The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  "I will if you will," Aiko returned. Ian tried not to smirk.

  “If only I could,” he muttered. He was restraining the urge to be too flippant. Aiko's father was a very formal man. At least, according to Aiko he was. By all accounts, even that of Aiko's Hakai, Tetsuo Maeda was a gruff and serious individual.

  The transport made a long loop around the drydock before angling in for a landing. The wind kicked up around the two as the cylinder-like carrier fired its landing thrusters and clanked against the alloyed surface. It wasn't the most skilled maneuver Ian had ever seen. But then the transport wasn't the most state-of-the-art vehicle he'd ever seen either. The Triumphant made the shuttle look positively ancient. Ian gave himself one last mental and physical rundown before the door hissed open.

  Standing in the doorway was a man dressed in full Samurai regalia. He was large, imposing in both stature and presence. He was easily seven feet tall, with a body that looked to be solid muscle. Ian gulped a little at the sight of the man. His neck was so thick, it made his head look like a tree stump. He put a massive paw on the hilt of his blade and began walking toward them.

  "That's your Dad?" Ian asked with panic in his tone. Aiko smiled.

  "No. That is Momoe, my adopted brother." That made Ian’s eyebrows come together.

  “Isn’t that a girl’s name?’ he asked. Aiko shushed him. Ian watched the mountain that was Momoe march right into their faces. Ian did his best not to react to the man's size. Definitely not a girl, Ian thought.

  "Hello sister," he thundered, bowing his head before throwing his arms around Aiko in a massive embrace. Ian watched as Aiko grunted against the grip. Momoe smiled at her for a moment, before allowing the stern look he'd arrived with to return as he faced Ian. "So, this is the speck that you wish to call husband?" he asked, the tremor in his voice nearly knocking Ian over.

  "Even the smallest insect has worth and purpose my son," a smaller voice said from behind Momoe. “Besides my son, the lowly mosquito can fell a normal man, without ever revealing his presence.” The gargantuan turned and bowed his head reverently.

  "Of course, Father," he said in a cowed tone. Ian looked past Momoe to see a much smaller man walking toward them. Tetsuo Maeda was only a shade over five feet tall, not even taller than his only daughter. But Ian could feel the charisma from the man, even from ten paces. Tetsuo's face was weathered and hard, showing the years of service he had given. His hair was only just beginning to gray, showing only a little around the roots. He walked with assurance, his every move measured and fluid.

  "Hello Father," Aiko bowed slightly. Ian mimicked her, but said nothing. Behind Tetsuo were Aiko's other brothers. None of them were dressed in any formal attire like their father. But Ian knew that none of them were Erikan Samurai either. To the right, standing beside the transport craft was a very harsh and angry looking samurai. Ian spotted the twin blades in sheaths on his back. He was dressed in crimson and silver, his jet-black hair cut neatly into a pitch perfect high-and-tight. He was looking directly at Ian, daggers in his sharp brown eyes.

  “Hikaru,” Aiko mumbled grimly. Ian looked at her strangely.

  “Who?” he asked. Aiko shook her head ever so slightly. Now wasn’t the time.

  "And this must be Ian Sodaro. I have heard so little," Ian shocked himself back to the moment and nodded.

  "Good to meet you Sir," he said with as much manliness in his voice as he could muster. Tetsuo gave him a pat on the arm. Ian flinched. The arm wasn’t in a sling anymore, but it still hurt.

  "I do not know what people have told you about me Mister Sodaro, but I am not as serious as many seem to believe. We are here to celebrate a wedding, not bury the groom." Tetsuo leaned in close, and Ian did the same. "Of course," Tetsuo said in a whisper. "If I see something I do not like, then one word to Momoe and you will be a memory." Ian wasn't exactly sure how to take that. He smiled as he returned to standing, hoping there was still color in his face.

  “He will have to catch me first . . . Sir,” Ian said, his voice carrying no confidence. Tetsuo smiled easily at Ian’s attempt at humor and stepped back.

  “Well then, since you must become acquainted with the family and the Erikan Wedding traditions, we will adjourn to our quarters. Momoe will be teaching you the things you will need to know to perform a traditional Erikan Wedding ceremony.” Ian looked back at Aiko’s mountainous little brother. The samurai smiled in a way that made Ian’s blood go cold.

  “He will not hurt you my love,” Aiko said easily. “Will you?” Aiko punched Momoe in his shoulder with a smile. Momoe nodded.

  “He will be relatively unharmed when we are finished.” Ian felt his smile fade. That’s when Tetsuo threw and arm over his shoulders and began to walk.

  “We are making you uncomfortable.” Ian said nothing. “But that is our right, since we are only now meeting you. But just wait until you meet the rest of the family.” Ian swallowed sharply.

  “I can’t wait.”

  It didn't take long for things to get underway in Littlefield. The Council had wisely postponed the events of the Peace Games for a few days, allowing Marcus time to lament properly before going in against Cole Remec, who had beaten all challengers to return to the swordsmanship final. With Aiko's inability to compete, Remec had done more than defeat his competition. He had set the single competition record for shattered blades. Marcus was looking forward to venting his frustrations on the man.

  The Council had been fairly vague about the disposition of Darius March. Marcus had not been allowed access to him since he’d been placed in his holding cell. He knew for a fact that Darius was doing his best to secure an escape. When Marcus had walked through the halls of the office complex, he could feel the rumble of Darius’s fists pounding on the retaining walls. Still, Marcus was curious as to why he wasn’t allowed to see him.

  Ian was busy with all his preparations, and Aiko was taking the next day to prepare herself in what was considered traditional for Erikan women. Marcus wasn't sure he understood all the dogmas, but Aiko's marriage to Ian was fairly unprecedented. She had refused a proposal of marriage twice from a very worthy suitor and had ended an arranged marriage to another. Marcus had a sneaking suspicion that the man didn't like the way things were unfolding, and that he also was very unaware of Aiko's deteriorating health. Marcus's understanding of Erikan honor practices was minimal, but he knew if Aiko were to die of this disease before she could honor him with children, that her husband had the right to disavow their union, to remove any shame and dishonor from his name. That would, by tradition, consign Aiko to Vuritura, the Erikan equivalent of Hell. Marcus didn't agree with that stance. But then, it wasn't his belief either.

  Reports from the Triumphant had the repair of the engine room and the starboard hallway finishing in the next two days. Marcus had to take that as good news. Sage was a man of many talents. He'd been honest in his efforts to drain the Falseblade, even if the attempt was a little misguided. Sage had been perfectly prepared to swap out the Falseblade for a more conventional power source. The damage to the Engine Room, though unforeseen, had given him the perfect opportunity to prove the truth of his words. As such, neither Donavan nor Sage would be attending the ceremony.

  Marcus sat at Ellen's Landing by himself for the first time in quite a while. With everyone else busy planning a wedding, and Rebekah hospitalized, Marcus felt again that he was very solitary on the campus. He had grown tired of hanging streamers and calming Ian's nerves. And with Jennifer constantly there, doing sound checks on the microphones and other musical equipment, Marcus found it extremely difficult to focus his mind on the things before him. In the end, he retreated to the only place he seemed to gain any peace of mind anymore.

  "You getting away too," Ellis's voice said from the sands below Strebor's Rock. Marcus glanced down at the boy as he shuffled along the beach.

  "No sense dragging my problems around the Holodrome, depressing everyone. I can do the same thing here without darkening everybody's da
y." Ellis started pulling himself up the giant stone, his pace fairly quick. Marcus watched him with quiet reservation. "You're not having any fun either." Ellis nodded, slumping down into a sitting position.

  "Mary's still not happy about the wedding. She's throwing a fog over the whole thing. You know, pouting and making a jerk of herself. Not that anyone's paying her any mind. I guess she doesn't share your . . . decorum." Marcus did the quick math about the situation. He knew Mary was keen on Ian. And of course, Ian and Aiko were a dead set item. And Mary didn't like Aiko very much. But no one had said anything about throwing Ellis into that mix. Ellis's tone said it all.

  "Well, girls do that sometimes. It's one of the things that makes them interesting." Ellis smirked but didn't look up.

  “I wish she’d stop being so blasted interesting and start being normal.” Marcus smiled at that.

  “I hate to tell you Ellis, but this IS normal. Mary’s in that awkward stage between thirteen and the rest of her life. Eventually, you’re just gonna have to learn to deal with it.” Ellis didn’t respond. "You didn't come here to talk about girls, did you?" Ellis shook his head. Marcus took in a cleansing breath. He could tell that this was going to be thick. It took a long moment, but Ellis finally bolstered up the nerve to speak. He chewed his lip, fingered some loose gravel, and averted his eyes, but eventually, his mouth opened and he spoke.

  "I've been working with Uther. You know, trying to remember things. Things I wanted to never remember." Marcus nodded silently. "When Uther grabbed me in the Quad, I heard something that stunned me. It wasn't anything weird, but for me . . ." Ellis wasn't sure exactly how to say what he was saying, without opening himself up. He still wasn't sure about Marcus.

  "You don't have to tell me, you know," Marcus said slowly. Ellis shook his head.

  "I do. It feels right somehow." Marcus acquiesced, not wanting to press. "I was three when my mother and sister died. I don't really remember much of it. Or of them to be honest. Just Jacob Raven’s arms around me as my mother dragged my sister away. I remember crying a lot before that. I'd cry and my sister would cry, like we were connected or something. My mother would sit us both on her lap and she'd hum a song. It always calmed us down. I remember being so enthralled by the melody that I would stop everything just to hear it." Ellis stopped, biting on his lower lip to keep from crying. Marcus did his best not to make a sound. “I can’t remember her face exactly. It’s like remembering a feeling more. She was warm and bright and I was happy.

  "When Uther touched me," Ellis continued, "he was trying to calm me down. He searched me for a soothing memory. And that melody was what he found. I hadn't heard it in twelve years. And it came back like an express train." Ellis stopped again. He was ordering his thoughts. Marcus could see it in his eyes as his mind worked.

  "It wasn't until about two years ago that I found out what my mother's 'profession' was. Long before they unsealed that report, I'd been angry. Cecil called it petulance. I was angry about her, but when the Council unsealed that report, well . . . I decided I wanted to know what a Dread Paladin really was. I wanted to see for myself which way of life was right. Sir Raven used to talk to me about all the questions I had. But I was never satisfied with his answers. That's when you left the campus. You went off to Norik and the entire world turned upside down." Marcus shifted a little, uncomfortable at that moment.

  "So why did you attack me about Horthok?" Marcus asked without edge in his voice. Ellis shrugged a little.

  "I heard things. I believed them." Marcus pursed his lips. That wasn't exactly what he was looking for.

  "If you don’t mind my asking, who'd you hear these things from?" he asked. Ellis took his time answering. Marcus had figured it was a deep dark secret that he was harboring. It made sense that he would be defensive about it.

  "A little bird told me,” he said, half-sarcastically. Marcus didn’t look impressed.

  “Come on Ellis.” But Ellis held himself firm. The flippancy of the moment faded away. “A bird?” Ellis nodded.

  “I'm not really sure. There were birds there. It was definitely a voice.” Marcus let his mind wrap itself around the concept. “I spend a lot of time sitting on the roof of the Roach Motel. It's quiet there." Marcus could relate with that. "There's this spot on the north end with a puddle that never seems to drain. One of the water pipes drips there. I find the sound soothing. Anyway, I was up there about a year ago, and . . .," he paused, unsure of himself. "It sounds crazy, but this bird landed on the ledge. It wasn't any color that I'd ever seen on a bird. It kind of glowed a little, like it was hot. I went to touch it, and a voice spoke to me.

  "At first, I didn't know what to do. I ran away. I stayed off that roof for a month. When I finally went back, the bird was waiting. I assumed it was the bird speaking. It said it just wanted to talk. I figured I’d finally gone off my nut. But I sat and listened and it spoke. It told me about Horthok and you and Captain Dirk and Sage Cortez. It told me about Ian and Rebekah." Marcus knew what had happened already. It was too simple.

  “And you believed what it said?” Ellis shrugged.

  “I didn’t have any reason to doubt it.”

  “And because everything it said fit with your line of thinking-” Ellis finished for him.

  “I accepted it for what it sounded like, rather than what it was. I know. I’m an idiot.” Marcus chuckled a little. “What?”

  “You’re not the first to be hoodwinked by a magic trick Ellis. Mordred’s too predictable.” Ellis looked a little stunned by that.

  “Mordred?” Marcus moved to stand and Ellis followed suit.

  "Have you seen the bird recently?" Ellis shook his head. He hadn't been back to the roof in quite a while.

  "Not really, no. I’ve been busy with you guys." Marcus nodded.

  "You up for a little espionage?" Ellis looked up in bewilderment. Marcus smiled widely. He had himself a great idea.

  Uther closed the door to his quarters in the Youth Barracks and started for the stairs. He didn’t know exactly what it was Marcus wanted, but he wanted everyone to meet on the sixth floor of the barracks. Uther wasn’t one to complain, but he was curious.

  “Well, well, well,” A familiar voice said in front of the door to the stairwell. Uther didn’t slow his pace any, but saw what he expected to. Monroe Prit was standing in front of the doorway, again holding onto a short blade.

  “I have business Monroe. Remove yourself from my way.” Monroe adopted a hurt look.

  “Oh, I’m crushed. You don’t want the presence of my company?” Uther could feel the ill intent in the air. Monroe wasn’t being mischievous this time. Something about his motives was different.

  “I never want the presence of your company. This is not the time.” Uther went to move past him, but found the short sword in his way. He looked down the tang of the blade, seeing Monroe’s warped reflection in the steel.

  “You’re not going anywhere Silverback.” Creosus and Proctor both appeared from the shadows behind Uther, each with blades of their own. Uther didn’t move, standing corpse still.

  “I have no quarrel with any of you. Stand fast and let me through.” A round of demented chuckles filled the hallway as the three hemmed Uther in, cutting off his escape routes.

  “We’ve been trying to get you to understand for weeks now monkey boy,” Creosus said menacingly. “You don’t belong here. And after that display in the Quad . . . Well, we can't have a sorcerer on campus, can we?”

  “I want to see him bleed,” Proctor said, whipping his blade around. “All sorcerers should bleed.” Uther could feel it in the air. They were going to attack him.

  “You do not know what you are doing. Let me pass.” Neither showed any intention of backing off. Uther’s claws extended slowly and he began to crouch. “I am very sorry.”

  “We’re not.” That’s when a fist crumpled Monroe where he stood. He looked up and saw Jack Roykirk standing there, his face set with anger.

  “Neither am I Monroe. Get up!�
�� Monroe hesitated. Jack grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him to his feet. “I said GET UP!” It was almost like Monroe couldn’t move. He stared up at Jack with a fear in his eyes he hadn’t shown, even when Marcus was there.

  “Butt out Jack! We’re just having a little fun with the ape.” Jack glared at Proctor as he said it. Proctor fell silent. Jack’s eyes returned to Monroe, who was still paralyzed.

  "He's not human Jack. He's a witch or something. Why do you care anyway?" Creosus snarled. Jack didn't even dignify that with a glare.

  “I warned you Monroe. Don’t push me. Don’t push my friends. You wanna hurt my friend? DO YOU?” Monroe shook his head quickly.

  “No. No. No. I like the boy. Really.” Jack tightened his grip on Monroe’s shirt and lifted him to eye level. Monroe’s feet dangled almost a foot above the ground.

  “Somehow, I don’t believe you.” Jack heard the clatter of the short sword hitting the floor. He smirked, dropping Monroe onto his feet.

  “You steal my girlfriend, you attack my pal and you expect me to trust you.” Monroe squeaked in response. “I’m going to give you this one chance to say you’re sorry Monroe. Otherwise, I let him loose on you. Then I get what’s left. And that is NOT a bluff.” Uther’s face curled into a snarl. A low, feral growl came from the young boy’s chest, and the bravado in the boys drained away. Monroe nodded in a panicked gesture.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Uther’s face didn’t change. Jack grabbed the weapons from the three and put them in his belt.

  “Now get lost!” Proctor and Creosus made a beeline for the exit. Monroe began away after them. Uther was in his face suddenly, his teeth barred and a growl on his lips.

  “I could do horrible things to you Mister Prit. You are lucky I am a nice person.” Monroe gulped a little, trying to slink away along the wall. “But that could change one day. Pray it does not.” Monroe went white, stumbling as he made his escape. Uther allowed his face to relax, turning to Jack as he retracted his claws.