by Rachel Ford
“Then he made no mention of his motives. He just gave you an order.”
“That both of you contravened.”
“If I ran, I would have died. We both would have.”
“That’s your assessment of the situation, Squire. KP Ilyen wouldn’t have given you an order that would have led to your death.”
“He gave the order when the wyvern was facing him. I shot when it turned on us.”
“So you felt the situation had shifted sufficiently to justify disobeying a direct order?”
Derel hesitated. “No. I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking of orders, sir, or how I could justify anything. All I knew was that I was about to die, and so was Phillip. And I had a second to act. So I did.” She clenched her jaw, then shook her head. “That wasn’t a violation of the KP’s order.”
“That’s our call, Squire. Not yours.”
“Yessir. But it was mine at the time. And I stand by it.”
Chapter Ten – Derel
“I’m sorry, Ana. I…I didn’t think I was going to get you in trouble,” Aaronsen was saying. We were waiting in the hall outside the meeting, now, while the council deliberated.
“It’s fine, Phillip,” I sighed. “You didn’t know what was in my report.” The truth was, maybe I deserved to be in the shit. I had been covering for him. Not in so many words, even to myself. But leaving it out hadn’t been an oversight, either.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For…well, not reporting me.”
“Much good it did either of us,” I snorted.
“That’s my fault,” he conceded. “Again.”
“You did the right thing.”
“‘Much good it’ll do either of us,’” he repeated with a half-smile.
I laughed, but the truth was, I wasn’t feeling particularly mirthful. I hadn’t anticipated problems today. But after those questions? Hell, I was mentally psyching myself up to have to pack my bags and head home in shame.
And the idea of that? Well, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’d be the first Derel turned out of service, probably in the history of Derels. Certainly, in the history of remembered Derels. I didn’t know what I would do – could do – if that happened. My skillset was soldiering, and if the military didn’t want me? Well, that didn’t leave a lot of options.
Still, I’d sooner disappear into the forest like a hermit, or sign up with a merchant ship and leave the North forever, than make that return trip.
Now and then, my brain would remind me that I was probably overreacting. They have to ask their questions. They’re not going to kick me out. Don’t be so damned melodramatic. Then, I’d remember Alduran’s expressions, and how quiet Lidek had been throughout. How no one had had had our backs in there. What if they do?
The minutes ticked by, and eventually an hour had passed, then an hour and a half. Phillip was fit to be tied by time two rolled around, and I wasn’t far behind when the noon hour came.
Finally, though, the session broke. The central knights exited the chamber first. The couple, KP’s Blake and Keating, didn’t notice us as they passed. Alduran cast a scornful glance our way, but studiously avoided meeting my gaze. Tofte raised a disapproving eyebrow at me, but Westergaard smiled reassuringly.
It was the first remotely kind expression I’d had from any of them, and I allowed myself to breathe. Finally, KP Callaghan and Commander Lidek emerged, walking together in slow conversation. They paused outside the chamber, apparently to conclude whatever point of discussion held their interest.
Their tones were low, and my best efforts to pick up what was being said met with scant success. I heard little more than snippets – a word here, a phrase bereft of context there. In a minute, though, she said, “Well, I’ll leave you, Lidek.”
“You are staying for lunch?”
“Yes. Alduran has a full slate of adventures planned.”
I was doing my best to hide my eavesdropping, but at the sarcasm in her tone, I glanced up. She was smirking, and the commander grinned too. “I’m sure it will be very exhilarating.”
“Oh, I expect nothing less. Yesterday was thrilling stuff.”
“I heard.”
“Hmm. Did you also hear his taste for the search rather soured after a day in the dust with nothing to show for it?”
“I’m surprised he lasted the day without sparkling water and cooled air.” She laughed, and he shook his head. “Laugh if you will, Callaghan. The building supervisor fielded three complaints from him since he arrived about temperature. And he mentioned the water to me. Four or five times.”
She did laugh again, shaking her head as she did so. “Well, we all have our trials, sir. We’re doing interviews up and down the border today. Looking for anyone who spotted a dragon.”
“Oh. That should turn up some interesting results.”
“Right. Roll into town, ask who has seen a dragon.”
“Very interesting results,” he nodded.
“Looking forward to it. Well, I’d better get.”
“Right. Catch you later, Callaghan.”
She nodded. “Sir.”
Then, she set her steps in the direction of the mess hall. Like Westergaard, she flashed Phillip and me a smile, and nodded too.
Lidek, meanwhile, headed toward us. We both got to our feet and saluted. “Sir.”
“At ease, Squires.” As our postures relaxed, he glanced between us and shook his head. “I’m not sure what the hell you were going for in there, but you’ll be happy to know you managed to survive with your careers intact. Not through any foresight on your own parts. And not without attracting the wrong kind of attention.
“Derel, the council recommended a remedial refresher on the Academy’s report writing module.” I felt myself pulling a face and checked it. “And Aaronsen, it was by the skin of my teeth that I could keep you from being sent back to Academy.”
Phillip shifted beside me, and the commander fixed us both with stern gazes. “That said, I did. You’ll be staying. I’ll be looking for a new assignment for you.
“And Derel, your work in the field was outstanding. I’m going to task your new KP with overseeing the reports refresher. But Ilyen’s recommendation for your promotion stands.”
“My KP?” I wondered.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” he said. “But I will, and soon. And, I’ve put you in for a commendation, for your actions in the field.”
“Thank you, sir.” I felt humiliated by the prospect of remedial course work, but the truth was, I was getting off easy with just that, and keeping my promotion. I had certainly not anticipated a commendation. Not after that interview.
“Well, it’s not just me you can thank. Whatever you two said to KP Callaghan earlier must have made an impression. She had your backs in there. I hope you remember it.
“And…well, you’re going to want to remember everything you learned at Academy. Always, but especially while the taskforce is here. You understand?”
“Yessir,” I nodded.
“Copy that, sir,” Phillip agreed.
“Good. Now make yourselves scarce. I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen enough of your faces for the day.”
Chapter Eleven – Callaghan
The day finished every bit as interestingly as I figured it would. The taskforce had decided to keep news of the dragon attack hush-hush during the investigation. But concealing the cause of death for a knight, to say nothing of a giant, rotting silver corpse in the forest, was easier said than done. Even if we had not set ourselves a Herculean task on that front, word had already spread through Fort Terrence. And from there, it hadn’t taken long for the news to travel up and down the border.
Indeed, the secretiveness probably only further sabotaged our efforts at concealment. The lack of an official statement gave rise to a sense of mystery, and an endless stream of bizarre theories.
We met folks who swore they’d seen elves. They’ve come to get their revenge. Always knew we
hadn’t seen the last of those bastards.
We talked to an old man who told us he’d seen an army of wyvern riders. So many wyrms, their wings blackened the midday sky. Like stepping into the mouth of hell, with the sun all blotted out.
A boy insisted he’d met the killer. He was going to have his dragon eat me, honest, Miss. But I hid in the caves. Out by the spring. And he flew on. You can ask me mom. I told her.
The woman backed him up. Aye, he did. Thought he was pulling my leg.
Some of the accounts were obviously false. Oh, I saw him, sure as anything. Hideous beast, scales black as coal. Eyes that burned like fire.
In some cases, I couldn’t tell. I saw him, alright. Thought it was a bird at first, but it was too big. It was down yonder, in the direction of Cragspoint. Thought it must be them knights, training or what have you.
None of it, though, was useful. Even where I could believe the interviewee, all we learned was that some people had seen a dragon.
Well, we knew that already. So the day wore long, and aggravating, and utterly unproductive. The company didn’t help, either.
Since the council meeting earlier, when I’d argued in Squires Derel and Aaronsen’s favor, Alduran had been in a snit. The way I saw it, Phillip was barely out of Academy, and Ana had never filed a combat report before. Making mistakes was the reason recruits trained as squires. You learned to be a knight protector by failing, and you failed in the service of someone who could – hopefully – save your ass when you fell on it. It was the whole point of the program. It was the reason knights like Ilyen volunteered to take on squires at all: to train the next generation of warriors. They knew the risk it entailed, and they accepted it.
Westergaard agreed with me, and between the two of us we persuaded Blake and Keating. Tofte sided with Alduran, but his opposition was more focused on countering Bella’s points than exacting any vengeance on the squires. And his respect for Commander Lidek tempered any rasher opinions.
Ki, on the other hand, seemed to take my stance personally. I’d been the most vocal member of the taskforce opposing him, so I bore the brunt of his disapprobation. More than once, he dropped a comment implying that the commander and I were simply covering for our own. Not to Lidek, of course; that was commentary he reserved for me, when he deigned to speak to me at all.
I didn’t much regret his spells of silence. It did cross my mind that Aaronsen and Derel had probably wound up on his blacklist, whether they knew it or not. For that, I was sorry. For pissing Alduran off? Not so much.
While his silence was intended as a kind of punishment, I endured the deprivation in contented silence of my own. Still, it did manage to strain the atmosphere, and the rest of the party seemed to pick up on the tension. A kind of nervous discomfort settled on us all.
I was happy, then, to return to my sepulcher. “We’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose, Callaghan?” he managed.
“Of course.” Just for my own amusement, I added, “Are we starting oh-six-hundred and thirty again?”
Frowning down an upturned nose, he replied, “Oh-six-hundred.”
“See you then.”
The next morning was no better, although for different reasons. Ilyen’s funeral was at noon, so the taskforce remained at Cragspoint for the morning. We dressed in our parade uniforms – crisp tunics with ceremonial sashes, and boots so polished they were practically reflective. I wore the greens of the shire, with the handful of commendations I’d earned over the years, pinned to my chest.
Lidek disappeared into a sea of medals. The man had won more commendations over his long career than any ten regular officers. I grinned as he approached. “Surprised you can stand under all that weight, sir.”
He frowned at the comment and tried to conceal a smile beneath his mustache.
Keating and Blake wore the purples of their district, and Tofte was decked out in engineering badges. Westergaard’s combat commendations sparkled against her crimson tunic. Alduran wore the ceremonial silvers of a visiting dignitary and had his own array of hardware lining his chest. He’d earned a sharpshooting commendation, but the rest dealt with administrative accomplishments. That didn’t surprise me, exactly; but it did amuse me.
I wasn’t alone. Lidek confided, at the earliest opportunity, “Well, well. Never seen a man so puffed up about being a paper pusher.”
We spent the morning reviewing written reports from the coroner, the wyvern experts who had examined the felled beast, and Sheriff O’Brien’s initial reports. Soon enough, the funeral crowds assembled, and we matriculated in with the rest.
The whole shire, it seemed, turned out to pay their respects to KP Ilyen. He was a popular knight, to be sure, with a sterling reputation. But he wasn’t as well-known as all that. Mostly, I supposed these people were assembled for the same reason I was: losing a knight in battle was so rare a thing, in these times of peace, that it struck a chord deep in the soul. We were there to commiserate with the family, with the friends, with the nearest and dearest; and with our community, as we all struggled with the unexpectedness of a death in our midst.
It was a good ceremony, as such things went. The priests read a poignant piece on the soul’s journey, from this world to the next. Poignant, anyway, if you believed that sort of thing. I wasn’t sure I did anymore.
Still, it was pretty enough. Then the choir sang of green fields and blue skies, of eternal peace and everlasting life. I felt the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. Those high, haunting notes touched me in a way the priests’ monotone voices could not, and I had to fight back tears once or twice.
The truth was, I wasn’t shedding them for Ilyen. I grieved for the man. I grieved for his father, whose face was drawn and gray, for his mother, who hid her face behind a dark mourning veil. I grieved for his youngest sister, who wept openly, and for his older brother, who tried to maintain a stoic front.
I grieved for Phillip, whose cheeks were swollen and puffy, and for Ana, who eyes were red but whose composure was steadfast.
But in my heart, I remembered two different funerals. I recalled the same hymns, and all the empty promises. I’d buried my father in a small ceremony, where a single priest had issued those assurances. And I’d buried my love, my Helena, in a ceremony like this one, packed with strangers come to pay their respects.
I’d stood there like Derel and Aaronsen, like the Ilyens, trying to hide my despair, counting every second until it was over. I’d stood there, with all those eyes on me, praying I would make it until the crowds left and I could surrender to the emptiness of my loss.
I had managed, in my years since, to avoid funerals. Until now. I knew it was wrong to let my mind wander, to focus on those long dead instead of the man we’d just lost. But somehow, I couldn’t help myself.
I endured the ceremony in a kind of haze of sorrow and memory. Only when it ended, and I took my place in the long procession to pay our respects to the family, did I rouse from it. And then, only insomuch as that I felt empathy for them that was stronger than any other emotion. I remembered this moment well, too.
It was hell – the long, last test, when I had to shake hands and exchange platitudes with stranger after stranger; when I had to pretend I wasn’t dying inside, and try to soothe these well-wishers’ and casual acquaintances’ grief; when I had to accept sympathy from and embrace weeping friends, when all I wanted to do was vanish.
I don’t wax eloquent, like some of the mourners in line. I knew better than that. One by one, I shook the family’s hands.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“If there’s anything the shire can do for you, you have only to ask.”
When I got to Derel and Aaronsen, who had to endure this same gauntlet with the family, I felt as if I should say more. I knew them, after all, even if not well. “I’m sorry, Ana. I’m sorry, Phillip. I mean it: I really am.”
He nodded, his cheeks red with emotions he was fighting hard to repress. She met my gaze, her blue eyes brimming with tears
. There was something painfully poignant in her eyes, a grief so raw and so deep I could feel it, physically. It was the first time I’d seen her so near to losing control. Still, she managed to keep her voice steady as she returned, “Thank you, KP Callaghan.”
“Lilia,” I reminded her. “And if there’s anything I can do, for either of you…I’m here. Okay?”
Then, I moved on. In the moment, the kindest thing I could do was let them get through this ordeal.
Lidek had refreshments waiting, and some of the crowd went off in search of them. Others dissipated, heading for their homes if they had long journeys ahead, or their friends’ homes if they were staying locally.
I knew my way around Cragspoint better than most, so I absconded for one of the more private waiting areas. I wasn’t hiding, exactly. But I also didn’t want to see people. Or talk to people.
A few minutes, I thought, of privacy before I had to endure the taskforce: that’s all I needed.
It was a kind of dual-purpose conference and breakroom, with comfortable seating along the wall and a less hospitable table in the center. I sank into one of the sofas and closed my eyes for a long moment. The room was dark, with the blinds drawn. I supposed no one anticipated it being used during the funeral.
But I was glad for that. My thoughts quieted in the darkness, and my breathing got a little easier. I was almost ready to go back and seek out Alduran for whatever torture he had in store for us, when a voice cut through my thoughts. “Callaghan?”
I started, opening my eyes and getting to my feet. It was the commander. “Sir?”
A moment later, the blinding light of the overhead LED’s blazed into the darkness. I cringed while my eyes adjusted. “I thought I saw you come this way. What are you doing in the dark?”
“Uh. Thinking.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t think in the light?”
I frowned. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Actually, yes. I need your advice on something.”
Well, that’s a first. Usually, if advice was exchanged between us, it came in the form of unsolicited input from him, to me. “Oh. Okay. What about?”
