Soldiers of Legend

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “I suppose you’re right,” Aiden was forced to agree.

  “Just remember this, mate — they can’t get to her now. She’s as free as I am,” he said with a wink. He paused for a moment as he gripped the saddle, his head bowed as some form of human emotion made its way to the surface.

  “Take care of yourself, Robert,” Aiden said with a wave. “As it turns out, you’re not quite the heartless killer we thought you were.”

  “Yeah I am,” Robert confessed. “I was just working on your side for a while. Look after yourselves — you’re good people. Don’t forget what I told you about Criosa, Aiden, she could still break your heart. I’ll see you around, maybe.” Then he mounted up and with a nod to his former companions, nudged his horse forward with the men and women of the Trinity guards following along in single file.

  “He’s suppressing his feelings,” Nellise confided to Aiden after Robert was out of earshot. Aiden was thinking over what Robert had said, and noticed something strange with his choice of words. With a sudden surge of hope, he pushed himself away from Nellise and hobbled up the stairway to the top of the wall.

  “Aiden, what’s wrong?” Nellise cried, following along as fast as she could. When he reached the top of the stairs, he was forced to invoke his arcane light to see properly, but what he saw took his breath away.

  Sayana’s body wasn’t there. All that remained on the stonework was Pacian’s vythiric dagger, and a dark bloodstain on the ruined wall. His mind working rapidly, Aiden looked over the wall and saw the column of men walking towards the south. Trusting his instincts, he narrowed his vision and shifted his sight, staring at Robert’s horse. There, on the back, was a small, feminine figure with her arms wrapped securely around the mercenary’s waist.

  “She’s alive,” Aiden almost laughed as he recognized her silhouette. “I don’t know how, but she’s alive.” Nellise joined him on the parapet but couldn’t see what he could. “Don’t bother, she’s invisible,” Aiden confided.

  “Perhaps it was our angelic friend, who sent out a pulse of healing energy before departing?”

  “She was regenerating with unnatural speed once the Ironlord took over her, too,” Aiden agreed. “Robert was double-talking the whole time, the wily bastard.”

  “Then what he said about Sayana is all too true — the inquisition thinks she’s dead, yet she can never return to Aielund,” Nellise surmised. “She’s going to have to live with her actions today, even if she wasn’t responsible.”

  “She’ll make it,” Aiden said. “They’re together now.

  “Love finds a way,” Nellise said with a wan smile.

  On returning to the keep just after sunset, Aiden headed directly for the lord’s chambers. Along the way, he passed through the huddled throng of survivors who occupied the keep’s inner chambers, far from the southern wing which was exposed to the elements. There weren’t any celebrations or cheers — there was only a sense of relief that they had survived a battle they hadn’t expected to live through.

  When they reached the room where their fallen enemy was being examined, he could see Desmond and Sahar making notes and examining the metal construct closely. Alaric’s body had been laid on the floor nearby and covered with a blanket, the bloodstains still evident from where Criosa’s rapier had ended his life. Desmond noticed Aiden and Nellise peering in through the doorway, and advised them to rest while they continued their post-mortem, closing the door to emphasize his point.

  “You know, I can still see you,” Aiden called through the gaping holes in the stone wall made during the final battle against the Ironlord. “And this door is hanging by one hinge. I could walk right though—”

  “Confound your impertinence, Sir! Go and sleep!” Desmond commanded grumpily, cursing under his breath and shooing them away. Resigned to waiting until morning for answers, the two knights found a place to rest in a small guest room and slumped against the wall near the fireplace. They each took solace in the company of the other, although Aiden’s thoughts were of Criosa, and he was certain Nellise was thinking of Pacian, running for his life through the cold night.

  * * *

  Aiden awoke to the restorative prayers of his beautiful companion, and found the room packed with wounded dwarves and Akoran women. When the healing was complete, he was pleased to find he could move around without her aid once more, though the burns on his arm itched horribly.

  Nellise suddenly found herself the centre of attention as the Akoran women around her began asking about the astonishing transformation she had undergone. Her conduct back in the Akoran lands had, in a way, spurred a liberation of the women in their society from their traditional roles, and they had endless questions to ask of her.

  Leaving Nellise to speak with her new friends, Aiden hurried through the keep towards the lord’s chambers. The place was bustling with servants and civilians hurrying to provide food and supplies to the wounded, and Aiden almost collided with more than one person on the way to his destination.

  Curtains had been placed over the gaping holes in the wall surrounding the lord’s chambers, but Aiden braved the rickety door itself, which groaned ominously as he made his way inside. To his astonishment, the Ironlord had disappeared, replaced with a rather tidy morning breakfast scene, arranged on several small tables.

  “Typically, it is customary to announce one’s presence before barging into a king’s chamber,” Seamus remarked dryly from a large chair near the fireplace, sipping on a cup of hot broth. Criosa sat next to him, a bemused look on her face. “But in your case, I shall make an exception.”

  “My apologies, Majesty,” Aiden stammered, bowing low. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here… I mean, I thought you’d be resting in the bedroom, not that I thought you were dead or anything.”

  “Are you sure he’s as smart as you said, sweetie?” the king casually asked Criosa. “He sounds like any other young man I’ve met.”

  “You’re an intimidating presence, father,” Criosa chastised him playfully. “Give him some credit — he faced off against the same foe you fought for weeks and lived to tell about it.”

  “Yet he finds me intimidating?” Seamus grumbled as his daughter gave him an imperious glance.

  “Good morning, Sir Aiden,” Criosa greeted him pointedly. “I trust you are feeling better?”

  “It’ll take more than one night’s rest to recover,” Aiden replied politely. “I am pleased to see you’re well, Majesty. After last night, I feared the worst.”

  “Thanks go to God’ servants for providing me with healing in my time of need,” the king said dismissively, rising from his chair to stand before Aiden. He seemed even taller than when they had first met somehow, and his still-visible bruises added a certain hardness to his features. “You are no doubt wondering what happened to the metal fiend. Rest assured, it hasn’t gone far. Terinus and Dean Foster were able to move it with magic early this morning, relocating it to a place more appropriate for study.”

  “Of course,” Aiden nodded, wishing he could think of something more relevant to say.

  “Their findings so far are limited, but I think we can easily figure out how the first king of Aielund wound up inside that monstrosity.”

  “We can?”

  “Yes, please have a seat,” Seamus offered. Aiden sat close to Criosa, who reached over and began lightly caressing his hand.

  “History tells us that Alaric, having founded the Kingdom, learned of an archaeological find out in the Hocarum Desert. Despite the wishes of his advisors, he gathered together a group of learned individuals and sought this place out, leaving the realm in the hands of his eldest son.”

  “Clearly, what they had discovered led to the Ironlord itself, in that old edifice Criosa mentioned you recently explored. He climbed inside of it and was corrupted, either instantly or over time. That part of it I do not fully understand, nor do I know why it took nearly eight decades before he started to destroy the surrounding lands.”

  “The floor
had given away under the place where the Ironlord would have been standing,” Aiden explained, forgetting his place in his enthusiasm for the subject. “If he was inside at the time, he would have fallen deep into the earth. Perhaps it took him that long simply to escape. I don’t understand how it turned him into a monster either, and none of this explains how it has shown up time and time again throughout history, long before Alaric found it.”

  “Terinus may uncover more in the coming days and weeks,” Seamus suggested, moving to change the subject. “For now, there is a more pressing matter to discuss, that of my daughter’s questionable taste in men.”

  “Father, please!” Criosa protested as Aiden suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

  “Forgive my levity, Sir Aiden, I find myself filled with a lightness and joy I have not known in years,” Seamus explained with a sly grin. “Criosa had been betrothed to the eldest son of King Evariste of Tulsone, but since we came to blows, that is no longer an option.”

  “Are we still actually at war with Tulsone?” Aiden inquired.

  “Technically yes, but neither side has much of a standing army left,” Seamus explained. “I will do what I can to extend an offering of peace to our western neighbours, and hope they will see the wisdom in leaving this unpleasant business behind us. This does however, leave my daughter without a suitor.”

  “How will I ever survive?” Criosa murmured sarcastically. Her eyes sparkled at this news, however,

  “I don’t appreciate your tone, Criosa,” her father said grimly. “It is of paramount importance to the continuation of our family line that you wed and produce an heir. Preferably, several heirs, something I failed to accomplish in my years as monarch. That’s where you come in, Sir Aiden. My daughter seems to have taken a liking to you, which undoubtedly played a part in her decision to bestow a knighthood upon you.”

  “In her defence, I did save her life on more than one occasion,” Aiden pointed out, then wished he hadn’t spoken as the king gave him a dark look.

  “I was also trying to honour Sir William, and keep his Order alive,” Criosa added delicately.

  “In any case,” the King went on, “this is the first time we’ve had to meet and talk, Aiden. I am hardly going to allow my daughter to marry a man who is something of a stranger to me, and frankly, even a knight is beneath your status, Criosa. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that I love him, father,” she stated plainly. The king’s weary eyes softened at this statement and he mused on this silently for a long moment. Aiden took Criosa’s hand with his own and exchanged a look of profound adoration with her that made him blush.

  “Children,” Seamus ruefully muttered into his beard. “Fortunately, a solution has presented itself. Lord Alastair wishes to retire to his family estate, leaving Highmarch without a lord. Due to your stellar conduct over the last few months, and your apparent desire to sacrifice all for Aielund, it would give me great pleasure to bestow the title of Baron of Highmarch upon you, Aiden. It’s still not worthy enough for my daughter, of course, but it will give you a chance to learn what you will need to know if you are to become Criosa’s husband someday.”

  Aiden had no words to respond with, and simply stared back at the king in silence. Criosa had a different reaction, however. She leaped out of the chair and engulfed her father in powerful embrace, almost crushing the poor man to death in the process.

  “Furthermore,” Seamus went on after he had extricated himself from Criosa’s death hug, “it would be unseemly to simply wed a princess of the realm out of the blue. Therefore, should you accept this offer, when you can find time away from your duties here at the fort, you will publically court Criosa for a time, perhaps a year or two, and then we will have another discussion about a wedding. Do you find these terms agreeable, sir?” Aiden nodded silently, overwhelmed at the scope of his reward.

  “Well speak up man, don’t just nod your head like some sort of dog!”

  “I accept, Majesty,” Aiden blurted, and then found himself on the receiving end of Criosa’s crushing embrace.

  “Easy now, girl, you don’t want to kill the man before you have a chance to bear me some grandchildren.”

  “Father!” Criosa exclaimed, blushing bright red at his statement. The King simply rumbled a loud chuckle and for a moment, Aiden could forget about the horrors he had witnessed. With the fall of the Ironlord, he felt a great weight lifting from his shoulders, an onerous presence he didn’t even realise he was carrying around. Against the odds, he had survived his ultimate challenge more or less intact and with a bright future to look forward to.

  “Now then, that’s enough of such talk for now,” Seamus said. “We have all been through dark times, and I would put all of that behind us. I will have a proper breakfast brought out for you, Aiden, while we get to know each other a little better. You can start by regaling us with the story of how you came from nowhere to become a pivotal figure in this conflict.”

  Aiden reclined in his chair and gathered his thoughts for a moment, then pulled out the crystal shard that was still hanging around his neck and the worn little box that was the Lexicon, inside of which were so many secrets yet to be discovered.

  “It all started on my thirteenth birthday,” he began…

  Epilogue

  Later that night, Terinus, the king’s wizard waited somewhat impatiently in the library, his eyes hidden within the shadows of his hood as he paced back and forth near the remains of the Ironlord. The fire burned low and the sound of the mountain winds could be heard through the windows, enough to convince any ordinary man it was time to seek out their bed.

  Terinus was far from ordinary, however. He had dismissed Desmond and Sahar hours before, and continued the examination of the relic on his own until the darkest hour of the night, driven to unravel the secrets of the construct before him.

  The sound of soft footfalls and the flicker of candlelight down the hallway signalled the approach of his guest.

  “It is late Terinus, and I am weary from my long trials,” sighed King Seamus as he entered the fort’s small library. He was wearing his nightclothes and was attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Make it good.”

  “My apologies, Majesty,” the wizard rasped, bowing respectfully. “I assure you, my reasons for summoning you at this late hour will become apparent.”

  “Are you still fooling around with that thing?” Seamus muttered, glancing with distaste at the inert construct that lay upon the floor. “You should finish up your examination and determine a way to destroy it, or at the very least dismantle it. It could still be dangerous.”

  “We are quite safe,” Terinus assured the king. “Without Alaric to control it, it is no threat. In fact…”

  “I am far too tired for your usual theatrics, Terinus,” Seamus sighed in exasperation. “If you have something to say, say it.”

  “Very well. I have concluded the Ironlord is not like any other golem we have encountered.”

  “We already knew that — golems generally don’t have men riding around inside of them.”

  “Correct,” Terinus agreed. “This means that what you see here is nothing more than an advanced suit of armour. You could, in fact, wear it yourself with no ill effect.”

  “Are you serious, man?” the king hissed, trying to keep his voice low. “The last person to sit inside of it was insane. You cannot know for certain that this… device didn’t drive Alaric mad.”

  “The man had been wearing it for centuries, not to mention trapped on another plane of existence,” Terinus pointed out. “I believe it is far more likely that events drove him over the brink, rather than some deleterious effect of this ancient contraption. I have sat inside it myself with no ill-effects to speak of.”

  “I have my doubts, but even if this is true, why summon me here now?”

  “Because we have a unique opportunity,” Terinus explained in his dry voice, walking around the metal bulk to stand before his King. “We have captured, inta
ct, a war machine from a long-forgotten people. If this was to fall into the wrong hands, we would face a new war, all over again.”

  “But you have the staff,” Seamus pointed at the ancient staff Terinus carried in one hand.

  “And if someone were to take this as well? How then would we stop the machine next time?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Take it for yourself,” Terinus implored him. “With this power under your control, you could use it to ensure the peace. Tulsone wouldn’t dare face us with this at the vanguard of our armies, and we would be secure from any other form of attack for the foreseeable future. This security could usher in a golden age for Aielund — all you have to do is try it on.”

  Seamus looked down at the construct with disdain for a long moment, weighing up the possibilities in his mind.

  “Considering what we’ve just gone through, I think it behoves us to acquire the means to defend the kingdom against future threats,” he stated, his voice still hinting at an unspoken concern. “The image of myself or one of my knights—”

  “No, only you, sire,” Terinus instructed. “You cannot allow a lesser man to wield this sort of power.”

  “Alright, the sight of me walking around in this might cause problems in the long term. I believe your idea has merit, but I want a more thorough examination conducted upon our return to Fairloch.”

  “Of course, sire, anything you wish,” Terinus replied with a bow.

  “Get some sleep, then have it prepared for transport tomorrow night, when nobody will see. I want this information to be held in the strictest confidence, and if I feel it’s too risky, I want you to destroy it. Am I clear?”