Disclaimer: I do not own these characters – they belong to Trudi Canavan.
Folly"You did what?" Dannyl's mouth hung open in a rather unattractive manner as he stood in the middle of Rothen's sitting room.
Rothen shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at his former novice. He was surrounded by open boxes from which various items of clothing had been pulled. The whole room looked as if a very untidy person had decided to examine its entire contents in a very short time.
"I have already had a response like that from Lorlen."
Rothen remembered the shocked look on the Administrator's face and his struggle not to let his scepticism show as he tried to persuade the Alchemist to change his mind. Rothen looked down at a pair of trousers and tossed them into a growing heap on the floor.
"There's nothing you can do to change my mind. I have permission, and I'm going!"
He suddenly stopped fiddling with the clothing and sat down his old comfortable chair, gesturing Dannyl to pull up another one. He poured them both a cup of tea and offered his friend a plate of his favourite biscuits.
"It's really very simple. Yikmo is leading a group of Warriors and other magicians with orders to delay the Sachakans somewhere on the road between Imardin and the Fort. I have volunteered to go with them."
"How long is it since you have practised Warrior skills, Rothen?" Dannyl's voice was scathing. "You are more likely to delay Yikmo than the Sachakans."
A hurt look passed quickly over Rothen's face. He had expected Dannyl to understand his reasons, at least.
"I can't just sit here, waiting to hear more people have died; waiting for the Ichanis to get to Imardin; waiting to learn Sonea is dead. I have to do something. There are many Alchemists here and plenty of good teachers. I am not needed. But I can help Yikmo, I can add my strength to his group and perhaps we will be successful and the Ichanis will be prevented from coming closer to the Guild for a time. The Guild is not ready to face Black Magicians, they need as much time as possible to prepare."
Dannyl wasn't sure what to say. He did understand Rothen's need to take some form of action, but he was not convinced that this was the right action to take. He looked closely at his friend. Rothen still looked under a strain, but the terrible depression that he had suffered after Sonea had been exiled seemed to have gone. He was more alert and involved than he had been for some time and Dannyl could not help being pleased by that. Perhaps it was a reasonable idea; after all, Yimko would look after him.
"You will have to excuse my reaction," he said, stiffly. "It was such a surprise. When are you leaving?"
Rothen explained the details of the plan while Dannyl helped him sort out the appropriate clothing and essentials he needed to take. The group would be leaving straight away in order to intercept the Sachakans as far from Imardin as possible. The idea was to use any means possible to hold up the invaders. If the attack was fierce enough and perhaps one or two Ichani, or their slaves, were killed, the rest might become disheartened and flee Kyralia.
Dannyl was not convinced by that argument, but he realised that nothing he could say or do would change his old friend's mind. He didn't want to part on bad terms, so he swallowed his concerns and listened to Rothen, showing only interest and mild enthusiasm, rather than the worry he really felt.
Later that day, Yimko's group clattered away from the Guild, heading in the direction of the Fort. Rothen wondered if the others felt as uncomfortable as he did wearing ordinary clothes rather than their usual robes. He also feared he would find riding a horse rather uncomfortable too. This was not the calm, gentle motion he was used to, this was flat out galloping and there was a long way to go.
Dannyl watched them leave. He felt buffeted by conflicting emotions; pride that the Guild were going off to do battle for the future of Kyralia, but mainly fear for Rothen and the others who might find the Sachakans more difficult to deal with than they imagined. He couldn't get the images from the Fort out of his mind or the noise of the battle or the cries of the dying. He never wanted to see things like that again. He especially never wanted to see Rothen injured, or worse, killed. If Rothen died, Dannyl didn't know how he would cope.
He sighed. Be safe, old friend.