Soldiers of Legend

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “Your father tried that already, remember?” Aiden reminded her. “Don’t worry, we’ve a thousand dwarves and a hundred acadian elves coming to our aid. We can win this yet.”

  “The dwarves are mostly engineers, and the elves haven’t fought a war since they took refuge behind that shield of theirs,” Criosa sighed, leaning against Aiden for comfort. “After what Gwynn showed us in Acadia, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough.”

  He was about to put his arm around her when the sound of heavy footsteps on the earth shook the snow from the trees around them. They turned to see something large moving through the forest, with the glint of metal reflecting moonlight off its body.

  Criosa crouched behind Aiden as he drew Salinder and summoned his arcane light, so that he might better see what they were facing. His heart was racing at the prospect of some great monster coming to fight them, but to his relief, he saw that it was Spartan wending his way through the trees.

  Fear not, it is only I, the dragon reassured them in his mind-voice.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier,” Aiden breathed, feeling Criosa slump against his back.

  I like to make a dramatic entrance wherever possible, the dragon drawled, surprising Aiden with his heretofore absent sense of humour.

  “Well, it’s good to see you restored to full health, and then some,” he mused, taking in the sight of the dragon clad in metal armour. It was similar to the plate mail barding one might find on a knight’s horse, adapted for Spartan’s serpentine physique. It was intricately carved with sigils and runes upon its glittering surface, and a quick scan with his arcane sight revealed the tremendous enchantments that lay upon it.

  “Good God,” Criosa breathed as she viewed the spectacle of the armoured dragon before them. “That armour must be worth a small fortune.”

  The people of Acadia are generous of spirit, Spartan replied. They had long promised me payment worthy of my stature, and in finally seeing the task to a successful conclusion, I was thusly rewarded.

  “It’s a pity they didn’t give it to you before we went in to close that portal,” Aiden mused. “You were lucky to survive that fight.”

  A fact which is not lost on me, the dragon growled, craning his neck around as if to show off his gift to the best effect. This leads me to a rather troubling admission. Despite my natural talents, I am not invulnerable. My arrogant presumption almost led to my death, and that is a humbling realisation for one of my kind. Never again will I underestimate our enemies, or my allies.

  “What exactly are you saying?” Criosa pressed, clearly looking for some sort of concession from the great creature.

  We are about to fight a war. In war, there can only be one leader, for disunity brings defeat. I had presumed only I would be capable of leading you to victory, but one can only lead if one’s followers permit it. Your companions believe in you, Princess Criosa. They do not know or trust me and as such, I am useless in this role. To stand a chance at victory, we must be united. Criosa stepped out from behind Aiden and moved to stand before the armoured dragon, peering up at his sleek jaw with a slight smile making its way across her petite features.

  “Are you saying you will no longer contest the leadership of this mission with me?”

  No, I will not, Spartan replied gravely. Despite your lack of experience, Criosa, your bravery in the face of overwhelming evil has impressed me greatly. You have earned my respect, as well as my honest and unswerving loyalty until the end of the impending war. It is mortals such as yourself that renew my faith in your species.

  “I accept your oath of service,” Criosa whispered formally, an expression of wonder upon her face as the dragon bent down on one foreleg and bowed his great head in submission to her authority. The majesty and spectacle of this moment was not lost on Aiden, who watched as Criosa gently laid one hand upon Spartan’s head, sealing the pact between them with a simple, heartfelt gesture.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aiden jolted awake shortly after dawn, the fleeting images from a nightmare at the edge of his consciousness. It was then he noticed his arms were wrapped around someone within his bedroll.

  “Stop squirming,” Criosa mumbled from under the blanket, rolled over until she was nose to nose with him, her hair a captivating golden tangle shining in the cold light.

  “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here with you,” Aiden whispered apologetically. “To be honest, I don’t even remember getting in.”

  “This is your bedroll, dummy,” Criosa whispered back with a sleepy grin. “I was having trouble sleeping, so I threw caution to the wind. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Oh,” Aiden replied lamely, gazing into her blue eyes while trying to come up with something else to say.

  “Could you two speak up a bit?” Robert called from across the camp. “My hearing’s not what it used to be.” The sound of Nellise’s quiet laughter made Aiden roll over awkwardly, to find the rest of their companions already dressed and preparing breakfast a few yards away.

  “Our secret is out,” Criosa laughed, blushing a bright red as she buried her face into his chest. Reluctantly, Aiden climbed out of the bedroll into the freezing mountain air and stretched, trying to ignore the inquisitive expressions of his friends. Criosa dressed herself under the covers, while Aiden hopped around on the freezing ground looking for his boots. After he was fully dressed, he helped out at the campfire by stirring the thick soup, keeping his eyes to himself and feeling very self-conscious for the duration.

  Spartan observed their morning rituals from a few yards away, the metal-clad dragon uninterested in any food or conversation, seemingly content to watch in silence. While the others marvelled at the appearance of their ally, Aiden noticed Pacian appeared quite haggard indeed. His blond hair was slack and he hadn’t shaved in days. It was his eyes that were of greatest concern to Aiden, for they were lacklustre and flat, rimmed with red and pouched in black.

  Aiden recalled what Robert had said about him days ago, that Pacian was dealing with something dark within. Nellise wasn’t oblivious to this fact, and even after the taxing events of the previous day she doted on him, bringing him food and even going so far as to use her crystal to channel energy into the exhausted young man.

  Eager to finally reach their destination, the group kept their usual chat to a minimum and set out as soon as they were ready, walking through the frozen forest with a spring in their steps. The effect upon their morale of Spartan’s return was tangible, especially since he had rejoined their group to serve, not undermine Criosa’s position as leader of their small group.

  He even made an effort to speak with everyone in the group as equals instead of as lesser creatures. Spartan listened intently to the events that took place in Akora, offering sympathetic comments to not only Nellise, but Sayana as well. His acceptance of her, sorcery and all, was astonishing considering his earlier reticence, yet her reaction to the dragon was one of deep suspicion. She eventually told him in no uncertain terms that she had no interest in becoming friends. Spartan did not take offence, and gave her the space she clearly wanted.

  In spite of this, for the first time since they had set out from Fairloch there was a tangible feeling of camaraderie within the group, a sense they were a cohesive unit, ready to deal with any challenges that lie ahead. Sayana set a blistering march that ate up the miles.

  It was well after the sun had passed its peak when they emerged from the depths of the forest onto a relatively clear path through the mountains.

  “Sy, can you make out any recent tracks along this road?” Robert asked. “I don’t see much to indicate an army of dwarves has moved past here recently.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” she replied, crouching to investigate the snow for signs of recent passage.

  “I think it’s probably too soon to expect the dwarves of Stonegaard to have arrived at the fort,” Criosa mused.

  “They’d better move their asses then, or they’re going to miss all the fun,”
Robert muttered, evidently in a bad mood.

  “By ‘fun’, I assume you mean ‘our deaths’,” Pacian retorted.

  “… Yeah, basically,” Robert conceded. Aiden caught his eye and glared at the mercenary, trying to indicate he didn’t want Salinder’s deteriorating condition known by the entire group. Robert rolled his eye and went silent, an exchange that was not lost on the sharp-eyed Pacian.

  “What was that about?” he inquired suspiciously.

  “I just don’t want people giving up hope,” Aiden interjected before Robert could speak. “Keep your mind open to the possibility that we can win this fight, until all options are exhausted.”

  “Well spoken,” Nellise murmured.

  “There are recent tracks here, less than a day old,” Sayana called from around twenty yards away, on the bridge itself. “Ten, maybe as many as twelve people in heavy boots went through here very fast, carrying a lot of equipment.”

  “The rangers, perhaps?” Aiden suggested.

  “That would be my guess,” she replied, “but there is no sign of an army. If there were, you would have seen their passage with your own eyes.”

  If you desire to know their location, I can scout to the north, Spartan offered.

  “I think it’d be wise to know if they’re actually coming or not,” Robert advised, to which Criosa nodded thoughtfully.

  “See what you can find, but meet us at the entrance to the fort around sundown,” she instructed the dragon, who immediately spread his wings and took to the skies.

  “It’s rather nice of him to simply do what I ask without a fight, for a change,” Criosa remarked wistfully. “Come, I wish to sleep in a proper bed tonight.” She gestured at Sayana to continue on ahead, and they fell into place behind her along the cold highway.

  The sun was hovering over the western horizon as the walls of Fort Highmarch came into view at long last, a dirty grey bulwark of stone jutting out of the frozen peaks around it.

  Spartan timed his return perfectly, just as Aiden and his companions were approaching the gates of the fort. The waning sunlight reflected off his shining armour as the dragon descended from the heavens. He flared his wings and sent up a storm of white powder snow as he set down on the road behind them, to the sounds of alarm from inside the gates.

  “We all knew that was going to happen, right?” Pacian remarked as the sounds of the guards readying their weapons could be heard.

  “I was rather hoping my presence would allay their fears,” Criosa sighed.

  “I don’t think they’re looking at us,” Aiden remarked dourly.

  “Who approaches the gate?” called a tremulous voice from the top of the wall.

  “I am Sir Aiden Wainwright,” Aiden shouted back, “escorting Her Highness Princess Criosa Roebec, heir to the throne, and her entourage from Fairloch. Tell your men to lower their weapons, for the dragon is an ally, come to bolster our defence at the fort.” There was silence from the wall, interrupted only by the faint whispers of a heated discussion from the guards drifting on the winds. Several men peered down at them to confirm this with their own eyes before the huge gates cracked open, parting to allow the strange group to enter the fort.

  The guards clearly had their doubts about this story, for while Aiden and the others were permitted entry, the bailey was lined with men armed with pikes who watched their progress into the fort cautiously.

  A clean-shaven man in officer’s garb stepped through them to confront Aiden’s party directly.

  “I recall the name Aiden Wainwright, but the last time we met you were no knight, sir,” the captain said to him warily. Aiden recognised the man from their brief meeting at Bracksford, right after the attack from the Steel Tigers.

  “Your Highness, it is an honour and a privilege to have you within our walls once more,” the captain said with a bow, “though I must confess I was not expecting your visit, especially with such diverse companions in tow.”

  “Events require my presence here at this time, Captain,” Criosa explained, her tone and language shifting into a more formal expression. “Allow me to introduce Spartan, a valuable ally who has deigned to assist us in the coming days.”

  “… Hello,” the captain said hesitantly, looking at the dragon with something akin to awe. Spartan didn’t ‘speak’ in his usual fashion, instead choosing to reply with a throaty purr that did nothing to calm the nerves of the assembled men.

  “Have you, by chance, admitted entry to a group of rangers in the past few days?” Criosa asked as she took the captain by the arm and began moving the group towards the inner gate.

  “Yes, Commander Armin Wise arrived with a number of rangers recently, though he was tight-lipped concerning his orders for coming here.”

  “Good. He and his people are the first of many more allies we anticipate arriving here within the next few days,” Criosa confided. “See to their needs, Captain.”

  “You can count on it, Highness,” Marshald replied dubiously, “I’m curious as to why we are receiving reinforcements.”

  “I’ll be sure to have you briefed on the situation before the end of tomorrow, Captain, but for now I wish to see Lord Alastair at his earliest convenience, to speak of some delicate matters.”

  “I will see to it that your request is conveyed, but to be honest, I don’t know when he will be free for an audience, Highness,” Marshald responded delicately. Criosa looked at the captain in mild disbelief at this news, stopping their slow procession just before the main gate.

  “Is there some reason the baron would be unable to meet with the king’s daughter?” she asked with the slightest hint of displeasure. This wasn’t lost on Marshald, who suddenly became quite uncomfortable.

  “Forgive me, Highness, but I suppose you haven’t heard yet,” he said. “It is with great sorrow that I have to inform you that his beloved wife, Lady Saffron, passed away a week ago.”

  “Oh no,” Criosa breathed. “I knew she had been ill, but… the priests were unable to do anything for her?”

  “None of their prayers had any lasting effect and, in the end, she simply couldn’t go on,” the captain explained sadly. “The entire fort has been in mourning, though none has felt her passing as keenly as His Lordship.”

  “Understandably so,” Nellise offered in sympathy. “Nobody would expect him to continue working under these circumstances.”

  “I will see him at once, whether he wants to or not,” Criosa insisted. “I must offer my condolences to the poor man immediately.”

  “At once, Highness,” the captain agreed, nodding to men on the inner wall who controlled the gate before them. With a shudder and a clank of heavy chains, the gate opened.

  With Spartan bringing up the rear of their contingent, the group entered the inner courtyard and saw the grey stone of the keep rising up before them. It wasn’t nearly as large as the castle at Fairloch, but it was covered in crenulations and other defensive structures permitting a thorough defence of the inner courtyard, should the walls ever be breached.

  There weren’t many people braving the freezing conditions inside the walls, except for the few guardsmen on duty, or a local resident out on some important task. So, it was that their entourage went largely unnoticed amongst the small, squat stone buildings constructed against the inner walls.

  It was a cold, austere place that would be hard to live in under the best of conditions. Aiden didn’t envy anyone forced to dwell here for the long term, but such was the price paid to secure the vital southern approach to the Kingdom. While the others seemed vaguely unimpressed with the old fort, Robert was taking an intense interest in his surroundings, especially the walls. He moved forward to walk alongside Captain Marshald and caught his attention.

  “My sight isn’t what it used to be captain, but it seems to me your walls aren’t looking too solid.”

  “Nothing wrong with your vision, sir,” Marshald remarked to the mercenary. “We were supposed to shore up the defences months ago, but the baron had been
preoccupied with his late wife’s welfare of late. I’ve done what little I can with the supplies at hand, though I don’t have the authority to carry out the extensive repairs needed to properly secure this place.”

  “All the more reason for me to speak with Lord Alastair right away,” Criosa pressed. “I know the way from here, Captain. Perhaps you could take Robert on a tour to inspect the defences and make notes about any emergency work that needs to be done?”

  “Certainly, Highness,” Marshald agreed, shaking Robert’s offered hand.

  “Nellise, Aiden and I shall meet with His Lordship, but the rest of you can find lodgings at the Bulwark, on the western side of the courtyard. Spartan, I’m not sure what to do with you, frankly. I don’t think the stables would be an appropriate place for you.”

  I will go and hunt, and return this evening, he replied, to the shock of Captain Marshald. I do not need to sleep for several more days, so I will sit watch over the fort during the night. Captain, please inform your men that I am no threat to them. I would not wish to harm anyone in my own defence.

  “Yes… yes, I’ll let them know,” the captain mumbled in reply.

  “Don’t let him intimidate you, captain,” Robert offered in reassurance, putting his arm around the man’s shoulders and leading him away. “I think Spartan just likes to keep us mere mortals on our toes. Now, we’ll start with the north wall, but it’s the southern defences I really want…” His voice trailed off as they moved away.

  “Did somebody say alcohol?” Pacian asked nobody in particular, rubbing his hands together as he headed directly for the tavern.

  “Pace,” Nellise moaned softly, clearly disappointed that he was looking to dive into the bottle once more. He either ignored her or could not hear her plaintive voice, leaving the two ladies and Aiden to head inside to see the Lord of the Keep.

  “He’s getting worse, isn’t he,” Aiden asked of Nellise, who nodded sombrely.

  “When this is all over, he and I are going back to my property and we’re not leaving until I resolve whatever crisis is eating at his soul,” the cleric assured him.