Chapter 57 Faron #2
All of them had spent their days marching beside Isabelle, listening to her words.
Hearing her passion. And unknown to them, perhaps even unknown to Isabelle herself, they had been shaped by her radiant voice.
Their wills had been steadily bent and made pliable over the course of months.
Centuries ago, Faron had done similar as the Wild Rage.
While he had been unneeded as of late, he stepped up to the role now.
He spoke and let silver radiance imbue his tongue.
His words flowed into the gathered people, and it was so easy, like rainwater gathering in already carved ruts and ditches.
“We will not abandon our queen to the Luminary’s mercy,” he said, projecting all his power.
“We will not bow before the cowardice of a kingdom that would abduct their foe in the night instead of facing them honorably in battle. This war was never about giving Isabelle a throne. It is about sundering the evils of the Church of Stars. It is about striking the hand of a tyrant that is reaching ever more greedily to the west.”
He clapped his hands together, and he gave so much of himself that silver sparks fell from his fingers. The crowd did not react, too deeply engrossed in the spell he weaved.
“Will you stand now, tall and proud, and rally behind Marshal Oscar as he leads the assault against Racliffe? Will you cry out, defiant to the cruelties of the Astral Kingdom? Will you march alongside me, the Ram of Doremy, as we free our queen?”
Faron’s radiance pulsed throughout them, filling them with confidence. Sariel was quick to join in. He was not as skilled with such manipulation, but he aided in his own way when he slammed Redemption to the dirt and scowled.
“Or will you abandon your queen and flee east, to forever mar the honor of your family name?”
Sariel’s radiance flowed, this time an opposite feeling, one of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of being seen as a coward. Fear of what might happen if Isabelle were freed and they had not remained loyal to the protectorate.
It was a heady mix, one they could not resist. Perhaps in a few days they would wonder, or question their decisions, but by then the momentum of war would have swept them up once more, and crashed them against the walls of Racliffe.
“I have been loyal to my queen since the earliest days of her reign,” King Allan said. “I am proud to call my lands part of Doremy, and will not abandon her now.”
“The people of Rudou will not falter, either,” Prince Druss said, speaking for his mother.
“I am not one to cower before adversity,” King Yarrick said.
Nation after nation answered the call, even King Jehan, whom Faron had feared the most likely to break. Etne might have been spared the destruction Vivarai suffered, but the man had seen firsthand Isabelle’s potential cruelty at Lossleaf Castle in her war against the Blue Rivers Alliance.
“Thank you,” Marshal Oscar said when it was clear none would resist. “As of now, our plans remain unchanged. We will assault the walls of Racliffe with our catapults, smash its gates with our rams, and claim the city from her cruel masters. Prepare your troops. I shall send runners to check on you shortly. We move out before midday.”
The various lords departed, until Marshal Oscar stood alone with Faron and his brother. There was no hiding the man’s relief.
“That went better than I could have dreamed,” he said, wiping his sweating brow.
“I’d like to think we helped with that,” Faron said. “I suppose now we must pray the Luminary will keep Isabelle alive and barter her for his own survival.”
Faron suspected little chance of that, given what Calluna had told him, but what else might they do? They still didn’t know what the Tower Majestic did, or why Eder was so obsessed with awakening it.
“We can do more than that,” Sariel said, once confirming the three were alone in the tent.
“There is a small tunnel leading past the walls of Racliffe, through the cliff, all the way to Underbridge. It was to be my escape, if I needed it. I chose not to use it when I realized my entire family had come to challenge me.”
Oscar frowned, confused but still clinging to the basic idea.
“A tunnel,” he said. “Then we can use it to break their defenses!”
“We will do no such thing,” Sariel said.
“It is a tight tunnel, and one would have to crawl. The exit is in Underbridge, which means any force we sneak inside would be far from Racliffe’s outer walls and would be quickly spotted and surrounded.
But if I slipped inside during the initial assault, the path toward the Tower Majestic should be far less guarded. ”
“No,” Faron said. “Not you. Let me go instead.”
“You?” Sariel asked, and Oscar was quick to join him.
“You are the heart of our warriors,” the marshal argued. “It would do such good to have you on our front lines when we make the assault.”
Faron approached Sariel, and he lowered his voice, addressing only his brother.
“Please, Sariel, let me do this,” he said. “I will be no good in a fight, not when my mind is on you and your task. Let me instead know I did all I could to rescue Isabelle from Eder’s clutches. Take to the battlefield in my stead. Show Eder’s forces the true wrath of the ever-living.”
Sariel put a hand on Faron’s shoulder and sighed.
“I will be a poor replacement,” he said. “But I will not deny you. When the time comes, I will trust you to bring her back to us.”
Faron smiled, feeling the first inklings of hope since awakening in the dark of night to learn of Aylah’s betrayal.
His brother left, so that he was now alone with Oscar.
The marshal bent down to retrieve the discarded map.
He rolled it up gently, and then one by one, began picking up the little wooden pieces to hold in his other hand.
“Thank you,” he said, careful to keep his attention on his task. “When I heard, I feared… well. Ignore my uncertainties. You two Godsight brothers are far better men than I could ever hope for.”
The marshal dropped to one knee, and he stared at the remaining pieces in the dirt as if they were a burden too great to overcome.
“I made a promise to King Henri on the day we marched south to initiate the attack upon Argylle lands. I swore I would guide Isabelle and protect her as she waged her war. I would stay at her side in her first battle and be her shield against her foes. And each and every step of the way, I have watched her grow. I did not believe her when she spoke of Leliel’s blessing, not at first. My promises to her father were enough to ensure my loyalty. ”
He crumpled the map in his shaking fist.
“But I did begin to believe. Not because of the glory she revealed at her coronation. Not even because of the prowess she displayed on the battlefield. I believed, because within her I saw a resolve unbreakable to the last. And now, on the very cusp of achieving true greatness, I have failed her. My vows are air. I want to hold hope, I want to keep faith that the goddess would not have delivered Isabelle unto her enemies without reason, but I…”
He closed his eyes and looked away.
“My faith has never been in the goddess, only in Isabelle. And I beg that it not be broken.”
Faron knelt beside him and gently placed his hand upon Oscar’s wrist. Their eyes met.
“No man can overcome all trials. The best one can do is promise to try. Do not fear her fate, Oscar. Do not regret the decisions that led to her capture, nor blame yourself for the failures of the past. The future is all you may mold, and I say mold it, my friend. Take this army into your fist and wield it as a weapon to make Isabelle proud. Rise to the challenge. All else must fall as fate decrees, be it cruel or kind.”
Oscar smiled faintly.
“I never thanked you for saving my life from the qiyan,” he said. “So thank you, Faron Godsight. For being there when I needed you most, now twice again.”
Faron smiled back, and he clapped the man on the shoulder.
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “Now, get to work. We have an army to march, and a lot of fears to quell. I’ll join you in a moment.”
The marshal nodded, and he exited the tent, still carrying the map. Faron watched him go, suddenly anxious and exhausted.
“Fate,” he muttered. “Must you always be cruel? Or will you, for once, spare us your poisoned lash?”
He exited and began aimlessly wandering the sprawling web of tents.
All these humans, clinging to ideals meant to be so much grander than their own meager lives.
Fighting, killing, and dying in hopes of a future kinder than the present.
Individually so small, and yet together, powerful enough to topple empires.
Their scurrying reminded him of ants, and he could not shake the feeling of them crawling across his skin.
He needed to get out. He needed to get away from prying eyes, fearful expectations, and the looming haze of war.
He picked a direction and walked, hating that even now he kept his head held high and his face determined lest he worry Isabelle’s soldiers.
He once joked to Sariel that the reason his brother disliked humanity was because he feared to be himself around them.
Perhaps Faron was not truthful around them, either, only unlike Sariel, he closed his eyes to the differences.
Tents became empty fields. Stomped dirt became yellow grass.
Smoke of campfires scattered to reveal a somber blue sky.
Faron gazed upon it, wondering when he had become so tired.
Everyone he loved outside of his family died.
It was an immutable fact of the world. He knew this.
He had experienced this a thousand times. Yet it always hurt. Always.
He was tired of hurting. Tired of fighting.
He saw Isabelle’s face in the horizon, and he wondered if he must suffer that hurt once more.
This time, it felt like another funeral pyre would not suffice to erase the hurt.
How many years must pass for him to forgive Eder for such a crime? How many pyres?
Faron sat on the grass, put his palms to his eyes, and screamed silently at himself to not cry.
He had to be strong if he was to save Isabelle.
He had to be a hero for their army, brash and brave, to keep resolve from breaking.
Racliffe must fall. Eder must die. Isabelle, his queen, must live.
He gnashed his teeth, dredging up his anger.
If hatred was what he needed, then let him hate Eder, if it gave him the strength to carry on.
Behind him, he heard a soft rustle of grass. It seemed solitude would not be his for long. He turned, a reprimand on his lips, but a sudden, soft bark dispelled it.
“Iris?”
The coyote stood a few feet away with her head lowered. She pawed at the ground, as if fearful to approach. The sight added a new ache to his already burdened heart.
“Please,” he said, and offered her his hand. “Never fear me.”
Instead of accepting the petting, she suddenly bolted to him, slamming her entire body against his chest. He wrapped her in an embrace and pressed his face against her fur as she licked his arms. All his rage and betrayal bled away, if only for a moment.
But in that moment, he let his fear and sorrow surface, and he wept tears upon Iris’s fur.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose her, Iris.”
The coyote twisted in his arms so she could face him, and her tongue licked his face, cleaning away his tears. He laughed despite everything, and gently scratched behind her ears.
“You’re right,” he said. “Now’s not the time to despair. She’s alive. She has to be. And so long as she is, there’s a chance to save her.” Iris barked. He smiled. “Thank you, little one, for your kindness when I need it most.”
He stood, patted her on the head, and started walking to camp, his spirits lifted.
“Your faithful are strong,” he whispered to the blue sky. Never before, in all his life, had he prayed to the goddess, but he spoke to her now. “They are loyal. When we march upon Racliffe’s walls, our foes will discover the rage of your beloved; that I promise.”
He touched his sword, envisioning the pleasure of holding it aloft as he entered the Tower Majestic.
“And Eder will know it, too, when I take his head from his shoulders and cast it to the sea.”