The next moment his adversary was on the ground, dazed and defeated. A few heartbeats passed in silence until his movements suggested no lasting damage had been done. The circle broke into unsure applause, but Jaiden found satisfaction in his victory, regardless.
Captain Millstone stepped forward to check on the downed man, and after a quick assessment, gave Jaiden a nod of respect. Jaiden suppressed an outward grin, though he was inwardly beaming. He handed his wooden weapon to another soldier as he limped out of the circle’s center to retrieve his crutch. He hung around long enough to watch the next pair of fighters, but then snuck off to find his tent for a nap. The late morning’s exercise left him exhausted.
In the evening, Jaiden was surprised to receive an invitation from another soldier to join a private game of Skirmish. He had played the card game a few times before, and knew wagering was usually involved. He hadn’t forgotten the theft of his coin purse, and considered it an opportunity to start replacing his losses, if he could find a way to cover his bets.
He didn’t have many possessions beyond the clothes he’d just acquired from the Order, and all the soldiers had those. Perhaps he could parlay promised lessons of swordsmanship for coin, at least to start. He couldn’t think of anything else, and hoped he’d impressed some of the camp with his earlier display of prowess.
He couldn’t help noticing the splendid twilight hour as he made his way to the tent hosting the game. The horizon had eloped with a serene shade of purple, and the pursuing clouds were doused rose and gold. The air was comfortably dry, cozily warm, with only the intermittent punctuation of a cool breeze – just a reminder to appreciate it. He’d ignored for too long the sublime moments often recognized in the past. Jaiden realized then that more than just his body needed healing.
Tell-tale sounds of jest and friendly ribbing spilled out from a nearby tent into the eve, honing Jaiden to his destination. He exhaled deeply, preparing for possible disappointment, and ducked inside.
“Jaiden, pull up a stool!” Lothander, the soldier who had invited him, summoned between gasps of laughter. A round table, too big for the space, sat with an assortment of benches and stools surrounding it. A couple lanterns hung from the tent’s support rods, and each of the half-dozen players at the table held identical grey mugs. There were cards, face up on the table in front of each player, as well as a pile of speckled kidney beans.
“It’s five coppers a bean, Jaiden, how many do you want?” Lothander asked as he stepped from the table and opened a foot locker.
“Well…” Jaiden stalled, undecided between giving an explanation and lying.
“We’ll settle up after the game, just let me know what you’re in for,” Lothander insisted, seemingly unconcerned about payment. Jaiden wondered if his host was merely good-natured, or if the Order conditioned its members to become overtly trusting.
He executed a quick count of one of the other player’s beans to gauge how much they were playing for. “Give me twenty-four,” he settled, not wanting to contemplate the ramifications of losing more than he won. Where would he get a dozen silver sovereigns?
Lothander counted out twenty-four beans from a cinched pouch in his locker and set them in front of Jaiden, who claimed an empty stool. The men on either side shifted to make room, and Lothander made introductions around the table.
“This is Dohrke, Emanti, Siler, Rafe, and Gayorg. Everyone, this is Jaiden, our champion from this morning.” They all raised their mugs and bowed their heads in unison, mocking Lothander’s flare.
Jaiden shrugged and laughter broke out again. “What are you drinking?” Jaiden was curious whether the choice of beverage was making them all so merry.
“A special spirit, in honor of our foreign mistress,” Lothander offered as he handed Jaiden his mug and went to scrounge up another. “Rafe brews it, but don’t let the rest of the squadron know. He calls it, ‘Saffron’s Dew.’ I doubt the captain would approve.” He shoved Rafe’s shoulder as he raised his newly poured cup to his lips.
“Hey, I named it out of respect, all right?”
“Sure you did, Rafe,” Dohrke added. “And I’m sure this mug is as close to sipping from her cup as you’re going to get, my friend.” Once again the table erupted in laughter.
Jaiden took a polite swig and watched as Dohrke gathered the cards on the table. They each had a different creature pictured on them, and he noticed the one showing a gorgon had a slight tear in the top of the card. Dohrke shuffled the gathered cards in with the remains of a deck, then dealt five apiece to each player as Lothander retook his seat.
“So, what are we playing?” Jaiden inquired, though he’d already been told during Lothander’s invitation.
“Skirmish,” responded Dohrke. “You know it?”
“Aye, I’ve played it a few times, but could I get a quick reminder?”
“Three rounds of cards, betting before each,” Dohrke explained. “Everyone chooses which creature to play first, but keeps it face-down until we all reveal. The first card is your base creature for that round. Each one has both a value and a special attribute. The second and third cards modify the attributes of an opponent’s base card and then your own, respectively, shifting their value. You can bow out at any time, but lose anything you’ve already wagered. Whichever remaining player ends with the best modified base creature wins the skirmish, and the beans to go with it.”
Jaiden nodded. “Understood. Let’s play.”
The dealer changed with every hand, and after one trip around the table, Jaiden felt comfortable he’d remembered each of the card’s values, while only down three beans for the experience. Furthermore, he was laughing, drinking, and actually enjoying himself for the second time that day, an uncommon feat given the past couple weeks. Another circuit around the table found Dohrke and Gayorg completely bereft of beans, with Jaiden’s pile doubling. The evening was wearing on, and the responsibilities of the Rising Moon began early, so Lothander announced they would call it a night after each remaining player took one last turn as dealer.
Jaiden suffered harsh, consecutive hands, and fell to only twenty beans, fewer than he started with. Worry crept in as he remembered he didn’t have the coin to settle any losses. Only two skirmishes remained before the game ended.
He looked at his cards carefully, deliberating the best course. He chose the Troll as his first card, and wagered four beans. It was a strong creature, starting him off in second position. He bet another four beans before the second cards were revealed, but unfortunately, Siler lay down the Hell Hound, whose fire breath nullified his Troll’s regeneration. It was a devastating turn of events, and Jaiden had to bow out or risk giving away even more of his stash.
“Tough luck there,” spouted Lothander, who consequently came out on top, taking down the pile and relieving Rafe of his last beans in the process. “All right, last one, fellows.”
Jaiden had only a dozen beans left, and he silently prayed to Criesha for some intervening magic as Emanti dealt the final round of cards. What could it hurt, he thought? He kept his eyes closed until all five of his cards were given, then opened his lids as he lifted them.
Had it worked? He was holding the Shimmering Dragon, the strongest starting card in the deck. He didn’t want to scare anyone off so he only bet half of his remaining beans, though it took restraint not to shove them all to the middle of the table. After the initial cards were revealed, Lothander let out a groan and declared himself out of the bidding. Emanti and Siler kept their reactions to a minimum, still holding on to hope.
They had played the Wyvern and Hill Giant, respectively, both strong cards. Jaiden looked for a solid way to attack one of their creatures. Yes, the Dryad would counteract the Wyvern’s poison, weakening Emanti’s card significantly. Jaiden waited until they had all chosen their cards, and wagered his remaining six beans.
Emanti saw he was bested once they were revealed and bowed out, holding onto the rest of his healthy winnings. Siler’s Corrupted Spider’s web
mitigated the Shimmering Dragon’s flight, but Jaiden still held a slight edge going to the last card. With him out of beans the betting was over, and he concentrated on finding the best way to enhance his dragon. He finally decided on the Behir, who would double his limbs – a nice addition.
He waited on Siler to make his decision, and saw a smile creep to his face as he chose his card, which had a slight tear on the top. Jaiden suddenly remembered it was the Gorgon – his dragon would be petrified! He scanned his hand one last time, desperate.
“Let’s see ‘em, for all the beans!” cried Lothander, who seemed to be getting a vicarious thrill from the heavy betting.
“Wait!” Jaiden saw his chance. He felt guilty knowing what Siler’s card was, but figured it was a grey area of cheating, since he wasn’t the one who’d torn the card. He exchanged his Behir for a Mirror Mephit, who would reflect the Gorgon’s gaze back upon it.
When they flipped the cards everyone let out a yell, either impressed or dubious at the perfect play on Jaiden’s part.
“You had to have looked or you wouldn’t have switched!” accused Siler.
Lothander intervened, however, making it unnecessary for Jaiden to concoct a lie for cover. “Don’t be a sore loser, Siler. It was a tough play, but it could’ve gone either way. Great game – a fabulous way to end the evening.”
Siler stared coldly at Jaiden as they waited to redeem their beans back to Lothander for coin, but didn’t say another word. Jaiden walked out with six silver sovereigns, a small fortune, considering he began the night with nothing.
Criesha had risen high, and her soft, green hue painted the encampment as Jaiden trekked back to his tent. He felt invigorated by his winnings, and decided the night was still young, after all. With the majority of the soldiers emitting a lamentable symphony of snores, he determined to head into town to celebrate.
Steering clear of “The Ringing Hammer,” Jaiden went deeper into the alleyways of Greyhorne in search of other diversion. After a few well-placed inquiries, he located the kind of establishment he was looking for. Growing up around brothels, Jaiden felt no shame upon entering “The Four Feathers.” His father often found comfort in whorehouses during a long campaign, and would tip the parlor girls a little something to watch after his boy while he was indisposed. Jaiden had memories of women, reeking of perfume, fawning over him and telling his father how adorable he was as his dad retreated with his entertainer of the evening. He remembered a particular incident of his cheeks being pinched incessantly by a rotund prostitute named Big Gertha. He couldn’t wait for his father to finish so they could leave.
Of course, now he was the paying customer. Jaiden passed a bulky man with an oaken rod tucked into his belt, just inside the door. The parlor was hazy with lingering smoke, and held a mixture of intoxicating smells he found common to such places: perfume, sweat, and the remnants of recent sex.
A slight-framed strumpet, her brown hair in tight curls, swooped from an unseen corner and laced her arm through his. “Are you looking for some fun, soldier?” she asked in her best, practiced imitation of a sultry voice.
Jaiden looked over her face, which was pleasant enough, and decided, why not? He nodded, “Lead the way, madam.”
She smiled in return and took him down a narrow hall, thankfully foregoing the stairs to the second-floor rooms. The chamber they entered was narrow, a slight bed and cheap end-table the only furniture. He had seen several portals lining the hallway, and the walls between rooms were thin – the groans of a vigorous customer on the other side an intruding indicator of why they were there.
Jaiden closed the door. His leg was bothering him from the long walk over, as well as the sparring earlier in the day. “May I sit?”
“As you like,” his hostess responded with a wave of her hand toward the bed. As he passed her, she cleared her throat to draw attention to her open palm.
Jaiden placed the silver coins in her hand, which quickly closed around them. Then, he claimed the corner of the bed and unbuckled the thick, leather belt around his waist, so he could peel off his tabard and the cotton tunic underneath. Bare-chested, he rested back on his hands and nodded for her to do the rest. She tucked her payment into a pocket of her dress, gave a wicked smile, and dropped to her knees, grasping his left boot to pry it off.
“No-no-no,” he halted her. “What’s your name?”
“Annabell.”
“Not the boots, Annabell.” He didn’t want to point out that’s where he was hiding his coin purse.
“As you like,” she repeated and reached higher to untangle the drawstring on his trousers.
Jaiden closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and imagined the hands touching him through his pants belonged to Saffron. He began to stiffen, and Annabell cooed appreciatively as she pulled his pants further down to expose him. Suddenly, her hands stopped moving.
“What happened to you?”
Jaiden’s eyes shot open and he looked down at Annabell, who was staring at the bandage wrapped around what remained of his right thigh. It had started bleeding again from over-exertion, and a growing red spot soiled the white cloth.
“It’s just a battle injury. Ignore it.”
“Does it hurt? Should I get you something?”
“I said ignore it!”
Annabell looked up at Jaiden’s face, jarred by the bite behind his command. “As you like,” she said, her voice relinquishing the note of concern that had crept in. She continued her ministrations, but he had gone soft. She tried for another few moments, but it was no use. All Jaiden could do was look at the blood spot on his leg. He felt the wound throbbing, and he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the circumference of the crimson stain increased slightly with every heartbeat.
“Let me try something else.” She stood and began loosening the cords of her corset. When she removed it to reveal her bare breasts, Jaiden could see her torso had its share of scars as well. He momentarily wondered how many times she’d been beaten during her line of work, or if that was what led her to it, but pushed such thoughts away. She gave a guarded smile and he smiled back, then lay flat on the mattress and looked up at the ceiling.
He closed his eyes again as he felt the warmth of her mouth cover him, and concentrated on conjuring images of Saffron walking in one of the long, tight skirts she preferred. He could feel himself starting to grow firm again, when suddenly the Saffron in his mind turned her chin over her shoulder to glare at him. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with this,” she said, and as soon as she did, he lost all the rigidity he’d gained.
Annabell felt it, too. “Is there some sort of problem?” she asked, removing her mouth and wiping a strand of saliva from her bottom lip.
Jaiden opened his eyes and sat up. “Yes, there’s a problem. I didn’t pay you good silver to talk.” He pulled his trousers up, covering his half-vacant thigh as well as his limpness.
“Ahh,” she gasped indignantly as she stood, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”
“How did you think you could help, with those sad tits? They look like they’ve been blistered by the red ache.”
Annabell’s arms crossed over her chest and her face tensed up. He wondered if she was about to cry, but instead she spit her own venom. “You’re one to talk, you aberration. You’re a useless cripple, and that black spot on your chest looks like your mother used your heart as a hot cloth!”
“What did you say about my mother, whore?”
The yelling drew plenty of attention, and the door swung open just as Jaiden grabbed his clothes in one hand and took a step toward Annabell. The barrel of a man he’d seen by the door in the parlor reached in and enveloped Jaiden in a crushing grip, hoisting him off the ground. Despite struggling, Jaiden was powerless to break loose.
“You can’t treat me like this, I’m a paying customer!” His plea fell on unsympathetic ears, and the guard deposited him several steps outside the brothel. He pointed a stern finger in Jaiden’s direction. “Don’t think
about coming back!” he warned in a deep, menacing tone.
Jaiden was running hot, but only managed one step back toward the door before wincing in pain. Both his leg and chest shot surges of agony through his body, and he collapsed on the porch of “The Four Feathers.” He could barely breathe, let alone stand, and his anger faded as he focused on regulating his heartbeat, realizing the exertion had incapacitated him.
People stepped around him as they entered and exited the establishment, probably taking him for nothing more than a drunkard. After perhaps an hour he was helped up by a pair of men in white tabards, though he hadn’t noticed if they were leaving “The Four Feathers” themselves, or had been dispatched specifically to clear him off its porch.
Either way, he ended his night staring at the shadows near the ceiling of his tent, wondering how his life had gotten to such a state.
Chapter 10
Finding the Lessons
W hen the uproar began, Jaiden was lying on his cot, recovering from the previous night’s adventures. The horns and hollering incited confusion and a brief panic, until the likely reason occurred to him – the return of the cavalry. He sat up, eager to find his crutch to go hear the news.
Outside his tent, the entire camp buzzed with rumors of a strange newcomer, and it seemed the entire Order was making its way to Doring Meadow to hear the Master speak. Growing weary of his hampered mobility, Jaiden limped impatiently behind the crowd to the open meadow, which was packed with members of the Order by the time he arrived. He itched to hear the outcome of the mission and hopefully gain Sir Golddrake’s ear as soon as possible about taking part in the next expedition, but found it difficult to make headway past the gathering throngs.
Sir Golddrake, another knight, and a pair of strangers not wearing the garb of the Rising Moon, sat atop horses at one end of the field. One was a pale, muscular specimen with golden hair and feathery wings folded behind him!
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