Role

Chapter 10

Sandar grunted as he tugged upon a weed. It was getting dark now, but the
gardens really were getting out of hand. He'd just shift this last one then
head to the mess for supper. He wasn't a young man anymore, and his back
was killing him.

It just wouldn't budge!

Sitting back on his heels for a moment, Sandar glanced up and almost
toppled backwards in shock.

"Ixen!"

The giant was standing very still in the middle of the garden, a shuttered
lantern clasped in one large hand. His two golden eyes were shining in the
light, and his mouth was set in a strangely pensive expression.

"Sandar. You are tending the gardens."

Sandar frowned. There was something not quite right. He just couldn't put
his finger on it.

"That's right. They're getting a bit out of hand."

He hadn't meant to make it sound like a rebuke, but it was. He'd always
been proud that the young giant he'd found had made something of himself,
even if many of the rest of the Order would disagree. To his surprise, Ixen
nodded.

"I will fix this garden soon, Brother Sandar."

Sandar involuntarily shivered. The way he had said that... reluctantly, he
decided to ask. He did not like prying, but they were brothers, after all.
"Are you alright, Ixen?"

Steam wafted from between the giant's black lips as he let out a sigh. "Yes,
Brother Sandar. Yes, I think I am." The giant set the lantern down and
took a step closer. "I think, at last, I have found hope."

"Hope?" Sandar blinked. He'd never heard Ixen speak of such things before.
"That's wonderful, Ixen."

"It is. There is hope, Brother Sandar. This rotting world, this unrealised
dream. This wretched status quo..." the giant took another step closer, his
golden eyes shining. "It will end. I give you my word."

Sandar frowned. "I don't underst-"

Then Ixen struck, one massive hand wrapping about Sandar's neck while the
other clamped over his mouth. The priest recoiled, tried to pull away, but
the huge fingers were like an iron cage. Inexorable. Relentless. He stared
up at the giant, uncomprehending.

Then realised in a moment of dreadful clarity what was different.

The lantern in the grass was shuttered. The sun had set.

And the light that set Ixen's eyes to glowing was cast by the brilliant
aura of scarlet that blazed with all the condemnation of the damned.

"In her name we will set the pyre, and so be free, brother Sandar," said
the giant as he began to squeeze. "We'll start a new. It will be a better
world. I promise."

As darkness closed in about the corners of his vision, and breath refused
to come, the last thing Sandar ever heard was the softly spoken words of
his killer.

"The sacrifice is not of your life, Sandar," said the fallen philosopher.
"It is of my conscience."