Before his simple no, she must have dreamed of legions of specifically trained monster-slayers marching through the No Man’s Land. But after that, the flow of her thoughts changed: now it was Marnadrakkar people that interested her.

Sarien Sarra had a way of making a suspect spill everything out and was very creative in her approach. The grandmotherly tone she had chosen for that shy little boy was working extremely well. Slowly, one tiny confession at a time, the young Lifekeeper was opening up.

He knew little about his mother’s origins, indeed. Her ancestors called themselves Marns and were a small tribe surviving between a rock and a hard place, with yellow dragons reigning over the Karmasan Sea and children of the night prowling in the No Man’s Land. That must have been why there were so few of them.

Aven and her three fellow mages listened to Sarien Sarra with breathless attention. One word from her – and the Elder Rule would be enforced; one word from her – and the massive raid on the No Man’s Land dark creatures would begin. That meant a bloodbath, the end of the fragile peace they all were working so hard to keep, that meant a lot of mages, warriors, and civilians would die… One word. Just one word. Maybe not even Sarien’s but Kosta’s if he really knew something the old mage needed.

There was a moment when Aven was sure that her worst fears would come true: Sarien fell silent for a while, thinking, brooding over something, a frowning, pondering expression overshadowing her mask of grandmotherly kindness. Finally, she wished the young Lifekeepers goodnight and signed to Aven and the others to leave the room.

***

“You didn’t tell her everything, right?” asked Orion, a shaky mix of optimism and desperation in his voice. He was the one who broke the silence that followed Kosta’s report of the last night’s events. “That disease of yours is gone. You are no longer coughing.”

“Yes. I didn’t mention that to lady Sarra,” nodded Kosta.

Bala opened his mouth to say something but dropped the idea as he suddenly recalled the end of Kosta’s illness, that mass of black clots and red blood he had coughed out…

“My father warned me against telling anyone about it, even you. I was allowed to speak about my immunity to wild horror magic but never about the cause of my magical addiction,” he explained looking at Orion alone.

“Why?” a question followed. That was Lainuver.

“It would make me too valuable to Greys and Crimsons, Father said. They would recruit me whether I wished that or not.”

“Call me a shlak if I get what’s going on,” Oasis shook his head. “Kosta, can you just… explain that to me that like I’m five? I swear – and everyone else will join me, I bet – that your secret will be safe with us. We’re all your brothers of the Order, after all. And your friends.”

Not a single muscle moved on Juel’s face to betray his emotions but the last phrase hit him hard. Since the very beginning of the journey, he was doing his best to be distant. He failed. Those boys were good people. The more time he spent with them, the better he got to know them, the more he liked and respected the whole lot.

That peaceful time they were having together in Firaska worked wonders on the team’s mood. Also, it made Abadar’s words about the true purpose of the journey and the true fate of everyone under Juel’s command seem distant, almost unreal. Now, Juel’s memory shoved all that into his face again.

Anger, terrible, uncontrollable like a forest fire, rose in the young Faizul’s heart, consuming everything he held dear, leaving only duty and oaths behind…