Blade of the Avatar/Blade of Midras/Chapter 24

=Collateral Damage=

Excerpt
Aren threw himself down into a chair against the wall in the commander’s chamber of the barracks. He cast a baleful eye at the commander’s own empty chair, situated behind the massive table still covered with maps of the city and the surrounding region. With a heavy sigh, Aren leaned onto the back of the chair.

Syenna had followed him down the curving length of Muse Way, the entire distance from the shattered Field’s Gate past the Storm Gate, and finally to the barracks at the base of the Longwall. Neither of them had said a word the entire distance. Now she stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she looked down at Aren.

Aren pulled out the sword, gazing at it.

“It’s an interesting thing to me,” Aren muttered at last as he turned the blade in his hand. “just how deeply swords can cut. I don’t think I really knew it before now, but these sharp edges sever more than skin, muscle and tendon. I’ve seen swords separate a body from its life. Surely that is deep enough for any keen edge. But even that is not deep enough – not for true warriors or the empire’s they serve.”

The sword flashed in the warm light of the burning oil lamp as he twisted it. The blood streaking its blade looked nearly black in the dim light.

“No, Syenna,” Aren continued, his eyes unexpectedly welling up, his voice shaking. “The swords and knives and every other artifice of death slice down through a person’s soul. It separates the living from their past; the leaves, twigs and branches from their roots. It neatly draws and quarters the conquered from who they were. Their history and their stories, their writings and what they hoped to be. Then after it has carved out the guts of their civilization, the conqueror promises to make up for this vivisection by transplanting their own pride, legends and beating drums in its place. Then they hope – hope mind you – that their prey will be grateful for this new ‘life’ they never wanted or needed.”

Aren looked up at the Shieldmaiden. Syenna’s breath was coming in shallow gasps.