Divine Apostasy Book 7 - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The Founders informed them the trial would start in the morning and everyone should find a tent for the night. One of the large tents provided food and water and another water for bathing. An hour after their arrival, everyone had eaten and changed back into their normal attire. Ruwen and Sift spent the rest of the day training all the Adepts but Echo, who paced around the edge of their encampment like a caged lion.

After everyone went to sleep for the night, Ruwen walked away from the tents and sat at the edge of the plateau. Worn paths covered the slope to the canyon bottom like rain down a window. Tomorrow the Founders would explain the trial and he could focus on it better when he had all the information.

Ruwen closed his eye and entered the Fortress in his mind. He materialized at the base of the Citadel, and a blue beam extended into the sky from the top of the spire, disappearing into the shield that surrounded the mountain in a bubble. With Kholy’s departure to stay with Blapy in the Third Secret, the shield remained significantly dimmer and likely less powerful.

The city below no longer displayed any damage from Ruwen’s use of the sixth rune. The Narrators had in fact continued to expand, and the city had spread in a circle inside both the second and third walls.

The horizon still held a dark red glow from the damage Ruwen had done to his mind and body while smearing with the Sixth Rune, but it too had dimmed a little. Thankfully, he no longer felt the pain from that damage. The plain below looked brand new and all the defenses appeared whole. Thousands and thousands of Narrators along with their word, sentence, and paragraph followers, moved briskly on business only they knew. The sea of letters appeared calm, the boats in the ocean floating peacefully.

Ruwen frowned at a ring of new islands halfway to the horizon. They all had glowing red tops.

“Are those volcanoes?” Ruwen asked out loud. To his surprise, someone answered.

“Yes,” Sivart responded. “We are channeling the damage here.”

Ruwen turned toward the Narrator. “Is that safe?”

Sivart hovered next to Ruwen, his gaze locked on the distant islands. “Their purpose is twofold. It relieves the stress damage in your mind, speeding your recovery, and produces the energy to create new islands. Soon a ring of mountains will surround us, and our sea will become a sheltered bay.”

Ruwen wanted to argue about the danger and expansion, but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. Sivart embodied the wisdom gained from generations of calculated risk and reward. In fact, it was the reason Ruwen had come here tonight. He couldn’t do everything himself and needed to trust the people he put in leadership positions to do the right thing.

“Thank you, Sivart. I appreciate your efforts.”

Sivart stood up straight, faced Ruwen, and placed his arms across his chest, making an “x.” He dropped his arms and spoke sincerely. “Trust is a jewel no treasure can buy.”

Ruwen nodded at Sivart, accepting the Narrator’s gratitude. “I dropped by for two reasons.”

“Overlord and Uruziel,” Sivart said.

“Yes, that’s the first reason. Have you found any hint of them?”

“I have deployed scouts around your Core, throughout your pathways, and in every Meridian. Boats float at the edges of our sea and sentries circle the sky above. If they so much as whisper, we will hear them.”

Ruwen’s shoulders sank. He missed Overlord far more than he’d expected. The debuff Unworthy Vessel, caused from holding Uruziel’s Divine fragment in his mind, still caused him five damage per second, so he knew she still lived. At least that’s what he hoped it meant. The possibility existed that the fragment caused damage even if Uruziel had died.

Ruwen pushed those thoughts away. They served no purpose but to worry him, and he had other things that needed attention. “Again, my thanks, and I appreciate the thoroughness.”

“The second item?” Sivart asked.

“I recently finished two minor battles, and I hoped you could assess my choices.”

“A word between Generals saves a dozen lives.”

Ruwen smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Ruwen spent the next few minutes describing the hilltop battle when the Adepts had arrived on Savage Island, and the fight to cross the bridge. Sivart listened carefully, asking detailed questions about the enemy’s positions and compositions. Ruwen wished Rami were here to just show Sivart the details.

But being forced to provide descriptions actually helped Ruwen. He realized that Sivart, with the questions he asked, was teaching Ruwen what to look for in the future, while not embarrassing him with how much he’d overlooked. The subtle and emotionally sophisticated method Sivart used to pass on knowledge shocked Ruwen. It forced him to consider, once again, how far these constructs had grown.

After Sivart finished all his questions, he hovered around the battlement as if pacing. Two minutes later, the Narrator stopped and faced Ruwen.

“On the hilltop,” Sivart said. “You displayed your usual tactical brilliance. My only suggestion would have been to keep one or two Adepts in a third line to support any sudden incursion through the first two lines.”

Ruwen nodded agreement. That small suggestion sat on top of the mountain of information Sivart had provided with his questions about enemy composition, weapons, and spacing.

Sivart continued. “The bridge highlighted one of your many strategic failures.”

Ruwen didn’t flinch at the harsh words. He wanted to improve, and he knew Sivart only spoke the truth.

“You are impatient,” Sivart said. “One of the few resources you had in abundance on that hilltop was time, and you used none of it. If you had, the bridge sinking into the river would not have surprised you. It is a tactical miracle you survived in the water with non-aquatic troops.”

“Agreed,” Ruwen replied. “Rushing forward was a mistake.”

“I also question two other decisions.” Sivart held up two fingers shaped like daggers. “Why make killing your adversaries an option instead of a directive, and why handicap yourself by not using all your resources?”

“I’ll answer the second question first,” Ruwen replied. “I assume by resources you mean my spells and abilities.”

Sivart nodded.

“The Founders wanted us to avoid the use of such things,” Ruwen said. “They view it as a crutch.”

“So your pride prevented you.”

“What? Of course not. Why would you say that?”

“Either you believed so strongly in your non-magical abilities that you only used them, or you worried what the Founders would think of you if you employed magic. In both cases, the root of that is your ego.”

Ruwen forced his anger down. “I was only following directions.”

Sivart shook his head. “To preserve his soldiers, a general uses all his resources. Inevitably, conserving one resource results in the waste of another. It is foolish.”

Ruwen remained silent, letting Sivart’s words stew in his mind.

“Do not mistake me,” Sivart said. “Pride is not always negative. You demonstrated on that bridge, and in that water, that your decision had justification. Possibly even merit.”

Ruwen eventually nodded. “But regardless, it carried a higher risk. A higher risk to my soldiers.”

“Correct. And your job as a leader is to minimize the risk to your followers.”

Ruwen sighed and studied the distant volcanoes for a few seconds. “I understand and will think on this. I honestly wanted to follow the rules, but I can sense other motivations inside myself, including pride. Thank you for your insight.”

They stood silently together for a minute as Ruwen gathered his thoughts. Sivart had wanted to know why Ruwen had prioritized stuns and injuries over killing while fighting to cross the bridge, and that question pointed to the center of a raging battle inside himself.

Finally, Ruwen forced himself to speak. “Honestly, Sivart, I’m worried that I’ll begin to enjoy killing. There is a part of me that rejoices in the use of destructive power, and it feeds on carnage and slaughter.”

Ruwen looked down as memories of the Infernal Realm surfaced. After a moment, he forced himself to lock eyes with Sivart. He did his best to ignore the slowly spinning swords that made up the Narrator’s pupils. “I have avoided asking your opinion of my actions in the Infernal Realm, but now realize that is foolish. We can discuss that in detail shortly, but I want to highlight my point with an example.”

Once again Ruwen sighed deeply, feeling the emotions he’d kept buried. “When I escaped the trap the demons had created for me, I faced an entire army. True to my beliefs, I warned them about the danger they faced. I asked for their help, knowing Lalquinrial had trapped them there as well. I pleaded with them to heed my words and help me leave. They refused.”

Sivart and Ruwen stood in silence for a few seconds and Ruwen turned his gaze back out to sea. He continued in a whisper. “Without any more thought, Overlord and I destroyed tens and tens of thousands of them. We even made a game out of finishing first.” Ruwen clenched his hand. “The more power I gain, the quicker I seem to use it. It makes me whipsaw between mercy and destruction.” He turned back to Sivart. “I struggle to find the balance between necessity and desire.”

Sivart studied Ruwen before facing the battlement and the sea. “We are fortunate. Such introspection and conflict will shape you into a great leader. The balance you seek is difficult.” Sivart hovered quietly for a few moments and then continued. “A wise general cages his tigers and brings them to battle. He does not leave them behind out of fear. They are a tool no different from a swordsman or a cannon or a healer.”

Sivart faced Ruwen and crossed his arms over his chest in a salute. “My humble advice is to stop fearing the beast. A craftsman can favor a tool, use it too often even, but it will never consume him. Emotions like fear, guilt, and desire have no meaning with a device.”

Ruwen nodded, overcome by Sivart’s logic and insight.

Sivart returned the nod and faced the ocean again. “If you leave the tiger behind, it is your soldiers who will pay the price.”