The Scroll of Isidor

by Holden Sheppard

cried. 'Josip is only nine. What am I supposed to tell him if those men finally break through the mountain? What if they're criminals - thieves or murderers? Do I tell him that our Chief is a fat waste of space, too lazy to defend us? Or should I say that our Deputy, the once great Levin Ruck, is now too much of a coward to stand up to him?'

  Lev winced. She always seemed to see right through his bluster. He'd known it was hardly believable to pretend he'd known all along.

  But saving face was no longer the most important thing.

  'How do you know there are men up there?' he asked quickly. 'You said there were noises in the mountains. I assumed it was a wild Arkod.'

  'I said "noises" and you ran up that staircase before I could say anything else!' Desma said. 'I assure you, it's not wild. Not an Arkod, nor any other beast. It's men.'

  Lev's heart pounded. 'Men from where?'

  'Exactly. That's why I came here as quickly as I could. They're tunnelling through the mountain. I can hear them.'

  Lev glanced at the spiral staircase back to Magnus' den. A second attempt to sway him to action would not fare well. Sod him. Sod everything about him. Lev had dedicated his name - the name of his ancestors - to protecting Dervine. To disgrace his oath because of Magnus' short-sightedness was not an option.

  The former soldier straightened his back and sheathed his sword. 'I'll be whipped if you're wrong, you know,' he said.

  'What about backup?' Desma asked. 'If there are men in the mountain, don't you think you should meet force with force?'

  'No backup,' Lev said. 'If I'm to abandon my post in direct defiance of the Chief's orders, it's best we keep it to ourselves. As reliable as my men are, they are also gossips, every last one of them. It would get back to Magnus. No. We'll ride to the mountain, just the two of us. Scope it out. And once we have proof, I can get the Chief to act.'

  'Not even Eddren?'

  'Eddy? Never!' Lev laughed. 'I love the man like a brother, but he's got the biggest mouth of them all. I swear to you, soldiers are as gossipy as old washer women.'

  Desma raised an eyebrow and, subconsciously it seemed, touched her hand to the floral crown on her head. 'It's funny you say that,' she said. 'I just had the thought the other day that those washer women are even more vicious than soldiers.'

  Lev opened the heavy oak cabinet at the rear of the room, where his light armour was stored among the thick loops of rope and other tools. Apart from training days and the occasional scuffle with Arkods or drunken travellers, he had scarcely needed it since the war. He picked up the cuirass encrusted with sharp steel studs and looped it over his head, shifting the brown leather armour until it fitted snugly over his tunic. Putting on armour was always a powerful, exciting sensation; Lev always felt like his muscles had doubled in size.

  But the armour was also tainted, bringing back the sounds and smells of the war with every metallic jingle of the buckles and every whiff of stale sweat seeping out of the tough leather.

  A hand moved across Lev's back, snapping a buckle into place.

  'I could've done that myself,' he said.

  'You looked miles away,' Desma scoffed, clipping a second buckle. 'I was hoping we could get to the mountain before we're all slaughtered, if it's all the same to you?'

  Lev hid his smirk and adjusted his steel-studded pauldrons.

  'If I'm not going in with backup, I at least need to be armoured,' he said. 'Actually ?' A smile softened his scarred features. 'What am I saying? I have the best backup there is. I have the girl who shoved Lord Aksel face-first into the Jadepool because he wouldn't let her go for a ride on his horse.'

  Desma snorted ingloriously. 'I can't believe you remember that!'

  'Are you kidding? That was one of the funniest moments of my childhood. Lord Aksel was such a pompous ass. Did your parents ever punish you for it?'

  'They made a big fuss in front of everyone,' Desma said, doing up another buckle. 'But when we got back to the orchard, my father sat me down to scold me and then couldn't stop laughing. I think he liked seeing Aksel floundering around like a drunken eel as much as everyone else.'

  Lev wrapped his favourite gauntlet around his wrist - it was made of an emerald-green leather - and began to lace it up. 'I remember thinking that day that I never wanted to get on your bad side.'

  'Oh, you couldn't have. Not back then. The whole reason I wanted to ride Lord Aksel's horse was to join you and the others for your ride. You were handsome then, Lev. Blue eyes and broad shoulders.'

  'Before my ugly mug got all cut up, you mean?' Lev traced the long scar on his face.

  'I never said you weren't handsome now,' Desma said.

  Lev's stomach curled itself into a lump. 'God's arse, Desma. I can see why the washer women talk about you.'

  'Oh, don't worry, Lev. They talk about you too.'

  'Really? What do they say?'

  'Can't tell, I'm afraid. Woman's honour.' A devilish glint twinkled in Desma's green eyes. 'It's all bad, though.'

  Lev finished pulling his boots on and fought a smile away. It had been a long time since he and Desma had spoken like this, and he missed it. 'Stands to reason,' he said gruffly. 'Deputies never get the respect we deserve.' He stood up. 'It's time. Let's get to the horses.'