The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [19]
"While deciding what to do, we were attacked by the Nar, as you were. We escaped, evading the spirits of this place until we found shelter. We heard your battle, and I decided to come here and speak with you."
"Why?" Thaena asked. "Why would you even care what happens to the wychlaren?"
Bastun thought the same question, though his eyes were more open to the bigger picture. He did not entirely trust the durthan, but he understood their point of view well enough to see their reasoning.
"Honesdy?" Anilya said, then added, "I don't. Although my sisters and I have no use for the wychlaren, we do hold Rashemen itself precious and have no desire to suffer a Nar presence anywhere near it."
Thaena was silent. The durthan had made a good point. Though wayward, hostile, and steeped in darkness, the durthan did profess to a certain allegiance to the land that Bastun knew might resonate with the Rashemi. They would never trust her, would fight her or her sisters on any other occasion to defend the rule of the wychlaren, but against a common foe like the Nar… Bastun shook his head, sensing what was to come next and fearing the consequences.
"Just what is it you propose, Anilya?" Thaena asked, her tone less accusing than before.
"A truce," the durthan replied. "Temporary of course, but long enough that we might use our combined strength against the Creel before they become too entrenched in the Shield to root out."
Bastun sighed, drawing an odd glance from Syrolf, whose hand never strayed from the sword at his side.
"And you feel that we cannot defeat these invaders without your help?" Duras asked, the coil of rope still in hand ready to bind the durthan at Thaena's slightest gesture.
Anilya answered unfazed and as confident as before. "Not at all. The Creel are great warriors, but the berserkers of Rashemen are far greater."
"Then why would we agree to fight alongside a durthan and her motley band of sellswords?" Thaena asked.
"Because of whomever, or whatever, leads the Creel," Anilya said. "Whatever it was that brought them into the City of Weeping Ghosts-ruins they would never normally even risk a glance at-wields a power that evaded the attentions of the wychlaren and the durthan. It is something to be reckoned with, something that requires magic and as much steel as can be gathered."
Thaena nodded and Bastun's hopes faded.
"Syrolf," the ethran said. "Escort the durthan outside to wait with her companion."
The runescarred warrior complied and took Anilya by the arm. Once the door was closed, Thaena turned toward the fang and looked them each in the eye. Duras stared at the unused rope in his hands.
"Are you truly considering this, Thaena?" Duras asked. "Will we accept this proposal?"
"Pribeda, otvor vorta," she said, quoting an old Rashemi proverb. "Trouble is already here, Duras. We might as well open the gates and face it."
She held her head high as she addressed the fang.
"This is our only hope to protect the Shield. If any of you find fault in this truce, let it be known now. I will force no one to fight alongside an enemy. The felucca is ready to sail for those who wish to leave."
None of the fang met her gaze, but neither did any rise to leave or voice any objection. They would follow their ethran to their deaths if they must, despite the company she chose to march alongside them. Bastun could hear the whispering sigh of relief that Thaena let out behind her mask, and he found he did not envy her position.
She and Duras began preparations for the march to the Shield. The fang gathered their supplies and rechecked their bandages in relative silence. Thaena approached Syrolf and the warriors outside with the same decision moments later. Though Syrolf balked and grumbled more than the others he did not leave. For this, Bastun found himself thankful for Syrolf's presence, even when the warrior came to collect the vremyonni once again under his watchful