by Ben Hale
Alydian clenched her hands. “My mother—”
“—doesn’t know,” the Soldier said.
“She is the First Sister,” Alydian said, shocked by his reply. “She knows all.”
“Even the betrayer in your midst?”
“Who?’ Alydian demanded.
“I cannot say,” he replied. “I can only say that she exists.”
Alydian snorted derisively. “You expect me to believe such a foolish tale?”
Red groaned and swished her sword. “You really are an ignorant—”
“Enough,” the Soldier said, his blue eyes sharp behind the mask. For several moments he stared at Alydian. “Your council may be honorable, but one of your sisters is not.”
“I do not believe you.”
The Soldier shrugged. “Belief cannot alter truth.”
Confused and uncertain, Alydian remained silent, and abruptly the Soldier lowered his sword. Red growled at the motion.
“We came to deliver a message,” she said.
“And so we have,” the Soldier said.
Red stepped forward, raising her sword. “If you lack the courage . . .”
“No,” the Soldier said, unperturbed. “Impulse, not decision.”
Red lowered her sword with a growl. “Impulse, not decision.”
Jester repeated the mantra, and the rest of the Defiant joined him. Alydian realized that was how the man had evaded capture for so long, making decisions on impulse to prevent an oracle from foreseeing an attack. Then Jester lowered his sword and stepped around her.
“It appears the fortunes smile upon us,” he said, inclining his head to her. “And the next time we meet, I’ll come to kiss rather than kill.”
“I’m not going to kiss an assassin,” she said, aghast.
“That’s what they all say,” he said.
Laughing, he began barking orders for the other Defiant to retrieve their dead and wounded. Red looked at Alydian a final time before joining him. As the bandits departed the Soldier continued to stare at Alydian.
“I wonder, young oracle,” he mused, “when you discover the truth, will you join them . . . or will you join me?”
“I will never join you,” she said.
“It must be hard to see the war from your gilded fortress,” he said coldly.
“You are not at war,” she said.
“One with so much sight should not be so blind.” He stepped close to her. “And when you see the truth, you will have to pick a side.”
“I’m not going to side with you,” she spat the words at him.
He turned and strode away, casting over his shoulder, “You could pursue us, but I’d suggest you care for your wounded.”
The Soldier joined the Defiant and mounted a steed, leaving Alydian and the destroyed hilltop. Her mind burning with confusion, she darted to the nearest wounded soldier and knit his wounds. Moving between the others, she healed them as quickly as she could. She heard a heavy footfall and fear exploded in her heart as she spun to face the threat.
“I thought you’d be dead,” Devkin growled, his voice hoarse.
“Devkin!” she cried.
Alydian leapt to him, casting her magic to close the gash in his side. He sighed in relief and his eyes met hers. Tears wet her cheeks as she gently closed his wounds, and she was ashamed to realize her hands were shaking.
“I thought he killed you,” she said.
“It takes more than one soldier to kill me.” His features were white but he managed a smile. “Why did he spare you?”
Alydian looked to where the Soldier had disappeared, but there was no trace of him or his followers. She wanted to answer but found she couldn’t. The Soldier had come to kill her, but decided to spare her life. As relieved as she was, she couldn’t fathom why.
Or what he now intended.
Chapter 4: The Soldier’s Refuge
Raiden led the Defiant into the gulley to where they had stashed their horses in a nearby stand of trees. He helped load the wounded and dead onto spare mounts, waiting just long enough for their two healers to ensure no more joined the grave. Then he mounted his grey roan and pulled on the reins to lead them north, back onto the road. They had attacked the oracle close to Dawnskeep, and the Runeguard would mount a pursuit within hours.
“Why did you spare her?” Red demanded.
Jester took his place on Raiden’s opposite flank. “She’s beautiful.”
Red spat on the ground. “Not everyone makes decisions based on the beauty of their targets.”
“Says the woman without love,” Jester said.
Raiden glanced between them, considering his answer. They had been his allies for years, and although they were frequently at odds, he trusted them completely. They were the only ones that had seen his face and knew his name, even among the Defiant. His caution had kept them alive, and delayed the Eldress Council from finding them. Still, he knew it was only a matter of time until the Verinai or the oracles managed to track them down.
“We cannot last as we have,” Raiden replied. “In time they will locate and destroy us, and all of the Defiant.”
“Killing the oracle would have shown them they were vulnerable,” Red said.
“And incited them to retaliate,” Raiden replied.
“You said that killing Alydian would force the Verinai to play their hand,” Red argued.
“Perhaps,” Raiden said. “But it was a desperate idea.”
“Allowing her to live could be just as dangerous,” Jester asked. “Just think of how powerful our children will be.”
Red snorted in disbelief and looked away. They came to a crossroads and Raiden chose a random fork in the road. His army followed without question, knowing that impulse decisions kept the oracles from watching their future.
Red scowled. “If she marked us with her magesight, she will be able to follow us with her farsight.”
“A risk, I know,” Raiden said. “But she was terrified and scrambling. I doubt she thought to do so.”
“A gamble,” Jester mused. “But so was sparing her. The question is, what do we have to gain?”
“An ally,” Raiden said.
Red swiveled in her saddle to stare at him, her eyes furious behind her mask. “You can’t possibly think she would help us.”
“I’m not sure,” Raiden said, thinking of the force to Alydian’s gaze. “I don’t think she knows what the rogue mage is doing, and I suspect she will not approve. Besides, she met Jester, so we know she’s in love.”
Jester laughed lightly. “True, but I doubt she’d betray another oracle.”
“How long until the oracles find us?” Raiden countered. “We’ve been lucky more times than I can count, and luck is not a friend I wish to trust.”
“We will survive,” Red insisted. “You’ve taught us how to avoid their magic.”
“We need more support,” he replied. “And an oracle on the council would be the highest kind.”
“She’s not on the council yet,” Jester said.
“She will be when her mother dies,” Raiden said.
Jester grunted. “You know, I’ve never heard of an oracle being sick.”
Raiden nodded. “That’s because between the five of them, they can heal almost anything . . .” His voice caught as a thought crossed his mind. Apparently thinking the same thing, Red laughed slyly.
“You think the betrayer is killing Elenyr?”
“A treasonous suggestion,” Jester said, grinning. “How devious.”
“I’m a treasonous bandit,” Red said, the smile evident in her voice. “It’s the only kind of suggestion I make.”
His lieutenants spoke as if they didn’t believe it, but as Raiden pondered the idea he found it plausible. Elenyr was the First Sister, and the council could not act without her express approval—which she’d refused to give on numerous occasions. If one of the oracles thought Alydian would be more malleable, perhaps they’d resorted to poison.
It was a bol
d move, one that few would suspect. If successful, it would allow the betrayer to assume leadership and openly ally with the guild of Verinai, sealing their control over the kingdoms of Lumineia.
A smile spread on his face as he considered Alydian’s response to that. He’d let her go because he’s seen fire in her soul. If she discovered the others had poisoned her mother, that fire would burn hot and long. She may not ally with the Soldier, but she would certainly go against the council. Her beauty and youth would draw many to her cause, forcing a civil war that just might bring the Verinai to their knees . . .
He reined in the thought before it could take root. As much as he would love to plan, making decisions would clarify his future, making it all the easier for the oracles to find him. Still, he was grateful he hadn’t killed Alydian. Even if it was necessary, it would have been a loathsome task.
“We need to get off the road,” he said, and pulled on the reins, leading his steed down a rocky slope.
A permanent camp would be too risky, so they maintained scores of hideouts throughout Lumineia. Before he’d become the Soldier, Raiden had spent two years preparing the locations, and only he knew them all.
He descended the slope and reached a small mine hidden behind a curve of rock. The opening was invisible from the road, while the slope descended to a swamp on the border of Blue Sea. The mine had been abandoned a decade ago until Raiden had purchased the rights under a different persona.
“We’re only half a day’s ride from where we attacked the oracle,” one of his captains said, dismounted and striding to Raiden. “Are you certain that’s wise?”
“I don’t want to lose any more wounded,” Raiden said. “Take them below and cleanse the area of blood. Then start work on the side vein. If a patrol stops you, claim you saw a group of riders galloping north.”
The man grinned and began issuing orders to the remaining men and women of the Defiant. Raiden helped a wounded man out of the saddle but the man pushed him away with a growl. Clenching his shoulder, he pointed to the bog.
“We can turn them aside, but not with you here,” he said. “Go, before you are spotted.”
His words brought a chorus of agreement, and the dwarf that controlled the mine added his voice. “Go, ye blasted soldier.”
Raiden relented with a nod. “As you order. Be well, Pathoran.”
The surly smith nodded and turned away, helping the wounded man to the mine’s opening. Raiden watched him go with regret in his heart. Every member of his small army had been chosen and solicited because of what they had endured. Pathoran had been a smith in western Griffin until a trio of Verinai students had come through. Pathoran had refused to house them for free, and that night his forge and home had burned to the ground.
Pathoran had been out on a delivery, and returned to find the smoking husk of his shop. He’d stayed to forge a weapon and then sought the Soldier. Raiden had read the anger in his eyes and allowed him to join the Defiant, giving him the chance for justice.
“Come,” Red said. “The others know what to do.”
Raiden stepped to the slope and picked his way over the rocks. “I hate to leave them behind.”
“I as well,” she said, falling into step behind him. “But if we stay, we risk all their lives.”
Jester grunted in agreement and took up the rear, and the trio worked their way to the base of the escarpment. When they reached the bog they paused within the darkness and drank from their water skins, filling them from a stream nearby. As they were about to press on, a distant sound compelled them into the shadows.
A patrol of riders burst into view around a bend in the road. They galloped north, pausing at the turn that led to the mine. The leader dropped from his trembling steed and advanced, casting a trio of entities.
Rock rose and ground together, shaping into a hulking soldier. Air swirled and formed the second, while light bent to form the third. The trio stomped to the mine and shoved their way inside. Raiden clenched his fists as he watched the Verinai and his patrol shove the Defiant about, demanding answers. Pathoran folded his arms and stood his ground.
Soldiers and entities disappeared into the mine as the Verinai captain shouted at the dwarf. The muffled sounds of snapping wood and cries of alarm echoed down to Raiden, and he had to reach out to place a hand on Red’s trembling shoulder. A moment later the three entities exited and reported to the Verinai masters.
Spitting at the dwarf’s feet, the Verinai turned and strode away, remounting his horse and galloping north. Raiden breathed a sigh of relief as the patrol left the mine, and felt a rush of gratitude to Pathoran. If he had not insisted they depart, they would have been spotted in the open.
“Let’s get moving,” Jester said. “It’s getting dark and we have a few miles to go.”
Jester reached up and removed his mask, revealing a handsome face and a neatly trimmed goatee. A pair of scars lined his nose and cheek, while others were visible on his neck. Rather than detract from his looks, they added an aura of danger to him that made him more attractive. Trained by the legendary Assassin’s Guild, Jester had joined the Soldier when the guild had been extinguished under Verinai orders. He was the sole person to ever find Raiden on his own.
Red breathed a sigh of relief as she removed her own mask. She wiped the sweat from her face and smiled, revealing clean teeth and full lips. The woman had been a soldier’s wife in northern Griffin until the Verinai ordered her husband’s patrol to attack a group of giants. Their force had been inadequate, and Red’s husband had been killed. She’d wielded a plow for two years until the Soldier had found her. She’d thrown herself into training with a vengeance, and now her skill rivaled Jester’s.
Raiden removed his own mask as well, grateful to release the burden of his persona. Then he stepped into the bog and disappeared. They worked their way past fallen branches and dense brush. Oppressive and dank, the bog was home to alligators, moordraugs, and reavers. Raiden kept a wary eye on the darkness, listening over the sound of their boots splashing through muck.
After an hour they reached a stretch of water and circled it until they came to a gnarled oak rising on the bank. Raiden reached into a pouch and ignited a light orb. Its dim light reflected white off the black water, and he used it to spot an innocuous tree half-submerged in the mud. Striding past it, he stepped onto the water.
His boots plunged into the lake—but came to a stop on a stone pathway. Hidden just inches out of sight, the path provided a secret entrance into the small lake. Striding forward, he spotted the turns and wound his way through the trees rising from the murky water.
Frogs croaked nearby, while a faint splash heralded a prowling alligator. The reavers that stalked the bog did not care for the lake, but he kept a wary ear focused on the sounds of their passing.
In the gloom ahead, a large island gradually coalesced into shape, revealing trees and branches rising into the fog. Raiden stepped off the path and ascended onto the dry island. In the midst of the bog, the island and the trees that surrounded it formed a hidden refuge. Raiden’s brother had created the path and the refuge before he’d died, and Raiden had added threads of anti-magic into the branches above, shielding them against their adversaries. Surrounded by swamp and mud it reeked of rot, and insects were abundant.
“Welcome home,” Red said dryly.
Chapter 5: A New Target
A small camp lay nestled beneath the trees. A rough-hewn weapons rack sat against one trunk, while three hammocks hung from the larger branches. Raiden strode to the wellspring that drew clean water from beneath the swamp and washed his face. He watched his reflection until the water stilled.
The elf that looked back at him was tall and lean, but a perpetual shadow lingered in his gaze. A thin scar split his lip, the remnant of a hard lesson when he’d joined the elven army. He’d dyed his hair to make his appearance more human, and the brown locks were cut short.
“You know you’re handsome,” Red said with an amused snort. “Don’t
be so possessive with the drink.”
He allowed himself to be shoved away, unwilling to admit why he watched his reflection. Prior to his becoming the Soldier his eyes had been bright and clear. Now the legacy of Verinai deaths had tinged his gaze, and he wondered if they would ever return to their previous clarity.
“What now?” Jester said, stooping to ignite a small fire at the center of the space.
Raiden removed his pack but retained his weapons. Placing his pack on the rack by his hammock, he knelt and removed food for an evening meal. Then he sank into a seat beside the fire.
Content to let him consider the question, the assassin worked the fire until a spark of flame illuminated the night. Raiden absently extinguished the light orb and returned it to his pocket as Red sat on a nearby log, her red hair visible in the flickering light.
Raiden stared into the flames, consider the various possibilities. He’d always been gifted with strategy, and it took effort not to decide on any of them. They had been raiding Verinai shipments and striking Verinai soldiers for years, but today he sensed a shift in the tide, as if their war was about to escalate.
“Before we attacked Alydian,” Red said, “Pathoran mentioned a special shipment bound for the human king. Said it would be departing Margauth in nine days’ time.”
“What if his informant is wrong?” Jester said. “He has been before.”
“It was hard enough to recruit a low level Verinai,” Raiden said, leaning back against the tree. “But he’s the only source we have. What did Pathoran know about the shipment’s contents?”
“Nothing,” Red said.
Raiden raised an eyebrow. Most Verinai shipments were standard exports: special clothing, magic-grown food, and enchanted weaponry. The anti-magic blades they wielded had come from a shipment the Soldier had attacked in their first year. For the Verinai to hide the contents of a shipment indicated it was abnormal, and perhaps something they should seek.
“It would be well guarded,” Raiden said.
“Not more than we can handle,” Jester said. “They may have magic, but they think little of the Defiant.” He pulled his whip free and snapped it upward, catching a fly as it alighted on a tree.
