FSE

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Alrighty, and another chapter, just because. I hope you enjoy it.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from 'Love and Life'

I woke with a start, my senses wide awake, the darkness of our bedchamber still holding the faint, familiar aroma of our mating. The hall was silent, dark, the air filled with the cool scent of the night breeze, well before dawn. On instinct, I found my hand groping futilely towards the wall, where my sword usually leaned, but of course, in the safety of the Hunter’s hall, the weapon was not there. Stilling my hand’s grasping motions, I paused, almost frozen like a statue. Standing there, at the closed door to the rest of the hall, a figure stood, grey as stone in the dim light. And though my wolf spirit was on full alert, I still restrained the instinct to go on the attack, to slay the intruder with bare claws and muscle. Sensing my movement, Julianna stirred beside me, turning over and looking up at me blearily, then looking towards the door. Seeing the stranger, my mate sat up as well, a cry on her lips. But the visitor held up a hand, palm out towards us in token of peace and at last I recognized him.

It was the silent Argent Guardsman who served as the door warden for the Hall of Hunters, no weapon anywhere to be seen on him, his lips as still as ever. When I started to speak, to ask him why he was there, he held one finger up to his lips, shaking his head emphatically. Then, glancing at the door, he waved with his fingers, beckoning us to follow him. Somehow, as if he possessed some sort of magic I had never heard of, the warden opened the door in utter silence, as if the metal of the hinges never touched anything at all. Stepping out into the almost dark hallway, he turned back towards us with an expectant look. Exchanging a perplexed glance with Julianna, I finally shrugged and slid out of the bed, reaching for the cloak my love had flung across the room earlier. Even as I swirled the cloth around myself, the warden was looking both ways down the passage, obviously making sure that not even my usually light-sleeping fellow Hunters were about. Finally, as we stepped out into the corridor, and the door to our chambers closed behind us, the silent Slayer hurried off down the corridor in near silence, only the faint rustling of his tunic to be heard, moving fast enough that even we had to hurry to keep up.

The hall was utterly silent around us, the faint stirring of the breeze coming from outside the hall barely felt, never heard. The guardsman was leading us in the opposite direction of the common room, past the many empty bedchambers, almost gliding along like a ghost. Nothing about this seemed right to me, not the silence, not the dark, and certainly not our guide. With a growing sense of foreboding, I wished suddenly that I held a weapon, any weapon, even just a knife. All that felt remotely right was that my mate was at my side, and that we would be facing whatever this was together. Then, almost in mid-step, the guard made a sudden sharp turn to a door in the right side of the passage, opening it just as silently as he had opened our chamber. But this time, as the door swung open, he bowed us through. Finding beyond the door not a room, but rather a spiral staircase leading down did nothing to calm my nerves, but, despite the oddness of the guard’s behavior, I felt no threat from him, only urgency, and, with a deep breath to steady myself, I stepped inside, followed by my white-furred mate. When we were safely through, the guard nodded and gave a slight smile before closing the door behind us. Seeing no real alternative, I crept down the stairs carefully, my mate’s reassuring hand on my arm.

Silently, I counted the steps as we walked. Ten...Twenty...Thirty...Forty...then finally, as my paw touched step forty-nine, the stairway suddenly opened up, revealing a sight that, while infinitely more comforting than uncertainty, only made my hackles stand on end. The room before my feet looked like some sort of abandoned storeroom, shelves empty of everything except spider webs and dust lining most of the walls, a couple of very old crates in one corner, so covered with dust they were almost the same color as the walls. While that hardly made it a welcoming place, the presence of Aldric, Soldan, and Torian, all looking rather bleary and groggy, did a lot to ease my nervousness, not to mention the fact that my father stood near the far wall. He alone looked wide awake, his face almost a scowl, though I could tell the expression wasn’t directed at his sons. And yet... Something about this place felt strange, almost off, enough that my ears were perked up so straight on top of my head it felt like they were straining to reach the ceiling.

“Father, now that we are all here, could you please explain why we are down here, instead of asleep?” Questioned Torian, suppressing a heavy yawn.

“You have all been aware that there are strange and ominous things happening within our Order, and the world at large.” He began, “And though most of the council would still disagree with me, I think it’s time to tell you all what we know. Our family line has been a part of the Slayers of Auré since the beginning, countless unbroken generations donning the white and silver; perhaps the only bloodline left in the world that can claim that. I can’t say if that makes us special, or just crazy, but one thing is certain. No generation of any family, no matter how dedicated to the cause, has had so many, so highly placed as us.”

Turning away from us, Anton Galnikin faced the wall he had been standing beside, reaching out to its surface. Moving both hands back and forth across the stone surface, muttering quietly, words that seemed to echo in my ears with the power of magic, my father traced an intricate pattern, tapping stones here and there with his fingertips, then stepped back quickly, the stones he had touched almost seeming to melt together, forming a single slab with a bright symbol shining out from the stone. The symbol faded quickly from sight, but even as it did, it blazed in my mind in a way that made me shiver. It seemed like the familiar sunburst pattern of the Slayers, but it was not the normal jade green, silver and gold one saw on our banners. Instead, its center was brilliant, almost blinding white, the radiating rays black, all bordered by twilight grey. Half turning back to us, my father laid his hands on the slab, pausing a moment.

“Beyond this door is the secret archive of the council.” He explained, “Only the council itself and the most trusted members of the Argent guard are permitted to even know that it exists, and so you must never reveal what I am about to show you.” With that, he pushed the slab inward, the panel of stone pivoting back, out of the way, revealing a passageway leading into darkness. Without hesitating, my father walked inside, each of my brother’s following one by one. But, even as Torian was swallowed up by the darkness, the last of my brothers, I hesitated, torn by curiosity and a strange sense of both foreboding and dread. As much as I wanted to know what was going on, at the same time, the wolf spirit in my heart really did not want to go in there. Julianna squeezed my hand gently and I smiled at her, steeling myself before walking through the door, following my family.

As it turned out, the passage was actually very short, only about fifty strides long, ending in a large, if low ceilinged, chamber. Braziers that burned with the color and richness of sunlight, if not nearly its brightness or warmth, revealed dozens of broad shelves of books, stretching from floor to ceiling, filled with a slightly untidy jumble of books and scrolls, some so old they looked as if merely breathing near them would be enough to crumble them into dust, and some that looked as though they had been made fairly recently. An angled table, much like the ones you might see in a library or study, sat near to where my father had stopped, a set of magnificent swords laid on it, as if on display, but centermost of all, to the one place in the room where the eye was immediately drawn, there was a large tome, obviously carefully maintained, for it seemed untouched by time, and yet ancient as the world itself. Drawn to it, I walked close enough to read the words, written boldly and clearly, upon the page it had been opened to.

“’...And lo, for the sky darkened as with the night, though the sun blazed high, and the ground tore itself asunder, as though the world itself writhed in pain.’” I read aloud, a chill running down my spine at the words, “‘And out from the unholy rifts poured the demons, laying low the righteous and the evil alike. And the three stood alone against them, even their might overwhelmed...’”

“...And at the last, when all seemed lost, out from the shadows where all of man writhed in agony and death, warriors came to the aid of the Gods that sought to protect them.” Aldric said, picking up my words and reciting the rest of the passage by memory. “True and valiant, fearing neither death nor darkness, they strove side by side with the three great spirits, driving the hosts of evil back, and on the very brink of the rifts from which they came, stood unbowed, selling their lives to keep the demons at bay. At last, with their wrath unleashed, the Gods of Good sealed the great rifts, keeping the terrible tide away for all time…” When my love looked at him in amazement, he smiled ruefully. “I would recognize that passage anywhere.” My brother explained. “So would any Slayer.”

“That is part of the ancient legend of how our order came to be.” my father continued for him, his voice dropping low, making imagined scenes dance in the flickering flames of the braziers. “The story tells us that long, long ago, there was a time when demons did not exist, when the gods were united in purpose, if not in means, working together to bring the world as we know it into being. But, when the world was still young, the five dark gods, seeking power and domination over all things, betrayed their kin, and tried to slay Auré, Arnath and Alarand, the gods of good. They failed, and were cast from the realm of the gods. Bitter, angry at their defeat, but unbowed in their strength, they swore to destroy all that the gods had built, to punish those that had beaten them. And so, they raised legions of foul and unholy warriors to fight for them, and became Demon Lords. Patient, and cunning, they worked their subtle magics on the world through the centuries, corrupting a man here, sowing decay there. And then, when their armies were beyond number, and the world was rife with conflict of its own, the Demon Lords ripped the fabric of the world itself, unleashing their servants on the world, probably seeking to turn it into a blasted waste much like to their new realm, forever ruining what they themselves had once worked to create.

Even with their numbers, and the sweep of their powers, it took time for their plan to gain momentum. At first it was rumor, a tale told by refugees, of horrible creatures ravaging the countryside, slaying all before them. But as months and years passed, whole kingdoms were laid waste, terrible plagues ravaging the rest, and at last, the gods of good stepped in. But, in their hubris, they were overmatched, not seeing the true danger. In the mortal realm, in our world, though they are mighty beyond reckoning, even the gods are vulnerable. Finally, as the three were driven back, something even the demons had not expected occurred. At the uttermost end of hope, mankind itself rose in their thousands, coming to the aid of the gods. The battle was fierce and desperate, but eventually, the three and their human allies drove the demonic legions back to the very brink of the rifts that had brought them forth. When the rifts were sealed by the powers of the Three gods, the battle was won, and, as a reward for their aid, the first oaths were sworn, and the warriors became the first of the Demon Hunters.”

“And ever since, while the gods have held the great demons at bay, keeping the world from being overrun, we have held the line, sacrificing ourselves to destroy the demons that slip into our world.” Soldan stated, reciting from memory. “It’s a good story to tell the young initiates.”

“And none the worse for the poetic embellishments.” Aldric said, drawing knowing grins from all of us, even my father.

“Poetic prose or not, there is a lot of truth to the legend.” My father said. “Which is why we still tell it to our children. But far more important than the legend itself, is what it leaves out.” At his words, even Aldric looked quizzical. “The glorious battle of the legend is only glorious when looked at through the lens of victorious history. In truth, the story is even more dark than it sounds at first. When the demon hordes and all the dark powers were unleashed on the world, the toll was terrible. Entire cities fell to plagues, the few survivors living through that horror only to die by the hands of the demons. Humankind itself was heading for extinction and we were so very close to the end. It was only out of desperation that so many came to fight the demons. Most had nothing left to lose, save their lives, and they took up arms in the struggle against the demons, none of them carrying even the faint hope of living through it.

For them, their only desire was to go out fighting, rather than lying down helpless in the dark. The battle lasted for weeks, an endless bloodbath, a terrible parade of nightmares, with warriors collapsing into exhaustion on the field of battle among the dead, only to rise again a few hours later to continue the fight with a strength born less of virtue, than the kind of numb courage that stems from the knowledge of certain death. Only Tanser knows how many perished on the bloody fields, but its said the soil was stained crimson for a thousand years after.”

“And when the battle was over, the tiny fraction that had survived it all came together, and vowed that that horrible day would never come again. They would take up an endless watch, destroying the demons where ever they were found.” Torian stated, taking over for my father again. “And, honored by their sacrifice, humbled by their vow, Auré wept, and the tears formed the first of the sacred stone; holy Jade, the Demon’s bane. All Master Hunters have heard this before father.”

“Aye, but there is much more you do not know.” Anton Galnikin said, all of his sons perking up at his words. Looking at me, and the twilight grey cloak around my shoulders, he spoke again, his tone different, no longer spellbinding, but clear, a note of worry within it. “Galen, how many branches are there within the Slayers of Auré?”

“There are three.” I replied, counting them off on my fingers. “The Field Companies, the Order of Hunters and the Argent Guard.”

“Correct, at least, such as it is now.” My father said, nodding, then turning back towards the wall. Walking to a cabinet of richly stained and polished mahogany, the councilman opened its doors, taking from it a scroll of ancient vellum, browned with age. Then, motioning for us to follow, my father walked to the table and untied the ribbon that held the scroll closed, but he did not unroll it at first. “What I am about to tell you is something that the council deemed wise to leave out of our legends and histories, for fear that it might forever tarnish our reputation with our initiates. Julianna, tell me, do you know why the Slayers are welcomed in Royal courts, without exception?”

“Of course.” My mate replied from my side, flashing me a toothy grin at the memories we shared. “Slayers are forbidden to involve themselves in the affairs of nations, as long as the demons are not directly involved.” Gently stroking the fur of my arm with her fingertips, her grin gaining a hint of mischief, she continued. “Though I must say, the little interference I have observed was of tremendous personal benefit.” A warm smile threatened to break through the serious expression on my father’s face at her obvious insinuation, but the look faded before it could manifest fully.

“Yes, well, it was not always such.” He said, weighing down two corners of the scroll with polished stones. “After the war, and the Oath was sworn, the demon hunters faced the daunting task of organizing their efforts, and increasing their numbers, for there was no way a group so small could possibly defend the world. Many suggestions were made, from having no formal organization at all, to a single overarching order, and with ideas so farfetched as absolute celibacy and demanding that all new recruits be derived from noble stock, or all from common men. Eventually, it was agreed that the demon hunters would each follow the dictates of their own patron god, and thus the first formal orders were founded. But, as the shock of having survived the onslaught of darkness wore off, and the sheer magnitude of the toll of the dead was realized, anger set in. Blessed with newfound, unmatched skill and the gifts of the gods, the demon hunters began their quest in earnest, hunting not just the Demons, but those among the humans that they blamed for the dead. There can be no doubt that while most of them were good intentioned, and sought truly for those that had collaborated with the dark ones for power or advantage, or sheer evil in their hearts, there were also many that succumbed to the temptation to misuse their new gifts. After all, who had the skill to stand against those who had survived weeks of battle with beings stronger and faster than humans?

At first, the world was still putting itself back together after the war, and many were angry at their leaders, who had done so little to stop the coming slaughter, and so the angry demon hunters were at the least tolerated, and in many cases, honored for what they did, right or wrong. And, as so often occurs, tolerance became tradition, and tradition became law. For nearly two hundred years, the Demon Hunters did as they pleased, interfering where they would, almost taking over leadership of entire countries. But as time passed and the world regained what it had so nearly lost forever, those not of the Orders began to question. What right did the demon hunters have to do as they were doing? Whose place was it to say when they had gone too far? So great did the dissent eventually become that it very nearly led to another war. Demon hunters were shunned, and sometimes attacked on sight. But, finally, to avert the looming conflict, the Council of Slayers, even then, the most respected of all Demon Hunters, called the leaders of the various Orders to come together, to seek a peaceful solution, with invitations extended to every king and queen, every ruler of every nation, to come and have a say in the proceedings.

The gathering lasted for quite a long time, and many things were debated, but the most important thing that was discussed was the authority of the demon hunters. Naturally, the kings and queens resented our interference, and desired that we bow to them and their law. And just as naturally, we could not, and would not, bow to them, for to do so, would leave the demons an open door to corrupt and dominate. But, after long debate, and much arguing, a compromise was struck, neither the authority we had come to expect, nor the submission the Kings demanded. We would not bow to the laws of nations, nor would we be subject to the will of kings, but neither would we interfere in their business, save when demons were involved.” With that, my father unrolled the scroll, weighing down the far corners as he had the two in the top. And, for a moment, all of us were speechless at what it portrayed.

Inked on the vellum was a beautiful and intricate version of the Sun Cross, not unlike the one that I wore around my neck, rich metallic hues shining and dancing in the firelight. But what truly stood out was what was arrayed around it. The four identical quadrants of the cross each had what seemed to be a legion of Slayers arrayed around it, with one single figure enclosed by the ring that silhouetted the intersection of the arms. One figure, wearing the white cloak of a Master Hunter, stood at the intersection of the crossbars; in the upper left, stood a Slayer in the white and silver finery of a Major; below him, another wore the twilight grey cloak of my own order. The third, in the bottom right, wore the silver tunic of the Argent Guard, completing the count of those I knew. But there, in the upper right, there was a fourth Slayer standing, wearing something I had never seen, not even in the memories of my companion wolf spirit. Over the white and silver uniform of the Slayers, this last figure too wore a cloak, clasped at the neck with a silver chain, with cloth that seemed to dance and shift as the scroll moved, the color changing from white to black, and through all shades of grey as the light flickered across it.

“It was also around this time that the Council formally established the branches of our order.” my father continued, touching each quadrant of the cross gently in turn. “The Field Companies, who would seek the demons in force, be our front line, as it were; the Hunters, who would fight alone, their battle eternal, as the demon hunters of old; the Argent Guard, charged with defending the holdings of the Order itself. And last, the Judicators, meant to enforce the law, and guard our order from corruption.”

“Judicators?” Aldric asked, cocking his head. “I have never even heard of that title. And the whole concept seems rather pointless to me. The Council enforces the law just fine.”

“Well, now as then, that is a matter of some debate, unfortunately.” My father said, shaking his head. “In truth, I think the Council was embarrassed at our own behavior. You must understand, when the branches of our Order were formed, when a Slayer graduated from training and earned his sword, training that wasn’t even as difficult and dangerous as it is today, there were very few indeed that could match him, even among the other orders of Demon Hunters. What is more, we were taught that we carried the sacred charge of Auré himself, the epitome of all that was good, the light of the world. With no force that could stop them, many chose to arrogantly view their every action as automatically right, and just. And so, when the law was laid down, the Council created the Judicators, choosing only those who truly understood justice, to guard against evil and selfishness in the guise of good and righteous action.”

“That sounds very wise.” My white-furred mate commented, and I couldn’t help but nod in agreement. It was a dangerous temptation when one was stronger than anyone else to view one’s own opinion as absolute. “But if they were so important as to be officially given authority within the Slayers of Auré, what happened? Why are they so unknown now?”

“Because of what happened about five hundred years after they came to be.” My father stated, giving a sigh. “I have no doubt that in the beginning, they were absolutely necessary, acting as they were intended, intervening only when our brothers violated the new law, misused their power. There are many stories in this archive of Judicators averting true disasters, often at the cost of their own lives, stopping those who had been corrupted, or preventing a foolish mistake. But, like the Hunters, the Judicators were victims of their own success.”

“What do you mean?” Soldan asked, looking at me with a perplexed expression. “The Hunters are still here, and still highly honored.”

“Yes, but very few.” My father replied, “In the beginning, the Hunters numbered in the hundreds. The point of that Order was to be in the wild places, checking the Demons where no other force could see. And they did it well; so well, that their prowess became legendary. Fewer and fewer believed they had what it took to live up to the task a Hunter faces, or else knew they did not desire to always be at war, until death claimed them, and so their numbers have dwindled until the Order is nearly spent. Few indeed now choose that path. With the Judicators, it was a similar, but far more serious cause. Their task was to make the Slayers of Auré the paragons that they were always meant to be, to instill the discipline and dedication to our task that we truly needed. They succeeded, all too well. As the centuries passed, there was less and less call for their service, each new generation falling more in line with the ideal we strove for, and more and more who found the power and authority of the Judicators attractive.

Finally, there was little need for an entire branch dedicated to enforcing the laws, but by then, the Judicators were entrenched, wielding immense influence and power within the order. They had come to pass judgment over every decision, no matter how minor. The most senior of them could command nearly the same respect, and fear, as the Council itself. And that of course, is where the problem arose. Even as the rest of the order began to question why the Judicators still existed, the Judicators began to ask a far more dangerous question. Since they had the right and authority to decide when a Slayer had acted wrongly, what need was there for a Council at all, when any decision they made could be judged wrong, and negated. Better, they said, to simply make the decisions themselves. That answer soon became almost holy writ to the senior Judicators, until finally, the issue came to a head. The Council made the decision to send a battalion of Slayers to Solaria, to establish an outpost in support of the temples there. The Head Judicator, believing that our task was to actively seek out the demons, not protect temples, unilaterally issued orders countermanding the expedition.

Naturally, the Council was furious, and publically rebuked the Head Judicator. Shocked at what they saw as an affront offered to their leader, the senior Judicators brought all of their order together, thousands by then, forming what amounted to an army and prepared to remove the Council from power, since they were clearly so corrupt that they did not recognize the true path, exposed by the Head Judicator. The Judicators marched on the Slayerhold from where they had gathered, and the Slayers came within a hair’s breadth of disintegrating into a civil war we could not hope to survive. But, at the last, most of the younger Judicators, not yet infatuated with their own righteousness, suddenly turned on the senior Judicators, charging them with corruption and sedition. Declaring the action of the juniors the result of demonic influence, the older Judicators tried to make the other Slayers fight with them against their own order, but they had finally overestimated their influence, and trying to turn both sides against each other drove all away. Alone, they tried to fight anyway and were subsequently killed, but not before many others had been slain or horribly wounded. It was decided then, that the Judicators had grown out of all control and the remaining members were disbanded, rejoining the Field Companies. The order was formally abolished not long after. Over the centuries of our long war, the fourth order of Slayers were purposely forgotten by all save the Council, to prevent us from ever coming so close to destroying ourselves again.” As my father’s tale came to an end, I felt a very cold sensation take root in my stomach, a peculiar certainty starting to crawl its way over me. I could easily guess where this was going...

“That is awful. I find it hard to fathom how our own brothers could become so lost.” Aldric said, sounding puzzled. “But why bring it up now?”

“Because,” I answered into the silence before my father could say anything, shuddering with the chill that suddenly flooded its way down my spine. “There are those who want to bring back the Judicators.”

“Yes.” My father confirmed, nodding. “As far back as we have kept records, there have been two factions vying for influence on the council. There are those who believe that the only way to maintain our purpose, as we grow ever more powerful and honored, is rigid control, and adherence to the authority of the Council. Even to such extremes as Master Hunters needing to consult the council on every decision they make. And, conversely, there are those who believe that our Slayers deserve latitude to make their own decisions, in order to better fight a cunning enemy. The weight of history doesn’t fall one way or another in the debate, and so neither side has ever truly dominated the other. But of late, with the Slayers growing faster than ever, and events moving apace, the side in favor of strict control has been getting more and more intransigent. Granted, there have been more incidents of unusual decisions by our companies than usual, but then, the demons have also been changing tactics, and fast. I am of the opinion we have to adapt to match them or we will lose any advantage we possess. But, recently, it has come to my attention that there are those who disagree so strongly, they are willing to chance destroying the entire order to enforce their way.”

“Danos.” Torian spat, shaking his head. “That certainly explains his hatred of our family. We are everything that his type hates.”

“Quite.” My father confirmed. “Fortunately, more of the council is coming to agree with me than not. It is difficult to argue when the results are as momentous as the slaying of a Demon Lord, in their own realm, no less.” When he said this, I felt Julianna squeeze my hand gently again and I managed a half smile despite the chill that was still upon me. “But Danos and his cronies are adamant that no matter the outcome, such choices are so important, they have to be left up to the Council; or perhaps, more specifically, left up to them and no one else. But, Major Tanar’thius, who has been a supporter of their ideal for many years, came to me in secret yesterday, before the council convened, with this,” At that, my father pulled a scroll from inside his tunic and tossed it to Aldric. When my eldest brother had unrolled it and read what it said, his eyes blazed with a fury I had rarely observed before.

“That bastard.” He swore, barely containing his anger as he handed the scroll to Soldan, Torian reading over his shoulder. “He is trying to go around the Council.”

“That was my assumption as well.” My father said, nodding and crossing his arms across his chest. “If he can rally enough support among the senior commanders and the Master Hunters, they can re-establish the Judicators without the approval of the rest of the Council, simply by having the majority of the order accepting their authority. And with Danos as Head Judicator, the Slayers would be lucky to survive for a year.”

“He wouldn’t actually be so stupid as to try and depose the Council, would he?” Julianna asked, shocked, as my brothers passed us the scroll. On it was a list of names, all Majors or Master Hunters, clearly filed according to who would support Danos’ plan and those that would oppose it. Frighteningly, while the opposition column was longer, the other side was startlingly extensive, an all too small of a margin separating the two.

“Ordinarily, I would say no.” My father answered, shaking his head. “For one thing, the Argent Guard reports to the Elder Slayer alone, and he is too fair-minded to go along with them. Danos knows that if he were to attempt to seize control by force, the Guard would easily put a stop to it. Or, at least, that is what I used to think. But his behavior has been becoming increasingly...erratic. I, and plenty of others, are starting to wonder about his judgment. Fortunately, everything the two of you have done, and everything going on in the Grand Council, have definitely weakened his group. Though what I am afraid of, is that will make them paranoid enough to try something extreme.”

“What are we to do, father?” Torian asked, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Can we bring this to light? Go before the Council and expose it all?”

“I wish it were that simple.” My father replied, shaking his head. “All we have is supposition supported by observation. And that scroll? Merely names of senior leadership. Evidence of nothing save record keeping.”

“Well, even if Danos has taken total leave of his senses,” My mate began, her description making me smile. “His followers have to realize they can do nothing while the other Orders are here. Moving against the Council with so many allies present would be suicide. The other Demon Hunters would stop them, even if the Slayers were powerless.”

“I agree with you, Julianna.” Aldric said, nodding. “But there might be another choice. If the way he reacted to your revelation of the vision you two had is any indication, it might not take much to push him over the edge. We might be able to use that to our advantage. Give him the right shove in the Grand Council and he might just give himself away.”

“No.” My father said, swiping a hand through the air, even as Torian started to nod in agreement. “I will not resort to underhanded tactics to solve this. I may not like Danos, but he is not evil, and no less dedicated to the oath than any of us. He is still good at heart, and truly believes this would be for the good of the order.”

“Father, I don’t think I can agree with that.” I said, trying hard to keep my tone even as the wolf spirit rose to prominence in my heart, righteous heat flooding my body. Despite my best effort, I knew my tone carried some of that heat in the words. “If he had had his way, Aldric would have had to get permission from the council to allow me to go get Julianna back, and by the time he got it, if he got it, she would have been lost forever. How can that be for the good? Did you not teach us in training that we had to make decisions quickly when facing the demons?”

“One can be good at heart, and still be wrong.” My father replied calmly. “Yes, his demand that the Council, or barring that, he and his cronies, make every decision about every situation is absurd and impossible, but I think that is his frustration at making no headway talking. He has been on the Council longer than anyone except the Elder Slayer himself, and I think truthfully, he has grown so used to being consulted in safety that he has forgotten how swiftly conditions change on the battlefield. He wants everyone to listen to him, and obey; unfortunately, that makes him arrogant, not evil.”

“Well then,” Soldan began, speaking for the first time in a while. “It seems we are walking a loop. As Torian asked earlier, what do we do?”

“Nothing, at the moment.” My father replied. “Our priority has to be the greater issues at hand. None of this will matter a damn if the demons get a hold of the Fountain. I have told you all of this so you will be prepared, and begin thinking. From this point forward, all of us must walk with our eyes open. And please, though I know it is tempting, try not to drive a deeper wedge between Danos’ faction and ours. At least until the Grand Council is over.”

“Yes father.” My brothers and I chorused and he nodded.

“Then I think it is time for us to retire for the evening.” He said. “It will likely be a long day in council.” Nodding gratefully, my brothers turned and walked out of the archive room, heading for their beds. I was about to follow when my father spoke from where he was rolling up the vellum picture. “Galen, Julianna, would you please wait a moment?”

Stopping short at his request, I felt all the fur on the back of my neck stand straight up once more. A glance over at my mate showed that she had the same sensation and we both turned back to him. My father did not speak again until my brothers were out of sight down the passage leading to the stair back up, calmly tying the ribbon back around the scroll and tucking it into the cabinet. When he had at last turned back to face us, his expression looked tired, worn out with worry.

“I wanted to pose a serious question to the two of you without the others hearing it.” He began, and we both exchanged a surprised glance. “Galen, your brothers are Master Hunters, and that authority and responsibility tends to color their perceptions and actions. Most of the time, that is a good thing, but not always. You both have senses that no one else possesses, and there is not a single demon hunter alive with more experience with demonic magics than you, Galen. So please, think carefully. Have either of you sensed anything, anything at all, since you arrived? Anything in the last few days?”

“Ummm...” Julianna replied, biting her lip in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No, I haven’t either.” I agreed, cocking my head to the side slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Honestly?” My father said, leaning against the table with a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure. It’s nothing definite; nothing I can point to, nothing even remotely approaching proof. It’s just a feeling really. A few too many coincidences; too many things happening that seem just a little convenient. Taken alone, they are nothing. Easy enough to chalk it all up to luck. But taken together, along with everything that is happening... Its making me suspicious that there is something we aren’t seeing. Of course, it’s not as if I can bring this up to the other councilmen. In any case, I want you both to keep your senses sharp. If you feel anything, and I mean anything, I want to know. Okay?”

“Of course.” I replied and my mate nodded as well.

“Alright.” He said, smiling. “Now, we really should all be getting back to bed. I will see you in the Council...”