The Strength of the Few (Hierarchy, #2)

by James Islington

“No,” she repeats. “But I will take Deaglán.”

The Princeps are ceding? Ostius has to be lying. It’s contrary to everything I know about the Republic. To everything everyone knows.

There is no surprise. No outrage or shock or denial. Each of them knew.

The power to protect is the highest responsibility. Ostius wants me to kill them. That alone says I should not.

“Tell me why you killed my family.”

“Gods. That’s what this is about? Blame your father,” mutters Werex, even as he eyes Diago warily again. “He pulled on threads he knew were better left unravelled.”

“But it wasn’t just his knowledge. We were warned that he had uncovered a weapon. Something not even the Republic could stop. So we acted.”

“Men sometimes confide in those they trust, but they only truly unburden themselves on the ones they love,” he says softly. I close my eyes. Killed because the Hierarchy worried my father had told them something.

“My friend died because of you.” “He was on your team, under your command, and you’re alive. Who is more to blame?”

Diago tears another throat effortlessly. Snaps a neck. He stalks around the room with deliberate, terrifying efficiency. In the background, I can hear Ostius laughing.

Draws a chained medallion from his pocket,

“As long as you don’t take this off, I’ll be able to protect you.”

“It’s not your fault, Vis,” whispers Aequa as she pulls me into the shadows. “No shame in running.” And as the three of us stumble away through the dust and fear, Caten falls into chaos.

Unable to trust myself enough to believe. “Hail, Diago,” says my father.

“The oldest argument for doing something wrong is that everyone is doing it.

I heard that!

“A society cannot make a man a monster, Diago. But it can give him the excuse to become one.”

“She told me that a child needs to hear and truly understand only three phrases from their father as they grow up. ‘I love you.’ ‘I will help.’ And, ‘I don’t know.’

The reason he gave me was enough. I only asked that he let me say goodbye to the version of you in Res, and then we came here.”

It was his father in Res

“For far shorter a time than I wanted. And he was… recovering. I’m not even sure he will remember it.”

I could live here, I realise. Live here and call it home, and I would be happy.

FEAR IS A LACK OF control, realised. My father told me that, once. Explained that it is not the absence of control itself, but the understanding of it.

My heart drops. No pulse coming from any of the pieces, but I know straight away that I am looking at the shattered remnants of my spear.

“Good to see you again, Leathfhear,” says Gallchobhar.

Oh no

“He sounds so much like his brother.” I blink. “Brother?”

He had a brother?

“Older than Eidhin by a few minutes. Returned to dust when the Republic attacked. Four years ago, now.”

‘Know your line.’ It is good advice for a son. For a man, even. But for a father?” He leans forward. “To protect our sons, Catenicus, there is no line we will not cross.”

My one comfort as we shuffle along is the bright pulse in my head. Close by, in the trees. My father is watching.

He rips the serrated spear from Lir’s flesh, eliciting a gargled scream from the man, before drawing his iron dagger, grabbing the druid by the hair, yanking his head back and slitting his throat.

I did not expect that!

And I realise through it all that my father’s pulse, strong moments ago, has vanished. I cannot sense him.

My alupi did his job, and not once were there survivors.

“It’s alright. Whatever happens, neither of us can—” Decimus tightens his grip. Aequa’s head caves in.

What????

My friend’s face is crumpled between his fingers. Her dark, straight hair molten with crimson in the dying light of the day. Decimus releases her. Flicks blood and brain off his hand as her

The needs of the many will always be loud.” He leans forward. Hooked nose inches from mine. “But in the end, it is only the strength of the few that matters.”

I cannot believe he killed Aquea

Nothing can dull the ache of Aequa’s shattered form lying a few feet from me, though. She was just here.

Grief, he explained to me gently, is a process that has only a beginning. We work through it, not get over it. And so attempting to just ignore its ache is inevitably a pointless exercise.

That is absolutely true. There’s no end.

“I haven’t seen Relucia, but I have to hope she slipped away too.”

The strength of the few is all that matters.

“Siamun.” I turn. She hasn’t moved, still facing the other way. Daughter cradled in her arms. “Make it matter.”

“I know what it’s like to be responsible for a people. To need to protect them above yourself. And I know what it’s like to feel like you have no choice but to do things you otherwise would never do.”

“My name is not Vis.” I’m almost light-headed at the words. “My name is Diago, son of Cristoval. I am—I was—a prince of Suus, before the Hierarchy invaded.”

He told him the truth!

“They killed my family and they would have killed me too if I hadn’t escaped. I’ve hidden from them for nearly five years.

“Eidhin, Aequa is dead. Decimus killed her in front of me today, because Iro died.”

“You once told me that death is meaningless if it does not change us. I can’t take back what I helped begin, can’t change any of this. But I can at least try to make it matter.”

“So to be clear: you want to go to the man who intends to destroy the world. Strike a deal to help him. Free my people.

MY FATHER’S FUNERAL IS SOLEMN, and large, and beautiful. The people of Caer Áras did not know him, but Tara told them that he was a king and so he is treated as such.

“Who are you?” I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this wasn’t it. “My name was Caeror.” He says it in Common, harsh to my ears after so long. “I arrived here almost eight years ago, the same way you did.”

What????

do nothing, until I have explained everything to you. Promise me.”

Diago, at least, is being treated back at Domus Telimus, a brief stop and a dismayed Kadmos behind us.

So glad Diago is ok

“No. The measure of a man is not whether he does the wrong thing. It is whether he accepts that he has. When you told me the truth—showed me that mask…”

Death is the door to life.