Reaching out, I clasped her hand for but a moment. It was our way of telling each other, “I am here,” and, “You are not alone.” Those are two of the three most important things that we humans can share with one another. The third I show her every day. “You are loved.”
I glanced at the dark curtains over the window, and a bit of that between the light of twilight was lightening parts of the door frame where it leaked into the space. Father Sol would be rising soon, and I could feel in my bones that this moment of tranquility would soon be replaced with the chaos of impending battle.
Stretching, I gave her a show of it the best I could, with an impish grin on my face. She smiled and rolled her eyes at me. I know, not the proper time nor place, but I enjoyed getting reactions from my wife as she was a woman of few words and her expressions could tell you volumes about what state of mind she was in and what she was thinking.
Then I slipped on my cloak and we weaponed up before making our way out to a building that was just waking to the smells of something cooking in the main hall. Some of Corrine's family were already walking the stairs or going from wagon to wagon in preparation for the day.
The children were awake and whispering as we passed, I allowed my magik do what it would without trying to restrain it, to give them a show as I left various afterimages that rushed in swirling white mist to catch up with me. I often wondered if those mists were past versions of myself, like the future versions I could send ahead in time.
Was that how I was able to go back a few seconds to warn myself of danger with the memory of it? Was I stepping back into this trail of leaked magik somehow? I'd have to get with Mother Udele upon our return to ask these things, as she is the most gifted of the touched with the sight. If anyone knew, it would be her.
I saw Heather at the hearth again with her brother and an elderly man. They were preparing a meal to break our fast. The wondrous smell of eggs and meat would be waking all of the residents of Journey's End soon if they weren't already awake and preparing for the day.
I smiled toward the back of the place where Alexandru was instructing Elaine in the basics of sword handling. Working on her grip, as most novices didn't keep a firm grip on their blade and were easily disarmed because of it. I don't remember so much soft laughter when I was being trained. I squinted an eye in accusation at Celeste when he started to demonstrate lunges to the Cristea woman.
Celeste just booped my nose with a finger in reply. She would never teach me to attack, only to defend. And she has ordered all knights in the mobile battalion to only teach me defense. She has this aversion to me learning to strike out in battle because she says that I never chose to be a knight, I had only become her squire to save me from the stockades.
She is the one who chose this path for me, and she didn't want me to know the emotional turmoil which came with the taking of life. Which is ironic, because even without my blade, I have more kills on my conscience than any Knight of Sparo, even her.
I sighed inwardly. I will say one thing though about her insistence. I am possibly the most skilled defensive two bladed swordswoman in all the realms now. If only I knew how to go on the offensive and attack.
We reached the front doors where a nervous looking Angelus stood, peeking outside around the heavy curtains. He saw us approaching and gave us a smile full of those same nerves painting his expression.
Celeste just cocked her head at him as we slipped to the other side of the curtain to peek out ourselves. It was such a surreal scene, the pretty village still looked abandoned. In Wexbury Keep, the vendors would be making their way to set up in the market, and the herders like me would be heading out to tend our animals as the gardeners prepped their carts for the day.
Angelus answered her questioning look with, “At first light, the others will know of the missing men at the checkpoint.” I could hear the fear in his voice. Just how bad were things with the Avalonians? I mean, beyond the obvious.
I asked, trying to keep his mind off it, “Where is everyone? The village is so still.”
I noted his knuckles whitening on the wood axe he held as he tightened and loosened his grip on it rhythmically with his breathing. These people were farmers, not warriors. And they didn't have any proper weapons save one. They couldn't be expected to stand against a superior force like they had tried again and again, suffering devastating defeats.
They needed not fear now. We would stand for them. We would fight, and we would die in there stead, that they and their children would not know this violence. It is what Knights did.
He relaxed his grip on the handle of his improvised weapon a bit as he explained, “Curfew. None are allowed out of their buildings from sundown to sunup. Any found on the streets are summarily executed as an example to others to obey their orders. They just leave the bodies on the streets for us to take care of once Father Sol rises.”
The man set the head of the axe on the ground and crossed his arms on top of the handle, showing his exhaustion from last shift at guard. “We are all to go about our business once the sun is up. None are allowed to leave the village except the farmers who are allowed to go out and tend the crops and herds since they take half of everything produced, leaving us with barely enough to survive on.”
Then his hate for the Avalonians dangerously made his handsome face shadow with his eyes slitting. “Tomorrow is a Choosing. They will return the Cristea that they worked half to death this week and come for a hundred more from each village.”
He almost growled out the next, keeping his voice low so the people coming out of the rooms and down the stairs to help set up breakfast wouldn't hear. His eyes on the children to be sure they didn't know the last part he shared, “They choose men and women for the mines and the black pitch pits... and young women for their... pleasure.”
Then he got a look on his face which I recognized. I had seen it in the eyes of men and women after Marauder attacks. It was the look of a father seeking vengeance, even if it would cost his own life, as he looked over to Elaineia. Mother Luna, may the Three Sisters preserve us... Elaine had been one of those girls taken for their beds.
This, even above the other atrocities, made any pity I may have felt for Avalon, any urge to spare their lives, vanish.
I studied her as she practiced, the children starting to gather around them to watch. I could see it now, the fire in her. The need to help her people, the reason she took up the Home Sword, the drive to learn to fight. It was in the look of determination as she thrust at Dru as he parried with his own blade.
But they did not break her. Instead, they had unleashed a fire in the girl that burned like the fire of Wexbury inside all of us Knights. She would see the end of this siege one way or another. And we would stand by her side.
That determined young woman glanced over at us, and the smile she was sharing with Dru evaporated as her eyes hardened, she knew what we were discussing, and I looked quickly away as Dru disarmed her in her distraction. Stupid Laney, just stupid.
Corrine growled out, “They have even spirited some young women away to, as they say, widen their genetic pool in Avalon.”
As that sunk in, we all turned when we heard loud cracks outside in rapid succession, and the distant sound of men screaming. The distant echo of the same from the other side of the village. People were peeking out their windows into to the new foreboding silence which followed.
I had to smile when I realized I had drawn Anadele and Hera, and Celeste had drawn her blade on instinct as well. Dru had abandoned Elaine and had an arrow already nocked loosely in his bow as he joined us at the doors.
Celeste relaxed and sheathed her blade as I could taste familiar magic in the air. I exhaled the breath I was holding and sheathed my blades too. There was no mistaking Sara's magik, it tasted of oak and silver. And someone to the west was using Altii magic. It may have been whatever magic the Avalonians may possess, but it tasted of home, of Sparo, so I doubted it.
Alexandru took his cue from us, and in on
e movement he had somehow replaced his arrow in his quiver as he set the end of his bow on the floor and leaned on it in an aloof manner.
I glanced at Angelus who had the handle of the wood-axe he now held across his chest in a death grip. I smiled at him, gently laid my silk-gloved hand on his, and prompted softly, “It is alright. Friends have come to break their fast with us.”
I suppressed a shiver not wanting to picture the scene that had just played out at the remaining checkpoints.
Corrine had moved over to join us during the commotion. She looked around at all the anxious faces in the silence, then smiled and said, “It is ok. It is time for first meal. Everyone sit.” The looks of nervous relief around us gave me a greater respect for the Mother of the Cristea, she was just as afraid as they were but she didn't show it externally. She only showed them confidence and strength. The two things they needed just then.
Everyone went into motion, and the talking started first in low tones then evolved into an almost cheerful buzz in the whirlwind of activity as the meal was set up. We checked the doors again, and the first rays of Father Sol were painting the village in golds and oranges of morning. People started pouring out of cottages to gather in the streets, looking toward the checkpoints.
Then eyes started turning to Journey's End as the oldest of the children started running around pulling and tying all the curtains back from the various windows.
Corrine sighed and stepped past us to open the doors wide as frightened and confused people started arriving. She stepped out and said in a strong voice that carried well, and I realized the shape of the town square was amplifying her – it was ingenious really – , “Cristea, there is nothing to fear. Everyone, come and gather, and we will break bread together this day. There is much to discuss.”
The murmurs rose in the village as the word spread like wildfire, it reminded me so much of the infamous Wexbury Grapevine. People went back into their cottages and then came back out with tables and chairs, and meals they had prepared for the morning... And they gathered in the square.
I was smiling at the people who shared all even though Angelus had shared how they were all just scraping by. The strength and sense of family of the Gypsies never failed to amaze and inspire me to be better, to be... more.
The residents of Journey's End started moving our own meal out to join the gathering crowd. Heather shot me a silly look as she nudged past me with an immense bowl full of fluffy eggs that would feed at least thirty. I crinkled my nose at her and moved out of everyone's way, feeling worthless as they all set about preparing a gathering. I moved over to grab a chair to carry out as my meager contribution.
I was halfway to the big open doors when we heard shouts and gasps in the crowd. I could hear the distinctive sound of armored boots on the cobblestones and my smile started to grow. I imagined what the Cristea must be thinking as the sound grew closer.
Then people parted, and a man wearing that odd cloth-like and not-metal armor came tumbling into the building, splayed out upon the floor, beaten and bloody and moaning. A grinning Bowyn stepped in in in full armor, the studs in the leather gleaming in the rising sun.
He clasped arms with first Celeste, then me as he said, “I found this fellow on the road. His friend had some sort of aversion to breathing, and alas the man is no longer with us. Two others had that same aversion at the west checkpoint on the road.”
The toothy grin he gave us belied the violence that had occurred, and the taking of three lives. Humor was another type of armor Knights wore, detaching themselves from the reality of it all, or they wouldn't be able to do what was needed to ensure the safety of others.
Celeste was already asking the first question I had, “Casualties?”
He shook his head. “Verna was grazed by whatever magic those Wizards thew with their noisy machines. But she's fine. In fact...”
We heard the clomping of armored boots stop in the town square as people started shouting over each other. Then we heard familiar heavy footsteps, and our musclebound Verna stepped into the space. Two giant... guns, resting on her shoulders, balanced by her hands.
She had that wild look of battle still coloring her face. Part of her carbon steel shoulder armor looked to have been torn away, and her shoulder was bandaged and red with blood. She looked like one of those Valkyrie warriors we found in one of the Penny Library tomes with that vicious smile on her face.
She unceremoniously threw the huge guns on the floor with a clattering clank and said to us with a cocked eyebrow that caused the long scar on her face to stretch, “We found these on the road, just sitting there. They sling magic fire. The men we asked about them weren't feeling up to answering, or anything else ever again it seems. So we took them. Wouldn't want someone stumbling over them and twisting an ankle.”
I hugged the burly woman, and she shooed me away as I tried to check her bandage. She grinned down at me as she clasped Celeste's arm. Sylvia pushed through the crowd into the hall, chastising, “Slow down you big oaf! I need to finish healing that!”
I had never seen Verna cowed before this, she lowered her head like a chastised child and said, “Sorry Sylvia.”
I had to grin.
Then she asked hopefully, “But don't do too good a job, leave the scar please.”
The healer looked at her incredulously, then just nodded once as she went to work.
The crowd exploded into gasps and excited chatter when those sheets of silky white magic drifted from her onto Verna's shoulder. I looked out to those gathered around the two full squads of Sparo Knights who were standing at attention, the sunlight glinting off their armor.
Corrine, to her credit, just stood on a chair to be seen better, as she called out, “Old Home has come to break bread!”
There was silence for, but a heartbeat as her words sank in, and people realized just who all these strangers were who had just dragged a barely conscious Avalonian to throw at their Mother's feet. Old Home, Sparo, had finally arrived.
The cheering that followed had me covering my ears. Mother Corrine raised a hand to calm everyone, and she announced, “Show them the hospitality of the Cristea of New Home! Let us break bread with our new allies.”
Then there was a sudden silence as something on the barely conscious Avalon soldier crackled to life. In a hissing clicking spattering of noise, a voice came out of the black box on his belt. “Checkpoint three. You've missed the last three check-ins. Checkpoint three respond.”
What magic was this?
Then the voice was asking, “Checkpoint two, do you have eyes on checkpoint three? Checkpoint two?”
The man rolled to a sitting position, and smiled, blood from his lips coated his teeth, making it look macabre as the voice moved on, “Checkpoint one? Damn it, you guys. Respond.”
Celeste was pulling the box off his belt, I noted someone had taken the little gun from his belt that they all seemed to have. She held the box out to the man. “Answer them.” And with a single movement, she drew her blade and placed it across his jugular. “Tell them everything is fine.”
The man paled as his eyes moved to the sword without turning his head. He swallowed and took the box. He pressed one of the buttons on the side, and said, “This is checkpoint one, base, we're having some radio problems here. It's this fucking valley screwing with radio reception again.”
The other man replied when he released the button, “The weather here is different.”
The man smiled and responded, “There's no place like home.”
I jumped when the hilt of Celeste's sword slammed into his jaw, and he went sprawling to the ground almost lifelessly.
She looked up at Bowyn who was nodding at her and supplying, “Some sort of code.”
Oh... was that what the talk of weather was? Mother Luna, they knew something was wrong now.
Celeste retrieved the box and looked at the side and pressed the button experimentally and asked, “Hello?”
She let go of the button and the man's v
oice was filled with venom when it asked, “Who is this, what have you done with our men?”
My girl nodded to herself, satisfied she knew how this magic worked. Avalon must truly be the Great Wizards of the Before after-all. She pressed the button and said, “I am Countess Celeste of the Techno Knight Order, Blade of Temperance of Wexbury, daughter of Prime Techromancer Donovan, Sora of the Lupei, and Templar of Sparo.”
I blinked, she was pulling out all her titles here, she hated titles. “Are you the leader of the Avalonians laying siege to the Cristea in these Westlands?”
The man replied, “If you have hurt any of our men, you stupid savage...”
She nodded and held the button again, “Our, not my? So you are not in charge, you are not Stein. Tell your Commander that I wish a parlay under the banner of truce. I expect a response in the next hour on this, what did he call this thing? Radio? Or Sparo will march on your base.”
She looked at the box then clipped it to her belt as she ignored the man's repeated attempts to have her put our prisoner on.
She looked over to where Dru and Bowyn were securing the prisoner then she looked around to the silent crowd. “I'm famished. Shall we eat?”
Corrine started clapping her hands and pointing to the tables set up in the town square, and everyone hesitantly started sitting and offering chairs to our knights who thanked them graciously. All the while an irate voice came from the box with threats and demands that were ignored by my wife.
We took our first bite of bacon and eggs when the man finally gave up trying to get a response. The knight of my heart said to Corrine and Elaine who hadn't taken their eyes off of her, “Good, now maybe we can speak with someone with a more level head. Perhaps violence will not be necessary after all.”
Then she pointed something out as she looked down at the box that I hadn't noticed because I was in such shock of being able to talk through the air over miles like that. “It is some sort of mechanical marvel. I felt no magic in it. Bex would love to find out what makes it tick.” Now that I thought of it, I tasted no telltale signs of magic either. Was all Avalon's perceived might just trickery and technology? These were not the Great Wizards after all.
Techromancy Scrolls_Westlands Page 18
