10. Whatever the Cost #3
“No. I did not. I have had conversations, Eltoar, with other mages. Every soul in Ilnaen has had those same conversations. The Eleventh Karvosi Incursion was the largest since the seventh. It is completely unreasonable to expect any with even the loosest ties to The Order to not exchange words on the topic. Six hundred thousand Epherian souls were extinguished on that day and in the war that followed.” Fane leaned forwards and placed his glass on the ground, opening his body towards Eltoar.
“You want honesty? I did not agree with the council’s decision to hold back the Draleid when the Karvosi made landfall.
I abhorred it. The Draleid’s purpose – your purpose – is to protect the people of Epheria no matter what.
And instead, you let entire cities burn.
I understand the logic of it all. More than most. I was within the city of Arathín when the Karvosi attacked – you know this.
I saw what the Veyak acid did to anything it touched, saw a dragon fall from the sky.
But Eltoar, self-preservation is not the oath you swore.
Do you know how many people I dragged from that city?
How many innocent lives I watched be torn asunder?
I saw a child’s flesh melt away while she screamed for help.
And when I reached the city limits, when I brought those first souls to safety, I turned back around.
Because my life was not worth more than the elves of Arathín. ”
“Alvira did not want to hold back. She fought against it.”
“And yet she still obeyed. She still stood and watched thousands die, only taking to wing so that the dragons who had fallen over the city would not suffer.” Fane snatched up his glass and set himself back in the couch, shaking his head.
“I may abhor murder, Eltoar. But if I stand by and watch a man stab another and do nothing to help, then I am permitting the act by my silence. ‘Let not any soul stay their conscience by the delusion that they do no harm if they take no part. The darkness of this world needs nothing more to triumph than good souls looking on and doing nothing.’ So many nights I lie awake reading the works of John Stilvar Milner. The kingdom of Endiral is long dead, but those words are eternal.”
When Eltoar sat in silence, Fane spoke again.
“I do not spread lies and whispers of Alvira, Eltoar. I hold no ill will towards her. But does that mean I cannot disagree with her choices? That I cannot wish for her to push harder against the council? She is the Archon of the Draleid. She is the single most powerful soul on this continent. And it is downright irresponsible to hold so much power and do so little with it.”
Fane pursed his lips, then stood. He lifted the bottle of whiskey and set it down on the small table beside the couch upon which Eltoar sat.
“You asked for plainness and honesty, and that is what I give you. It is what I will always give you whether it is to my benefit or not.” He gathered up his inkpot, journal, and other possessions, then turned to see Eltoar still sitting and staring pensively into the heart of the fire.
“There are few things in this world, Eltoar, of which we are assured. Few things we can truly control. But our own actions, those belong to us in their entirety. In a dark world, it is our task to shine brighter so that others may find the path. I will leave you with your thoughts for now. Should you wish to join me for wine later as planned, I will be in the eastern gardens. The sunset is beautiful from there.”
Fane made his way through the keep and out into the city beyond, weaving between the passing citizens. In the distance, the towering Enkaran Pantheon reached for the clouds, birds swirling around its peaks.
He stared up at the gargantuan structure and wondered what the gods had ever done to deserve such splendour in the mortal world.
He did not doubt their existence. It was plain enough to see.
The presence of the Spark alone was evidence enough.
But it was also clear that the dragons were not of natural flesh and bone.
Mathematics alone dictated that creatures of such sheer size simply should not be capable of taking flight.
Yet, he saw them plain as day. Even at that moment two of the creatures swept across the sky above, their wings spread like the sails of a ship.
That they were creations of Varyn himself did not seem so farfetched a thing to Fane.
No, it was not the existence of the Enkara that he doubted but their worthiness.
These gods built the world, forged the sun and filled the oceans.
They carved slivers of their own flesh and gave life to all existence.
At least, so the story went. Fane knew no other.
But in the wake of all this power and creation, they abandoned the world, leaving it to suffer through endless war and strife, through sickness and starvation.
Fane had meant what he’d said to Eltoar: it truly was irresponsible to wield such immense power and do so little with it. He had always contemplated if there was a greater meaning to the words of Milner. Most people took the maxim in the simplest form, never extending it beyond themselves.
Inaction when capable of making a difference was in itself a great darkness.
And who was more guilty of such a thing than the gods?
They wielded the power to forge the world into existence, and so too did they wield the power to change it.
And yet they simply stood by and watched their creations suffer.
To say such things aloud would brand him an outcast of the highest degree, such was the blindness that walked the world.
Surely the greatest misdeed was the inability to challenge one’s own beliefs?
That would be the most difficult of his tasks if he were to truly change the balance of Epheria, rooting out that wilful complacence.
And he would change it. He would not be like the gods or like the Draleid astride their dragons, swearing oaths and doing nothing. He would not be guilty of inaction.
Fane Mortem had seen the darkest of things: men and women burned alive, children screaming while the flesh was melted from their faces, entire cities razed. He had seen the horrors of war, and he would scour it from the world. He would change Epheria for the better, whatever it cost him.