Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One)

by Reaves, Troy

  Boremac had anticipated this line of questioning, considering the first arrow had clearly been intended for him. "When one comes upon a nest of snakes, it is safer to assume the guise of the slithering creatures than to bare your flesh to their fangs. I was saddled with the protection of Gregor by Lord Silverwing himself, and guided to the young Knight by the God of Light. Divine guidance does not give me divine insight. I proceeded in the best manner I knew without knowing the numbers I faced. You cannot deny the end justified the means in this case. Despite the danger to my person, I can assure you Gregor’s safety was foremost in my mind. Are the marks on my body not proof enough for you?"

  Gregor spoke up with the last statement, noticing as if for the first time the multiple bleeding wounds and tears in Boremac's leathers. "Lower your weapons or be ready to bury me beside him!" Gregor moved between the archers and Boremac, examining his wounds. Blood painted the rogue’s leathers and many punctures still bled freely. Gregor remembered the wound Lord Silverwing had sustained so long ago and he feared for the rogue now. "I thank you, Master Boremac. If you had not come when you did, I would certainly have been overcome and the loss of life among these protectors of the wood would have been terrible. Please rest yourself and allow me to tend to your wounds."

  Boremac raised his voice to the assembled rangers and druids. "Finally, a voice of reason among the accusers! You would do well to learn from the actions of this Knight among barbarians!" The rogue raised a fist in defiance before collapsing to the ground in a heap.

  ***

  "I don' know what’cha thinkin’ trustin’ his kind. No sense in it, none at all." The mountain man's words were the first thing Boremac became aware of after he awoke. The rogue could feel the warmth of a fire nearby and a heavy gauntleted hand resting on his chest, protectively monitoring his steady breathing. He decided to keep his body motionless a bit longer. The group that had come upon his attempt to save Gregor appeared to be in deep discussion concerning his fate.

  "I cannot disagree with Gregor's measure of the man at this point, Dramor, though I am not real comfortable with the bandit. He stinks of lies." Boremac flinched inwardly at Tana's biting words. There was little doubt that she was in charge of the group, and her decision would carry a great deal of weight.

  Gregor's reply to her vitriolic statement brought the rogue little comfort. "I sense no threat in the man and his actions, though questionable, do stand up to his explanation. If Master Silverwing has seen to call on this man to protect me, I can find no reason to distrust him. My mentor's wisdom is far greater than mine, and he has taken the measure of this rogue."

  A new female voice entered the counsel. The lilting tone of this one’s words spoke of ethereal beauty, almost forcing Boremac to expose his conscious state. "Your mentor’s sight may have been tainted, Lord Lightsword. These are evil times. One should take nothing for granted. We should bind the rogue until we are able to take proper measure of his intent. He clearly voiced his intentions concerning you before he was aware of our presence." Boremac did not like the way this conversation was going, not one bit. He cursed silently as once more the naive knight attempted to come to his aid.

  "Mistress Sephia, I appreciate your concern but I think you go too far. The divine gifts that restored his flesh would not have flowed into my hands so readily to save one bent against the powers that grant him life. The knitting of his wounds only reinforces my beliefs where the rogue is concerned. Who are we to bring harm to one the God of Light has seen fit to heal? If we are to question him so be it, but you will not bind my charge."

  The delicate voice answered with her even tone, though Boremac sensed more than heard her disgust. "Do what you must, Lord Lightsword. You should be aware that your charge has awakened and has been listening for some time. Even now he deceives you."

  The hand resting on the rogue's chest came up abruptly and Boremac's eyes sprang open to find Gregor's own looking into his. Boremac felt it was time to come to his own defense. "What? A man awakens to people discussing how best to undo him and you think I was going to spring up and announce my awareness?" Boremac sat up, pushing Gregor aside, as his eyes filled with the flames before him. "My thanks to you Gregor, or Lord Lightsword or whatever they're calling you now, for your faith in a misguided soul trying to make up for poor choices. As for the rest of you, if my options are arguing with you for acceptance with the promise of being trussed up and sent to the local constables, or giving over my charge to you group of tree dwellers and making my own path, I will bid you farewell and hope your Gods and Goddesses give you strength enough in your quest. Gregor, your God chose me, not the other way around and I do not pretend to understand why. Take my words for what you will and decide what you want to do because you are wasting time." Boremac then cast a withering gaze around the fire, daring each person in turn to meet his eyes and finding few that would. "Time is not something you can squander, and you would do well to take advantage of the aid offered, no matter what you think of the source."

  Tana's voice lifted before another could object to the rogue’s speech. She brought her hands up to signal her desire for silence as Boremac set his arms across his chest, feigning objection. "Your twisting tongue holds just enough wisdom to keep me from cutting it out. Answer me this, bandit, and make it quick. How did you come to find Gregor? The obvious answer would be that you were lying in wait with the others. If I can find no other reason, I will cut your throat myself."

  Boremac took only a moment to consider her threat before deciding that honesty was the best course to follow at this time, though he was not pleased with sharing the truth of his journey. The path that had led him here seemed ridiculous even to his own ears as he related it. "My blades brought me here, though not in any manner you would expect. Trusting any higher power, outside that which governs my luck, has never meant much to me in the past. A low glow came to the hilts of the daggers I was gifted from Master Firebeard, the master smith from Nactium, and I could find no reason for it save a sign from the God of Light whose priesthood blessed these weapons. I acquired a horse and rode hard down the road toward Nactium. Master Silverwing charged me with waiting for Gregor in the city of Zanthfar at our last meeting, but it took no leap of faith to think the young Knight might find trouble making his way to the city. My assumption seemed to be confirmed the farther I got from Zanthfar, as the light from the daggers intensified the closer I got to this place. Seeing no point in announcing my presence, I cloaked the daggers within my leathers and pointed the horse back towards its home stables in Zanthfar before I made my way into the woods where Gregor had been captured. I assume you were present when I arrived, though I cannot say why you did not engage the assassins before I did." Despite his desperate situation, Boremac could not resist the smirk that bent his lips.

  "Cepheid noted your arrival and chose to have us hold, bandit. Whether you like it or not, we saved your life. Three-Paw, the Wolf that knocked you out of the path of my arrow, was guided by my words." Her sharp tone softened before she continued. "Dramor took matters into his own hands and decided to be sure you had no chance to threaten the other members of the group. He has a certain determined logic that sometimes puts him into conflict with my direction, especially when he senses a threat."

  Dramor interjected his own comment at this time, so moved was he by her words. "I’da had ‘em, quick feet or no, if’n the knight hadn' drew me attention. Save me ears burnin' now if’n I had."

  Boremac prepared to reply but Tana cut him off with a sharp look. "Dramor, still yourself for the time being." The huntress turned back to Boremac with a brief nod that he could not decipher. "You are lucky the mountain man was not more focused, bandit. Dramor knows only one way to dispense with threats. As for your story, I did note the glowing daggers you wielded against the leader of the assassins. That is part of the reason you still draw breath. It would have taken no effort on my part to let her kill you. We had marked all the other targets before my arrow penetrated her chest. We o
we you some small debt for distracting the killers, but they were doomed from the moment we arrived. Would you turn your daggers over to Gregor for examination?"

  Boremac felt the fact that she was asking him for permission showed definite improvement in his current standing with her. He turned to extend the daggers' hilts to Gregor as he answered with a single word. "Gladly."

  Gregor took the daggers to examine them and get a better sense of the divine blessing that would give truth to the rogue's words. The intricate runes traced on the blades were clearly the marks of the Temple of Light, and the symbols that graced the odd hats that adorned the two jesters capping the hilts matched the design of his own chest piece. The work of master Firebeard was unmistakable, as was the guidance he had no doubt received from one of the more highly placed Temple priests, though Gregor was at a loss to decipher the meaning of the pair of fools decorating the pommels. He was moved to say as much as he handed the blades back to the rogue.

  Boremac grinned at that knight's questioning gaze. "Clearly Father Oregeth questioned the wisdom of me joining this quest to set the world back to rights. I can only hope that my face more closely resembles the smiling one at the end of my days." Boremac grew serious before he continued. "I've never been one tied by my word in the past. Honor means little to a man that is surrounded by thieves most of the time. Still this much I can promise you, Lord Lightsword, I have given my word to an honorable man and he has shown me nothing but trust in all our dealings. You will not fall as long as there is power in these quick hands to prevent it. I am figuring between your faith and my luck, we should do well. Of course, we can't forget these graceless bush beaters that would see a man undone over his misunderstood intentions."

  Gregor's hands shot up in a warding gesture to the others around the fire, hoping to stifle the flurry of curses the rogue's words would no doubt bring. "We have all made errors today, Master Boremac, and increasing the animosity within our number serves no purpose. Despite the rangers’ handling of you, I am certain you can see they had my safety at the front of their minds as you did. Bickering accomplishes nothing. Please choose your words more carefully, if only out of respect for me."

  Dramor's loud voice broke the moment of silence observed after Gregor spoke. "I got nothin' but respect for ya, Lord Lightsword, but this man needs to air out 'is voice. I wan'ta give ya my respec' for tossing me, Master Boremac, and I 'ope ya can see me wantn' to give you a what fer of yer own." The mountain man struggled to his feet, clearly still affected by Boremac's abuse, and bowed to the rogue. "I cannot rightly speak for all of us, but me, I welcome ya. We gonna need all the 'elp we can muster 'fore this is over wit'."

  Tana stood beside Dramor and the others around the fire. There were looks of concern, and a few smiling faces that shook their heads as they rose, but together they bowed to their leader's judgment. "What a day has come that brings the valiant to lie down with the serpents! The Goddess and God must bless us all to suffer this fit of madness. We will follow you, Gregor, into the Abyss itself should that be what is required, just do not ask me to follow the words of this most questionable individual. His tongue twists like smoke in a whirlwind."

  Boremac decided to accept the compliment implied in Tana’s words, no matter what her intention had been, and he laughed openly for the first time he could remember. "We are not so different, huntress. I would say that of the two of us, my game is far more dangerous than yours. Ever had a rabbit scar you for turning your back to it? Those assembled here would do worse than to have me to guide them in a pinch. At least I know enough to keep my enemies in front of me." The throwing dagger leapt into his hand before Boremac had made his feet and the blade spun through the air just past Tana's ear. Five bows, including Tana's own, were nocked and at the ready as the sound of breaking limbs drew Gregor's attention beyond where Tana stood. A thud sounded in the darkness outside the light of the fire, and a misfired crossbow bolt angled out from the ground near where Tana stood. Boremac moved to retrieve the bolt, staring intently at the tip. "Looks like we're even, huntress. Good thing none of you tree dwellers got hold of this. You would have gone ahead and tasted the point to test the poison. Would've killed you so fast, you would not have had time to flop." He tossed the offending bolt into the fire. "Contact poison, and a rare one to be sure. Someone really wanted to break up this little party. Wonder why the assassins haven’t killed you, Gregor? No offense of course."

  Tana relaxed her drawn arrow and placed it into her quiver as the other archers followed her lead. "Why would a lone surviving assassin take a shot at me?" The question was rhetorical judging from her tone, but Boremac was moved to answer it anyway.

  "Well, he identified the leader of the group easily enough. You may as well have put a bull's-eye on your back when you shot the assassins' leader. They do not take kindly to outside interference. The killer no doubt saw an opportunity to gain favor with the Master of these bastards if he could have taken you down before retreating. He probably hoped to secure his departure in the chaos created by your demise." Boremac shrugged as if what he said should have been obvious. "That brings us back to the question of why Gregor was not slain. These Black Hands are killers, not kidnappers, at least not without a damn good reason, and highly skilled professionals besides. Given time and inclination the lone remaining hunter would've slain you all."

  Gregor spoke up before Tana could reply, though he seemed to be sorting his own thoughts as well as addressing the others. "He wants the blade I carry, and it appears he wants me as well, though I cannot say why. If master Silverwing were here, he could shed some light on the motivation of the dark priest. Boremac, you said you spoke with my mentor recently. Where is he now?"

  "Well beyond our reach I'm certain, Gregor. I remained in Zanthfar at his request before he left to go into the mountains, though I am unsure why. Can I see the blade of which you speak? Lord Silverwing told me you bear part of the true sword that has honored the leader of the Knights since it was first created." Gregor reached behind his back to pass the blade to the rogue, the hesitation in releasing his grip on it nearly imperceptible. The rogue noted his reluctance and kept the blade held before Gregor as he examined it. "Never held a blessed artifact before. Can't say I see much to it, though it has a keen edge. It was finely crafted to be sure, but is useless without a hilt. What are these runes tracing up the blade?" The rogue handed the blade back to Gregor's waiting hands.

  "I cannot say. The runes are ancient and their meaning is lost to all but the one that crafted the weapon so long ago. Long study in the Temple of Light brought me no closer to deciphering them." The knight turned to Tana to explain the importance of the sword. "This sword is the weapon passed from one leader to the next throughout the history of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. The will of the God of Light himself was brought to bear against all manner of evil in the time since its initial blessing, when the first Knights were called. Somehow the blade was undone when the Knights I served were destroyed. A power infused the blade which allowed a great demon to take possession of it as it was turned against the last leader of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. I think now I know why the blade was broken even as Lord Clamine sacrificed himself to save me." Understanding lit Gregor's features as he stared into the flames, remembering that terrible night so long ago. "The God of Light kept the blade safe in the flesh of his holy warrior as He dismissed the demon that would've killed us both. The sword hilt was lost in the Abyss with the dismissal of the creature, carried away with the Tharnorsa."

  "Who is the priest? Who could wield such power? Evil of this nature is surely beyond the grasp of mere mortals." Tana's matter-of-fact statement drew Gregor's eyes to meet her own.

  "Father Tur'morival is no mere mortal, at least not anymore. He once served the God of Light and formed the consortium of priests drawn from many faiths to create the Order of the Crimson Night. The Order’s purpose was to prepare the followers of true faiths for the Crimson Night that was to come, and for many years they
stood at the front of the battle against Abysmal incursions into the world. I believe Father Tur'morival was tainted by the forces he sought to defeat, though I cannot say why this came to pass." Gregor shook his head as broken images invaded his mind from his encounter with the demonologist in his dream. "He is no longer a man. Some form twisted by the demonic forces he has chosen to ally himself with is all that remains." Gregor related his encounter with Father Tur'morival as well as what he had been able to learn studying the priest's written works in the Temple of Light. The knight also shared his recent encounters with the priests of the Crimson Night, answering a few questions offered by the rangers and druids as he progressed, though few interrupted his discourse, content to learn what they could from his words.

  "Your encounter with the cursed wolves shows the priest's power to twist simpler beasts, but we have not encountered any of these Crimson Night staff wielders within the wilds near Zanthfar. Do you think they have the power to create the demon bloods we have seen leading the orc tribes?" Tana looked at Gregor with many questions poised behind her eyes, choosing to save the others until they were safe.

  "Demon bloods?" Gregor was caught off guard by the question. "What are you referring to as demon bloods? Have you encountered twisted humanoids as well as animals? I've seen no such creatures, but there was little news delivered to the Temple in Nactium concerning Zanthfar while I was there pursuing my training."