Crown of Shadows - C. S. Friedman [55]
He walks among the troops, his children, looking for familiar faces among the scores of strangers. There are people here from all across the continent, come to test their faith in this special arena. He loves them. He loves them as one loves children. He loves them as the birds must love, when they push their babies out of the nest to force their wings to open. It is a special and terrible love, and he thanks God for letting him taste it.
Over the mountains, beyond vision but not beyond march, lies the Forest. Heart of evil by man’s own decree, it is a symbol more powerful than any the Church could devise. Men are drawn to it, obsessed by it, and many will die fighting it in the battle yet to come. But it will not be as it was before, five hundred years ago in the age of their defeat. This time they will use the tools that Erna has provided, and focus their energies on one single point within that corrupted realm. Night’s keep—ell’s watch—the Hunter’s lair. Destroy it and the Forest will shake. Destroy its owner and the Forest will crumble, its power soured to chaos, its very earth made malleable by that action.
Five hundred years ago the Church tried to conquer a universe, and reaped its own devastation. This time they make war against a symbol, and all the power of God will back them. He feels the thrill of that utter certainty as he looks out over his troops, as his eyes fix upon the one special weapon which will make their invasion possible-
He awoke. His heart was beating loudly, and he lay still while it slowly quieted. His fists were clenched by his sides; he forced them to open. Was this the third time he’d had that dream, or the fourth? It clearly wasn’t a clairvoyancy, as so many other dreams were, but the scent of prophecy clung to it nonetheless. Should he take it seriously or dismiss it, as he had done before? Surely persistence should translate to something.
With a groan he got out of his bed and drew on a robe that lay waiting for him. The heavy silk overlapped tightly about a body that was losing weight from its battle with stress, and tonight it seemed that even his slippers were loose. He was wasting away along with his people, he thought. Some day he would be gone entirely, and only a shadow would remain to guide them.
Leaving his bedroom, he walked down the narrow corridor that led to his private chapel. The servant who was posted outside it against his midnight need jumped to his feet as he came by, startled into sudden waking by his footsteps on the hardwood floor, but he waved him back to his slumber. His was a need that could only be met in solitude.
At the end of the corridor was the door to the chapel. He opened it and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. There were candles burning beside the altar—it was the servant’s job to keep them alight at night—but their illumination was minimal, and most of the chamber was shrouded in shadow. He came to the altar and knelt before it, and all the fear and the doubt which he had been cloistering within his heart came pouring out, an undertide to prayer.
Most holy God, whose Eye is upon us always, whose Word is our salvation. Grant me the grace of Your Insight, that I may serve Your Will more perfectly.
It wasn’t the first night he’d come here since the dreams started, and if he stayed until dawn to pray, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened either. And now this dream was back, and he was no less tormented by it than he had been the last time, or the time before. Because it promised him an answer to his problems, and at the same time posed an even greater question. If it was a true prophecy—if this battle was the course that God intended for him—what would the cost of it be? Not to him, or to the men who fought beside him, but to the generations that would come after?
How tempting it is to live in that dream, where all my people’s hatred and destructive energy can be redirected against a more suitable enemy. How tempting, to imagine that the catharsis of battle can wipe our souls clean of this violence. But thats not how the human