about his plan for the Darjee if you want to come with me?”
“I do, but I should head back and let everyone know that I’m alright. After last night I don’t want to be away for too long without checking in.”
“I could send someone to let them know where we’re going, if that would do?”
Verdan hesitated before nodding. “That should be enough for the moment. I do want to know what Ciaran is planning, and maybe get some more details on the threat we’re looking at.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Bastian nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll arrange for a message to be sent and meet you outside.”
Verdan nodded but was slow to stir from his chair. Heavy thoughts lingered after their discussion, alongside the unseen image of a proud woman with grey eyes.
-**-
The cold rain he’d felt earlier had turned into a wide stormfront that swallowed the sky, thunder rolling and bright flashes of lightning illuminating the streets. Fitting for the mood that Verdan was in.
Between the cold rain, the chill wind and the overcast sky, the city felt like it was asleep. Anyone who had a reason to stay indoors huddled around a fire, ready to wait out the worst of it.
All of that changed when they entered the Kranjir quarter.
Gone was the feeling of a city in hibernation, instead the streets were busy, with dozens of people hurrying through the rain carrying things from place to place. It was all covered to protect the contents from the rain, so Verdan couldn’t see what was being moved, but he had an idea.
Bastian had brought two of his fighters with him, one from each faith. Normally, a Wizard, a Cleric and two heavily armed warriors would draw a lot of attention, but right now, there was just too much going on.
“Looks like Ciaran isn’t wasting any time,” Bastian said, eyeing the busy Kranjir around them with concern. “I know what he said to you, but even so, I really hadn’t expected to see them preparing to leave like this.”
“I know what you mean, it feels wrong.” Verdan remembered when the Kranjir had arrived in the city and how good it had felt. Now it was all being undone, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it short of heading out there and waging war against the Darjee himself.
It was tempting to do it, but it felt like every time he left the city, things went badly. Besides, he might have more spirals than ever before, but that didn’t make him invincible. He’d need an army of his own to take on the Darjee out there, and if he tried to put one together, he knew the council would come down on him hard.
It was a frustrating dilemma, and one that he didn’t have an answer to right now.
“Padraig!” Verdan called out, seeing the Blade come out of a nearby building with a small group of Thearns behind him. They were all armed, armoured and looked ready for a fight.
Padraig looked over and saw them, raising one hand in greeting as he gave an order to the Thearns. Splitting off from the group, he jogged over to them with a concerned expression. “Wizard Blacke, we didn’t expect to see you so soon. Has something else gone wrong?”
Verdan noted absently that Padraig had a freshly healed cut on the side of his face. Evidence that even with their advantages, the fight against the Darjee hadn’t been all one way.
Answering the question, Verdan nodded to Bastian. “I went for some advice after the meeting, and we decided to come and see what Ciaran’s plan is.”
“I’ll let him tell you the details then. He’s in that building over there with the other Chosen.” Padraig turned and pointed to where he’d emerged from before holding a hand out to Verdan. “We’re off to do some patrolling, and I might not see you for a while, so I wanted to say thank you.”
“Oh, of course.” Verdan took Padraig’s hand with a firm shake. “I’m not sure what I’ve done, though?”
“You’ve been a good ally to the Clan, that in itself is worthy of thanks. We’ve sent many of your healing medallions and enchanted arrows north, and the Clan has put them to good use. Beyond that, you’ve done a lot of work for Clan Mhorgain, and it has been a privilege to watch our old allies be reborn.”
“You’ve all helped me as much as I have you,” Verdan said with a firm shake of his head. “We’re allies, that’s what we do.”
“Of course.” Padraig nodded, his eyes flicking to Bastian before he moved closer and leaned in to whisper. “The weapons that your apprentices now wield have not gone unnoticed. Nor the similarities between them and your other work. I don’t know how it will all end, but my Chosen and I will support you.”
His message delivered, Padraig stepped back and braced to attention before turning on his heel and whistling for his patrol group to catch up.
