by Jason Kenyon
They settled under the cover of some trees that were surrounded by heavy foliage, giving them a nice natural tent of sorts in which to hide. Archimegadon was given the first watch, since Mellara reasoned that she’d done plenty of extra scouting for them that night already. Sour as Archimegadon was at this, he went along with it anyway, and sat watching over the silent forest, feeling both nervous and at peace. Being away from the enclosed Ferrina for the first time in a while was a relief.
He heard a slight rustling, and stopped his musing to look for the source of the noise. It was coming from behind a nearby tree, and he stepped over carefully, wincing each time he cracked a twig under his feet. Just as he neared the tree a figure stepped out into view, and he nearly let out a most un-heroic yell of surprise.
‘Long time no see, old man,’ said Valia.
Archimegadon stared. Valia was dressed in her old travelling gear, with an olive tunic over a light mail shirt that was visible on her arms. Her brown leggings almost faded into the forest background, though the moonlight made them just about visible. She bore iron shoulder pads, and about her neck and down her back was a robe of a deep green shade. On her right arm she carried a shield, while her sword was sheathed at her side.
Once a knight, Valia had rebelled against her order when it joined Lord Bartell in trying to take over the region of Aldrack and beyond. However, jealousy and bitterness had eventually caused her to switch sides, and the failure of Bartell in turn had driven Valia to greater extremes, allying with the deranged god Marr in Ferrina.
Archimegadon could not forget that Valia had killed his companion Yuriath, and then gone on to try to drive him mad to force him to give Marr the location of Constella, the mysterious realm of magic where he’d met the old mage Antagules. However, in the latter stages of the fight against Marr, Valia had seemed to lend him some vague assistance, and they’d had a strange magical joining of minds, where Archimegadon had gained a brief bit of insight into her inner turmoil. It had made him unwilling to simply kill her as Tharanor had desired, giving him the vague hope that perhaps he could help Valia somehow.
‘How did you find us?’ Archimegadon asked.
‘Hello to you too,’ Valia replied, smirking. ‘I have my ways – but don’t worry, I’m not here as your enemy.’
‘That must be a first,’ Archimegadon said.
‘Deserved, I suppose,’ Valia said. She leaned against the tree and folded her arms. ‘We’re both hated by the paladins, so you don’t need to be concerned about me joining them. I wasn’t sure if you’d survive in there.’
‘It was a close thing,’ Archimegadon replied. He watched her warily, wondering how exactly he should treat her. With most people who’d tried to kill him, he’d returned the favour, or at least tried, though there were some exceptions such as the mercenary Felick Broadblade. Felick was slightly easier to understand, but Valia had proven to be unstable in the past, and who knew what might set her off now?
‘I chose a good time to return,’ Valia said. ‘It’s been fun running away from knights or paladins, but it seems like I missed the real entertainment back here. Guess that’s what happens when you kill famous people.’
‘There were surely better ways to have dealt with Orgus Alhamis,’ Archimegadon said.
Valia raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, you’d have had me turn him in, so he could mess around the courts and possibly escape to cause more trouble? No, old man, some people are just better off dead.’
Archimegadon took care not to reply too quickly to that. ‘So you knew he was funding the Clerics?’ he asked instead.
‘Yeah, he turned up in Ferrina to sort out Sordath’s operations since he knew stuff had failed in Aldrack,’ Valia replied. ‘Marr had me talk to him about assisting his cause instead, and Orgus agreed out of fear more than anything. I was going to use him as a back-up in case it all went sour, and he even wrote me a nice pardon that I was going to use to get back into Valanthas’s good books.’
‘But you killed him anyway.’
‘I did it for you bunch, would you believe,’ Valia said, with a regretful grin. ‘I… guess I was… you didn’t have to spare me, I suppose. So I thought I’d help you out by getting rid of the last Cleric.’
‘Only he wasn’t the last,’ Archimegadon said.
‘No, he wasn’t,’ Valia said, and she brushed back her hair.
‘I don’t know why you thought you could get away with doing Marr’s dirty business,’ Archimegadon said. ‘You never should have served him in the first place.’
Valia smiled. ‘Oh, old man, I had nothing after you stopped Bartell,’ she said. ‘My order was disgraced, I’d betrayed you bunch for nothing, and I was angry. When Marr came to me, it changed all that. He admired me, and gave me power that I’d never had before. Control over his forces, a high position in his planning… it was a strange nightmare, a dark dream that was such a rush. I don’t expect you to understand.’
‘You’re right, I don’t,’ Archimegadon said. ‘You were a knight, sworn to protect the kingdom, and to uphold goodness.’
‘Goodness changes depending on who you ask,’ Valia said. ‘Just because the kingdom says it, doesn’t make it right. Look at the situation now.’
‘I am no fan of the paladins, but that doesn’t make the whole kingdom evil,’ Archimegadon said.
‘The paladins rule because the kingdom lets them rule,’ Valia said. ‘You’re all as guilty as one another.’ Before Archimegadon could make his angry reply, she continued. ‘Anyway, I didn’t come here just to talk about the past.’
‘Oh, really?’ Archimegadon asked with narrowed eyes.
‘Well, firstly, I saw what happened to your ships,’ Valia replied.
‘Do you know how the paladins did it?’ Archimegadon asked in spite of himself.
Valia smiled again. ‘Hmm… it’s interesting, isn’t it? But I didn’t see anyone casting a spell. So how else could you destroy a bunch of ships without storming them yourself?’
She watched him carefully, as though trying to send him the answer with her thoughts alone, but Archimegadon had no idea what she was getting at. After a few seconds passed, she just smirked.
‘Think on it,’ Valia said. ‘My second point is actually a question – would you like my help?’
Archimegadon snorted before he could stop himself. ‘Your help? Pardon me, Valia, but while I am glad if you are leaving your Bartell and Marr days behind, we’re hardly at the point where I’ll team up with you again.’
Valia’s smile remained fixed on her face. ‘I see.’
The following silence was long and awkward, and Archimegadon began to regret his sharp response.
‘Well, never mind,’ Valia said. ‘Actually, I do have another question for you, old man. I couldn’t miss that you have that blonde woman with you now – not the mercenary, that one in the dress.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Archimegadon said, wary of what Valia was getting at.
‘Just made me curious,’ Valia said. She stepped away from the tree and began to walk away into the darkness, and Archimegadon wondered if he was supposed to follow. He decided not to, but continued to listen. ‘Another woman in your team – is she there to replace me? Or perhaps… Yuriath?’
Archimegadon reached for his staff in sudden anger before remembering he’d left his behind. This delay gave Valia time enough to slip away into the darkness, but Archimegadon still pointed a hand at the gloom and roared ‘flamebolt!’ While the fiery bolt lit up the night-time forest, there was no longer any sign of Valia, and it faded away, leaving Archimegadon standing by himself, regretting in his fury that he’d not let Tharanor finish the deed.
Chapter Seven: On the Loose
Obdo sat before a giant keg of beer.
It was so grand that he fell to his knees before it in awe, unable even to speak. What marvellous craftsman had fashioned this most glorious of creations, to bear such a volume of his blessed beer? He struggled to his feet and stepped over to it, careful to keep
his footsteps quiet, and held a jug under the tiny tap at the keg’s base.
With gentle fingers he turned the tap, only for the entire keg to suddenly sway. Panicking, Obdo turned from the keg and ran, arms flailing as he went, but it was no good. He heard the keg hit the floor behind him, and moments later a wash of beer swept under him and then dragged him into its depths, until he could feel nothing but beer filling his senses.
Yelling out in fear, he sat up.
And saw he was sitting in a prison cart of some sort, chained to bars that surrounded them on all four sides. It seemed that whoever had designed the cart had done so with a view to putting the prisoners on display, either as a warning for passers-by, or to shame those within. On reflection, Obdo thought, perhaps the designer was smart and efficient, and had intended for both.
Neurion was chained nearby, watching him with concern.
‘Did you dream about the harbour again?’ Neurion asked. ‘I know I have. It was a terrible experience, caught underwater like that.’
Obdo looked off to one side. ‘Uh, yeah, that’s it. It was a real nightmare.’
He took in more of his bearings. Neurion wasn’t the only familiar person there – Tharanor had also been captured, and he was chained next to Obdo, though his attention right now was on the passing scenery beyond the bars of the cart. It was a bright and happy day, which was quite at odds with how Obdo felt right now. He resented the green fields and the cheerful swaying trees, and even the jolly bushes incurred his wrath. If only the damn foliage could be imprisoned in here, while he could free out there instead!
They weren’t alone in the cart either. Many mercenaries and some of the people who’d sought shelter with the Blade were stuck in here as well, and some of them were chattering away. Obdo caught a few plans to escape being brewed, and noted to help out if it looked like it might work. Others were talking about the Paladin Order, and Obdo paid a bit more attention to these people.
‘Surprised the Supreme Commander ‘erself came out to deal with us,’ said one mercenary, who Obdo assigned the temporary nickname of Furface.
‘We made a fool of her pet Malthanes,’ said another mercenary, and Obdo gave her the nickname of Longhair. ‘She ‘ad to try and save face somehow.’
‘An’ then she made fools of us,’ Furface said, looking most petulant. ‘So how’d she get the pole up ‘er arse?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ Longhair replied. ‘All I know is she lost ‘er parents in the war thirty years ago. They was paladins too.’
‘Made ‘er bitter, do ye think?’ Furface asked.
‘Nah, ‘twas a glorious death,’ Longhair replied. ‘They went face to face with a big demon, so they says. Wife an’ husband, both holy knights. They struck the killin’ blow, but there was other beasties there that killed ‘em after.’
‘Any of that true?’ Tharanor asked Neurion, drawing Obdo’s attention back to his group.
‘It’s a famous story,’ Neurion replied. ‘It was two days before the end of the war. They say it was a tragedy – that the de’Ciranas were going to be joint Supreme Commanders, to balance out each other’s flaws and bring their wisdom and courage to the Order. But they died, and Salestis was raised from the age of about eight by another family of paladins instead.’
‘And she achieved their dream,’ Tharanor said. ‘Only I think she forgot the part about wisdom.’
‘I do not understand her goals,’ Neurion said. ‘I believed in the Order, but what happened in Ferrina goes against all that I have been taught.’
‘Seems pretty paladin-y to me,’ Obdo said. ‘Going around swinging their holy swords and hating anything slightly dirty.’
‘Now isn’t the time to joke,’ Neurion said.
‘Not really joking, Sir Shiny,’ Obdo said. ‘That’s always how paladins deal with things.’
‘We’re going to need to figure a way out of here,’ Tharanor said.
Obdo tugged at his shackles pointedly. ‘Doesn’t look like we can do much.’
‘Maybe not at first,’ Tharanor said. ‘If we put our minds to it, though, we can surely work out a way to get free.’
‘Sir Mage would know what to do,’ Obdo said. ‘He could do one of his fiery lock-breaking spells, or just blow up the entire cart.’
‘Yes, Master Archimegadon would have got us out of here by now,’ Neurion said.
Tharanor looked between them. ‘You two aren’t serious, are you?’
‘Sure I am,’ Obdo replied. ‘Sir Mage has been in bigger binds than this.’
‘I had to rescue him from a prison cell once before,’ Tharanor said.
‘Ah, he probably would’ve got out himself eventually,’ Obdo said.
‘Indeed, Master Archimegadon certainly knows some good tricks,’ Neurion said.
Tharanor watched their expressions carefully, and eventually just rolled his eyes instead and sat back. Obdo was already distracted by the sight of a town passing by in the distance, though, and he sank into mournful thoughts about having the freedom to visit taverns there. If only Sir Mage was here!
*
Archimegadon put his hands on his hips and regarded the town of Luthiran, close by now. The road from Ferrina branched off, and the group had decided to leave the Central Way and take the quieter route north. Ithalna had also assured them that Luthiran would provide them with a good opportunity to gather some supplies ahead of their journey.
It was a glorious day, and Archimegadon couldn’t help but feel more positive about the quest he was now on. Luthiran itself was a friendly-looking, traditional village, which lay in the middle of a plain, surrounded by a few small pockets of trees. Smoke rose from chimneys, birds flew in the air, and even the breeze was cool and soothing.
‘So, what is our plan here, then?’ Ithalna asked. ‘Shall I take care of gathering food for the journey?’
‘You’re the cook, so I suppose you’ll know best,’ Mellara replied with a wink. ‘Besides, you’ve also got the money.’
‘I can share some with you if you would like,’ Ithalna said.
‘Don’t trouble yourself, princess, I’ve got more than enough,’ Mellara said, patting the side of her leggings, making an audible clink.
‘Must we always be at odds?’ Ithalna asked.
‘I’m the one having to protect your fat arse, so yes,’ Mellara replied. ‘I didn’t want any part of this job of yours.’
Ithalna reddened, and Archimegadon wondered if he’d see a proper display of her magic at last. ‘Excuse me!’ Ithalna said. ‘It is nothing of the sort.’
Mellara prodded Ithalna’s middle. ‘Well, that’s not exactly all muscle, is it, princess? If we have to run and you can’t keep up, you can look after yourself.’
Ithalna’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but then her stance softened, and she let out a long breath. ‘Do not worry, Miss Nightshot. I will be able to take care of myself, should we have cause to flee.’
‘You’d better,’ Mellara said, turning back towards Luthiran. ‘Oh, and we’re going to need to do something about what both of you are wearing.’
Archimegadon looked down at his fine purple mage robes, and wondered what on earth Mellara could mean. He also eyed Ithalna, and noted how splendid her crimson dress was. It was a beautiful bit of tailoring, and courts would have been blessed to have such finery on display within them. Indeed, of the three of them, Mellara in her rough blue jerkin was the least fashionable, and had the appearance of some common traveller.
‘What on earth do you mean?’ Archimegadon asked.
Mellara looked like she was in pain. ‘I mean… come on, Archie, mages are outlawed, and you’re running around in a robe like that? And you, princess, you even look like damn royalty. You’ll attract every bandit from here to Elgebra.’
‘I suppose that you do have a point,’ Ithalna said.
‘This is outrageous!’ Archimegadon said. ‘I have a reputation to maintain.’
‘You have a reputation to hide,’ Mellara said. ‘We’re not
getting to Stornis Hold if you’re pissing off paladins every two paces. Didn’t you have that scrubby outfit that actually looks normal?’
Archimegadon looked away. ‘I… left it. Behind.’
‘But I thought I packed it with everything else,’ Mellara said.
‘Well, I didn’t leave it there,’ Archimegadon said, still looking far off into the distance. ‘I threw it away back at the forest.’
‘You decided after we came back into Valanthas proper that you’d no longer need to stop looking like a mage?’ Mellara asked.
‘Everything sounds bad when you describe it!’ Archimegadon said.
‘You can both go get some decent clothes, then,’ Mellara said. ‘Guess I’ll be sorting the supplies instead of you, princess. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘I mind you calling me princess,’ Ithalna said.
‘Yeah, well we can’t always get what we want,’ Mellara said.
‘Perhaps we should disguise ourselves more,’ Archimegadon said, trying to get back into Mellara’s good books. ‘Would it perhaps be an idea for milady Ithalna to colour her hair black, for example?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ Ithalna said, giving him a particularly sharp glare.
‘I was merely suggesting,’ Archimegadon said. He couldn’t please anyone today.
Their plan set, they walked the rest of the way to Luthiran. Mellara slipped off by herself, while Archimegadon and Ithalna located a handy tailor and headed inside. Archimegadon picked out an expensive, dark purple jacket, which Ithalna instantly forbade. Sulking, Archimegadon chose the most awful and tedious outfit imaginable, just to make a point, but instead of admitting it was too horrible, Ithalna allowed it, so he was forced to buy it out of stubbornness. With that trauma over, Ithalna concentrated on finding her own outfit.
Archimegadon swiftly became bored without anything to do himself, and he slipped out of the tailors dressed in his bland peasant smock. Feeling particularly unfairly treated, he walked around the town glaring at everything that dared to come in sight, whether it was dogs, cats, or the occasional townsperson. The town was quite a dusty place, with dirt tracks, and a central square that had probably once been a green field, but was now just a bare waste, over which a lonely tree watched.
