Realm-Lords (Warhammer Age of Sigmar) by Dale Lucas

Author:Dale Lucas [Lucas, Dale]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Later, when their evening meal had been consumed and they all sat quietly round the fire, the now-eradicated threat of the deadwalker horde and the spell construct still weighing upon each of them, Ferendir removed himself. The silence, he felt, was too oppressive, too awkward, for him to countenance another moment of it. So without announcement or statement of intent, he rose and left the group, withdrawing some small distance from their camp and their cookfires, though still within sight of them. Not far away, an outcropping of rock and soil thrust out of the mountainside through the forest trees, providing a stunning view across the valleys and canyons below towards the neighbouring mountains and their snow-capped peaks. Ferendir perched himself upon this naturally formed balcony and stared out over the quiet scene, soaking in the soft purple glow of the Hyshian twilight and trying to decide how he felt about Serath’s refusal, once again, to offer him any small term of endearment or encouragement.

‘You should not stray far,’ a voice said in the silence.

Ferendir turned. There stood Desriel, just emerging from the shadows under the trees onto the outcropping.

‘I can still see the firelight,’ Ferendir said, by way of assuring his master that he knew better than to wander.

Desriel took a seat beside him on the rock. For a time, the two of them drank in the glorious vista before them. It all looked so peaceful, so timeless… and yet, at that very moment, powerful forces were loose in the world that could taint it and twist it for centuries – nay, millennia – to come. The world, despite its appearance, was not at peace or in repose – it was under threat. It was always, perpetually, under threat.

‘He is proud of you,’ Desriel said.

Ferendir was silent for a time. ‘I said nothing.’

‘I can sense the storm inside you, though you hide your emotions well.’

Ferendir turned to face his master. ‘Do I?’

Desriel dared a gentle, enigmatic smile. ‘You are a good student, Ferendir. You have always been. You continue to be.’

‘A student,’ Ferendir scoffed. ‘But never a peer. An equal.’

‘Student is simply a role you play until such a time as a new role is adopted. And even when that new role is adopted, the student remains a part of your essence. It is the same for me. I remain a student, even though I am your teacher.’

Ferendir studied his master in the gentle, gloaming light. ‘I do not understand.’

‘We remain students even after we become teachers,’ Desriel said, ‘for there are always – always – lessons to be learned. No matter how wise we think we become, how strong, how enlightened, the world always seeks to teach us. If we are honest, and perceptive, we never lose sight of that fact.’

‘So,’ Ferendir said, ‘Serath despises me because I am a better student than he? Or because I dare to make my ignorance sometimes known? Which is it?’

‘Neither,’ Desriel said with finality. ‘Serath is still trying to learn some hard lessons of his own, and you continually challenge him.

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