Path of the Warrior by Gav Thorpe Read Free Book Online Page B

warmakers, but the Ending Veil was home to one of the Dark Reaper sects; his friends Arthuis and Maerthuin counted amongst their number. He did not pay much attention to military matters, finding it a disagreeable influence on his creations. There was no place for bloody-handed Kaela Mensha Khaine in his work. That his friends might be involved did interest him and he passed on his observations to the dormant Thirianna.
    She roused almost immediately, sending him a vision of his Isha statue. The scene was an imagination of the two of them standing beneath it: an invitation. Korlandril reflected the vision back to Thirianna, with a slight adjustment. The night shields were active, dimming the light of the dying star to the twilight of early evening. Thirianna responded in kind and the rendezvous was agreed.
    Korlandril broke from the infinity circuit, satisfied with himself. He returned to the Opal Suites and took another skyrunner back to his chambers. His exuberance was muted on his return journey, the lack of Aradryan’s touch upon the infinity circuit preying on his thoughts.
     
    Thirianna was at the statue, sitting at one end of a curving bench, her eyes directed to the dim glow beyond the dome. Korlandril crossed the grass quickly and Thirianna turned at his approach, a smile hovering on her lips for just a moment.
    “Aradryan has left Alaitoc,” Thirianna said quietly when Korlandril was seated beside her.
    Korlandril was taken aback and it took him a moment to readjust his thoughts; he had been ready to open the conversation with an inquiry about Thirianna’s well-being. A flurry of emotions warred within Korlandril: shock, disappointment and, worryingly, a small degree of satisfaction.
    “I do not understand,” said the sculptor. “I know that we had a disagreement, but I thought that he planned to remain on Alaitoc for some time yet.”
    “He did not depart on your account,” said Thirianna, though an unconscious asymmetric blink betrayed conflict in her thoughts. She was not lying, but neither was she wholly convinced that she spoke the truth.
    “Why would he not come to see me before he left?” Korlandril asked. “It is obvious that some distance had grown between us, but I did not think his opinion of me had sunk so low.”
    “It was not you,” Thirianna said, her tone and half-closed eyes indicating that she believed it was her fault their friend had fled the craftworld.
    “What happened?” asked Korlandril, trying hard to keep any tone of accusation from his voice. “When did Aradryan leave?”
    “He took aboard Irdiris last cycle, after we spent some time together.”
    Korlandril had heard the name of the ship in passing but could not place it immediately. Thirianna read the look of questioning on his face.
    “ Irdiris is a far-runner, destined for the Exodites on Elan-Shemaresh and then to the Wintervoid of Meios,” she explained.
    “Aradryan wishes to become a… ranger?” Incredulity and distaste vied with each other in Korlandril’s thoughts. He stroked his bottom lip with a slender finger, stilling his thoughts. “I had no idea he was so dissatisfied with Alaitoc.”
    “Neither did I, and perhaps that is why he left so soon,” confessed Thirianna. “I believe I spoke hastily and with insensitivity and drove him to a swifter departure than he might otherwise have considered.”
    “I am sure that you are no—” began Korlandril but Thirianna cut him off with an agitated twitch of her finger.
    “I do not wish to speak of it,” was all the explanation she would offer.
    They sat in silence for a while longer, while littlewings darted amongst the branches of the trees above them, trilling to one another. Deep within the woods a breezemaker stirred into life and the leaves began to rustle gently: a calming backdrop.
    “There was something else about which I wish to speak to you,” said Korlandril, having put aside his thoughts on Aradryan. “I have a proposal to