by Justin Sloan
“Or send a signal of some sort,” Laird Summers stated thoughtfully.
“The mystics,” Alastar offered. “If each side had one with them, all you’d need to do was be sure they were close enough to communicate.”
“They might even be able to use their magic to keep the enemy from spotting the army,” Laird Lokane said excitedly.
“This is all assuming they still want to be part of this war,” Rhona interjected. “These aren’t their lands, after all.”
The king nodded but said, “I’ve met these men. Their hearts are in the right place.”
“Meaning you think they’ll help?” Laird Summers asked.
“I do.”
Laird Summers leaned back, eyes moving to Rhona and narrowing. “Two days, then. The ships are still being loaded, the swords being sharpened. Hell, some of us are still sore, and already we’re talking about setting off again? We must be mad.”
“We must be doing the right thing. It’s like food—if it tastes good, it must not be good for you. Am I right?”
He chuckled, hand on his large belly. “And this whole situation tastes like shite, so aye, we’re in the right here. Two days.”
Rhona bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting at him, but at a look from her father she decided she should keep her silence. Two days. At least it was an answer, and better than three.
She turned to Alastar to see the same look on his face, but with a nod the two turned and exited.
“What do you think?” he asked when they were in the clear. Kia and Lannis stared up at her with wide eyes, and Donnon jutted his jaw expectantly.
“It’ll have to do, right?”
Alastar shrugged. “Or we go now on our own…”
“How many times have we been on our own?” She shook her head. “I prefer to stay with the larger group.”
He nodded. “I’ll tell the paladins. Maybe you could give Larick and Volney a heads-up?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Donnon stated, holding up a hand.
“Get some rest,” Rhona told the kids. “Legs aren’t made for walking as far as we’re about to.”
“About that,” Donnon replied, turning back as he was about to go. “I would imagine they’ll want the children on the ship, so as not to be slowed down.”
Lannis looked like he was about to protest, but Kia smiled and said, “Good.”
“Good?” Rhona asked.
“I’m not about to walk three or however many days. Come on—I’m just a kid.”
The others laughed at that, all of them likely thinking, like Rhona, how much this kid had already done for the survival of Roneland.
“However it works out,” Rhona replied, “we have to prepare ourselves. Some major butts are waiting up there, and I want to be in prime kicking condition.”
Everyone moved to their rooms, the long journey just around the corner.
CHAPTER TWO
Fires smoldered, sending a steady plume of black smoke over the town supposedly populated by water mages. The sight was enough to give Andreas doubts about their location. How could water mages have let this happen?
Still, given all the fighting he had seen—including the crazy sorcerers—it wasn’t unthinkable. Why nobody had bothered to put out the fires, though, was another question.
“Looks like we’re too late,” Lars said as they came around the bend, now better able to see the town that had been destroyed.
“Wait… There!” Kim was at the wheel of the ship, eyes narrowed, pointing.
Sure enough, someone was moving toward them, and then they saw more than one. A whole group was coming their way.
“Friend or foe?” Lars asked.
“That’s what we’re about to find out,” Andreas replied, staff gripped firmly in his hand. If there was trouble he was ready to get them out of there quickly, with a little help from the waves and wind.
“Would you look at that?” Kim exclaimed. “Horses!”
Andreas couldn’t believe his eyes. When he had found out the woman named Rose had a horse—made to look like a unicorn—he had been amazed. But this? These people had three horses!
The woman at the front of the group stopped on the strand, and the others formed a half-circle around her. She waved her hands and lifted them, and the water in front of the boat surged up and formed what looked like a mighty guardian of the sea. It wore a crown of kelp and its flowing water was pushing toward them, although it looked solid.
It held out both hands in a gesture that seemed to tell them to stop, and at the same time could have been threatening. It looked like the giant water spirit could come crashing down on them at any moment.
Andreas wondered what his stormcalling ability, as limited as it was, could do against this. He could already taste the saltwater in his mouth, as if he were drowning—being cast to the depths of the ocean, never to breathe again.
But the attack didn’t come.
“Announce yourselves!” a woman’s voice called from the shore.
Lars stepped forward and bellowed, “Alastar and Rhona sent us. We are looking for Leila Lockmire.”
“You have found her,” the voice said, and just as quickly as it had appeared, the water spirit vanished. “Approach, but know that if you are not who you claim to be, we will not hesitate for a moment to cast you back into the sea. Understood?”
“With complete clarity,” Lars shouted back, and then turned to Andreas. “Bring us to shore.”
***
Leila waited, watching the small boat unnaturally work its way toward shore. Somehow it was moving against the wind without oars. A water mage, perhaps? The energy it would take to force the water to push a boat, even one that size, seemed unrealistic. So either they had a very powerful water mage, or some other sort of magic user.
If one of the sorcerers were among them, she would find out and destroy him.
She heard the crunch of rocks and dirt under boots and turned to see her son Gregory approach.
“What do you make of it?” he asked. “Maybe we shouldn’t let them land at all.”
She shook her head. “We ate with them, Rhona and her Alastar, had them under our roofs. I trust them. If they sent these three, it’s worth finding out why.”
“But you see what I’m seeing?”
She nodded. “Which is why I’m going to be on full alert, and you’ll tell the rest to do the same.”
Gregory nodded, then moved back to the others to convey the message. While the passengers were unloading from the boat, the group worked their way over to them to get a better look. This trio was clearly not from around here, and each was aged beyond their years. Eyeing them with curiosity was a frail boy—in his late teens, she guessed. He wore robes and held a staff, similar to what she had seen in her brief encounters with Storm Raiders. So that’s how they had moved so fast! But these clearly weren’t Storm Raiders. After giving the Barskall a chance and being betrayed, she might have given the order to attack right then if they had been.
Still tying up the boat was a large man with a scruffy beard and a giant war ax on his back. He paused to help a woman who was arguably not much smaller than him from the boat.
When they approached, Leila held out a cautionary hand. “That’s far enough. We don’t have much to offer. We have only a few spells and swords to our name. Why are you here?”
“I’m Kim,” the woman introduced herself. “This is Lars and Andreas. Honestly, we’re just on our way home, back to the Kaldfell Peninsula, but Alastar and them wanted us to stop by to invite you and yours to join the fight. They’re riding against the goddess and her sorcerers, against the north.”
“We’ve been a bit quick to trust lately,” Gregory said, stepping forward and eyeing them up and down. “Why shouldn’t we put you down where you stand?”
“You could try,” Lars replied with a grunt and frown of disapproval. “And then the good side of this fight would have one less clan boy, and I’d live a life filled with regret.�
��
“No threats here,” Leila said, then held a hand up to stop Gregory from saying anything further. “We’ve seen enough bloodshed.”
“Well, know this,” Lars replied, “Master Irdin is dead. Some other powerful witch? Dead. The king of Gulanri has come north to join in the fight, and it promises to be a good one.”
Now he had her attention, but she turned aside, mulling this over. If the king of Gulanri had truly come north, that meant a united Lost Isles—and united under the right side. There was no way they could sit this one out.
“Wh-what happened here?” the one called Andreas asked.
“We accepted outsiders into our midst,” Gregory replied, and then spat.
“Barskall, to be precise,” Leila added. “They turned on us. Our so-called victory sure doesn’t feel like one, not with all the lives we’ve lost.”
“It was the same everywhere, but we’ve beaten them back,” Kim said. “Even their goddess is on the run, heading north.”
“They think the northern clans are on her side?” Leila asked.
Kim glanced at Lars, who nodded.
“Well, I know of at least one clan who won’t be.” Leila leaned back with a smile, looking out at the water and imagining it now—her sister, who had moved up north in pursuit of love. If she got her hands on that goddess, the fight that would ensue was bound to be monumental. With a glance at her son, she said, “We’re going.”
“North?”
She nodded. “But first west, to see if we can meet up with Rhona and the rest. If they’re in pursuit, at least some of them would take the pass. That’s where we meet them.”
Gregory beamed, apparently eager for more of a chance to get his revenge, or maybe at the mention of a certain woman?
“Just…remember. She’s spoken for,” Kim added, apparently catching on as well.
“Still with that Donnon chap, then?” Gregory squinted, giving a small shake of his head as if that would affect their answer.
“Keep dreaming, if you have your eyes on her,” Lars replied. “Those two are like carrots and potatoes.”
“I’m sorry, like what?”
“You know, they’d make a great stew. Or, a good one, but throw that girl Kia in there? She’s like the beef. Brings it all together.”
“Don’t call Kia ‘beef,’” Kim said, smacking Lars across the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?”
“A hell of a lot, I’d wager.” He chuckled. “You knew what I meant.”
Leila smiled and gave him a nod, thinking maybe it wasn’t a bad thing these three were heading… She frowned, realizing she didn’t know where they were going.
“They sent you to give me the message, but then what?”
“We don’t know how far Lady Mowain and her Dark Society have spread,” Andreas answered, his eyes taking on a distant look and moving to the ground. “The people of the Kaldfell Peninsula need to be on the lookout, and we mean to warn them.”
“If it’s not already too late,” Kim added solemnly.
“Well then, you must go,” Leila stuck out her hand and shook with each of them. “And we must be on our way to join forces with the others. I will find my sister and her clan up north, and see if we have any other allies in that direction.”
With that she motioned for the rest of her friends, the only people who had survived the betrayal by the Barskall. They went on their way, and the three strangers on their own.
CHAPTER THREE
Shouts woke Alastar from his sleep, and he turned to see Estair already at the window, pulling on her clothes.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Looks like a clansman,” she replied. “Talking to some of the guards. Sounds like he’s been attacked. They’re out there, somewhere not so far, waiting for our swords to end their pitiful lives.”
Alastar groaned as he sat, rubbing his head. “Good morning to you too.”
“Get dressed and come on.” She was out the door before he had a chance to respond.
The whole manor was worked up, gathering around the clansman in excitement. Apparently it wasn’t a large group that had attacked, but there had been at least one magician amongst them.
Donnon appeared a moment later, turning back through the doorway and shouting for Kia to go back to sleep. When he jogged to them Alastar wondered if he should mention that he could see Kia peeking from one of the broken hallways, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Could be a trap,” Donnon said, moving right for Alastar.
“How’s that?”
“A trap. They could be attacking the clans in hopes of driving us out. Getting us to fall into their hands.”
Alastar nodded. He had considered the same possibility. “But whether it’s a trap or not, do you think that affects our need to go? If people are being attacked and killed in our lands, it’s our duty to put a stop to it.”
Donnon scrunched his nose, eyes roaming over Alastar’s armor.
“And no,” Alastar continued, seeing this, “it’s not just because I was a paladin, or am.”
“I heard that,” Bale said. The gaunt paladin had led an escape from this same manor when they were betraying the goddess. “You can’t get away from us so easily, you know. Once a paladin, always a paladin.”
Alastar nodded, but Donnon looked at him skeptically. “Even if that paladin breaks his vows?”
That earned Alastar a curious stare from Gerin, who had walked up with Bale. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he was glad when Donnon added, “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Bale mimicked. “I suppose the Oaths, as we call them—not vows—don’t exactly apply to our current situation. We are still the same knights we were, only the so-called church that appointed us has proven to be…false.”
Alastar nearly choked. “’False’ is a bit of an understatement.”
“True indeed.” He nodded toward the clansman. “What do you make of this, Alastar? Are the paladins going to be riding out?”
“As far as I can guess, everyone will be.”
Gerin smiled broadly and Bale stood a little taller. Paladins didn’t back down from a fight, and these wanted justice for the wrongs they had been made to commit.
“Sooner we leave, the better,” Bale stated.
“What’s the meaning of this?” a voice boomed above all the others. They saw the king coming toward them, his royal guard leading the way. “Shouldn’t we all be resting for a day of training and preparation tomorrow?”
“Your Highness,” Estair replied, bowing slightly. “This man’s clan has been attacked.”
The clansman looked completely confused by finding a king here, but he bowed and added, “It’s true, Sire. We’re being ambushed constantly. Survivors are…scarce.”
A nervous silence fell over the courtyard as the king strode forward and took the man by the hand. Looking into his eyes, he said, “Anyone who has suffered at the enemy’s hands shall be avenged. We ride at first light, and will put a stop to this.”
“And all the planning?” Laird Summers asked, joining them now but still staggering as he attempted to fasten the buttons on his trousers.
“It will stick.” The king turned to address everyone else. “Go, prepare yourselves to ride out. Some will go on land, others by boat, as discussed. It’s time we put an end to this, without waiting another day. No more people will suffer because of our delay.”
As everyone moved to follow his command, he seemed to finally notice Alastar. He approached with a hint of a smile and asked, “So, son, are you ready for more?”
“Father,” Alastar replied, unsure whether to bow or what protocol to follow here. “I’m always ready.”
“Very well.” The king smiled and glanced around. “We haven’t had enough time together—in our lives, I mean. I hope that will change when this is all over.”
“Do you ever wonder—”
“What if?” The king waved his men off and came toward his son, looking back firs
t to ensure that people were seeing to the guest and then guiding Alastar to a marble bench. “Had I known you two were still alive, I would have searched the entire Lost Isles for you. As far as I knew you were both dead, and therefore the world was dead to me too. Nothing else matters now that I’ve found you and your sister. There are no ‘what ifs.’”
Alastar found himself nodding along with that. “Aye, we’ve turned out pretty good. My aunt might have become what she is regardless, and if we hadn’t lived the lives we had, we might not have been ready to take her on.”
“You’re that confident, are you?”
“I know my capabilities. Could I die? Aye, it’s possible. Will I? Not likely.”
The king smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Proof right there that you’re my son.”
It was impossible not to blush at such a compliment, so Alastar accepted it and smiled. “You were an adventurer in your day? Out for trouble?”
“Past tense?” The king shook his head. “Son, I was going crazy in that castle. This is the life for me. The fresh air, the sense of dread and terror at not knowing if your next breath will be your last… I love it!”
Alastar laughed. “Let’s just say that you and I see the benefits of it all a bit differently.”
“For now, maybe.” The king stood. “Come, we have many miles to travel. I think you should at least get in a couple hours of sleep.”
“Can you in moments like this?”
The king shook his head with a knowing wink. “Not a chance.”
“Then perhaps we could have a little father-son time.” Alastar joined him, drawing his sword. “Would you show me what all that adventuring has taught you over the years?”
“Oh, is that how it is?” The king drew his blade too, then held out his free hand to stop his guard from advancing. “Just some father-son bonding. Everyone as they were.”
He had likely meant that they should also not stand around and watch, but of course that was what everyone did. Either they had heard the legends of Alastar and his Sword of Light, or they wanted to see what the king of Gulanri was capable of. Whatever their reasons, they gathered around father and son as they sparred. Father scored a point by smacking the flat of his blade against his son’s arse, and then Alastar landed one on the father’s bicep.
