Season of Glory (30 page)

I swallowed hard. It was true.

“If he has found it in his heart to forgive Keallach, how can we not?” Azarel said,
her voice uncommonly soft, as if half present, half in the past. She'd been there,
with them. “I say bless him, grant him his armband, and ask the Maker to bestow his
full gifting at last. With the two of them together”—she paused to wave at the twins—“we
could
take the battle to Pacifica.”

Ronan clamped his mouth shut, and I knew the agitation and trepidation within him.
But I also understood the truth of her words. If Keallach could press people to act
in a certain way—as well as physically move objects simply with a thought—and Kapriel
commanded the skies, then helicopters and missiles ceased to be a concern.

Cyrus rose. “Pacifica is in a weakened, volatile position,” he said. “The Council
of Six is down to four, with Broderick dead and me here. The emperor himself is absent
from his throne,” he went on, walking down the steps, gesturing toward Keallach.
“Sethos has undoubtedly tried to keep that quiet, but Keallach has been with us for
some time now. I'd wager the rumors are fierce among the nobility by now.”

“Sethos will have no choice but to seize the throne for himself,” Keallach said,
nodding in agreement. “Some will take no issue with it. Others will.”

“There will be much vying among the nobility to fill those two places on the Council,”
Cyrus said, steepling his fingers, thinking as he paced. “And that will put families
in power at odds.”

“And yet those who remain—Fenris, Kendric, Daivat, and Jala—will resist any newcomers
to the Council.”

“Leaving the inner circle on defense,” Cyrus concluded. “Pacifica will begin to crumble
from within, even as the Way continues to chip away at every inch of the Wall.”

The room seemed to absorb this information. Pacifica, vulnerable?

“What do you say, Vidar?” I asked, edging nearer to him, inclining my head toward
the twins. “You are the one who discerns dark from light. What do you sense in our
brother today?” Together, we looked toward Keallach. I rubbed my arm cuff and, with
relief, felt no cold edge of warning.

Vidar paused and concentrated, never blinking.

Keallach turned to him and squared his shoulders, turning his palms slightly toward
him, as if welcoming his internal search. “I have done much to harm many of you and
those you loved in my years as leader of Pacifica. But I beg you to finally forgive
me and welcome me into your fold for good. Free me
to aid you and do my best to atone
for my past sins.” As he finished speaking, he looked at his brother. “Or if we must
wait, I understand. I submit to you, my brothers and sisters. I submit to you.”

Kapriel held his gaze for a long moment. His arms were folded, and he bent his head
as if thinking, second-guessing himself. The rest of us were silent, waiting for
his decision first. Azarel was right. If he could forgive his brother, who were we
to stand against him?

Kapriel lifted his chin and let his arms fall to his side. He stepped toward Keallach,
as did the rest of the Remnants, almost as if we were of one mind. When he reached
Keallach, he put his hands on his shoulders. Vidar put a hand on his arm. Tressa,
too, a hand. I reached out and touched his other arm, closing my eyes to search him
for any emotion that might betray evil intent. The Knights and Azarel and Niero all
came around us.

“Maker, show them,” Niero prayed. “Make it clear.”

“Show us,” Tressa whispered. And the rest of us repeated the words.

The air felt supercharged, the room utterly silent, except for the pulsing in my
ears.

I concentrated only on Keallach, searched, delved deep within him, half hopeful,
half terrified at what I would find. I couldn't bear more disappointment or sorrow
this day.

And there
was
an edge of darkness. Pride, chiefly, as he struggled to find true humility
at the center of our circle. But there it was. A thirst for power.

Yet it was with some relief that I decided the presiding emotions within him were
longing, love, and hope.

The same emotions that had first drawn me to him.

When I opened my eyes, I looked to Vidar, and he shook his head slightly, eyes rounded,
as if surprised. “There are echoes of the darkness within him,” he said, barely louder
than a whisper, “but not much more than I sensed in Dri, after Sethos wormed his
way into her heart.”

I felt my cheeks burn a bit at this memory but looked to Keallach, feeling renewed
camaraderie with him because of this shared failure. “Sethos is strong, but the Maker
is stronger,” I said. “Among us, we can help Keallach learn ways to keep the dark
one from his mind and heart.”

“Be certain, Ailith,” Niero warned from over my shoulder. “You all must be of like
mind. What you propose could unleash either a true guardian of the Way or a very
serious enemy with gifting that equals Kapriel's.”

“We are certain,” Kapriel said, his tone more confident after our prayer.

“We are certain,” Tressa said.

“We are,” Vidar said.

“Yes,” I breathed in wonder, tears coming to my eyes as hope surged within Keallach,
steady and true. “We are.”

CHAPTER
29

KEALLACH

I
struggled as I knelt, my bare arm extending toward Raniero to place a hand on his
shoulder,
preparing
to receive the ceremonial cuff. The Ailith knelt in a circle with me, placing their
hands on the shoulder of either Remnant or Knight beside them, and there, in that
moment, I felt their combined power anew. Part of me wished to confess my original
intent in coming here, my desire to infiltrate them. And yet to do so now would mean
breaking this momentum, perhaps making them rethink their blessing over me at all.
Besides, I had been deeply changed over these days with them. My heart was changed.
I no longer wanted to break them apart and take Dri and Kapriel away. I wanted them
all
with me, forever, whatever that took. Was that not what it meant to be one with
them? Was that not all the rationale I needed to serve the Maker alongside of them?

I guessed that Sethos now knew of my change of heart. That was why he had sent Sheolites
to kill Dri during the raid, rather
than capture her. He wanted to shake me up, remind
me of his power. Call me back to him in a fit of rage, if necessary. But I was not
going back. Not to him. Not yet.

An elder opened a box and extended it to Cornelius. The room was full, but silent,
everyone eager to witness what many had only heard rumors of—a dedication ceremony
for a Remnant. I knew I was the last one. Sethos had seen to it that the others were
killed.

But mine would. This day. My heart swelled as Cornelius took the hinged cuff from
atop the others in the box and turned to me, looking me in the eyes.

“You were once our sworn enemy, Keallach. Your people have murdered our own and made
slaves of others. Do you confess those sins?”

“I confess them,” I said, sorrow penetrating my very bones. If I had known, if I
had only made myself more aware rather than looking away. If I had pressed in, seen
the truth behind Sethos's lies . . . “I confess it,” I repeated, “and I wish I had
the power to make it right.”

“Only the Maker has that power,” Cornelius said. “But he washes you clean in your
confession and takes pleasure in your desire to do right in the future. Do you desire
to do right? To serve alongside your Ailith kin, to serve the Maker in all things,
setting aside your own agenda in order to serve the Community?”

“I do,” I said, staring at him earnestly. “In every way possible.”

“Do you pledge to stand against the Dark and serve the Light in all ways?”

“I do, with the Maker's aid.”

“You were born to be one with your brothers and sisters,” Cornelius said, looking
around to the others. “And the moment has come at last. Prince Keallach,” he said,
leaning closer, “with
this cuff you become one with the Ailith and enter into the
full breadth of your gifting. May you use that gifting to serve the One who was .
. .”

“The One who is . . .” joined in the Ailith.

“And the One who is to come,” thundered everyone in the room.

In that moment, Cornelius shut the cuff around my upper arm, and an explosion of
heat ran through it and then through my body, making my head spin for a moment. But
as it stilled, energy seemed to fill and part from my fingertips and toes, too much
within me to be contained. But it wasn't pure energy, I finally identified, it was
pure joy. I shouted out, in exaltation, pulling Kapriel into my arms for a hug,
then Niero, despite his reluctance, then the others, ending with Cornelius, whom
I pulled close to kiss both cheeks. “Thank you, Father Cornelius. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” he said with a low-timbre laugh. “Thank your Maker.”

“Oh, I do! I will! Forever!”

Entering the Remnants' fold in full, breathing in the entire blessing of the Maker
for the first time ever, feeling the pulsing warmth from the cuff, being surrounded
by Ailith . . . Such pure joy, I thought, such a sense of
completion
. I blinked back
sudden tears in embarrassment. And yet I hadn't felt such emotion, such pure gladness,
such glory, since I'd been a boy.

It was like coming home.

And I'd almost missed it. Never known this peace, this security. This was where
I'd belonged all along, in the Community. I felt their embrace, the wash of forgiveness
flow around and through me. Hadn't even the Maker blessed my presence with the searing
of the cuff to my skin?

When all had shared their congratulations, even Andriana and Ronan—with a bit more
of a stilted hug and arm clasp
than the others—Niero circled around and looked at
me and my brother.

“It's time,” Niero said.

“Time?” I repeated blankly.

“I will spend some time with the two of you now. You both have been without a trainer—a
blessed
trainer—for many years. I would like to gauge where you are and what is needed,
both within and without.”

I swallowed hard. Sethos and I had ceased our daily training sessions the night of
the Call to the Ailith. After that day, when I'd ignored the holy summoning and knew
that Sethos had sent his Sheolites out after my brothers and sisters, I simply couldn't
abide training any longer. It felt wrong every time we sparred, every time he tried
to work with me on a more primal, emotional, mental, or spiritual front. I supposed
now, as we walked, leaving the Citadel, that it had been the Maker continuing to
agitate me. To nudge me into acknowledging what I'd known all along. That I belonged
here, with my holy kin, rather than in the West, as a pawn of the enemy.

I gave my twin a shy smile and patted him on the back as we walked. It troubled me,
the lack of muscle and bulk there, where I had it; his strong but gaunt frame was
a daily reminder of what he had endured—because of me. And yet he responded to my
touch with nothing but trust and joy in his eyes. “It reassures me, brother,” I said,
inclining my head toward Niero, who led us, “to have you with me in this. And what
is to come.”

“It is my joy,” he said, eyes soft and warm, “that we are reunited, in body and spirit.
All is as it should be.”

I paused, wondering if I had the courage to ask what I needed to ask next. “Kapriel,”
I began. “Can you truly forgive me for all I've done against you? How I harmed you
and the people we loved?” My
voice cracked as I uttered the last word, remembering
our mother. Our father. That terrible day that Sethos struck them both down.

I'd spent every season since then trying to forget that day. Repeating to myself,
over and over, that it was necessary, all of it. Their deaths. Kapriel's imprisonment.

Kapriel stopped in the passageway and turned to me, putting a hand on each shoulder.
“Brother, it was as if you were reborn the day you came to the Valley and joined
us. Everything before is forgotten. Don't you see? The Maker has made a way for all
things to be new between us.” His grip tightened. “All things. I forgive you. Let
us make our way forward. I believe . . .” He paused and looked after Niero, who waited
for us now, ahead. “I believe,” he resumed, looking me in the eye again, “that Mother
and Father would have wanted nothing less for us. Let's move forward with that thought,
as if they had given us their blessing this day. To you, as well as to me. All right?”

I swallowed hard and gripped his shoulder when he tried to leave. “But you forgive
me? Kapriel,” I whispered, “I must hear it from you.”

His eyes searched mine. “I've already forgiven you,” he said. And then he pulled
me into a fierce embrace.

We left then, me once again wiping tears from my eyes with the back of my hands,
as if I was a boy, not a man. Never had I thought it truly possible. Complete acceptance.
Complete reunion with my twin. Sharing this Ailith bond in full, as well as our blood
bond. Truly, it was as holy an experience for me as receiving my armband. Maybe it
was because of the cuff, I considered, that I could now feel it in full.

Niero led us out and around the boulders, waving to scouts and armed guards who gave
us the all-clear sign but watched our progress with curiosity heavy in their eyes,
as if they longed to follow us. Ivar, Ronan and Dri's trainer, emerged on the path
ahead, as if he'd been waiting there. Stupidly, I realized that he had—that he was
here at Niero's invitation and would be a part of our training. I shoved away a surge
of defensiveness, as if the man would be inclined to be against me. The Ailith had
a holy bond with me, which was reason to offer me uncommon acceptance, but would
all followers of the Way feel the same? I would just have to prove myself to those
who found it harder, I resolved. I'd show them all, in time, that they hadn't made
a mistake. That it had been a good choice, to allow me to be one with them.