Storm of Divine Light

by Ernesto San Giacomo

  “I think the easiest thing to do would be to stay on the road,” Liberon said.

  Cyril shook a finger. “Under whose protection? He can’t risk having the Orb stolen by some gang of highwaymen. There’s a reason for all these guards.”

  The lieutenant gestured to the four guards, who were talking among themselves nearby. “Let’s be sure. Get something to eat, then find fresh horses. Two of you scout out the road ahead for at least two days’ travel. Look for fresh tracks – wheel ruts, hoof prints, anything. The other two, scout behind. If any of you spot Blackfang himself, get back here right away. Don’t attack, you’re outnumbered.” The soldiers saluted and led their lathered mounts away. She called after them, “And watch out for signs of an ambush!”

  Cyril squinted at the map, face grim.

  “What now?” Dagorat asked.

  “It could be much worse,” the mage said. “One set of tracks heads toward the western swamps.”

  “I don’t think that’s likely. Too many rivers and streams to cross, most without a good ford.”

  “But if he knows a path through there, he could reach Barterville and travel by boat all the way to Ethelton. Slow going, but manageable.”

  “I forgot about the Queen’s River,” Dagorat said.

  “The what?” Kiralynn said sharply. “You mean the Gnomerigo River. Only an Easterlain would call it the Queen’s River.”

  By Korak’s speckled ass. It wasn’t like him to make such a clumsy mistake, but his fight with Katrina had muddled his mind. He fumbled for a cover story. “Well, that’s where I was born.”

  “No shame in that. My aunt is from Ethelton,” she said.

  “I lived on a farm and left when I was very young.”

  Her head tilted. “Not too young, if you studied maps in an Easterlain school.”

  “I think I was around ten when we left.”

  Kiralynn eyeballed him; she’d listened intently to every word. He’d have to watch himself.

  “That’s all very well. Now what are we going to do about Blackfang?” Liberon said.

  “There’s not much we can do.” A small laugh escaped Dagorat. “These aren’t our horses or wagons, remember? Besides, if we leave the caravan, we’re taking the same risk of being robbed and murdered as he is.”

  The monk frowned. “What if the lieutenant here sent some men with us?”

  Kiralynn shook her head. “I’m sorry. Truly. But our charge is to protect this caravan. Captain Beltrane would never authorize it, even if we knew where Blackfang went. I’ve already bent the rules sending so many scouts out for so long.”

  Liberon put his hands on his hips. “I thought you said you’d hunt that filthy pig to the ends of the world.”

  “Yeah? Well, I thought you told me to put away my personal vengeance. What do you expect me to do? The ends of the world are all around us, and we don’t know which one he headed for.”

  Dagorat tented his hands against his face. “You’re right. We don’t know where he went. But we know where he’s going.” He pointed at a spot on the map in the middle of the Dramborne Mountains. “There’s only one place to cross into Golgent lands. The Gorthul pass, near Ethelton. Blackfang must get there to hand off the Orb, no matter which route he’s taken. We can head him off there.”

  “Ah, I see,” Cyril said. “There’s no reason to fret, then. But what if he gets there first?”

  “He can’t,” Dagorat answered confidently. “This road is the fastest and surest route to Ethelton and to the pass from here. He can’t pass through the Spine, or the western swamps. And it’s weeks of rough travel to Barterville. If he’s going cross-country at all, we’ll beat him there.”

  Kiralynn said, “If our scouts find him, I’m sure Captain Beltrane will let us go after him.”

  A clatter from the wagon attracted Dagorat’s attention. Oh. Katrina had come back. She and Liberon started harnessing the horses, getting ready to leave for this day’s stretch of road.

  “We had better continue this parlay in the wagon or we’ll be walking to Jalken,” Cyril said.

  They doused the fire and picked up their bedrolls. Kiralynn tied her horse to the back of the wagon and hopped in. Dagorat stalked past Katrina without even glancing at her and followed the lieutenant. Two horn blasts signaled the caravan’s imminent departure. Wagons moved toward the road and took their places in line.

  Katrina stuck her head in and offered Kiralynn her seat on the bench. The two women traded places, and an animated conversation began between the lieutenant, Cyril and Liberon. Dagorat sprawled on a sack of dried rice, peering out the rear and pretending not to notice. But then a hand caressed his head. Warmth poured from his heart and flowed through his veins; he instantly forgave her everything. Their eyes met, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  She kissed his cheek and hugged him back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I know I made you angry. But I still don’t understand why.”

  “I’m a woman, Dag. I want to be romanced, you know? To be told things like that while staring at the stars.”

  “Oh, I get it,” he said. “It’s not what I said, but where I said it.”

  “Right. You surprised me. Then I got mad because it’s the first time anyone has ever said something like that to me – and the first time is supposed to be special.”

  Dagorat snorted. “Aye, it wasn’t very romantic at all. With Liberon slurping his tea and Cyril sucking on pickled eggs.”

  She slid next to him and they snuggled together, watching the road unwind behind them as the wagon rolled along. Two journeys, one of the wheel, and one of the heart, had blended together.

  After a couple of miles of peaceful silence, she whispered, “I think Liberon has the authority to perform a proper wedding.

  CHAPTER 15

  SUNS, MOONS, AND STARS

  KIRALYNN’S RIDERS RETURNED IN FOUR days without finding any trace of Blackfang. Dagorat and the group remained with the caravan, confident they would reach the Gorthul Pass before him. Ten days later, they neared the western outskirts of Jalken, the royal seat of Quintalya, where all caravans paused for two days to restock and take on new travelers. For the moment, they rested on a wide stretch of the Jalken Road, on a hill overlooking the city to the east. Jalken made for an impressive sight, surrounded by thick walls, battlements, and sluices for burning oil which were certain to discourage any attack. Between here and there lay the Bordermark Bridge. Just past the bridge, the road forked into what the Jalkenese called Top Road and Bottom Road, ringing the city to the north and south. The two converged again in the eastern outskirts and became Ethelton Way.

  A horn sounded. Several wagons separated from the line and made their way forward. “Why are they leaving?” Katrina asked.

  “Merchants and travelers whose final stop is Jalken. They’ll be taking Top Road, to keep Bottom Road clear for the rest of us. Look over there.” Craicwyth pointed to a field near the Bordermark Bridge where Jalkenese wagons waited to start their journey to Mentiria. “It’s been a while, but things haven’t changed. Soon more wagons will exit the city, join those waiting, and head to Mentiria.”

  Katrina bounced on her toes. “Two whole days of rest. Did you hear that, Dag?”

  Dagorat winced internally; he hoped she wouldn’t ask to enter the city. Craicwyth and Magda had mentioned it last night. Apparently it was the thing to do. The road ahead was still long, and many travelers made the most of this stop in the southern foothills of the Spine.

  “Are we going into the city tonight? I’d like to have a bath and a real dinner in a tavern,” Katrina said.

  Sigh. An honest answer would upset her, but he didn’t want to lie, either. He nudged Cyril in the back, hoping his friend would save him the trouble. Instead, Cyril gazed out upon the view, puffing on his pipe, happily daydreaming. Dagorat grimaced. “You and Liberon should go. Cyril and I will stay with the wagon.”

  She frowned. “Why don’t we go into Jalken, and let Cyril a
nd Liberon guard the wagon?”

  Dagorat shook his head. “No.” He didn’t dare step foot in that city.

  “Cyril?” Katrina called in appeal.

  The mage released another puff of smoke and grunted. “Don’t drag me into this. You two decide. I have some pressing matters to address.” He motioned for them to separate, and walked between them, away from the wagon.

  “Where are you going?” Dagorat asked.

  “To the Mentirian Guard. I must speak with Kiralynn and Captain Beltrane.”

  “Why?”

  Cyril shook his head. His gaze shifted back and forth between him and Katrina. “You really can’t guess? You’re not thinking. When the horns sound, move on. I’ll rejoin you later.” He heaved a heavy sigh and strode away.

  Stubborn old man, Dagorat thought. Why doesn’t he just tell me? He despised guessing games; they struck him as veiled insults. Especially from Cyril. Does he think Katrina has softened my mind?

  Katrina locked her arm around his and snuggled up next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “I’d really like to see Jalken with you.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” Dagorat said with a tight jaw.

  She studied him for a moment, and to his immense relief, didn’t push any further. Good. He wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal his past yet. As much as they’d shared, his infamous history as Blackmond Shadow was still secret. They stood in companionable silence, Katrina playing with his hair, until the horns signaled departure. They climbed into the wagon, and it lurched back into motion. “We should be coming up on the Bordermark Bridge soon.”

  “What’s so special about the bridge?”

  “That’s the border between Ravenna and the Kingdom of Quintalya.”

  “I know that,” she said. “So what?”

  “That’s where the Mentirian Guard will leave and the Jalken Defenders will take over. They’ll escort the caravan the rest of the way to the Easterly border.”

  “Ah, so that’s what Cyril had to go take care of,” Katrina said. “He was right, you’re not thinking.” Her fingertips gently stroked his arm. “Am I so distracting?”

  Yes, she was. Dagorat offered a lopsided smile and leaned in for a kiss. She slapped him. “Stay alert. Cyril went to Kiralynn because he doesn’t want the Mentirian Guard to tell the Jalken Defenders about us. Especially since there’s a reward for you in that city.” She shook her head. “Bread brain.”

  “Bread brain?”

  “Soft and full of holes.” She drummed her fingers, then said, “Did you talk to Liberon about the wedding yet?”

  “Well…no.” Two weeks had passed since she first mentioned a wedding, and he’d been dodging the question ever since. He loved her, but marriage? Never had he even come close to marrying anyone. Was he willing to make that kind of commitment? Even for a woman like Katrina? And if he did, what kind of life could he give her, assuming they even returned from this mission? Would she still want to marry him if she knew about his past? So many questions, so much uncertainty. And…wait. What had she said about a reward? “Hold on. I never said I was wanted in Jalken.”

  “No, but you’re avoiding the place like a wanted man. Bread brain!” Scooting to the front of the wagon, she clambered out to sit next to Liberon. Dagorat followed her, squeezing onto the bench.

  They passed the group forming up for Mentiria. Liberon sighed. “Wish I was with them.”

  Katrina poked his ribs. “Don’t like us anymore?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just that I’d rather be heading back home.”

  Wouldn’t they all. But that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. Dagorat gazed upon the landscape rolling by. Once they crossed the bridge, the caravan veered right at the fork onto Bottom Road. They topped a small rise, and ahead on the left, the southern gate of Jalken came into view.

  Dagorat borrowed Katrina’s ill-gotten spyglass and pointed it toward the gate, where two lines of wagons had begun to lumber along the spur that led to Bottom Road. The left-most column would turn west and join the Mentiria-bound group, while those on the right would join their own caravan toward Easterly. He trained the glass upward to view the battlements of the city. On every tower, banners flew in the wind. Most bore the royal crest of Quintalya, a red chevron on a field of gold. Others displayed a spine tree on a field of white, the seal of the city of Jalken. He handed the instrument back to Katrina, and she put it to her eye.

  “I can see the details on the banners,” she said.

  “Let me have a look.” Liberon borrowed the spyglass and peered through it, craning his neck. “The city’s not as large as Mentiria. More imposing, but not as majestic.”

  “At least it’s civilization.” She gave Dagorat a disdainful glance, then shifted her attention to the monk. “I need to ask you something.”

  He lowered the spyglass and gave a playful smirk. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Me and Dagorat want to get married. We feel you should perform the ceremony – if you want to.”

  Liberon glanced around her with a beaming grin at Dagorat. “I’d be happy to. A blessed occasion. May the Light shine upon you.” Then, as quickly as the smile had gleamed across his face, it faded. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?” Katrina said.

  “I didn’t bring any of the necessary materials to do a wedding. Official seals, proper parchment, quills, that sort of thing. We may go through the motions, but it wouldn’t be legally recognized.”

  The three brooded in silence. Katrina resumed her finger drumming. After a moment, she broke the hush. “Isn’t there a monastery in Jalken? You can borrow their stuff.”

  “No. I’m not on the Royal Registry in Quintalya,” Liberon said.

  Katrina let out an exasperated breath. Silence ensued once again. Dagorat relaxed. Maybe he didn’t have to get married so soon after all. Then she perked up. “The monks in the city are on the Royal Registry.”

  Liberon considered for a moment. “Yes, and I know some of them through correspondence. Librarians, mostly. But I’m sure they’ll gladly perform a wedding.”

  “No,” Dagorat said flatly. “You know I’m not comfortable going into the city. And now you want me to go in and fill out official documents. Are you both mad?”

  Tears filled Katrina’s eyes. Keeping her head down, she pushed her way back into the wagon and huddled in the farthest corner.

  Dagorat’s heart sank. All his doubts faded. He would do anything to make her happy. He left the bench and tried to hug her from behind, but she pulled away. “Don’t touch me. I’m not some Karnalian girl for hire. We can’t get married and you seem glad about it.”

  “I’m not glad about it. But we can’t get married right now. It’s too dangerous for me to get anywhere near that city.” Dagorat sat on a sack and Katrina did the same, both careful not to touch the other. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Then why do you reject every idea for the wedding?” She buried her face in her hands and slid to the floor. “I never thought I would ever bring myself to marry anyone. And now that I’m ready, we’re constantly blocked.”

  There was no escaping it any longer. If he wanted her to understand, he had to trust her with the truth about his past. “I think I need to tell you something.” He offered his hand and pulled her close. “Have you ever heard of Blackmond Moonshadow?”

  “Who hasn’t?” She held up her hand. “I already know. In the tavern in Mentiria, you were pretty quick to give an excuse for how well you knew Easterlain customs. Then you mentioned the ‘Queen’s River’ to Kiralynn.” A smirk formed. “You’re going to tell me that you were part of his outlaw band, aren’t you.”

  “Well, not exactly.” He pointed to his heart. “I’m him.”

  Katrina stared at him. She must have seen the honesty in his face, because her eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth. “By the gods.”

  “God!” Liberon quipped over his shoulder. “Don’t say things like that and then expect
me to marry you under the Light of The One True God.”

  Dagorat blinked. “Right. Well, let’s just say that I was forced to leave that life one day, with very little to my name. Cyril found himself in similar circumstances, and we joined forces, as it were, and headed south. We decided to make for Mentiria and settle down to a new life as honest citizens. On the way, Cyril agreed to stop in Jalken and raise enough coin to make a fresh start.”

  Her eyes widened. “Cyril? I didn’t think he had it in him.” A sly grin crossed her face. “What did you two do?”

  “We emptied the purses of many nobles.”

  “That’s dangerous. Those people are vindictive.” She clasped her hands. “But so much fun to humble.”

  “True, but in the end, we humbled one too many.”

  “Sounds like you got too greedy,” she said. “You should know when to quit.”

  “Yes, but they made it so easy. Most of the nobles in Jalken have a weakness for gambling. Especially for the card game called suns, moons, and stars.”

  “I’ve heard of that game. Never played it, though.”

  “The idea was mine. Cyril was reluctant at first, but he knew we were desperate. He’s a master at worming his way into conversations. We headed for a teahouse where the wealthy liked to meet and gossip, and within minutes, he arranged a tournament. With the last of our money, we rented a grand house to host it.”

  “Cyril the Wise with cards up his sleeve. I never would have guessed.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t cheat like that. That’s a sure way of getting caught with evidence. The penalties in Jalken for cheating at any game of chance are severe.” He ran a finger across his throat.

  Katrina’s eyes widened with each passing word. “Then how?”

  “Jalken nobles also have a thing for their tea and teacakes.”

  “What do teacakes have to do with cheating at cards?”

  “The lemon cakes are yellow like the sun, vanilla ones are white like the stars, and the chocolate ones represent the moon.”

  “I still don’t get it,” she said. “The moon is gray, not brown.”