“Don’t pretend to know what I’m going through,” she finally spoke with a sneer, turning over so that she could look him in the face. “This isn’t some random acquaintance or traveling companion. He was more than a friend; he was everything to me. Even the loss of a loved one, a lover, a brother, or a mother, cannot compare to what has been taken from me. We were one and with him gone, I feel like I’m dead as well.”
“You are not dead, you are still here clinging to life, and if Tuskar could tell you anything it’d be that he wouldn’t want you to give up. He’d want you to go on,” the mage countered with compassion.
Her mouth tightened and he saw anger lighting up her eyes. “Don’t you dare! I think I would know best what he would say! We were joined since the time he was a pup and have very rarely been apart since. He was there when my family was slaughtered, he nurtured me through my grief afterwards, he joined me in my quest of vengeance, and died because I was foolish enough to keep going with you after my chance at revenge was sacrificed on the altar of Merlin’s Crusade. It’s my fault he’s dead, my fault for ever believing in anything you’ve ever told me. We aren’t going to defeat the Phoenix and his death is only the first of what will become a very quick slaughter. The only consolation I get from any of this is that I will be with him again real soon.”
“You don’t believe that,” he said after a pause, letting her rage subside a bit before continuing on.
“Yes, I do,” she stated simply, then turned her head away from him.
He sighed. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift across the streams of possible futures stretching out before him. He reached out with his mind and slowly drew Kylee’s in with him. He felt her resistance, but the soothing touch he offered eventually won her over and together they looked upon what might be.
King Erik is restored.
They both watched as Tristan placed the sword on the king’s chest and the magical transformation that followed. Willow was there, a hand upon her belly, watching with amazement from the clutches of her betrothed as Erik’s body filled out and his eyes opened to gaze at them for the first time.
Images sifted past of a dinner shortly after and they could both hear the ringing laughter of her sister and future brother-in-law. Then they watched as Erik drew them both to him and embraced them as family, his soul fully restored, and his body healthy once more.
Tristan is now a Knight of the Realm.
They watched as Tristan knelt in the chapel, donned his armor, and went to the knighting ceremony. He heard Kylee inwardly gasp at the beauty of the Knight’s Hall and the beautiful elven girl standing behind Erik’s right side as he laid Excalibur on Tristan’s humble shoulders. Brief images passed through of Tristan and Willow walking the halls together and the beginning of their training.
The fairies have come to Forlorn.
The Fairy Queen was talking to Erik, her retainers keeping a proud stance behind her, then the view zoomed out of the throne room and into the forests just south of the castle. Sprites darted through trees chasing pixies, while nymphs bathed in a nearby stream. Salamanders curled up under the trees as sylphs swept by, their glorious wings of air rustling the branches in their passing. Nereids and fauns watched over the others as a handful of leprechauns lunched in a clearing under the mid-day sun. A large army of centaurs and hobgoblins trained for combat as female dryads watched from a distance with hungry eyes. Their view was shattered by the flutter of enormous white wings and several Pegasus dove into view, then rose up to the heavens, their spirits high and their majesty unmatched.
All the Elves of the East have ridden to Forlorn.
The vision swept into the trees and a vast army of elves could be seen making its way around the mountain to Forlorn’s rear; the supply trains following the heavily traveled road behind. The numbers heartened them both as they admired the grace in the elven advance.
John of Lancaster and your father have almost arrived as well.
Back into the sky the vision zoomed as they hovered over the southern plains. A large force was marching straight to Forlorn, silver armor gleaming at the front of the advance with three armies following behind. The short forms of dwarves could be picked out easily bringing up the rear as they soared closer on the middle of the army. Dodging through the humans and the Lancaster King, they caught quick glimpses of both Windel and Serix riding at his side. Then they went through the ranks faster until an elder elf with short gray hair came into view, his face stern, his eyes stoic, the banner of Griedlok flapping at his side.
We will join them soon, with the Bordermen of Alamar, and the Orcs of the Deadlands. We will create a force unlike anything this world has ever seen. Not even in the dark times of the Freedom Wars has an army like this been assembled. The Phoenix is full of pride and fears nothing, she will throw everything she has at us, and she will not be expecting the resistance her armies are about to face. We have a chance here to turn the tide of this war before it ever really starts and end this conflict before the loss of life gets too much to bear.
I know it’s hard for you right now, but I need you to fight. Fight to be here, to live, to join us once more. I’ve lost many friends on this crusade of ours, I cannot afford to lose you too. You are my rock, the one person I can lean on and count on the most. Without you, I am lost. He let her consciousness go and stopped the flow of images racing through their heads. “Your sister is going to be married in a couple of days, don’t you want to be there to see that happen?”
Kylee’s face turned away from his. “You don’t have to push, I’ll go with you. And live or die, I will make my stand at Forlorn by your side. Now, please leave me be, I need to be alone.”
Nodding in understanding, he rose from his feet and walked to the entrance of the tent. Seeing her shoulder’s shake and hearing her breath hitch, he knew that she was crying again. He wished he could just wave his hand and strip her of it; restore her to who she was. But it didn’t work like that, for any of them. Loss was something they all had to bear in their own way, and he knew better than most the cost it exacted on one’s soul. Pushing the tent flap aside, he stepped out into the torch-lit shadows and went to see how the others were doing.
II
They were about to call it for the night. Which was fortunate, as his mind felt severely fatigued and his body pushed past the point of exhaustion. They had worked through the day, testing his abilities, finding out which areas to improve and which he’d already mastered. The proficiencies he displayed in weaponry caught him as off guard as much as it did his instructors. The only thing he could think of was the Test of the Soul, where he had welcomed Lancelot to join him and they had become one. Lancelot had told him that he would gain his skills in battle, but until he wielded those weapons and fought against imaginary foes; he didn’t realize the extent of what that meant for him. The only weapon he lacked any skill of using was a bow, and Gareth had laughed, suggesting he forgo ranged weapons and stick to close quarter combat instead.
The magic part of the training had been the most exhausting. He had trouble discerning types of spells and how to get his body to react to them. It was a component of combat that he was unaccustomed to, in either life, and he had suffered many defeats before finally being able to make it through one session unscathed. It was an area they knew he’d still need practice at, but his mind was beginning to fog, and all agreed it’d be best to rest and start again tomorrow.
Stepping from the building in the center of the training grounds, he found himself alone on the field with the exception of a lone elf waiting by the doorway outside. “How’s the training going?” Erik asked as he stepped forward and began walking with him along the path back to the knight’s housing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard at anything. Even this new body I’ve been given is having trouble keeping up,” he motioned to the frame he was still learning to adapt to.
Erik laughed. “Just takes time. You’ve been through a lot and it’s not like you’ve
had any down time since you left Lancaster.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, suddenly thinking of Willow and their baby. They hadn’t prepared for that at all, both being overly wrapped up in getting ready for the oncoming battle that they fell into bed the night before, without a word exchanged. They were asleep before their heads struck pillow.
“Don’t worry, Revan says they are making progress. Even he’s surprised by the level of skill Willow is capable of. I don’t think you have to worry about her not being able to take care of herself should she get caught up in the battle,” the king comforted, and he wearily nodded that he’d heard, he was just too tired to comment much. “Speaking of which, I’ve been talking with Pendoran about how best to utilize your skills when the needs arise.”
He managed a chuckle. “I’m sure that was a pleasant conversation.”
The elf smiled in return. “Yeah, he didn’t like you much when you first got here. Thought you were a spoiled brat prince pretending to be a hero. But whatever you’ve been doing while he’s been training you has turned him around. He was actually bragging about you the last time we talked.”
He thought of how hard Pendoran had been pushing him, the quick bursts of anger and occasional warranted scolding; bragging was hard to see. “Kind of hard to believe.”
“He can be a hard man, but he’s responsible for every life under his command and he doesn’t take that lightly. You should be honored that he goes after you so much. If he didn’t see potential, he would be dismissive and assign someone else to be your teacher,” Erik admonished, giving him a stern stare.
He sighed and nodded with understanding.
“Good. Now, as to his recommendations. He suggests, and I agree with him, that you ride as second command of the knights under Tar Reiz when the battle starts. His health is still not restored and we both doubt it will be when the time comes to engage in battle. He is confident that you will acquit yourself with honor and such a suggestion from him should not be dismissed lightly,” the king told him, leaving Tristan speechless.
“First, he doubts that I even belong, now he wants me to help lead his men?” he managed, his mind trying to sort out everything the king said, trying to figure whether he should believe it or not.
Erik grinned in response. “I told you, you have managed to impress him enough to admit he was wrong about you and now he’s recognizing what I saw when I first looked into your eyes; the devotion and courage of a great man on the horizon. He says he’s never seen anyone handle a weapon like you do and has told me that he’d put you in charge of the entire army if he didn’t feel you might be too green in a leadership role just yet. Let’s stop here a moment, there’s a few things I need to give you.”
“Everybody has given me enough already,” he blurted, thinking of the sword hanging from his side and the armor his father had created for him.
Erik was insistent however, and he followed him as the king approached one of the blacksmiths toiling nearby. “Is it ready?” he asked the elf lounging nearby. Sweat was pouring off the older elf and he could smell hot iron and ash upon the air.
“Yes, my Lord,” the blacksmith answered as he disappeared into the back. A minute later he emerged with a long sword, shield, and a dark blue cloak that shimmered in the moonlight as if filled with diamonds. “Almer dropped this cloak off on his way to turn in for the night, figured I could pass it along for him.”
“That’s fine,” Erik smiled at the elder man. Aged fingers whipped the cloak around and handed it over to the awaiting king. “This cloak is a symbol of your status in the knighthood and recognizes you as one of its commanders. Wear it into battle and your orders will be followed immediately and without question.”
He accepted the offered cloak with a word of thanks, hands sliding over the elvish material; his mind blown by how regal and beautiful it looked. He unfastened the cloak his father had given him and donned the new one in its place. Unwilling to just hand it over to the blacksmith to dispose of, he folded up his father’s cloak and stowed it under his left arm.
A shield was handed to the king and his breath caught. Emblazoned upon the Heater shield were three crests. The centermost was of the Knights of the Realm, a circular table with a tree carved into it, surrounded by various shields adorning family sigils. Slightly shadowed on either side were the crests of Lancaster and Griedlok. The shade of the shield was light blue, and the polished surface gleamed in the feeble light.
“I had this commissioned shortly after you were knighted to remind you of your oath and the responsibilities that come with it. Be true to yourself and what you’ve sworn, and you will make an even better leader for those that follow you,” Erik intoned, handing it over to him. He felt the weight of the shield and was surprised to find it as light as his armor was. “Constantine wasn’t the only one to find old relics from the past. The metal is scarce and rarely used, but I felt it was appropriate in this case.”
“Thank you,” he offered, feeling the emotional response within almost bring him to tears. He had been shunned his entire life and the amount of confidence and generosity he’d experienced since the instant he beheld Excalibur, astonished and shocked him to the core.
“Finally,” the other man said, reaching over and taking the offered sword from the blacksmith. “I know it’s not Purity, for the magic that was used in its creation has long been forgotten by our kind, but I felt that a rebirth of sorts was in order and Revan kindly assisted in the forging of this blade. Pendoran has told me that while a shield would do you some good, what you need is a secondary weapon. He feels that dual-wielding is your strongest asset and asked that I give you a blade worthy of your skills.”
The handle of the sword before him was blue, just like the grip on Purity, but made of straps of leather with a silver pommel and guard. The scabbard was light blue as well with runes and designs intricately carved into it. Sliding the blade free, the Elvish King paused to study the craftsmanship and verify it was exactly as he had ordered, then with a smile, tipped it up so Tristan could appreciate it more fully.
The crest of Lancaster was carved into the base of the sword and the blade had well-crafted runes and designs running up the blade to its tip. “What does it say?”
“It’s the elven word for Justice,” Erik told him softly, and Tristan could no longer fight the tear that forced its way up over his eyelid and down his cheek. The elf watched him with compassionate eyes and saw the impact the gift was having upon him. “You sacrificed your father’s sword to return mine, and though I know it’s not the same, I hope you will accept this offering with my words of gratitude and everlasting friendship.”
He could do nothing else but set the shield and cloak down and embrace the stunned king. It was not a typical response between two grown men, but it was the only way that he knew to express the gratitude he felt within.
Erik chuckled and patted him on the back, then embraced him for a brief moment. “You truly have Lancelot’s heart, my boy. It is well placed.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” he intoned automatically, and the elf laughed again.
“Even got a bit of his dogged courtesy as well. Oh well, there are worse traits to be burdened with,” Erik said with a smile. “As to whether or not it’s anything but a well-crafted blade, you will have to speak to Revan. I am ignorant in the ways of magic and he’s been too busy with your fiancé to speak to me since its creation. I doubt you have even had Purity inspected yet. Word of advice, see to that soon. It’s best to know what your weapon is capable of before taking it into battle, lest it surprise you as much as your foes and open you up to attack.”
He nodded and accepted the offered blade. Strapping it around his waist, he felt whole once again. Then he bent over, picked up his shield and the weathered cloak, and began following Erik as he set forth once more.
“We are having dinner tonight. I’ve already extended an invitation to your fiancé. You should have Derek there get you out of that armor and into something
less confining before you come,” Erik nodded to Tristan’s rear.
He glanced around in surprise and saw that his squire was only a couple of paces behind them. Where the devil had he come from? He hadn’t seen him since they arrived at the training grounds that morning.
“May I take those?” Derek offered, motioning towards the shield and cloak.
“Where the hell did you come from?” he asked, unable to resist asking.
Derek smiled. “A squire unnoticed is a squire doing his job, my Lord.”
He shook his head in frustration, he didn’t like surprises or games. When he was having a conversation with someone, he wanted to be aware of all those that were present and not have to think on a squire skulking in the shadows.
“Don’t mind the boy, he’s just eager to please is all. If he keeps working as hard as he has been, soon he’ll be knighted and have a squire of his own to keep in check,” Erik grinned at the youth, who blushed with the sudden praise.
He handed over his father’s cloak, but refused to let go of the shield, garnering another chuckle from the Elven King by his side.
“Come, the women will be awaiting our arrival and never leave a female elf hungry, lest you want to wake up and find your balls detached. Trust me, it’s happened,” Erik chuckled, leaning over and smacking Tristan on the shoulder.
He gulped. Willow would never—would she?
Erik laughed harder. “We’ve got word from my scouts that Lancaster approaches from the south, you will be reunited with your brother by dusk tomorrow. My kin are arriving from the east and the Seers have seen a friendly force marching in from the west. Looks like we’re about to have a full house and we’d better drink some of my ale before the stores are raided in celebration of their arrival.”
The New Age Saga Box Set Page 77
