by Sarah Hawke
Cassel shrugged. “You seem resourceful; I’m sure you would have figured something out. Who knows, maybe you would have joined the Order and become a knight with me!”
She giggled—a sound so sweet and soft it almost hurt. “I doubt I could even lift your sword. And I know I would look ridiculous covered in metal.”
“Nonsense. There’s nothing sexier than a woman in armor.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely. There’s nothing quite like a figureless metal plate to get the blood pumping.”
Tahira arched a red eyebrow at him. “The library in the Eternal Temple contained many texts on sexual arousal designed to teach us how to efficiently extract seed from virile males. None of them ever mentioned armor as an aphrodisiac.”
“I might have been exaggerating a little,” Cassel admitted. Despite spending the last few weeks getting to know her, he still occasionally forgot just how insane her religion truly was—and just how naïve she could be.
“General Serrane is still very attractive while wearing her armor,” Tahira said. “Though I doubt anything could mar her beauty.”
“Definitely not.”
The priestess’s smile faded ever so slightly. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“Very much,” Cassel said.
Tahira nodded and glanced away. “Perhaps we should continue moving. I know you wanted to reach the forest as soon as possible.”
Cassel repressed a sigh and bit down on his lip when she abruptly walked past him. The more time he spent with her, the more he worried that her little crush on him would become a real problem. She might have been tougher than she looked, but he had learned long ago that it was unwise to overestimate the emotional stability of a teenager, especially in matters like this.
Serrane probably sees you the same way, you know. You’re only nine or ten years older than this girl, but Serrane is almost a century older than you. Maybe age isn’t everything.
Grunting softly to himself, Cassel shook his head and pressed on. Once they finally reached the exit shaft an hour or so later, he leaned down to examine the small glowing runes warding the locking mechanism. Bracing himself, he touched the symbols in the exact pattern Serrane had told him, and a moment later the seals opened and flooded the tunnels with the damp, earthy scent of the Duskwood.
Cassel took a deep breath and placed his hand on the ladder. “Now we just have to hope there isn’t an army up there waiting for us…”
There wasn’t. The late afternoon sun splintered over the leafless trees, casting long, eerie shadows across the last few pockets of snow on the thawing ground. The Duskwatch Tower was visible on the horizon to the southwest, and every once in a while Cassel would catch a flicker of movement from the ramparts. Having driven Highwind’s rangers back into the walls, the Vorsalosians must have stationed at least a few scouts here to keep an eye out for reinforcements.
“We’re not alone,” he warned as he helped Tahira up out of the passage. “I doubt there are many soldiers stationed out here, but we still need to be careful.”
The priestess nodded and pulled her fur cloak more tightly around her black robes. “I had almost forgotten the chill of the wind…”
“This should help,” Cassel said, reaching out to the Aether and wrapping her in a thin barrier of protective energy. It still felt a bit strange to be using the power she was granting him to protect her, but she still hadn’t demonstrated any ability to channel on her own.
Aside from unleashing scorching beams of energy from her eyes, anyway. He was still waiting for her to do that again.
“Thank you,” Tahira said, blowing air into her hands and rubbing her fingers together. “Shall we go?”
He nodded. “This way.”
Cassel kept a brisk pace as they headed north, and he did his best to remember everything Serrane had told him about potential routes through the forest. He might not have been a ranger, but he was competent enough outdoorsman to navigate without too much trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have complained if they’d had a guide.
“A month from now, everything will be so green the forest will be practically unrecognizable,” he commented, pointing toward the endless canopy of withered, empty branches.
“I would like to see that someday,” Tahira said.
“I’m sure you’ll get the chance. Unfortunately, spring also means that all the hibernating nasties start waking up. Honestly, I’d rather try and fight through a Vorsalosian army than one of the damn black bears who—”
Cassel abruptly thrust out his arm to block her from moving past him. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the treetops for movement. He swore he had heard something, but perhaps he was just being paranoid…
The twang of a bowstring was his only warning, and Cassel hoisted up his shield a fraction of a second before an arrow split his head in two. Another shot quickly followed the first, and he thrust himself protectively in front of Tahira as they hunkered down behind a large, rotten stump for cover.
“Shit!” he hissed. “Stay down!”
Another arrow lodged into the stump right next to him—this one from a completely different direction—and Cassel knew they were screwed if he didn’t do something soon. Keeping his shield arced above them, he channeled a surge of energy through the enchanted steel and closed his eyes as the bulwark unleashed a blinding burst of light…
“Argghh!”
The staggered screams were the only cue Cassel needed to leap into action. Vaulting up onto the rotten stump, he quickly scanned the trees again until he saw the two archers. One had already fallen from his perch, and he was busy writhing around the forest floor, blinded and broken. The second was still desperately trying to blink the afterimage from his vision, but in another second or two he would recover and have a clear shot. It was now or never.
Charging towards the tree, Cassel shifted his grip on his shield and hurled it up at the archer. The steel disc wobbled awkwardly, but the knight’s aim was true—the shield smashed squarely into the archer’s chest and knocked him from his roost. His leg snapped when hit the ground, and his pained scream echoed through the trees for a mile in every direction. He was still cogent enough to reach for the sword at his belt, however, and Cassel had to parry away a wild swing before he cut the man down.
Tahira’s startled shriek snapped his attention back behind him, and he swiveled around just in time to see two more soldiers—both clad in light armor bearing the Raven insignia of Vorsalos—rushing out from the tree line. Tahira panicked when she realized that they were closer than her protector; she hopped out from behind the stump even before Cassel could even start running back to her.
Gritting his teeth, the knight sprinted across the underbrush to try and intercept her, but the enemy soldiers weren’t willing to take that chance. One of them drew a small crossbow from his side, took aim, and fired.
Cassel’s eyes gaped wide in horror when the small quarrel pierced Tahira’s thigh and knocked her off her feet. Her pained cry was like a clarion call straight into his soul, compelling him to recklessly charge forward like a Roskarim berserker. He didn’t even pause to consider the two to one odds; he battered through their meager defenses like they were children wielding toy swords, and within seconds both soldiers were screaming at the top of their lungs as they bled out on the forest floor.
Cassel didn’t even hear them. His eyes were locked upon the man clutching onto Tahira from behind, dagger held tightly at her throat.
“Drop the sword or she dies, paladin!”
Cassel froze in place, his breastplate heaving as he caught his breath. “Let her go and you can still walk away from this,” he said. “You have my word as a Knight of the Silver Fist.”
The soldier scoffed. “The Silver Fist is broken!”
“Do I look broken to you?” Cassel said, stepping over the shrieking soon-to-be corpse at his feet. “Let the girl go. Now.”
For a b
rief moment, he actually thought the soldier would be smart enough to listen to him. The man’s face sank, his skin turned pale, and he was trembling as if he were on the verge of sprinting in the opposite direction. But then his expression abruptly hardened, and he pushed the dagger hard enough against Tahira to draw a thin line of blood.
“Last warning!” he snapped. “Drop the sword or she dies!”
“Fine,” Cassel said. “Have it your way.”
He held out his blade and opened his hand…and the instant the sword hit the ground he reached into his bracer, drew the concealed knife within, and hurled it straight into the other man’s face.
Tahira screamed when the body landed behind her, bloody knife jutting from its forehead, and Cassel rushed over to grab her before she collapsed.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, turning her head away from the carnage and pressing it into his chest. She clutched him tightly, desperately, and he grimaced when he saw the crossbow bolt still embedded in her thigh. They couldn’t afford to linger here, but there was no way she would possibly be able to walk on her own without healing…
“Hold on,” Cassel said, lifting her up in his arms. “I’ll get you out of here.”
He carried Tahira for what felt like a mile before they finally reached a rocky stream deeper in the forest. He gently set her down atop a soft, semi-frozen mound near the water, and he marveled at how well she was fighting through the obvious pain. Judging from her scrunched face, it was taking all of her willpower not to cry out in agony.
“You’ll be all right,” Cassel assured her, glancing back over his shoulder for the fiftieth time to make certain they hadn’t been followed. “Just try and stay still.”
Cradling her leg in his hand, he slowly removed her long leather boot so he could properly inspect the wound. He channeled a healing spell into her flesh, numbing the area as best he could, before he abruptly yanked the bolt out of her thigh. Tahira closed her eyes and grit her teeth, but thankfully she didn’t cry out.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he assured her.
“I thought paladins were supposed to tell the truth.”
“We are, and I do.” He shrugged. “Most of the time…”
Cassel held her leg as motionless as he could while the restorative energies coursed through her body. Her smooth skin tingled beneath his fingers, almost as if he were touching a powerful Aetheric artifact rather than a person. He had healed hundreds upon hundreds of people since had joined the Silver Fist, but he had never felt anything like this. It must have something to do with the fact that she was his Conduit…
“The pain,” Tahira breathed as he worked, “it’s almost completely gone.”
“It will come back if you try and put weight on it,” Cassel warned. “Ideally you’d sit around on a cot for a few days, but we can see how you’re doing in the...”
He trailed off when the tingling between their bodies grew even more intense. A warm rush of power crashed over him, almost like when she had first restored his channeling abilities, but this time the Aether flowed through him so readily he swore he might actually explode…
Cassel gasped and withdrew his hand. His fingers continued tingling for several seconds, and he felt so thoroughly rejuvenated he swore he could have lifted her up in her arms and carried her all the way to the Silver Tower if he needed to. But when he glanced down at her thigh, he belatedly realized the wound was completely gone—her pale skin wasn’t even blemished.
“It feels fine,” Tahira said, leaning up. She gently swiveled her leg off the rock and experimentally put a bit of weight on it. “Even Sister Basyle couldn’t heal wounds this quickly or effectively. You are truly gifted.”
“I don’t think it’s me,” Cassel breathed, curling and uncurling his fingers. “I’ve never been able to channel that much power before. When I touch you, it’s like…gods, I don’t even know.”
Tahira studied him in silence for a long moment, her green eyes glittering in thought, before she reached out and slid her fingers through his. “I only feel the warmth of your hand,” she told him. “It’s still…nice.”
He smiled and squeezed. The rush of power wasn’t quite as intense this time, but he still swore he had just been dunked in a bath of warm, soothing water. He found himself leaning forward without realizing it, almost as if her body were a magnet pulling him closer and closer…
“I, uh, I was going to suggest we set up camp,” Cassel said, clearing his throat and pulling away. His head actually started spinning for a second when he stopped touching her, but thankfully the sensation passed. “If you feel like you can keep going a bit longer, though, I wouldn’t mind pushing on until dark.”
Tahira eyed him longingly for several awkward moments before she nodded and stood. “My leg feels completely fine. I’m sure I can walk more…if you think it’s for the best.”
Cassel took a deep breath and shuffled a few feet away. The more time he spent with her, the more he was starting to realize why so many folk tales called the Eternal Priestesses “sirens.” She had an alluring aura about her that was getting harder and harder to resist…
“Putting more distance between us and the bodies certainly can’t hurt,” he said. “But if you’re not up to it, we can—”
“I will be fine, thanks to you,” Tahira assured him with one of her bright, wide-eyed smiles. “This way?”
Cassel nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, clearing his throat again. “Yeah, I think so.”
***
“That is a lot more tents than I expected.”
Serrane Starwind nodded gravely as she squinted out towards the Vorsalosian war camp festooned around Highwind’s southern wall. “At least five-thousand, though the bulk are situated here and in the north. The rest will undoubtedly arrive by boat once Ostvara has been fully pacified.”
Valuri continued peering through her small spyglass for another few seconds before she pulled away and grunted in disgust. “I still can’t believe how quickly they’ve moved. The Inquisitrix must have had her ships armed and ready the instant she returned from Nol Krovos.”
“If even half the Silver Fist knights still had their powers, they could ride out and trample these fools into dust,” Serrane hissed.
“At least until the wyverns showed up and started dropping fireballs on everyone.” Valuri sighed. “On that note, we should probably keep moving if we want to reach the Peaks by nightfall.”
Nodding, Serrane slowly pulled herself up off her stomach and slid down the back of cliff. She and Valuri had already snuck out of the city via Darkwind’s incalculable smuggling tunnels, and they were currently perched on the hills in the southwest where they could safely spy upon the river and the bridge. So far, the Vorsalosian army hadn’t bothering stationing any troops up here, though she had no doubt that Hastien’s Fall had been further reinforced over the past few weeks. Just thinking about it made her blood boil.
The lack of soldiers made this particular stretch of their trip quite easy, though, and they kept up such a brutal pace that they reached the tower well before dusk. Valuri seemed to have near infinite endurance, and she was obviously an experienced traveler despite her clear preference for urban terrain. At this rate, Serrane was confident the two of them could reach the hatchery by tomorrow.
What the two of them would do at that point, of course, remained mystery.
Serrane was tempted to push straight past the tower just to spare herself the annoyance of looking at it, but she ultimately decided that it would be foolish to pass up this chance to learn more about the enemy’s movements. She located another safe perch on hill about a quarter of a mile away, and she and Valuri took turns peering through the spyglass.
“This is where you were ambushed on your way back home?” Valuri asked.
Serrane nodded gravely. “The Huntress and her men had already taken the tower. Julian and I—er, Captain Cassel and I—walked right into an ambush.”
“Well, I still say you’re lucky to b
e alive.”
“Captain Cassel lost his powers right when we arrived, otherwise we might have had a chance. Presumably that was about the same time you were fighting the Inquisitrix on Nol Krovos.”
“Jorem and Red were, anyway,” Valuri murmured. “I couldn’t afford to get to Marcella. She created the Senosi, and she can control us like we’re bloody puppets. It’s infuriating.”
Serrane sighed softly. “I felt the same way battling that Huntress on the tower. I was completely powerless against her. It was humiliating.”
“Well, I wouldn’t feel too bad about that if I were you. I kick the shit out of Jorem all the time. It builds character.”
Serrane was barely even listening. She tried to bury the memories before they rushed to the surface, but it was already too late. You knew it would be a mistake to look at this tower again, so why the hell are you even here?
“Sorry, bad joke,” Valuri murmured.
“No, it’s all right,” Serrane soothed, putting away the spyglass and rolling onto her side. “It’s just…I still can’t believe how lucky we were to escape. If Lasille hadn’t been called back to the tower, we wouldn’t—”
“Wait, Lasille?” Valuri interrupted. “That was her name?”
Serrane nodded. “Yes. Why?”
Valuri grimaced and turned away. “I guess this shouldn’t surprise me anymore, but I knew her once,” she murmured. “I’ve been away so long I’ve started to forget how many of these girls used to be my friends. Among other things…”
“Mm,” Serrane murmured as she casually studied the other woman. “Perhaps someday you can tell me why you decided to leave the Senosi.”
“Would you believe I did it all for a boy?” she asked with a wry smile.
Serrane chuckled softly and smiled back. “That sorcerer of yours?”
“Yeah, as hard as that is to believe. He has no idea how lucky he is.” Valuri glanced back east towards the city for a moment before she grunted and shook her head. “Anyway, I’m surprised Lasille didn’t drag you straight back to Vorsalos. You’re a sorceress and an elf…you’d be quite the prize back in the Castarium.”
