Mid-Spring - 1901

  Tilda traced her palm on the stone floor, enjoying the cooling touch. She was seated cross-legged in the centre of the Hall, collecting her breaths and slowly recounting the seconds as they dripped by. She had been in there for a period of time that she had lost count of the seconds.

  A scratching of claws alerted her to the presence of Arcos's Sarku, Courageous.

  He had loped in and out of the Hall on his own accord ever since they had taken him in. No one denied the creature entry, for he proved no threat. For a creature born in the wild, he was surprisingly domesticated, even allowing the young children of the settlement to ride his back on occasion. A peaceful creature, despite his visual strength.

  Tilda opened her eyes slowly to observe Courageous as he made a loose circuit around the Hall, weaving around the great pillars before heading into the back of the hall. His tail was down and not its usual upright and waving self. Tilda knew why.

  Ever since Arcos's departure, the Sarku was not himself. He didn’t run with the same vigour that his kin were famous for. He rarely interacted with the Guild’s people, sometimes even avoiding them for days on end. He would be brought food and water now, as he even refused to hunt for mountain goats and deer. He had only hunted when Arcos was training. The creature looked lost, rudderless without his master. Without his parent. Tilda felt a twinge of pained sadness for the creature and shock at Arcos for leaving the beast behind. Arcos had changed and not for the better.

  Courageous stopped his padding and settled into a corner at the back and curled in on himself. Tilda could have sworn she heard mewling emanating from him. His version of a human sob.

  Tilda sighed slowly and refocused her breathing. She was aware of others in the Hall. A few metres to her left were the twin brothers, Vance and Custio. They had not left the Hall as the rest of the Children had done. They elected to remain behind and were seated on the floor like Tilda, but backs to the wall and watching her closely.

  It would seem that they did not trust her at the present moment.

  Maybe they fear I shall run, Tilda mused. Paranoid to a fault.

  But it was a paranoia that Tilda understood very well. The brothers’ loyalty to the Guild, the Elders and the ideology of the Black was like granite. They would have jumped at the chance to kill Arcos, Reeva and Boras if they were the ones that tracked them to Silverstreak and not Tilda. They wouldn’t have allowed them to leave. And they wouldn’t have returned to the Guild if they did.

  Tilda considered this carefully. How loyal was she to the Guild?

  She had a strong belief in the Black. In the balance of the world. But was it truly balance if there is such chaos out there? What would their belief do against that?

  Their isolation was proving to be more a detriment than a solution.

  Tilda soon realised in the hours of this day, that the Guild would have to rejoin the world in its destiny. It had no choice. The Barons would eventually conquer the mountains and discover the plateau, the valley, the bounty of the Guild’s settlement and its people untouched by their evil.

  And Tilda feared the consequence of that. She truly did. She did not wish to see her home destroyed and brutalised like Silverstreak.

  Her students were out there now, bringing the fight to the enemy instead.

  And what was she doing? Sitting on a cold floor and waiting for a verdict. But it was her belief of maintaining the balance, the peace and not rushing headlong into an escalation that may bring all the Hells upon her people. On her family.

  Tilda felt trapped. There was no way out of peace. She glanced down to her sheathed sword, Scar-Sire. That sword would have to get bloody once more.

  The doors that led to the Inner Sanctum opened. Tilda rose sharply as a group of four people shifted out. First to come was Archibald, still dressed in his bedrobe and looking truly dishevelled. He crossed the Hall and sat on a chair that was situated nearer the front doors. He looked ready to collapse into a coma.

  The three Elders followed, but instead moved to the centre of the Hall and not to the altar where their seats stood. They stood a few yards before Tilda. Elder Gristle locked his eyes on Vance and Custio and nodded to their approach. They did so, but they remained a little ways from Tilda (and wisely beyond Scar-Sire’s reach), before standing to attention with their heads bowed to the Elders. Tilda also bowed her head with the same deference.

  Elder Divana spoke first, with a clear and calm expression. Which was a change to the uncharacteristic concern she wore during Tilda and Archibald’s retellings. Clearly they had already made their decision. “I must ask one thing from you, Sister Tilda.” She said. “If what you and Brother Archibald have said to us is the truth, what danger would the world be in with Apostate Blade out there unleashed and beyond our control?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “I cannot say,” Tilda replied. “Only that ever since that blade came into his possession, Arcos has become a nearly different person. You did not know him when I met him. He risked his life to save a baby, stolen from its mother. A selfless act. I knew then, as I know now, that he is a good boy. Not this selfish, reckless, and violent lad that you only know him for. It is not Arcos that is the danger. It is that sword. That sword is the poison. It is the imbalance that we swore to destroy in the name of the Black. I wish to help my students, for I believe that they deserve it. They are Apostates only because the world has forced them into it, no matter how many lessons, teachings, and philosophies we have driven into them. Reeva wants to defend everyone. Boras wants to find peace in himself and his friends. And Arcos wants justice. But all in all, they want to help people. And I want to help them do this.”

  Tilda stood up straight, staring forth and without fear. She felt her breath shudder beneath herself. This was the most important moment of her life. A moment that would decide her fate in mere moments.

  Elder Divana regarded her thoughtfully, and Elder Gristle chewed his tongue.

  Elder Lowan smiled and asked, “And why is that?”

  Tilda looked at him. She looked at the other Elders. She looked past them towards the altar of their three seats. Then towards Courageous, silent, and still. Then behind her, she looked upon the open doors of the Hall where a strong sun pushed its way through to illuminate the darkness and dispel the coldness of the interior.

  She turned back and faced the Elders. “Because I am their teacher.”

  Elder Divana nodded. Elder Gristle raised an eyebrow. Elder Lowan grinned.

  “Despite everything that has happened,” he surmised, “you would still risk yourself for them. Despite Apostate Blade fighting you. Despite Apostates Braider and Cutter abandoning their solemn duty. Despite your own actions leading towards this… You still believe in them.”

  “The First Promise.” Tilda replied. “We are all in Her service, no matter where we are. They are our family. They are my kids. And I will never abandon them.”

  Elder Lowan gave a hearty laugh. “Well said.”

  “Agreed.” Elder Divana nodded. “I am warmed to hear those words. I trained you well.”

  Tilda blinked with a curious expression. “So what happens now?”

  “You leave.” Elder Gristle finally spoke. “You go out there. And you bring them back. As you said, that sword is the true danger. That alone I can agree with. Bring back this sword so that we may guard it and return the wayward Initiates to us so that they may answer for their actions. Achieve this, and you will retain your place here amongst us.”

  Tilda felt a weight arise from her shoulders. She sagged with the relief she felt wash over her. “Thank you…” she breathed.

  “It is through your wise words that we grant this favour.” Elder Divana said. “I have seen the potential in your students, mired as they are by their traumas. They need help, as you said. I agree. But if this sword is a true danger, then you cannot achieve this alone. Take a chosen group of the Guild with you on your journey. Starting with them.” She nodded towards Vance and Custio, who had been listening in stunned silence.

  Tilda bowed her head lower, feeling a swell of emotion threatening to unleash from her chest. “As you wish.”

  “You are the best of us, Sibling Tilda.” Elder Divana continued. “A true Child of the Black. If you lead by the example you set before us, you will never see failure.”

  Tilda bit her lip to hold back the wetness in her eyes. “Yes.” She straightened up and nodded firmly. “Thank you, Elders. Thank you.”

  “My contact informed me of Arcos's latest whereabouts.” Elder Lowan took over. “He and his allies reside in Fennaposia, no doubt up to some form of mischief. It will take you a week’s travel to get to the city. The sooner you leave, the better.”

  “Good luck, Sibling Tilda.” Elder Divana wished.

  “And may the Black guide your way.” Elder Gristle concluded.

  The three Elders walked away, back toward the Inner Sanctum, leaving Tilda alone with Vance and Custio. The door to the Sanctum closed, leaving an echo in the chamber.

  Tilda looked to the twin brothers, who were partly slack-jawed by this turn of events.

  “Well…” Tilda said. “There you have it.”

  Custio looked to his brother expecting a response of some kind, a protest even. But Vance regarded Tilda with a cool expression.

  “Hm. I always thought you were a cold-hearted bitch.” He stated simply. “I was mistaken, you’re quite warm when it matters.”

  Tilda tightened her lips into a pleasant smile. “And I thought you were just a toe-licking worm. But clearly, you’re not a worm.”

  “And there she is…” Vance smirked. “Good to have you back, Foxhunter… Well, let’s get packed up, I suppose.”

  “Oh. So you are coming, then?”

  “We have been ordered by the Elders.” Vance walked past her with Custio at his side. “Despite our reservations, concerning you and that insolent boy of yours, we must obey.”

  Tilda watched the twins walk away from her. She shook her head with a smile. After all these years, she still could not get a read on those two. Violent, sadistic, and without a drop of love in their hearts, but they would bleed or even die for their siblings in any fight. Dichotomy incarnate.

  She looked at the open doors of the temple, seeing the blue sky. She felt a swell in her chest. She had a purpose now. She had a mission. One that she could finally feel pride in. A true opportunity to serve the Black in the ways she knew how.

  But of course, the Elders were correct; she needed help. The twins would be good, but not enough. There were others needed in this fight, and she knew the first one to get.

  She walked towards the back of the hall, past the altar, and reached the groaning form of Courageous.

  She knelt down by the Sarku and stroked his large ears. They twitched at her touch, and his ever-growing head, now as wide as her chest, turned his eyes to stare at her. He yawned a mewl.

  “Hey.” Tilda spoke softly. “I am going to get Arcos and his friends back. But I need help. Will you join me?”

  Courageous’ eyes widened. And for the first time in days, his tail and ears began to flick with ever-increasing joy.