Taelord thought nothing else could happen to make him feel worse, but he was wrong. He helped Syafa and Aiiva collect what last-minute things they hadn’t yet packed, and then entered the now-empty storeroom to sleep.

He couldn’t have slept for very long, however, before several rough voices woke him.

“Move.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to.” That was G’shar’s voice.

“We will make you move. Leave.”

“I will not—”

A dull thud.

Taelord sprang from his bed, grabbing his sword, which lay nearby. He pulled open the storeroom door, and then the main door to the house, and lantern-light flooded into the home.

Five people were just outside, one of them on the ground, curled up. Two of them held lanterns. They all carried axes, and wore the half masks of Einar’s rebels. One carried a torch, the end flickering with fire. G’shar was the one on the ground, seeming to have been thrown there.

It didn’t take Taelord long to guess what was happening. There was only one reason to carry a torch when lanterns were readily available, and it wasn’t for light.  

He heard a squeak of fear – Syafa and Aiiva seemed to have entered the main room, and were standing just behind him.

They stood there for a moment, Taelord in the doorway, sword held in both hands, point down. The four rebels watched him, hands on their axes. Between them, G’shar seemed to be trying to regain his breath; Taelord guessed he had been kicked in the stomach and winded.

“Stand aside, Volcarren,” one of the rebels finally said. “You know why we’re here.”

“I do,” Taelord said. He didn’t move.

G’shar pulled himself to his feet against the wall of the house, and Syafa and Aiiva reached out, pulling him through the door. The eyes of the rebels followed him, but they didn’t move. Taelord heard G’shar slump in a chair.

“Out of the way,” the rebel said to Taelord. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then leave,” Taelord said.

The rebel frowned. “These people are loyalists,” he said. “Imperial sympathizers. They’ve refused to support the rebellion, and now plan to escape before the Empire loses the city. You have no business being in their home, or defending them. Get out of the way.”

“No,” Taelord said. He knew perfectly well that the four rebels could easily overpower him. Only two things were keeping that from happening. One was the sword he held, which could easily spill a rebel’s guts if one got too close. The other was the fact that he was a Volcarren, and, whether or not his mother was a traitor, the rebels seemed reluctant to harm Volcarrens.

The rebels decided to call his bluff. “Move,” one said, stepping forward to push Taelord aside.

Taelord brought his sword up, and the rebel backed off. The four of them unhooked their axes, and spread out, forming a semi-circle around the door. Taelord retreated further into the home, so that they could only come at him one at a time through the doorway. He bumped into someone. Aiiva put a trembling hand on his shoulder.

The rebels closed in slowly. The largest one, the one who had spoken, came first. He put one foot across the threshold, just out of reach of Taelord’s sword. His eyes took in the house – all wood. Easily flammable. He glanced at G’shar, who Taelord guessed was sitting limply in a chair. Then his eyes traveled further, to where Taelord judged Syafa and Aiiva to be.

“Maybe we’ll have ourselves a little fun before we burn this place down,” he said over his shoulder to the others. He flicked his eyes back to Taelord, sizing him up. Then he stepped in quickly.

Maybe he thought Taelord wouldn’t do anything. Maybe he thought he was just a thirteen-year-old who didn’t know how to use a weapon. Both were wrong. Taelord had grown up in the Volcarren, and knew how to fight.

He shifted one foot back, and swung the sword up in a curving motion, right across the rebel’s path. He missed the stomach intentionally. Instead, the sword carved a deep gash in the rebel’s chest, skating across the ribs. Painful, but not lethal.

The man staggered backwards as blood sprayed Taelord’s sword. His companions pulled him back, and Taelord remained where he was, one foot back, sword held ready above his head, the point angled down towards the rebels.

The rebel howled in pain, urging his companions to attack, but they seemed wary. They could take Taelord, they all knew it, but the first one through the door would probably lose more than blood.

“Come on,” the rebel with the torch said. “G’shar is nothing. It isn’t worth it.” He pulled his companions away.

Reluctantly, the rebels helped up their injured friend, and left, melting into the darkness.

Taelord finally lowered his sword, and closed the door after them. Only once it was shut did he become aware of how fast his heart was beating, and the cold sweat which had covered him.

“Thank you,” G’shar said weakly. He was sitting in the nearest chair, taking deep breaths.

“You were standing guard?” Taelord guessed, turning to him. His voice shook slightly.

G’shar nodded. “I thought they might try to burn the house. I tried to stop them, but… one of them hit me in the leg… my old injury, and… it gave out.” He held it tightly, grimacing in pain.

“Get some rest,” Taelord said. “I’ll keep an eye out the rest of the night.” He pulled open the door and walked out before they could object. He wasn’t tired; his body was too full of adrenalin. He put his sword point down on the ground, and adopted a posture he knew he could hold for hours if necessary. No one was going to burn G’shar’s home tonight.

He owed them that much.

---

Dawn seemed to take forever to come. No one came near G’shar’s home, though Taelord heard the occasional distant shout or scream. The Empire wouldn’t take much more of this. They would find a way to strike back, and soon.

When red streaked the horizon, he heard Syafa inside, preparing an early meal. He opened the door. She was standing over the fire, adding the last of the food they had left unpacked into a pot.

“There’s something I need to do,” Taelord told her. “You’re safe now; the rebels won’t do anything during the day.” Yet, he added to himself. “I won’t be long.”

She glanced at him. “Be careful,” she said. “And Taelord? Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said.

Then he closed the door, rested his sword on his shoulder, and went in search of Rehs. G’shar might have accepted that Rehs was staying, but Taelord wasn’t ready to give up that easily. Not after last night.

The city he walked through was full of smoke. The rebels were getting overzealous, burning down homes with the slightest connection to the Empire. A great gray-white cloud hung over the Docks – Taelord knew Yesen and some of his crew had stood guard over the Windchaser last night, to keep it from being damaged by the fires again. Clearly their presence hadn’t stopped the rebels from burning other Imperials ships docked there, as well as probably empty storehouses.

The streets were empty. The rebels had retreated, and no one else was up yet. It was still quite early.

Taelord went to Jer’s home. He didn’t know where Rehs was, but guessed that Jer might. After banging on the door for a solid minute, a wary-looking Jer finally opened it, and grudgingly told Taelord that many of the rebels had taken up residence in the abandoned buildings closest to Utgar’s pavilion. Taelord thanked him and left.

He got lucky. The first building he checked – which he thought might have been the home of an elderly Imperial woman who had left a few days before – contained a handful of rebels, including Rehs.

They had built a small fire just outside the door, but nearly all of them were inside, sleeping after the night’s activities. Only Rehs remained, huddled against the wall of the home, staring into the fire.

He started when he saw Taelord. His eyes flicked to the sword he carried, and drop of fear entered his expression. Good, Taelord thought. Rehs could use a little fear for what he had gotten himself into.

Taelord walked right up to the fire, and sat down next to Rehs, his sword by his side. He had grown cold standing outside all night – the fire felt good, even if it was nearly out.

“Why are you here?” Rehs asked warily. He glanced at the sword, which Taelord realized was still splattered with the rebel’s blood. “What happened?”

Taelord didn’t look at him. “I just came from your home,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the fire. “The rebels tried to burn it down last night. They struck your father. Scared your sister near half to death.”

“Are… Are they all right?”

“They’re fine,” Taelord said, still not looking at Rehs. “They’re all fine. No thanks to your friends.”

Rehs was silent.

The fire was low, nearly out. Taelord couldn’t feel much heat from it. He started to feel cold again.

“You want me to come back,” Rehs said. “You want me to go with my family, leave the rebellion behind.”

“Of course I do,” Taelord said, staring at the charred wood of the fire. “If I were in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave.”

Rehs sighed. “This is important,” he said. “This is necessary.”

Taelord finally turned to him. “Can’t you see what’s happening?” he said.

Rehs glanced at him, frowning.

“When I left the Volcarren and saw this place, I saw potential. I saw freedom, happiness… but your rebellion is turning it into the Volcarren. Even the sky looks the same now.”

Rehs’ frown deepened. “You saw what you wanted to see,” he said. “You know that right?”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Helsng,” Rehs said, “Valhalla… it’s a land of oppression, not freedom. There hasn’t been any potential here, no bright future, for a long time. Now there is. Now, for the first time since you were imprisoned, we have a real chance to have a better life.”

He shook his head and looked back at the fire. “You talk about peace, Taelord, and how you want it – I want that too. But the only way we’ll get it is by fighting the Empire.” He stood, looking down at Taelord. “You fought them,” he said. “They didn’t give you another choice, so you fought them. Well, they haven’t given us another choice either. So don’t come here and try to tell me we shouldn’t fight, or that it will accomplish nothing. People would have said the same thing about you fighting the Empire back in the Volcarren. You proved them wrong. You proved it was possible.”

He paused, watching Taelord. “Go back to my father,” he said. “They should leave now, while they can. But I’m staying.”

Taelord stood as well, picking up his sword. He met Rehs’ gaze for a time, and Rehs returned it, his face set. Then Taelord turned and left.

Rehs wouldn’t be convinced. Taelord believed that now. He had failed.

He directed his steps back to G’shar’s home, his sword back on his shoulder. People were starting to move in the city, though they gave him a wide berth. Taelord guessed the blood on his sword probably had something to do with that. He found that he didn’t care.

Rehs’ words stung him. Not just because of what Rehs was abandoning, but also because he was probably right. Taelord had seen what he had wanted to see in Helsng. He had been convinced that they would walk out of the Volcarren, and enter a land where they could live their lives in peace. Where they wouldn’t have to worry about the next meal, or being raided in the night, or the Empire taking away what little they had managed to save.

Taelord snorted to himself. He couldn’t help it. Now that he saw what Helsng was, he realized he had been as naïve as Runa. A life of peace in Valhalla was an idyllic dream, a silly fantasy. They would need to fight for it. They had always needed to fight for anything worth having. Ahnvad had taught him that.

Taelord paused, G’shar’s home in sight. Ahnvad. His father had been right. He had said they would always be locked in war, with the Empire, with each other, struggling for some distant future. And he had been right.

Taelord stared at the dirt between his feet without seeing it. Curse you, Ahnvad. He had won. He had always won. Taelord’s mother had finally accepted that. And now… now it was Taelord’s turn.

Taelord looked up, searching, desperate for something – anything – to prove Ahnvad wrong. But there was nothing around him except houses. Houses and smoke. And yet…

Not all of the smoke came from the rebels. Some came from chimneys, from fires in nearby homes, over which kyrie were cooking their morning meal, just as Syafa had done for Taelord. Inside, the family would be sitting at their table. Helsng was nearly consumed by war, and still people could sleep. Sleep, eat, talk. There was still life beyond the rebellion and the Empire.

You couldn’t control everything, Ahnvad, Taelord thought. You wanted the world to be as twisted and violent as you were… that’s why you came to the Volcarren, isn’t it? Because you knew you were wrong? Because you thought you could turn the Volcarren into some kind of reflection of yourself? And you were mostly successful. But you didn’t reach Runa then. She had hope. And you can’t reach G’shar now.

Little comfort that was. So there had been a few who had resisted Ahnvad. What difference had it made? Runa had been captured and tortured. G’shar was being forced to flee with his family.

“Taelord?”

He looked up, and saw G’shar himself approaching.

“Syafa said you left…”

“I wanted to talk to Rehs,” Taelord said. “One last time. See if I could convince him…”

“You spoke to him?” G’shar said. “What did he say?”

“He said—” Taelord paused. He had just noticed Aiiva behind her father – perhaps she had followed him, hoping for word of her brother. She watched him now from behind G’shar, her face half hopeful, half pleading.

“Give him time,” Taelord said, facing G’shar. “He’s made up his mind, but” – he glanced again at Aiiva – “I wouldn’t give up hope.”

“There’s a chance, then,” G’shar said, letting out a sigh of relief. He turned, saw Aiiva, and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You and your mother will leave with Yesen. I’ll follow as soon as I can with Rehs. We’ll be together again. All of us.”

There wasn’t a chance of it. G’shar and Aiiva turned, and began heading back in the direction of the house, but Taelord couldn’t bring himself to follow them. Did he believe what he had told them? That Rehs could change his mind? Not at all.

The thought sickened him. That was the sort of thing Ahnvad would say. Taelord had always responded with resistance to Ahnvad’s words, insisting that things could get better. Even after he was proven wrong, he had still continued to say so, just to annoy his father. What had happened to that person? What had happened to the boy who had looked on Helsng, and hoped?

Was he dead? Replaced by a shadow, a shadow of Ahnvad?

Curse you.

Maybe Rehs could change his mind. Maybe once he got a glimpse of what war really meant, of the killing and the chaos, he’d realize what he was leaving behind. Maybe he would be ready to listen to G’shar. Maybe he would be reunited with his family.

He will. Taelord slowly followed G’shar back to the house. He will. He will. He didn’t give himself a chance to doubt. Not because he was convinced Rehs could change. But because he had to believe it, even if it was impossible.

He will.