pushed open the door. ‘I’d hate to disappoint your memories, Ilkar. Room to the left.’
She waited while he went in. The room was lit by heavily scented candles set on the floor and on low tables. Otherwise it was bare but for a high-legged bed in its centre on which lay a shrouded figure. Ilkar turned, frowning, but was ushered on. He walked to the head of the bed, the sweet scents filling his head, and pulled back the shroud.
On the bed lay an elf of about his age, though it was hard to tell in truth. His face was wrinkled as if the moisture had been leached from it, a trail of blood ran from his nose and another from the corner of his mouth. There was no relaxation in death, as if the pain that had gripped him as he lost his fight for life had endured beyond. Ilkar knew him.
‘There was nothing we could do,’ said Kild’aar as Ilkar replaced the shroud. ‘He was all but dead when he was brought in. Nothing we did, magical or herbal, did anything at all bar relieving his pain a little. Everyone here knows the agony in which he died and they know our helplessness. All that lie sick know their fate unless we can find a way to save them. That’s why we’re so scared. Who’s next?’
‘Then let Erienne help,’ urged Ilkar. ‘She is the best healer mage I’ve ever met. She’s saved my life before now. Let her examine him, find out what she can. Please, Kild’aar, trust me on this.’
Kild’aar shrugged. ‘We’ll see. Come.’ She led Ilkar to the room next door. It was similarly bare though the shutters had been opened to let in natural light. On a table under the window sat a bowl of water draped with cloths. A single bed was pushed against a wall and on it an elf lay on his stomach, head to one side. A sheet covered him to his waist and his back was largely swathed in bandages, heaviest on his left shoulder.
‘Oh dear Gods,’ said Ilkar, rushing to the bedside and kneeling down to stroke the hair away from his face. It felt hot. ‘Not him too.’
‘No,’ said Kild’aar. ‘His fever was caused by an infected wound and it’s broken now. He’ll live. For now at least.’
Relief flooded Ilkar and he exhaled heavily, his breath playing over the prone elf’s face.
‘Rebraal,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
The elf’s eyes flickered open, narrowed against the light and steadied. He frowned.
‘Are you real?’ he asked, voice no more than a croak.
‘Yes, I am. What happened to you?’
‘You’re not real. I’m still fevered. You’re a shade.’ He seemed to be talking to himself, his words barely distinct.
‘No. The fever’s broken. Kild’aar says you’re recovering. It really is me, kneeling in front of you.’ Ilkar smiled.
Rebraal’s face darkened. ‘Shade or real, let me tell you this. You’re too late. A century too late. Where were you when the strangers came and took Aryndeneth? Where were you when I was shot? We needed you. You promised to return. It was your destiny as it is mine. Get out of here. I don’t know you.’
‘Rebraal, I understand your anger. But my destiny changed. There was other work I had to do. But it doesn’t stop me being your brother.’
‘You betrayed me. You betrayed the Al-Arynaar. You are not my brother.’ He turned his head away. ‘Go back to your other destiny.’
Ilkar put a hand on Rebraal’s back.
‘Please, Rebraal. I can help you. I’ve brought people with me. We’ll take the temple back.’
‘I want nothing that you can give. We don’t need your help. Go.’ Ilkar felt Kild’aar’s touch on his shoulder. He looked up, his brief joy at seeing his brother extinguished. There was a lump in his throat and he shook his head to clear his mind, a cascade of emotions surging through him. His parents were dead, as he had expected, and he felt little grief at their passing. But Rebraal. Rebraal was only a little older than him and Ilkar’s love for his hero had never dimmed though his brother had often been far from his thoughts. And now he had been dismissed. Disconnected. He stood and strode from the house.
‘What did you expect?’ asked Kild’aar after him. ‘He thought you’d abandoned him. You were supposed to join the Al-Arynaar. It’s why you went to train in Julatsa.’
Ilkar rounded on her. ‘No, it isn’t!’ he shouted, then checked his voice.