‘Nothing in this world.’
‘You know why I came here?’
‘Yes, my son. To purge your mind of guilt and grief – to drown it in Ceska’s blood.’
‘And now?’
‘Now you are caught up in the forces beyond your control. Your grief is assuaged by your love for Renya, but the guilt remains. You did not obey the call – you left your friends to be butchered by the Joinings of Ceska. You ask yourself if it would have been different, had you come. Could you have defeated the Joinings? You torment yourself thus.’
‘Could I have defeated the Joinings?’
‘No, my son.’
‘Can I do it now?’
‘No,’ said Abaddon sadly.
“Then what are we doing here? What is the point?’
‘That is for you to say, for you are the real leader.’
‘I am not a torchbearer, priest! I am a man. I choose my own destiny.’
‘Of course you do; I did not say otherwise. But you are a man of honour. When responsibility is thrust upon you, can you run from it? No – you never have and you never will. That is what makes you as you are. That is why men follow you, though they hate your blood. They trust you.’
‘I am not a lover of lost causes, priest. You may have a desire to die, but I do not. I am not a hero – I am a soldier. When the battle is lost I retreat and regroup; when the war is over I lay down my sword. No last dashing charge, no futile last stand!’
‘I understand that,’ said Abaddon.
‘Then know this: no matter how impossible this war, I shall fight to win. Whatever I have to do, I will do. Nothing could be worse that Ceska.’
‘Now you are speaking of the Nadir. You want my blessing?’
‘Don’t read my mind, damn you!’
‘I did not read your mind, only your words. You know the Nadir hate the Drenai – you will merely exchange one bloody tyrant for another.’
‘Perhaps. But I shall attempt it.’
‘Then we will help you.’
‘As simply as that? No pleas, no urgings, no advice?’
‘I have told you that your plan with the Nadir carries too many dangers. I shall not repeat myself. But you are the leader – it is your decision.’
‘I have told only Arvan. The others would not understand.’
‘I shall say nothing.’
Tenaka left him then and walked out into the night. Abaddon sat down with his back against a tree. He was tired and his soul felt heavy. He wondered then if the Abbots before him had known such doubts.
Did the poet Vintar carry such a burden when he rode with The Thirty into Delnoch? One day soon, he would know.
He sensed the approach of Decado. The warrior was troubled, but his anger was fading. Abaddon closed his eyes, resting his head against the rough bark of the three.
‘May we talk?’ asked Decado.
‘The Voice may speak to whomever he pleases,’ answered Abaddon, without opening his eyes.
‘May we talk as before, when I was your pupil?’
Abaddon sat up and smiled gently. ‘Join me then, my pupil.’
‘I am sorry for my anger and the harsh words I used.’
‘Words are but noises, my son. I put you under great strain.’
‘I fear I am not the leader the Source would prefer. I wish to stand down in favour of Acuas. Is that allowed?’
‘Wait for a little while. Make no decision yet. Rather, tell me what changed your mind.’
Decado leaned back on his elbows, staring at the stars. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. ‘It was when I challenged the Templar and I risked all your lives. It was not a worthy deed and it shamed me. But you obeyed. You put your souls in my hand. And I didn’t care.’
‘But you care now, Decado?’
‘Yes. Very much.’
‘I am glad, my boy.’
For a while they sat in silence and then Decado spoke. Tell me, Lord Abbot, how it was that the Templar fell so easily?’
‘You expected to die?’
‘I thought it a possibility.’
‘The man you slew was one of the Six, the rulers of the Templars. His name was Padaxes. He was a vile man, a former Source priest, whose lusts overcame him.