The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  “I think I can deal with that. He may dislike me enough to spare a few words.” Cecil grimaced a little. Sir Forsch wasn’t someone you wanted mad at you.

  “So, are you and Rebekah dating for real this time?” Marcus didn’t see where the change in subject had come from. He relaxed a little, unfolding his arms.

  “We’re working on it.” Cecil shook his head a bit. "Nice segue, by the way."

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are you and Rebekah back together?” Marcus grimaced a little.

  “It’s just one dance Cecil.” Marcus felt a little funny finally calling it what it was. “I’m allowed one night of fun, aren’t I?” Cecil tilted his head a bit, giving Marcus an inspecting look.

  “Maybe. But you don’t have fun like the rest of us.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

  “Why is it everyone thinks I’m so serious. I can enjoy myself too.” Cecil shook his head shortly.

  “I was there during you and Rebekah. And I was there when you started dating the singing star, remember? I saw your definition of fun." Marcus smirked a little, glad that Cecil hadn’t used her name.

  "You stood around and made fun of my being a doof."

  "Well, you made that easy. You're good at being a doof." Marcus frowned. "You're holding out on me.” It was then that Marcus glanced over and saw her standing there. Rebekah was at the top of the stairs, glancing around in search of her date. Marcus almost fell over with shock. He hadn’t seen Rebekah dressed this way in the entire time they'd known each other. She was done up like the princess she had always proclaimed herself to be. Behind her, standing proudly was Morgana Norik, apparently in for the day to see her daughter off on her date.

  “And people say there're no angels in the world anymore,” Marcus said, never looking away from Rebekah’s stunning form. Cecil looked up and did a double take.

  “Those stylists really earned their pay this time.” Marcus shook his head.

  “What're you talking about?” Cecil clearly didn't know what he was saying. Rebekah saw Marcus at a distance as he began toward her. A shy smile crossed her face, and her entire spirit seemed to take on a bright glow. She began down the staircase. Marcus moved toward her like a sleepwalker. He met her at the bottom of the stairs and offered his arm. Rebekah took it gracefully and smiled.

  “You look very handsome,” she whispered. The room seemed to have gone silent as they walked outside.

  “We're not wasting any compliments on me tonight. Not with the way you look,” Marcus responded. The doors parted and they headed out toward the Quad. They would be meeting Ian and his date on the Firion Street side of Nikko Park before heading into the dance, but that would give them time to talk a bit before they got swamped over. The press wasn’t following them from here. Marcus knew he’d have at least a small moment before they both had to face reality. And right now, he couldn’t think of a better way to waste his time.

  Aiko tried her best not to be nervous. It was a struggle, however. She wasn’t used to dating. She’d spent most of her life in pursuit of bettering her abilities as a Samurai of Eriko Province. She was the only woman to try and actually succeed. It gave her a bit of notoriety among her people. But with that came the scorn of many traditionalists in her culture.

  “Women are not to bear arms. To even touch such things as blades and bows is to anger the gods, who gave women a higher purpose.” At least, that’s what her brothers would say. Most men in Eriko didn't feel women had any purpose that they didn't give them through marriage. Her father was a great deal more charitable. Tetsuo Maeda had been the retainer to four Shindoka family monarchs in the past fifty years. Aiko was the youngest child in his family, and the only daughter. Her six brothers had gone on to other, more novel pursuits. None of them wanted to carry on the family tradition.

  But Aiko was different. She truly loved the life that her father led. There was great honor and respect to be had by defending the lives of the Shindoka. Her father was her hero, as he was to so many of her people. And no other family was honor-bound to defend the rulers of Eriko. So, with a sense of duty and conviction, Aiko began her training.

  And though her father had finally accepted her choice, it was the more conventional voices of her people that tended toward derision. She was a woman excelling in a man’s society, even surpassing a great deal of them with her skill. Being such was threatening to the pride of lesser men. She’d gotten used to flaunting their rules.

  "It is better to be seen as a danger to someone's ego, than to be of no consequence. You must endure the rigors of your choice with honor my daughter. Their respect is of little worth, if you have not your own." Her father had been wise in that. She had endured as well as she could their scorn as she flew into the face of their pride. But abandoning the traditions of her people when it came to courtship was something new entirely.

  Nikko Park was quiet, since most everyone was in the Quad by now. Aiko stood by the tree she had met Ian at just a day earlier, contemplating how late he was. She hadn’t put on her watch and was regretting it now. But Ian had promised to be late, and so far, he was perfect in his promising. Aiko's chest seemed to tighten for a moment. She felt a little faint. Leaning cautiously against the tree for support. After a moment, she opened her small handbag and pulled out a small vial of reddish brown liquid.

  With a skilled, experienced hand, Aiko flipped the vial over and pulled a plastic sleeve off of the top. A needle poked out from underneath. Aiko stuck herself in the hollow of her wrist and allowed the fluid to drain into her system. Immediately, she started to feel more awake. Her eyes widened for a moment as the warm fluid trickled through her veins. She felt her body normalize. I wish it were not so necessary, she thought.

  “Hello,” a powerful voice said from behind. Aiko quickly stowed the vial in her purse, glancing at her wrist to check for needle marks or bleeding. Satisfied, she turned. Normally, Aiko would’ve reacted in defense as her training had taught, but she restrained her instincts. The idea of an attack on the Littlefield campus was laughable. But there was a moment where she wondered how anyone had managed to sneak up on her. She turned, seeing a face she was familiar with by reputation only and suddenly she had her answer.

  “Matarus Kasdran the Caladrius,” Aiko said, almost surprised. The name sent a cold chill through Marcus’s spine.

  “Matarus?’ Rebekah asked. Marcus waved her off.

  “Later,” he whispered.

  “My apologies. Sir Marcus Kasidyne. A pleasure.” Aiko bowed slightly. Marcus returned the gesture graciously and extended his hand. Aiko took it and shook carefully.

  “Does everyone know my name nowadays?” Aiko allowed herself an amused smirk.

  “More than one,” Rebekah muttered. “I’ll have to assume you’re Ian’s escort for the evening.” Aiko nodded, trying not to seem too enthusiastic about it. Better to seem calm.

  “If that means I am his date tonight, then yes.” Aiko looked down at her wrist, and inwardly cursed herself again for not wearing her watch. “He is supposed to meet me here. But he promised he would be late.” Marcus nodded.

  “Yeah, he told me the same.” Beside Marcus, Rebekah pulled a small pocket watch from her bag.

  “Looks like he’s long about a half hour now.” Aiko turned toward her, not familiar with her face. Marcus shook his head.

  “Sorry. My manners. This is my date. Princess Rebekah Norik.” Rebekah didn’t react visually to Marcus mentioning her title. He didn’t usually bother. Aiko bowed and shook hands with her as well.

  “Ah yes. The elusive Princess of Norik. I am sorry I did not recognize you. I do not read the papers.” Rebekah smiled.

  “You'd be the first,” she mumbled.

  “I am sorry. Is that wrong somehow? I am unfamiliar with the nomenclature of royalty in Norik.” Marcus's eyes widened slightly. That had to be the most formal language he had heard. Rebekah took it with ease.

  “That’s all right. It’s good to meet someone who doesn’t know who I am at
a thousand paces.” Aiko returned to her nervous posture.

  “You are spoken of among my people.” Rebekah didn’t look surprised.

  “I’m talked about a lot of places.” Aiko shook her head.

  “But not for your involvement in Horthok.” Rebekah felt her skin go cold. “You are reverenced for your role in the event. They call you Rivkah Nayrin the Caelestis.” That got a wrinkled nose from Rebekah. “In the more common tongue, it translates to Rebekah Norik the Angelic.” Marcus and Rebekah looked at one another and tried not to laugh. It sounded almost laughable.

  “Well, I don’t know what to say to that,” Rebekah said softly. She didn’t want to seem disrespectful to someone else’s opinions.

  “Maybe thank you would be a good start, Rivkah,” Marcus offered wryly. Rebekah glared at him.

  “Shouldn’t you go check on Ian or something, Matarus?” Marcus shrugged, tapping the near invisible buttons on his glove.

  “Lacey, can you locate Ian Sodaro please?” The A.I. started whirring as it began its assessment. Rebekah leaned in close to Aiko’s ear to say something so Marcus wouldn’t overhear.

  “I’m not comfortable with talk about Horthok, okay?” Aiko nodded. She wasn’t sure why. Rebekah had done nothing wrong there. She knew from what she had been told that she was the light to the stories of Ian’s darkness. Aiko figured it was because those who were truly angelic held their places in history with great humility. For Rebekah to be truly angelic, she would certainly have that quality.

  “I apologize. I meant no disrespect.” Rebekah smiled a little. This young girl was more proper and formal than most people she’d met in her royal circles.

  “Let’s just keep this Caelestis stuff to ourselves, okay?” Again, Aiko nodded respectfully.

  “Ian’s on his way,” Marcus said from behind. Rebekah tilted her head slightly.

  “That sounds about right.” That’s when it struck Rebekah. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name. Since you seem to know more of my names than I do.” Aiko got an embarrassed look on her face, as though she’d forgotten to comb her hair.

  “I am sorry. My name is Aiko Maeda, Secondary Retainer to the Shindoka family.” She bowed again, reverently allowing her apology to be accepted. “I do not have another name to my knowledge.” Rebekah and Marcus waved it off casually. Aiko wasn’t used to such cavalier attitudes about manners. All her life she had been raised to follow strict mandates about conduct. Such methods were slightly foreign to her.

  “Neither did I ‘til a minute ago,” Rebekah mused casually.

  “Are you harassing my date?” Ian’s voice came as he ambled up to them. He was in his dress finery, though he didn’t appear to have figured out what to do with his sash, and was carrying it in his hand. Marcus shook his head.

  “No, we’re not, but you could’ve come fully dressed.” Marcus snatched the sash from his hand and began fastening it in place.

  “My training doesn’t include formal wear.” Marcus shook his head.

  “There’s a manual in your dorm that explains how to wear this you know.” Ian rolled his eyes. Rebekah chuckled a little as she watched Marcus set the sash with practiced ease. “Don't forget to breath Ian. And talk to her. Don't screw this up,” Marcus said under his breath. Ian nodded imperceptibly. “And for heaven's sake, smile.” After a moment, Ian’s finery was fitting him with tailored precision. He flashed a nervous smile toward Aiko. All she could do was blush.

  “Well, if you boys are finished primping yourselves, shall we?” she said stiffly. Aiko tried not to look too amused with what she’d seen, and waited for Ian to offer his arm. He stood there a moment, a little awkward. Behind Aiko, Marcus motioned silently what she was waiting for. Ian extended his arm dutifully and tried not to sweat too much.

  “Am I allowed to tell you how lovely you look?” Ian asked, a slight squeak in his voice. Aiko smiled as they began to walk.

  “Most men of my culture do not openly compliment their wives. But since we are not married . . .” Aiko let the sentence trail off. Ian could draw his own conclusions.

  “All right then. When I figure out how to say it without stumbling over my tongue, I’ll let you know.” Aiko smiled a little brighter. At least Ian was nervous too. She took great comfort in that.

  Marcus made sure not to butt into Ian and Aiko’s conversation. She seemed genuine enough. The mention of Rebekah the Angelic had set off a few alarms in his mind, but he was sure that was just a reaction to the mention of Horthok. Anything he heard about the incident from someone who hadn’t been there was an immediate red flag.

  He was sure Rebekah had raised the same concern in her own mind. Rebekah wasn’t surprised by much, and the mention of Horthok had been a little startling. Still, it was a statement of reverence, which made it a little more palatable. And Aiko had given them no reason to distrust her. She was simply stating a fact.

  “Do you want me to keep my dance card full for you?” Marcus asked quietly as they walked. Rebekah didn’t look up.

  “Sir Kasidyne, I would appreciate as much of it as you can manage. But since you are the campus's most eligible bachelor, I don’t think I can take them all. You’ll just have to steal yourself away and find me.” Marcus smirked. Rebekah was going to make him work to get a dance with her.

  “Whatever you say Trouble. But just remember, I get the last dance.” Rebekah shrugged.

  “We’ll see.” As they walked, the trees opened up into a gala of lights. The entire quad was filled with people, all talking, dancing and enjoying themselves. The trees were strung with lights and streamers of a dozen different colors. Marcus shuddered for only a second at the memory of the Cotillion from years before. He pushed it aside and did his best not to think about it. Tonight, would be different.

  Tonight, he would start his life over.

  Donavan looked out from the bridge of the Triumphant, seeing the lights of the Cotillion through the forward window. Most of the crew had the night off, and Donavan felt it was best to stay with the ship, away from the lights and the glamor. The last thing he needed was for some nosy reporter to recognize him and ask him about Horthok tonight.

  The nighttime horizon of Littlefield was appropriately peaceful, and Donavan allowed himself a moment to sit in the captain’s chair and just think. It’d been a big transition from city security to airship command. Not that he minded. Nothing worth doing was ever easy. Airship command was just another challenge he had to face. And he’d always been one who wanted to be making a difference. The world needed someone to keep things fair and just. This was no different than Meridian City.

  As Donavan watched the lights play on the trees and buildings of Littlefield’s Paladin Academy, his thoughts turned to the very things he didn’t want to discuss with anyone else. With all the goings on in the world with relation to illegal magics and Marcus’s own little corner of the whole mess, Donavan couldn’t help but think about Horthok.

  He’d been without a weapon and without a real plan. He’d abandoned the hell that Drandis had been consigned to, and had found himself, by his own act of faith, removed from the Abeyance and transported in an instant to the Innovan Amphitheater. And when the need was great, he had drawn Marcus's sword, when that very act was impossible. The weapon could not be borne by anyone else. The weapon had shocked Sage when he had tried to touch it.

  The incident had weighed on him. The question had pressed on his mind for some time after that. It couldn't have happened by chance. By that logic, it had to be of Deity. But Donavan was by no means religious or even remotely faithful to the paladin mandates. In fact, he didn’t figure he’d ever qualify for the things that most paladins seemed to come by naturally. He knew there was something beyond the here and now. But he just couldn't seem to muster the faith to believe beyond that.

  But then, it wasn’t something he’d chosen to do either. He was not a paladin. He had never wanted to be. Though Marcus and those like him were some of the finest people he’d kn
own, Donavan could not count himself in the same with them. Not with the way he saw his life. The question still puzzled him. Why would a God, any god, grant him the ability to do what he did, even for a second, when everything in him said that it was impossible? Why bless someone who was clearly lacking by paladin standards?

  Donavan shook the thought away. He didn’t need to dwell on it anymore. He’d told himself that what happened was a fluke. He was needed in that moment. If Deity was real, then whoever or whatever it was had granted him a glimpse at something he didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure he ever would, but it was a nice enough thought to consider. For a brief moment of time at least, God thought he was important.

  A voice broke Donavan’s reverie. It wasn’t clear, or even someone he recognized. It seemed to whisper to him. At first, Donavan thought he had dozed off, but the voice seemed to urge him. He looked about the darkened bridge, hoping for a sign of where the sound had originated. He was alone in the room. At least, that’s the way it seemed to him. But there were many beings in the world capable of deceiving one’s eyes.

  The whisper sounded again, no stronger and no clearer. But Donavan could feel it pulling at him. He came to his feet, and moved across the bridge to the stairwell, slowly trying to pinpoint the sound. He descended the stair, his feet seeming to pull him toward the forward comm station. He saw that the console had been left on, though only a static display was showing.

  Donavan turned off the screen, but the voice persisted. The room shuddered ever so slightly as the whisper sounded again. It seemed a bit clearer this time, and Donavan closed his eyes to listen. He could almost make out the words with his ears. They spoke something important. He knew if he could just hear what was being said, he could figure out why it was so important. Donavan could feel the slightest tremor in the soles of his boots.