j’ark was the first to break the circle. As always, he rose before taking his sword. Silently, Quintal, the leader and the oldest member of the Sard, laughed at his companion. j’ark strove so hard to be an outsider, and yet he would gladly die for his friends and brothers.
Sadly, Quintal thought, our number will soon become smaller. Who would it be? He took the time to look into each of his brothers faces. Carth, the silent warrior, mighty as an Oak, and just as immovable. Briskle, whose face was hidden behind the helm he always wore, or his translator Yuthran, the two of whom were inseparable. Cenphalph, perhaps, or Disper, with his sad moustache, Typraille, with his quick wit and fearless soul. Would it be Unthor, a solid warrior, but would his troubled soul fail him at the last? Quintal would miss his council, should it be so.
It could even be him. His years were drawing to a close anyway. Maybe it would be a kindness, before his strength of arm and speed of eye failed him. He would not be sad to go, but he had his duty, as did they all. They would see it through, until the end, or their end.
He pushed himself up easily, taking sword as he rose. The remaining Sard rose with him, and as one they sheathed their swords and donned their cloaks.
Quintal followed j’ark to the shore of the lake.
“It seems there is little time.”
“No, it draws to a close,” replied j’ark, sighing wistfully. “It has been a long road already.”
“We must be steady. How is your resolve, my friend?”
“You question my heart?”
“Not your bravery, j’ark, never that. But, yes, it is your heart that seems to be in question.”
j’ark turned and caught sight of Tirielle. Quintal saw the sadness in his friend’s eyes and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“It is difficult sometimes, this life. We leave so much behind.”
“But,” j’ark sighed, “there are rewards, too.”
“Not many,” Quintal admitted. “We kill in the name of good. We leave love behind, and bodies in our wake. All in the name of Carious and Dow. But we must be strong. Most men don’t need killing, but there’s no other answer for some. Most evil, some insane. Occasionally comes along a good man with a bad blade. Through no fault of his own, death will spring. His goods works might outweigh the bad but then it’s down to you to make that choice — the greater good. Do you believe there is such a thing j’ark?”
j’ark looked around their camp, taking in the small fire, with the evening’s catch roasting, the warriors, all fine and staunch companions. He knew he would die for them. Worse, he knew he would kill for them, too.
“I believe in the greater good. Sometimes, though, I just don’t know what it is.”
“This world is protected by the twin sentinels of light and hope — Carious and Dow. It is from them that we get our strength. You know their will.”
“Once I knew,” said j’ark, nodding to the sky. “But it is dark now.”
Quintal nodded sadly. “And darkness yet to come.”