The Saints of the Sword

by John Marco

  “You and I have much to talk about,” said Rob finally.

  It wasn’t a question, so Alazrian didn’t reply. The priest put his hands up to the fire to warm them.

  “It gets cold up here, even in springtime,” he said. “Tell me something, Leth. Why did you go to Alain when you saw him?”

  Alazrian laid aside his bowl. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

  “But you wept when he wept,” observed Rob. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “Why?”

  Jahl Rob rubbed his hands together and shrugged. “Just curious, I suppose. I was very angry at you. But I was wrong to blame you for Del. It was Shinn that killed him, after all.”

  “I’m glad to hear you admit it,” said Alazrian. “Shinn is no friend of mine.”

  “Oh, I believe you. He was trying to kill you, wasn’t he?”

  The question surprised Alazrian. How much did he want to tell the priest? But it seemed senseless to refute the point, so Alazrian nodded. “Yes. It seems that Elrad Leth wants me dead. I guess I’m still not man enough for him.”

  “Your father told Shinn to kill you?”

  “He’s not my father. And thank God for that.”

  Then Alazrian realized what he’d said and glanced away from Rob, hoping to end the conversation, but the priest stared at him. Alazrian knew that he had opened a gate and wouldn’t be able to close it.

  “Ah, what does it matter?” he grumbled, picking up a stick and tossing it angrily into the flames. “You’re going to find out everything anyway. I’m trapped here. I can’t go back home, and I can’t do what I came for.” He made a fist and punched the ground, frustrated and afraid. Jahl Rob would find out everything he wanted to know because it made no sense to hide it anymore. Suddenly, nothing in the world made sense.

  “Am I your prisoner?” he asked. “Are you going to kill me the way you did Viscount Dinsmore? Or do you want to ransom me? Because if that’s your plan—”

  “Easy,” said Rob. “No one is going to kill you. We’re not murderers.”

  “Right. Tell that to Dinsmore and the others.”

  “We’re freedom fighters,” Rob retorted. “Dinsmore got what he deserved. I know, because God told me so. And killing you wouldn’t serve any purpose. So just calm down. I have questions for you.”

  “What questions?”

  “Many things,” said Rob. “But first, tell me who you are.”

  “You know who I am.”

  The priest shook his head. “No. I know what your name is. But I don’t know who you are, Alazrian Leth.”

  “Oh,” Alazrian murmured. “You mean my father.”

  “That’s right. Do you know who your real father is?”

  “Yes,” said Alazrian. He smiled feebly at the priest. “But it’s sort of a long story.”

  “I have time.”

  “What will you do with me?” asked Alazrian. “Will you send me back to Aramoor?”

  “Ah, now you play games with me, boy …”

  “No. It’s just something I think I should know. You’ve had some time to think about it. So? What have you decided?”

  Jahl Rob scowled at Alazrian. “I know nothing about you, and if you don’t tell me soon maybe I will send you back to Aramoor. Would you like that? Then Shinn can finish his handiwork.” The priest leaned forward. “Tell me who your father is. Tell me why you and the others came here.”

  “We came to find you,” Alazrian answered, avoiding the first part of the query. “Isn’t that obvious? After you killed Dinsmore, my father …” He corrected himself. “Elrad Leth, I mean, got angry. He sent Shinn and the others to find your hiding place. They mean to send more men in after you.”

  “And did they?” pressed Jahl.

  “Did they what?”

  “Find this stronghold? Shinn got away, you know. Did he discover where we live?”

  “Yes,” admitted Alazrian. “He doesn’t know for certain that this is the stronghold, but he guessed it. We could all see it from the road and, well, it just seemed to make sense. Shinn knows where you and your Saints are, Jahl Rob. He’ll tell Elrad Leth.”

  The priest’s expression darkened. “God help us,” he whispered, turning to gaze at the fire. “Why were you with them? Did Leth make you go?”

  “No,” said Alazrian. “I asked to go.”

  This caught Rob’s attention. “Why?”

  Alazrian knew he had to make a decision. He wanted desperately to trust Jahl Rob, if only to have a confidant. The danger of confessing the truth kept nagging at him, though.

  Jahl Rob sensed his confusion. The priest shifted a little closer. “Alazrian,” he began softly, “you might think I’m a stupid man, but I can tell that you’re hiding something. Now, you don’t have to tell me who your father is if you don’t want to. That’s your business. But I need to know why you chose to come here with Shinn. If it concerns the safety of my Saints, I won’t let you keep it secret.”

  There was gentleness in his voice. Again Alazrian felt the urge to divulge it, as though he were in a confession booth and Rob some kind-hearted cleric.

  “I want to trust you,” said Alazrian finally. “But I’m afraid.”

  “It’s only you and me here, boy. I’m a priest, don’t forget. Confession is a sacrament. If you tell me something in confidence, I won’t use it against you.”

  “I don’t believe that,” said Alazrian.

  “It would be a sin,” Rob retorted sternly. “That is all I can promise you. Frankly, boy, I don’t know what else to do with you. I can’t send you back to your father, can I? If he tried to kill you once, then I suppose he’d try again. And if you stay here with us you’ll be in equal danger. So what am I to do, eh?”

  “If I tell you, will you let me go? Your word now, as a priest. Will you release me if I tell you why I came here?”

  “Release you?” asked Jahl. “Where would you go?”

  “Your promise first. Swear it out loud, so God can hear you.”

  Jahl Rob crossed himself. “I will let you go on your way, wherever that may be. On my priestly soul, so do I swear.” Then he waited for Alazrian to speak, sitting back patiently, his face placid. Alazrian steeled himself. Once he made his confession, there would be no turning back.

  “I don’t have a choice, so I’ll tell you the truth,” he began. “I didn’t join Shinn’s patrol to find you and your Saints. I came because I was looking for the Triin.”

  The slightest crack appeared in Rob’s countenance. “Go on.”

  “I have a message to deliver, a note from someone very important. I have to get it to the Triin, and I thought I would find them here. They’re supposed to be in the mountains, guarding it.” Alazrian stood up suddenly, frustrated. It was all spilling out of him, and in his fear and desperation he wanted to unload the weight he’d been bearing alone for weeks. “I don’t know if I should tell you any more,” he said, pacing around the fire. “But I have to get to the Triin. I have to deliver my message so that they will take me to Lucel-Lor.”

  “Why?” asked Jahl. “What’s in Lucel-Lor?”

  Alazrian hesitated. “Richius Vantran.”

  “Vantran?” Rob sprang to his feet. “Why? What’s in your note?”

  “Remember, you’re a priest. You made an oath to me.”

  “I won’t break my oath. But you must tell me why you need to find Vantran.” Jahl Rob stared at Alazrian demandingly. “What’s in your note?”

  “Please,” begged Alazrian. “I’m telling you all I can.”

  “It’s not enough, boy! You coerced me into my oath. And I will honor it. I’ll let you go on your way, but you must tell me why. Richius Vantran was my king. None of us would be here now if it wasn’t for him. He abandoned us, Alazrian. If you have some business with him, I deserve to know what it is.”

  “I know,” said Alazrian. “But it’s all so complicated. I really don’t know how much to tell you, or even if I can trust you. I want to, really. But …”
<
br />   Jahl Rob smiled, the first real smile he had offered. “You’re a man of mysteries, young Leth. Very well. Your business with Vantran is yours. But I should warn you—there are no Triin in these mountains. At least none that I’ve ever seen. As for Vantran, we’ve never heard anything more about him, not for a very long time. He might even be dead.”

  Alazrian swallowed. In a day filled with bad news, this was the worst yet. “No Triin? None?”

  The priest shook his head.

  “And Vantran? No word from him at all? Not even a rumor?”

  “I’m sorry, boy. But you need to know these things before you go any farther. This quest of yours, whatever it is, might just be a folly. It’s a long way to Lucel-Lor. Without Triin to guide you, you might not make it. Vantran might not even be there waiting for you.”

  Alazrian slumped back down to the ground, staring blindly at the fire. It had all been for nothing; his quest, Biagio’s note, everything. It was all a worthless cause. Now he was an outcast with nowhere to go. Instinctively he reached into his shirt and felt around for Biagio’s letter. It was still there, waiting to be delivered. He pulled it out, laughing mirthlessly as he looked at it.

  “What’s that?” asked Rob. He studied it curiously in the firelight. “Is that your note?”

  Alazrian nodded. “Yes. For all the good it will do me now. I can’t even deliver it.”

  “It’s for Vantran, you say? Do you know what’s in it?”

  “Mostly,” replied Alazrian. “I don’t know everything.” The thought of throwing the letter onto the fire occurred to him, but Biagio wouldn’t want him to give up so easily. “What do I do? No Triin …”

  Jahl Rob sat down next to him. It was eerily quiet, and for a long moment neither of them spoke, content to listen to the snapping fire. Rob poked at the logs with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks, but Alazrian could tell that the priest was stalling, giving him time to think. Suddenly Jahl Rob didn’t seem so threatening.

  “Jahl Rob?” Alazrian said softly.

  “Yes?”

  “I know you want me to tell you everything. But it’s dangerous. This letter is supposed to be a secret. Even I’m not allowed to read it.”

  Jahl Rob nodded. “I understand.”

  “I want to tell you, but I can’t,” Alazrian went on. “I gave my word that I would deliver this message to Richius Vantran, and that I would only speak to the Triin I found in the mountains.”

  “Look around, Alazrian. Do you see many Triin?”

  “No. But I’m not sure that changes my promise.”

  Jahl Rob regarded him. “It changes everything, boy. You can’t fulfill your promise because what you promised is impossible. I think you should trust me. I’m the only person who can help you.”

  “Help me?” Alazrian sat up. “Why would you do that?”

  “I have my own reasons for wanting to find Vantran. If he’s alive, I want to know about it.”

  It was the last thing Alazrian hoped to hear, and it magically removed all the barricades he’d erected around himself. If Jahl Rob would help him …

  “It’s a letter asking Vantran to bring the Triin into a war,” he blurted. “I’m supposed to ask him to come back.” Alazrian held up the letter. “It’s all in here. Vantran is to convince his Triin friends to attack Elrad Leth and recapture Aramoor.”

  Jahl Rob stared at Alazrian, then at the letter, then back at Alazrian.

  “It’s the truth,” said Alazrian. “It’s all to stop a war that my grandfather is planning. Biagio thinks—”

  “Biagio? What’s his business in this?” He snatched the envelope from Alazrian. “Did he write this letter?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Rob threw up his hands. “You’re being duped, boy! Can’t you see that? This is all some ploy to lure Vantran into a trap!”

  “It isn’t!” Alazrian insisted. He grabbed the letter back. “I know the truth.”

  “The truth? What does Biagio know about the truth? You can’t trust that monster!”

  “You don’t understand. I was there, in the Black City. I spoke to Biagio. He gave me this letter himself.”

  “So what? Don’t you think he can lie to your face? Seven hells, boy, wake up! Biagio destroyed my cathedral. You can’t trust a word he says. How can you believe—”

  Alazrian reached out quickly and seized Jahl Rob’s hand, holding it firmly. The priest looked at him, alarmed.

  “What …?”

  Rob tried to pull away but Alazrian wouldn’t let him. It was time to prove himself to this arrogant priest.

  “You’re Jahl Rob,” said Alazrian.

  “You’re damn right I am. What’s—”

  “Your mother’s name was Ginnifer,” Alazrian continued. He dug deep into Rob’s consciousness, fishing up everything he could find. “She urged you to become a priest. You loved her very much. She was the first person to take you to see the cathedral. But she died in the Black City. She was hit by a carriage, crossing an avenue.”

  Jahl Rob stopped struggling. His eyes widened.

  “You blamed yourself for her dying,” Alazrian went on, “because you nagged her to take you to the city. You just had to see that cathedral, didn’t you, Jahl Rob?”

  “God in Heaven,” whispered Rob. Slowly he pulled back his hand. “What are you?”

  Alazrian sat back. “I’m half Triin. My father was a bodyguard for a Triin merchant who visited Talistan. His name was Jakiras. What I just did to you was the same thing I did to Biagio. I looked into his soul, and I know he wasn’t lying to me.”

  Jahl Rob remained still. “That’s magic,” he said breathlessly. “You’re a sorcerer!”

  “I am not. I just have a gift. And I don’t understand it myself. That’s why I agreed to go to Lucel-Lor for Biagio, so I could find out about my gift. That’s why I know Biagio told me the truth. My mission isn’t a ploy, and it isn’t folly either. The whole Empire is depending on me getting this letter to Richius Vantran. Now … Will you help me?”

  Rob was looking down at his hand inspecting it for some residual magic. “My mother,” he said absently. “How did you know?”

  “I can’t explain it. All I know is that it works, and that it never lies to me. Whatever I feel in a person is the truth, just like I found in Biagio.”

  “Amazing.” Rob sat up straight. “You’re like Tharn, young Leth. He was magical, too.”

  “That’s why I’m going to Lucel-Lor. I want to find out about him, and my real father if possible.”

  “Tharn is dead. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know,” said Alazrian. “But there are still people in Lucel-Lor who knew him. Richius Vantran knew him. If I could meet the Jackal, maybe he could tell me about Tharn. And I would be able to deliver this letter.”

  “You’d betray your own grandfather?”

  “I’ve already thought about that,” said Alazrian. “But I have to do it. Biagio says my grandfather is planning to attack the Black City. He says he’s building up his forces. If that happens, every nation of Nar will take sides. The whole continent will be at war.”

  Jahl nodded, trying to understand, but he was still preoccupied with the magic, and still glanced periodically at his hand, his eyes full of uncertainty.

  “When I brought you here, I didn’t expect this,” he said. “My life has gotten much more complicated today.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Alazrian. “I never meant to bother you. And you don’t have to help me, Jahl Rob, but I wish you would. You need Vantran as much as I do. Eventually, Leth is going to send more soldiers to find you. If we can get Vantran to help us—”

  “A lost cause,” argued Rob. “The Jackal betrayed Aramoor. He won’t come back.”

  “Biagio thinks he will.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “Because he thinks the Jackal wants his homeland back. It’s all in the letter. Biagio is offering Aramoor to Vantran, if Vantran agrees to bring the Triin into the fight.”


  “What about Biagio? What’s he bringing to the fight?”

  Alazrian frowned. “I’m not really sure. He wouldn’t tell me everything, just that he’s weak and can’t use the Naren legions anymore. They won’t follow him.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Biagio made a lot of enemies in his bid for the throne. But there must be more than that.” He eyed the letter curiously. “If he’s written it down, we should read it.”

  “No,” said Alazrian. “I gave him my word and I won’t betray it. Besides, there is something else. Biagio hinted that he was looking for allies to help him. He said that defeating Talistan would be difficult, and that it would take more than just the Triin to do it.”

  “That’s it? That’s all he told you? Who are these allies?”

  “He wouldn’t say. But I do trust him, Jahl Rob. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but Biagio has changed. He wasn’t lying to me. Most importantly, I need to find Richius Vantran.” Alazrian reached out for the priest, but Rob pulled away.

  “Don’t touch me, please,” said Rob. “Your magic frightens me.”

  Wounded, Alazrian shrank back. “Will you help me? I can’t do this without you. You know these mountains better than anyone. And you’re one of Vantran’s people. If I do find him, maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  Jahl Rob laughed. “That I very much doubt, young Leth. Vantran isn’t called the Jackal for nothing.”

  Alazrian could feel Rob’s disappointment. It was tangible. “You hate him, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” admitted the priest. He picked up another stick and poked it into the fire, distracting himself. “Richius Vantran is to blame for Aramoor’s sorry state. If it wasn’t for him, Elrad Leth and Tassis Gayle would never have ruined us. I hate the Jackal more than any man alive. But I hate Biagio, too.” He laughed. “Funny, this alliance. Once the Saints were just a bunch of farmers. Now it looks like I’ve got a king and an emperor on my side.”

  “You’ll help me, then?”