Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2

by Kade Derricks

  Jin traveled with Neive, Dain, Regan, and most of their guards toward one of the defensive towers. At the insistence of Gashan and Councilor Alpere, four royal guardsmen and Briel, the tower’s commanding officer, also escorted them. After leaving Mirr in the late afternoon of the previous day, they’d spent the night at a modest farm and risen early.

  Jin rode near the center of the group, ignoring the morning sunrise and the pleasant, gentle sway of her horse, her thoughts turned inward.

  As a child she had enjoyed capturing tiny lightning bugs in glass jars. At dusk, she would fill the jar with them and watch the fascinating insects bounce to and fro, blinking madly, before she would finally let them go before falling asleep.

  For most of her life that’s what she’d felt like. An insect trapped in glass.

  Her own people, the wood elves, watched her—they always had—but the Golden took it beyond mere staring. Many openly gawked at her as she passed by. They held their hands up to cover their mouths and leaned in together, whispering among themselves. Those rare few who approached fawned over her.

  After touring the bazaar, the elves she’d met on the street hadn’t acted so, though in retrospect she wondered if they simply hadn’t known who she was, but now word had spread throughout Mirr of her, and rumors flew far and wide about why she was here and what she wanted.

  Will you help us? Alpere’s words echoed in her mind. Jin shook her head, trying to clear the thought away.

  I do not want to be among these people. I don’t want to see them, I don’t want to help them, much less rule them.

  Alpere had shown her the great beauty the Golden were capable of. On the surface she couldn’t deny it. Underneath, though, she knew only too well the great evil they were capable of as well. Even after all this time she remembered being caught and taken from her mother at such a young age. She remembered the cold iron bars of her cage. The puckered scar from Haldrin’s arrow remained on her side. Her own family had hunted her and planned to sacrifice her as an offering for victory.

  Dain had saved her; her father had saved her. His presence reassured her. As ever, he seemed so solid, so in control.

  After they had left the councilor’s quarters, she’d asked him what to do.

  “Jin, you are a grown woman. I can offer you advice, but the decision is yours. I will say that Teldrain and Selasa told me that your great-grandfather Wyrl once dreamt of a united elven people. Teldrain himself said Ulric was an honorable man, and nothing like Elam.”

  Teldrain and Selasa.

  Jin thought about her wood elf grandparents now as they rode. It had been months since she’d visited their graves. More casualties of the last war between the elves.

  “If you want my advice,” Dain had said, “take time to consider all of this. Think through all sides and mull it over for a few days at least. They’ve gone years without anyone ruling them. You don’t have to decide any time soon. There will be no harm in waiting.”

  Good advice, although she’d hoped for more.

  Annoyingly, Kray now rode at her side opposite Dain. He’d tried several times to speak with her during the ride, but after several one-word answers had taken the hint.

  She wished Regan would take Kray’s place.

  Jin watched him riding ahead. Though young, his men seemed to respect him. She felt a bit contrite that she had bested him in their duel. While not as good as her, he was a skilled opponent. His eye had grown purple and yellow where she’d hit him.

  He turned and caught her staring at him and then reined in, allowing her to catch up.

  She guided her horse closer to Dain’s, allowing Regan to slip back between her mare and Kray’s. The elf gave Regan a dark look when he realized what had happened. The trail was narrow here, and a leafy branch reached out to smack Kray across the face while he was busy glaring at Regan. Flushed and scowling, he spurred his horse ahead.

  Jin tried not to grin.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” Dain said to Regan. “That eye giving you any trouble?”

  Regan’s lips pursed. “Fine, Baron. The eye is fine.”

  “Use a cut onion on it, next chance you get. I’ve heard a potato works as well,” Dain said, grinning. “That should keep the swelling down.”

  Jin grimaced, hoping someone would change the subject.

  “Mother said you knew my uncle Verdant,” Regan said, forging ahead.

  “I did. He was a good friend. Solid. He once told me a little about your mother and his nephews. I knew your father briefly, as well.”

  “I hadn’t heard that.” Regan gave Dain a cautious look.

  “I spent some time with the Arctanon scouts before they headed out. He dropped by one night and spent a few hours with us swapping war stories. Seemed like a good man.”

  “Mother said you retrieved his body.”

  Dain nodded and shifted in his saddle. “I did.” He eyed the golden elves around them. This was the first time Jin had seen him nervous around them. “Found a group of dead orcs scattered all around him. He fought to the very end.

  “I think I’ll ride up beside Briel for a bit. I have a few questions for him,” Dain said after a short but uncomfortable pause. With that, he rode out ahead of them without a backward glance.

  For a time, neither Regan nor Jin spoke.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Jin said, trying to fill the silence.

  “I do. He’s older than me by a few years. He fought for Arctanon for a spell, then came to Galena after deciding he’d had enough.”

  “Is he in the army as well?”

  “Yes. He’s an instructor for new recruits. He teaches the sword.”

  “Is he any good?” Jin asked, and then winced. She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. She’d wished her father hadn’t reminded him of their sparring session and now she’d gone and done it, as well. “That’s not to say that you—”

  “He’s better than me, but not so good as you, of course,” Regan smiled. His eyes shone in the dappled sunlight, clear and laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as good as you.”

  “That’s very gracious of you to say,” Jin said, feeling her cheeks flush and silently cursing them for it, “but Dain is better.”

  Regan raised an eyebrow. “You scored a few points on him.”

  “We’ve been sparring for a long time; fifteen years now. I’ve learned his patterns.”

  “Fifteen years? You must have been very young when you started. In Arctanon you have to be sixteen before they teach you the sword.”

  “I was quite a bit younger than that,” Jin said. “At first my mother thought it was a game. Then he bought me a real sword, a thin little rapier I still carry, and she realized he was training me to fight. I think that was their first fight.”

  “Do they fight much? My father was seldom home, and I barely remember my parents together. I don’t think they ever fought.”

  “Rarely. Some when they were first together, but less now. They understand each other.”

  Regan made a small humming sound at this, and Jin looked over to see him still smiling slightly. The purple of the bruised socket was even more pronounced now.

  “I am sorry about the eye. I didn’t mean to.”

  Regan laughed. “Of course you did. I took our match too lightly and you put me in my place.”

  Jin grinned. Well…he’s right. She’d heard him boasting to his men about how skilled he was, and then he’d offered to “teach” her how to hold the sword properly and instead she’d thrashed him soundly. She’d meant it very much.

  “I will be ready for you next time, though,” Regan warned with a tilt of his head. This time his smile was mischievous. Jin held his gaze.

  “How sure are you there’ll be a next time? I ex
pect you’ll want to go home to Galena as soon as this is over.”

  One of Regan’s men turned and motioned for him up front.

  “Excuse me,” Regan said with an apologetic shrug. “Saval needs something. We’ll have to talk about that rematch later.” He flashed a parting grin at her and then moved forward.

  Dain fell back in his place, cutting Kray off before he could rejoin her.

  “He likes you,” he said.

  “Who?”

  Dain gave her a steady look. “Regan. He likes you.”

  “No,” Jin said quickly, shaking her head. “Not after I blacked his eye.”

  “That might be why he likes you,” Dain chuckled. “Besides, if you’re hoping to find someone who can beat you with a sword you might be waiting a long time.”

  “He’ll go back to Galena when this is over,” Jin said.

  “He asked me if he could stay at the castle for a time.”

  “To become a Paladin?” Jin asked, surprised. The training took years to complete. And during that time he’ll be at the castle almost constantly…

  A slow grin crept across her father’s face. “Not sure. Maybe he has something else on his mind.” He’d always been able to tell what she or her mother was thinking; a trait her mother found infuriating at times. Now Jin knew why. She felt her cheeks grow hot again.

  “’Course, I might refuse,” Dain teased. “Maybe I’ll let your mother decide.”

  Jin gave him a dangerous look and he laughed again. She’d never been chased by men like other girls her age. Most men she’d met were intimidated by her. She could outride, outhunt, and outfight all but a rare few, and those who weren’t intimidated by her were terrified of her parents. Of course, even that was only part of the reason. Most men she’d grown up around were either pure wood elf, human, or dwarf. Pure was something she would never be. Her black-and-blonde-streaked hair marked her as different, and even if she shaved it all off, they would still know. Regan didn’t seem to mind, though, and his father had been killed by the manipulations of her family.

  But does he even know that? She had no idea how widespread the knowledge was. Would it make a difference if he found out?

  Seeking refuge from her thoughts, she studied the landscape as they rode. Here, the land was growing back to its native forest. Small stands of oak and maple had sprung up, and here and there a few wild clumps of barley or rye grew. They passed an abandoned farm on the way and found a few honeydew melons for a snack.

  The trail led over a small rise, and the tower rose above the treetops ahead. Jin examined it as they drew closer. Wisely, the defenders had cleared away all the trees and brush within a hundred yards of the tower’s base, and its top extended out over the walls by several feet so defenders could drop boiling oil on attackers or fire arrows down through murderholes. Like Mirr’s buildings, it was elegant yet stark. Jin supposed it had a sort of severe beauty to it.

  “The towers are sixty feet tall and twenty across the base,” Briel said. “They permanently house ten soldiers and three horses for messengers. If need be, they’ll hold double that.”

  “How did you build it without seams?” Dain asked.

  “Regular stone is gathered and mortared together first, then we apply another layer of thick mortar over the outside.”

  “Mortar? That sounds weak,” Jin said.

  “After the mortar is applied, a mage heats it by spell and applies runewardings to it,” Kray answered.

  “The wardings strengthen it?” Neive joined in.

  “Indeed,” Kray said, sounding smug. “The mortar becomes stronger than steel. The towers resist siege equipment and, even when the orcs overrun one, they break inside only with great difficulty.”

  “Have you had many overrun?” Dain asked.

  “The brutes have grown bolder these last few years and we’ve lost six towers to extended sieges, all along the northern border, as we are,” Briel said. “Each has been rebuilt, despite the considerable cost.”

  “Has your tower ever been attacked?” Jin asked.

  “A few times,” Briel said with a nod. “Nothing serious. The orcs like to test us. After a day or two they broke and fled.”

  “These other six, the towers that were overrun, did they not send for help? Isn’t that their purpose? Not to repel invaders but to spot and slow them until the army arrives?” Neive pressed.

  Briel’s face grew dark.

  “They sent for help. Due to matters in the capital, the army arrived only in time to bury the dead.” He paused, seeming to remember whom he was speaking to, and then continued. “As I’ve said, Ambassador, each has been rebuilt. Councilor Alpere and Gashan made certain of it.”

  He gave them a curt nod and then spurred his horse out ahead of them. He reined in at the tower’s base. Jin saw him explaining their arrival to his gathered troops. After a moment they lined up into two rows, and as Jin grew near, they bowed.

  “Watchpost Seven welcomes you,” Briel said, the picture of chivalry once more. “Allow me to show you the kingdom’s defenses.” He turned to his troops. “Back to your posts, then. Look sharp.”

  The men scrambled back to their posts and Briel opened the thick door.

  On the tower’s lowest level, opposite the door, were three stalls for horses and an open area for blacksmithing complete with a small forge and anvil. Built into the wall, a stone stairway wound up and into the next floor.

  “The fighting floor remains open at all times. If the door fails, there is room to maneuver. You’ll notice there are no arrow slits on this level. That way the orcs can’t fire inside even if they get close enough. They start on the second floor.”

  Neive, Dain, and Jin followed the commander as he climbed the stairwell.

  “Quarters and kitchen are on the second floor. These can also be used as a makeshift infirmary,” Briel said. “There’s a storeroom for food and a rainwater cistern.”

  The small double-bedded rooms and kitchen were both spotless. A few bags of flour, salt, and sugar stood neatly stacked beside a table.

  The third floor was clearly storage for war materials. Arrows, swords, armor, and ballista bolts lay in racks and on shelves. All were polished and cared for, Jin noted. All were ready for use.

  The topmost floor housed a pair of ballista both facing east toward the Wessen, visible above the treetops as a weaving string of blue.

  “From this height, either of these can fire a bolt three hundred yards.” Briel lifted a six-foot bolt from a pile. “They are accurate, too. Even at that range my best man can spit a horse.”

  “How many men fight from here?” Dain asked. He ran a hand over the ballista’s tension rope.

  “Three to run the ballistae and two more to dump boiling water or oil above the door,” Briel said. “More archers can also man this floor, but we try to keep the top level open to give the defenders up here more room to work.”

  “Only one pot for oil?” Jin asked. A fat iron cauldron stood at the room’s edge. “That isn’t much.”

  “On the far wall, see the tube there?” Briel said, extending a long finger.

  Against the east wall a copper tube ran up floor to ceiling and then dipped back down several feet from the exterior wall.

  “There’s a hand pump in the kitchen, and the water or oil is heated there and piped up and into the pot. They can also add special salts to it to make a scalding mixture that eats through skin and even corrodes metal.”

  “Clever,” Dain said, nodding. “Saves space up here for the ballista crews or archers. And whom do you report to, Briel? What is the chain of command?”

  “I answer to Valinox, the northern sector commander. There are three sector commanders, and they used to report to General Brisson, but after we lost so many towers they now follow Councilor A
lpere.”

  Jin noted the scorn in Briel’s voice when he mentioned Brisson, as well as the hint of reverence for Alpere.

  “It seems odd that Alpere, a councilor, controls the towers,” Dain said. “Are there not other generals?”

  “Councilor Alpere…he’s held our people together. Instead of doing their duty, the generals only fought among themselves.”

  There was anger plain in his tone as he finished. Briel doesn’t like anyone questioning the Councilor, Jin thought, and he openly despises this General Brisson.

  It seemed the golden elves were not all in agreement as Alpere had led them to believe. On the surface they seemed united enough, but by Briel’s attitude it seemed there was a depth of resentment bubbling below the surface.

  Was she reading too much into the words of one tower commander? Possibly. Her perceptions had felt muddied ever since Alpere had asked her to claim the crown.

  She wanted to talk to her father about it.

  Dain was impressed by the tower. Its defenses were solid, and it seemed as if every contingency had been planned for. He’d expected to find a lack of discipline among the defenders because of all they’d heard about the Golden’s infighting, but Briel ran a tight operation.

  He followed Briel back down the stairs and out to where their horses waited. Despite the elf’s rough exterior, he found himself liking the man. If the tower commanders were all as competent, then the golden elf border was secure indeed—regardless of what the orcs chose to throw at them.

  More so than our own, he thought with a sigh.

  “We can visit the river next if you’d like, Ambassador,” Briel offered.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Neive replied. She nodded to Dain. “Unless the Baron disagrees.”

  “I’ve seen quite enough. You serve your people well, Commander. I admire your tower and your men,” Dain said. He shook the elf’s hand and saw a measure of pride in his eyes.