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The Brotherhood killers knew where to find them, and I sought to warn their father.
‘But when I arrived he was unconscious, having filled his belly with strong wine, trying to erase his grief at the death of his wife. The children were alone. While at the cabin I sensed the imminent arrival of the two men. I could feel their lust for violence and death travelling before them like a red mist. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
‘I did something then that I have always regretted. I took a small double crossbow from the unconscious man, and I loaded it. Then I stepped out to wait for the killers. During the Vagrian Wars I had killed with the sword, but I had sworn never to take another human life. As I waited I prayed they would be turned back by the very threat of the bow.
‘But they came on, and they laughed at me, for I was known to them. I was a Source priest, a preacher of love. They mocked me and drew their swords. This bow I held had killed many men and it had power, dread power, in its ebony stock. The men advanced. My arm came up. And the first bolt flew. The first man died. The second man turned to run. Without thinking I shot him through the back of the neck. I felt like leaping into the air with joy. I had saved the children. Then the enormity of the deed came home to me, and I fell to my knees, hurling the crossbow from me.
‘At Dros Purdol the first Thirty had fought against demons and the spirits of evil. But none of them – save myself- had ever lifted a sword against a human foe. And they died unresisting when the enemy breached the walls. Yet I, in one moment, had betrayed all we stood for.
‘I had not only taken human life, I had robbed two men of any chance of redemption.
‘I went back in to the children and I took them in my arms. My spirit went into both of them, closing the doorways to their Talent, robbing them of their Source-given gift so that the Brotherhood would not find them again. I put them in their bed and soothed them to sleep.
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Then I dragged the bodies from the clearing, burying them in a shallow grave.
‘I have been haunted by that day, and not an hour of my life has passed without my thinking of it. I want none of you to face those regrets. And the surest way I know of avoiding such pain would be if each of you takes up the Source staff.’ Dardalion sat down and Ekodas saw that the Abbot’s hands were trembling.
The young priest took a deep breath and rose. ‘Brothers, there is not a word spoken by the Abbot with which I disagree. But that alone does not make his argument true. He spoke of love generating love, and hatred breeding more hatred. We all agree with that – and if that was all there was to discuss, there would be no need for me to speak. But it is infinitely more complex. I have been asked to present an argument with which I fundamentally disagree. Is Ekodas right and his argument wrong? Is the argument a good one and Ekodas’ judgement flawed? How can I know? How can any of us know? So let us examine a broader picture.
‘We sit here safe, within a circle of swords held by other men. Recruits at Delnoch, lancers at the Skein Pass, infantry at Erekban; all preparing to fight and perhaps to die to protect their families, their land and, yes, all of us. Are they evil? Will the Source deny them the gift of eternity? I would hope not. This world was created by the Source, every animal, every insect, plant and tree. But for one to live another usually dies. It is the way of all things. When the rose rises up it blocks the light that feeds the smaller plants, smothering them. For the lion to prosper the deer must die. All the world is in combat.