The blade flashed through the air as it spun. Catching the light from the lanterns along the walls, it glimmered as it picked up pace, licking out to catch the sides of imaginary opponents and deflecting unseen blows. Down the length of the hall he moved, his footwork ever changing and his face impassive. Ducking, turning, weaving and swaying; the sweat pouring from his brow went unnoticed as his pace increased once more. Finally the set seemed to reach a crescendo; a spin on the spot, a kick, a wipe with his hand and then he was on one knee with his head bowed as his sword's hilt crashed into the floor.
That, Cosaint thought to himself, was awful.
*****
"It was awful at first Cosaint, 'cos some of the smaller ones cried. Then some of the older ones started making fun of them for crying, but I told them not to. But now everyone seems to be getting along."
She looked up at him with earnest eyes and Cosaint found himself smiling slightly in response. Blaithín had always impressed him with her spirit, and it was good to see her thriving out here on Holy Isle. From the little girl who had hated school, she was now probably the one amongst her peers most suited to the situation in which they had found themselves.
But were it just to see how the children were setting in, it wouldn't be him who was here right now.
"Blaithín, I was wondering if you could help me. The letters yourself and the children sent mentioned two men who came to visit. Can you tell me about them?"
Something in his voice must have tipped her off, as she suddenly grew a lot more subdued.
"Why, should we not have talked to them? Are these like the men that made Mammy so mad when my sister brought home a letter from them?"
With a sigh, Cosaint sat down on the ground and motioned for her to sit down opposite him. For all that he knew in his heart that he had something of a unique advantage in getting to the bottom of this, his lack of experience with children was telling quite sorely.
"We think they may be up to no good Blaithín, and it would probably be better if you and the other kids don't talk to them again. But I need you to tell me about them before we know what to do next. Can you do that?"
"Ok," there was a slight hint of fear in her eyes, but then she took a deep breath in and it was gone. "One of them looked very like you - same beard and everything, only he didn't wear yellow all the time. The other was smaller and had yellow hair and smiled a lot. They was real nice, and we thought they was ok 'cos they said they didn't mind if we told our parents about them. Wasn't that right? Wouldn't they have tried to hide if they were bad men?"
The logic was strong, but then it wasn't as if they were dealing with normal minds. If anything, Felix and his group seemed to delight in making decisions which made absolutely no sense.
"Normally, yes." It was clear from the look on her face that more was needed. "One of the men you are talking about is called Felix. Have you heard Ru...your mother talking about him?"
The look on her face said that she had.
"I don't think he'd try anything with so many Lions around", now there was lie "but it's better if you stay away from him. And if he comes around, tell an adult."
Standing up, Cosaint brushed off his white trousers trying to seem unconcerned.
"Now", he said, "I should probably talk to some of the others. After that I'll be around for a while so if you need me call out, ok?"
"Isn't Mammy coming to see me?"
"Of course she is. She'll be with you as soon as is possible. She just has some very important things on her mind right now."
*****
It was hard to keep his mind fixed on what he was doing. Starting again, he swept his blade through the opening movements, and tried to let himself get caught up in the rhythm. Closing his eyes briefly to try to sink himself into the sensations feeding back through his sword, he almost missed the figure darting in from his right. Almost.
Sweeping his sword around his head, he rode the blow and slid past his assailant, before turning hard on his heel and sending out a murderous riposte which was easily deflected. Flicking his blade up against that of his opponent, he then drove in hard until the crossguards slid against each other. Facing him across the locked blades, Díreach's unsmiling face looked back at him.
"You look like you could use something to help you focus."
*****
Keeping his back to the lights from the outpost, Cosaint focussed until he could be certain the ritualist was gone from the circle. It would not do to have him attacked out here all alone after bringing Cosaint to Tamerus as a favour. And what if you get attacked out here all alone? Ceding himself the point, Cosaint turned and made swiftly for the light.
Three approaching shadows brought him up short, and he lowered his grip on the staff he carried slightly, ready to swing it up should it be necessary. It would prove not to be the case.
"Lemming?"
The young man was dressed differently from last time they had met - this time sporting the tabard of a Prince Bishop's Man. Not that these things had to make sense - Lantia was proving to be an odd place, so what difference a change of clothing?
"Cosaint?" The knight extended his hand and they gripped briefly "I'm just leaving. The rest of the Lions are up at the outpost. Good luck."
Bugger thought Cosaint as he watched Lemming move towards the circle. Some day I'm going to get a chance to talk to him.
Striding up the incline, he was almost at the stockade when he was stopped by one of the most ridiculous sounds he had ever heard in his life.
"You there, are you evil?"
You have got to be joking me.
"I said, are you evil?"
Wow, maybe we could get rid of the citadel and the high walls back home and replace them with a stick and an old lady asking all intruders if they are unliving. It seemed inappropriate given the surroundings to be taking this with such good humour, but it never hurt to play along.
"Not usually no"
The response seemed to confuse them.
"So who are you?"
Long form or short form? Oh, howabout a comprimise?
"My name is Cosaint Aonarach na hArmengair."
More silence.
"It's ok, I know him"
Well that makes a nice change thought Cosaint as he briefly allowed his mind to wander back to his brief visit to Archon.
"Oh, and is he evil?"
Cosaint's knuckles gripped hard on the staff before he forced himself to calm down. There was only so long this could go before it went beyond a joke.
Luckily it wasn't long before he was ushered up to the gate and someone was scanning his pattern for infestations.
"Don't you need to get a mage to knock me out first?"
The blank expression told him that they didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Possibly just as well really.
Inside the scene could just as easily have been set in a Lions public house as a captured Chaos outpost. All around Lions stood with drink in hand as they discussed seemingly meaningless minutae. Not that Cosaint had much of a chance to partake because before he knew it he was mobbed by Armengarians asking where he had been and how their children were.
Really have to get out of the habit of not telling people where I am going he thought to himself as he gripped Midir's hand; relief flowing through him to know that the Healer was still ok. The he turned to have Robin Ashwine's hug drive the air from his lungs.
*****
The air exploded forth from his lungs as the kick caught his chest like a hammer. Trying to ride the blow he spun to his left, sending his blade out in a glistening arc towards Díreach's head. A mistake.
His feet taken out from under him by Díreach's kick, he did what he could to absorb the impact of the fall, before lying there looking at the tip of the sword hovering just above his throat.
"What's wrong with you Cosaint?" His tone suggested he wasn't really looking for an answer. "Where's your mind at? You've countered that combination a million times before, or have you forgotten?"
*****
"I'd forgotten about the bloody Elysium!"
In all the hubbub which had sprung up, Cosaint felt somewhat stupid for having to ask the next question.
"What exactly is the Elysium?"
Searching briefly for words, Robin filled him in as best she could.
"It's a ship, which takes the dead on to the next life. It's supposed to be a good thing, but it gives me the creeps. I hate it. Damn, I should have thought of the bloody Elysium. We could have moved the body."
Not really knowing what to say, Cosaint started to move towards the door. He had not seen Lir since they left Amnor. He would at least see him pass on to the next world.
Robin's voice snapped him back to the present.
"Cosaint, do you have any money?"
The question seemed ludicrously out of context.
"What? Money? What for?"
"To pay the ferryman. You can buy Lir an easier passage to the next life."
Slightly more urgently now, Cosaint cast his mind back over the scant few coins he had amassed since the Calebii wars ended.
"No, I'm sorry Robin. We don't have any need for money on Amnor. I just don't carry it with me."
He could hear the panic in his own voice as he cursed himself for a fool.
"Here", Robin urged as she pushed two silver coins into his hand, "take these and pay his passage. Go!"
Running down to the gates he could see the amassed crowds and the unloving crew standing before them. At their fore stood Lir, dressed still in his armour but looking off blankly in front of him.
"He is beyond you now," Vindex was saying, "but should you wish to pay his passage..."
"I will pay!" said Cosaint, blessing Robin Ashwine as he stepped forward and proffering the two coins. The ferryman merely nodded and took them from him.
Stepping back into the crowd, he was aware of other voices asking of their loved ones and receiving the same response each time. "They are beyond you now!"
"Everytime," he whispered into his staff, so soft that only those right beside him could hear it, "I turn my back another one of them dies when I cannot be there to help them. First Taliesin and Corthar. Then Chareos and now Lir. And I am terrified that one day it will be Midir, or Rua."
Words of consolation came, but they could not take the edge off the blank stare looking back at him from the Elysium crew.
*****
Díreach's gaze didn't waver at all as Cosaint took up his stance once more. Circling, they starting probing again, looking for an opening against a swordsman he knew their style better than any other.
*****
His eyes searched the page, looking for any clue as to where the murderer might have gone.
"Bull, crap, provocation", he mouthed off half to himself as he disregarded line after line of Felix's usual fare.
I know you little assassin, he thought, and your style is getting old.
His thoughts froze then as he thought back to another letter - this one in his own hand as he played a desperate gambit.
I have shielded you to an extent...
"I should have pushed him harder", he whispered.
Obviously misunderstanding, a well meaning listener rebutted "You couldn't have pushed Lir any harder. He pushed himself harder than any of us."
"No", murmered Cosaint, a cold chill spreading down his back and settling in his gut. "I should have pushed Felix harder. I could have taken the shot and hunted him down. Then Felix would be dead."
The last came out in a hiss and he was surprised to hear the fervour in his own voice, just as he was to feel the tear trickle down his own face.
"You no need to read this now", came a voice as a fae pulled the letter from his hands and put it away.
Oh great, now I'm being baby-sitted by Alvar.
*****
Take the shot.
The flaw was quite obvious to one who had trained with Díreach for years, though it was one unlikely to be noticed by a fresh opponent no matter how skilled. It was a wonder Deor hadn't noticed it by now and beaten it out of him.
Or does he know it's there? Is he inviting me to deliver that blow?
*****
"Because I want you to."
Chareos' voice carried all the same calm authority it had in life. No rising to the bait, and no unnecessary explanations, but just a touch of irritation.
"And which one of you wants me to do it?"
Cosaint looked straight into his old friends eyes, trying to ascertain a reason. Was it a trick? Did the Voor want to see him suffer?
"Both of us!"
No help there, and yet it had to be admitted that the choice was a good one. If it must be done, let it be done without hate.
If it must be done...
"And this will not invalidate the agreement we have reached here?" Despite the cold certainty in his belly, Cosaint half hoped that it was a trick which he had caught him out on.
"No! What passes between you and me is an exception", Chareos turned to the assembled Voor. "None of you is to raise a hand because of this. There will be no fighting unless the Lions attack you."
Reluctantly nodding agreement, Cosaint handed his staff over for safe keeping and declining the dagger Madra offered, drew his sword.
Around him, the sounds of final preparations could be heard as he reversed the blade and held the handle up to his lips.
"Ar dtús a bhí an síocháin, 's beidh an síocháin arís"
The assembled crowds drew back to give space for what was coming. A few latecomers questioned what was going on.
"Is leis an tsaoil an cogadh, an brón agus an caoineadh"
Still the muttering of the crowds continued as desperately the more diplomatic Lions laboured to avoid the catastrophe which would result were another blade to be drawn.
"Fad ón mbróin taistil anois ar an bóthar uaigneach"
Cosaint could feel the presence of a large Voor pressed up against him to his right as he finished his prayer.
"Suaimhneas síorraí a iarraim ar bhúr tson."
"Do you want to hurt us?"
Realising how everything could be lost here, Cosaint forced himself to a calm he didn't feel and addressed the Voor.
"I do not wish to hurt any of you. But I will do that man this one last favour as he asks."
"Back off", calm the snarl in Chareos' voice, but unlike Chareos in so many ways. "this one is to be allowed to do what I asked. Do not draw weapons unless they do first."
Nodding to Cosaint that he was ready, he then turned to one side and waited. Taking a slow deep breath, Cosaint eased back into a long stance and eased his blade back along his left hand. A disturbing and yet somehow familiar calm descended over him.
"One more time, cíall agus suaimhneas."
The blade snapped forward and the armour on Chareos' back started to split under the the impact of the blow. Chareos jerked violently, but forced back any cry.
Cosaint drew back again.
The last of the protection the armour gave was shredded and a slight gasp escaped Chareos' lips. The watching crowd stayed motionless. A slight resistance pulled at the blade as Cosaint drew back.
The flesh on his back yielded to the blade and it bit into the spine. A small spray of blood flew and Chareos was driven to his knees. A slight murmur ran through the crowd.
Fighting nausea, Cosaint drew back again. He could feel the flesh separating under the blade and the sudden tremor in his tricep which signified contact. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes once more to find the kneeling and shivering Chareos looking straight at him.
"Finish it!"
*****
Cosaint parried upwards, and then quickly dropped and spun. Coming up beneath his opponent's guard, his sword made straight for the unprotected gut of his opponent.
A spray of blood and a wrenching feeling as the blade bit into his back.
Cosaint's sword clattered to the floor.
*****
His sword clattered to the ground, and he fell backward stunned. Through a haze of tears he was dimly aware of a number of happenings around him
Chareos' body falling to the ground.
Queen Sapphire's feet coming towards him and him and her hands on his shoulders.
Someone saying that the Elysium had arrived.
And then they were around him, lifting him from the ground and bearing him inside. So many faces drifting across his vision. So many voices making themselves known to his grief. Driden, Robin, Rua, Midir, Madra, Alyssa, Sheyna...all trying to be there for him, while he tried to get a grip on where it was he should be.
What understanding could there be? What did they know of what he had truly done?
A voice pulled him back to the tavern as Princess Alyssa struggled to be heard.
"You saved us", the earnestness and kindness in her voice drew him to her despite not crediting what she said. "With your courage, you have saved us all from a terrible war."
"All I have done," he heard his voice come out in ragged gasps, "is kill the man who would have been my father."
And he allowed himself to dissolve in the hands that were holding him.
*****
He pressed back against Díreach's hands were he was cradled on the wooden floor and let out the rush which had been stored since his return. Tears ran unchecked from his eyes as he allowed his grief to show before the older man. Regardless of who might be watching, regardless of what they might think, he cried then until his tears were all but gone.
Finally, he regained enough control for a hoarse whisper. "All I have done..."
"...is what you have chosen to do." Díreach completed the sentence.
Silence settled over the hall again, until at length Cosaint spoke again with a catch in his voice which could have been laughter or crying.
"They spoke of absolution, for all the crimes between their races. Yet for me..."
Díreach's voice betrayed a tenderness which belied the message he spoke.
"There is no forgiveness."
"Thank you." Cosaint whispered.
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