“Once night fell, I flew high under the crescent moon, searching for the campfires of an army. It was only a few miles to their encampment. The cover of night could have concealed more, and I am unused to open war, but my guess puts their numbers at a thousand men.
“Resting my wings until dawn, I started north with the morning, to see if any of the enemy pursued you. When I found no signs, I made my way back to the road and continued north, remembering your scout’s warning of another force lying ahead. It is true. A much larger force, three times the size by my count, travels north along the road. I stayed far off to avoid detection, but they were easy enough to see, clad in black and stretching for miles along the thoroughfare.”
“How far away were they?” Sir Golddrake asked.
“If they kept moving, they would now be further north than we are. I followed for some distance, and detected no intention of leaving the road.”
Orestes broke his silence. “They’ll be on to Windhollow – get there before we can, even if we rode this morning.”
“Aye,” Sir Kilborn agreed.
“Damn.” Sir Golddrake bit his lip and ran fingers through his golden mane. “The Duke of Rosegold won’t be able to hold the castle against so many.”
“Nor will we be able to help them, coming so late with so few,” Rogan added.
“I’m afraid the Baron’s right, Sir. We’re short seventy-four men by my count. You know I’m no coward,” Orestes continued, “but I’ve seen my share of battles and know the difference between brave and stupid. Marching on those hordes now would be a meaningless sacrifice.”
Sir Golddrake nodded and sat on a stoop of rock jutting from the floor, resting his weakened leg. “What we need is time to replenish our numbers.”
“Nay, we need to grow them,” Sir Kilborn added. “We need all the provinces to band together and stand as one. We need a miracle.”
Rogan knew the answer, of course, but he’d already shared it. Sir Golddrake had brushed his petition aside several times already, and bade him not speak of it again.
“I do not know if it would qualify as a miracle, but there is an obvious way to gain an advantage.”
Sir Golddrake looked at Palomar expectantly. “By all means, speak. Or… share.”
“Quite simply, Sir, my kin. Free them from their bonds and I will teach them the Song of Redemption. A flight of Aasimar would be a powerful weapon. Unexpected, to say the least.”
“Oh, that again.” Sir Golddrake shook his head and waved his hand. “I thought I was already clear that an assault on Blackthorn Fortress was a fool’s errand.”
“More foolish than your alternatives? You said yourself, what you need is time. This might draw the King-priest’s attention.”
“We tried that already with Salmarsh – it didn’t make a difference,” Sir Kilborn bit in.
“Salmarsh is not Blackthorn.” Rogan could hold his tongue no longer. “I guarantee Ebon Khorel would notice an assault on a stronghold so close to his capital. Besides, it’s looking more like you have nothing to lose. At this rate, how long do you have before your lands fall under his dominion?”
Sir Golddrake looked to Sir Kilborn. “When do you think he could reach Selamus?
“Pshh,” Sir Kilborn pushed against the open air. “It hasn’t come to that, yet.”
“When?” he repeated, his tone demanding an answer.
Sir Kilborn shrugged. “Winter, maybe.”
Rogan saw his chance. “I know it seems insane to you, but I spent three years in that prison, and believe we can take it. I believe we have to try. I have to try, and know it could make a difference toward your goals as well. You’ve seen how your own men respond to Palomar. They believe in him. Think what you could do with twenty Palomars as your allies. Recruits would flock to your banner.” He shared a look with the Aasimar, and raised his brows.
Rogan read Sir Golddrake’s hesitation as a sign to finish. “Let me plan it. I know my country well, and still have contacts who could help us. I could sneak back, alone, and make all the arrangements while you gather strength here and prepare to move.”
Sir Golddrake looked at his longtime companions. “What do you think?”
Orestes answered first. “It is risky, but it may be our best chance to make a difference, considering our circumstances. I think the men would be behind it.”
Sir Golddrake nodded and turned to his second-in-command. “Geldrick?”
“Aaah,” Sir Kilborn looked away. “You know we’re better defenders than instigators.”
“Yes. But would we have a chance?”
“Only the Goddess knows, son. Only the Goddess knows.”
Sir Golddrake turned to Saffron. “And you, m’lady. What do you think of such an endeavor?”
Saffron had remained virtually silent since they arrived. “I owe you for my freedom, Amurel, but my strongest obligation is to my blood. I believe I have a better chance to find her in a Chelpian prison than amongst the camps of their forward soldiers – though neither place would surprise me. If this is my best chance to find her then I will go, even if it means my death. I will do what I must to find Dhania; meager chances of success are an excuse for inaction, and hold no interest to me.”
Sir Golddrake held her gaze for several seconds, but she did not blink. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, finally. “I will pray on it.”
When Jaiden woke again, Palomar was nowhere to be seen, and the distant light of day made a bright backdrop at the opposite end of the caves. He was hungry, but dared not stray from his straw pallet, lest the new stitches on his leg burst open. Furthermore, Palomar’s song from the night before had worn off, leaving even the slightest twitch of his thigh agonizing.
Looking around the depression, he counted about a dozen other wounded men, all likewise stranded. He didn’t recognize any of them, but thought about his dream the night before. Perhaps helping someone else might take his mind off his own troubles, but where to start? The soldier to his right was fully reclined and had bandages wrapped around his forehead. His hands were on his chest and his fingers were moving, so at least he was awake.
“Ho, there,” he called. “My name’s Jaiden. Jaiden Luminere. What’s yours?”
No response came, save the continued tremor of his digits.
“I do not think he can hear you,” blurted the man to Jaiden’s left. “He hasn’t moved for hours.”
“What about his hands?”
“Yeah, odd isn’t it? He took an axe to the head during the fighting. He seemed all right the next couple days, and then, well, you can see.”
“Oh,” Jaiden said, craning his neck for a better look at the reclining man’s face. “That’s horrible.” He turned to assess the man who had spoken. He was sitting up, too, his tunic split down the middle. White cloth looped around his midsection, and his hands pressed on his stomach as if to keep his insides from spilling out. A crimson stain soiled the cloth behind them.
Following his eyes, the man offered with a strained voice, “Sword to the gullet. All things considered, I think I’d rather be him,” he nodded back at their comatose companion. “Where’s your friend with the wings? It would be nice if you could get him to sing one of them songs again.”
Jaiden hadn’t considered how much worse his situation could have been. “I, I don’t know.”
“Well, I hope he decides to come back. That song was relaxing.”
“Excuse me!” Jaiden called to a lad passing by. He was about Tikvi’s age. The boy stopped and looked at him, but did not speak. “Would you mind terribly bringing us some breakfast? Not feeling the most mobile at the moment.”
The boy nodded.
“Oh, and could you fetch Palomar if you see him? He’s the tall man with the gold eyes and white, feathery wings.”
The boy looked at Jaiden as if his hair were on fire.
“It’s fine, I’m a friend of his.” The uneasy look persisted. Jaiden sighed, “Don’t worry, he won’t bite – just tell him
Jaiden’s looking for him.”
The lad scurried off, leaving Jaiden unsure if either request would be met.
“I am Fhezwick, at your service,” said the man with the punctured stomach.
“Fhezwick? That’s awful, who named you?”
The soldier shrugged, shrinking back.
“So, Fhezzy, what shall we do so we don’t die of boredom?” Fhezwick was low on ideas, so Jaiden sat with his stomach grumbling for the next quarter hour, watching the rest of the camp go about its business.
The intrepidness of young boys was riding high that morning, however, and Jaiden received favor on both counts. Palomar approached, savior-like, balancing a bowl of warm broth in each hand. “A messenger told me of your hunger.”
“Palomar! Great to see you.”
“Have I been absent so long?” He handed one bowl to Jaiden and the other to Fhezwick, who nodded his appreciation.
“You have no idea.” Jaiden glanced at his neighbor, who was already slurping down his meal by the wooden spoonful. “I have to have something to do. I wondered if you might teach me some of what I’ll need to know for initiation.”
“Certainly.”
“First, though,” Jaiden averted his eyes from Palomar’s, “do you think you might sing another song? My leg feels like it’s burning, and it helps the other patients as well.”
“Of course.” His words seemed tinged with sadness, but once the Aasimar intoned his Song of Soothing, the pain in Jaiden’s leg receded. When finished, he sat cross-legged in front of Jaiden, and opined about the strictures of the Order of the Rising Moon.
“First thing you need to know, and probably commit to memory, are the ‘Five Corners’ of the Order. They are the foundation principles that guide our behavior, and the symbolic reason the Order of the Rising Moon carries pentagonal shields, by the way. I’ve been told by Lieutenant Orestes that we shall receive our personal shields upon completion of the Swearing Ceremony.”
“Well, that will be nice.”
“Honor – it is imperative to remain honest and fair in all dealings, even with adversaries. Loyalty – all commitments, whether to others or the ideals espoused by the Order, must be faithfully maintained. Courage – even when facing grim odds, bravery and fortitude are essential. Obedience – dutiful compliance to recognized authority is demanded. Charity – generous actions to aid the less fortunate should be our daily bread.”
Jaiden felt the weight of responsibility just listening to the words. “You already memorized all that?”
“It is not so much.”
“Perhaps not for you, but I am used to doing things my own way; never really had much use for rules.” Jaiden thought of the nights he was recently robbed, accused of cheating at cards, and then kicked out of a brothel.
“We have not even come to the rules yet, Jaiden.” Palomar laughed, but it was with his true voice, not conveyed through telepathy, and it had a metallic aspect Jaiden found surprising. “Think of these as the challenges we face in our everyday behavior. Some will come easily, but we all have our shortcomings. Mine, for instance, has always been obedience. No doubt there will be Corners to work on, but at least you have courage mastered already.”
Jaiden reached down and smoothed his hand over the space where his thigh had once been whole. “Aye, or stupidity.”
Palomar squeezed out a tight-lipped smile.
Jaiden swallowed hard. “I think ‘Charity’ might be my biggest challenge. That is where I will start.”
“Sounds like an excellent idea.” Palomar stood. “You should eat your broth before it cools further. We can continue the lessons later. Sir Golddrake has been meditating on whether to assault Blackthorn, and I am eager to hear his decision.”
“You want us to go? It would be an excellent chance to test our mettle.”
“I admit I am being selfish. I do not think I can sit by much longer without trying to free my kin. Baron Rogan feels the same. I would be more hopeful if Sir Golddrake were with us.”
“Will you let me know what he decides?”
“Certainly. Be well.”
“Thank you for the song!” Jaiden called out as the Aasimar took leave.
“I didn’t want to interrupt, but do you often have conversations with yourself?” Fhezwick asked.
Jaiden dismissed him with a roll of his eyes. “It’s called ‘telepathy’,” he mumbled, no longer looking in Fhezwick’s direction. “Boy!” he called to the same lad he had harried earlier. This time the page was passing by with a rag, whetstone, and tin canister. He stopped, looked over at Jaiden, and his shoulders sagged before changing course.
“What have you got there?” Jaiden asked as he looked over the boy’s armful of contents.
“I am to sharpen and oil the swords, sir.”
“You don’t have to ‘sir’ me. Anyway, it is your lucky day. Give me what you have, and bring me a lantern and the blades. I will tend to them. It will at least give me something to occupy my time.”
The boy hesitated. “I—”
“Hurry along now, before I change my mind.” Jaiden accepted the load from the boy’s arms, and without any questions, he scampered off to gather the inventory of weapons. He returned a few moments later, though he was unwilling to leave the task solely in Jaiden’s care. The two of them spent hours honing and oiling the Order’s steel, until it was sharp and well preserved.
Palomar did not return until the following midday, and by then, word of Sir Golddrake’s decision had already spread through the camp. Jaiden heard the news from Lothander, who came to visit once he tracked down sightings of Jaiden to the infirmary.
“There has been a change of plan, my friend. Have you heard?” he said.
“Blackthorn?” Jaiden guessed.
“That’s right.” Lothander’s face fell a little, as if he had missed an opportunity. “We are no longer marching to Windhollow Castle, but heading south into enemy lands. It will mean a few more days in the caves, unfortunately.”
“We do not go immediately?”
“Nay, the Master is staggering our departure. We will travel in secret,” Lothander’s hands were demonstrative as he spoke, “in smaller groups to avoid detection, and not all of us are going. The Order is splitting to help maintain the ruse. The rest will stay up north and regroup at Selamus. Apparently that Baron fellow from Chelpa is heading down first to make some arrangements. I hope he does not betray us – but, the Master trusts him well enough. He has befriended the Aasimar as well, so that’s good enough for me, I suppose.”
“Hmm, I wonder,” Jaiden said. That was not good enough for him, and he was eager to change the subject. “Have you still got those Skirmish cards?”
Lothander’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “I have them in my pack.”
“Perhaps we could play a few rounds with the men here?” Jaiden motioned to his fellow patients. “It’s awfully boring sitting here all day.”
“I know what you mean. We have only been allowed outside in shifts to avoid attracting attention. I shall return shortly.”
The hours passed more quickly as they played, and Jaiden tried hard to learn the names of his remaining wounded compatriots. The patient to his right was gone when he woke that morning, and Fhezwick informed him he had not survived the night. It gave Jaiden a shiver to imagine it could have been him. Would anyone remember his name?
When Palomar returned, the game had already wound down, and he promptly apologized. “I am sorry, my friend, but I could not come sooner.”
“Don’t let it worry you, Palomar. I’m a grown man, and it’s not your job to look after me.”
“But I said I would return when I heard news, and I did not. Sir Golddrake had a mission that demanded my immediate attention.”
“I understand, truly. Say, would you help me stand? If I don’t get at least a little sunshine I think I might wither away.” Jaiden reached out for Palomar’s grasp. Just as the Aasimar bent to assist, however, he was chided into stopping.
She was nearly upon them by the time Jaiden spotted her out of the darkness, leaving him unsure precisely where she sprouted from. She carried what looked like a leather sleeve draped across one arm, and carried a brass vial in her opposite hand.
“Lady Saffron,” Palomar arose.
“What are you putting on me?”
“Relax, Jaiden, this will help.” She knelt directly between his legs. He could smell the perfume she wore, subtle as it was. He looked upward and tried to find some distraction in the shadows as she tore away the fabric from the already split right leg of his trousers.
A moment later he felt her rubbing a cool ointment onto his bare leg, and it was too much for him. Without looking, he felt his arousal taking hold, a tightness growing in his undergarments. Why did he keep ending up in these positions? Saffron was going to think him some sort of aberration. His face flushed, though it was probably too dark for her to notice… no way she would fail to notice what was happening below. Was Palomar watching, too? Jaiden shut his eyes, wishing he could just disappear entirely.
Saffron said nothing, however. She worked her way down his leg, until almost its entire surface was slick with the treatment. Then, she worked the sleeve over his foot and up his leg. “Pull it tight,” she instructed, though the sharpness of her voice had been replaced by a tint of compassion.
Jaiden opened his eyes and looked at his leg, realizing the purpose of the endeavor. The leather sleeve fit snugly over his leg, with a hole cut out for his kneecap. He grasped the top and pulled until it was finally in place.
“There,” Saffron said. She began working her way up the crisscrossed cord on the side of the sleeve, pulling it tight, then tying it off at the top. She rocked back on her heels when finished, admiring the result. “Not a bad piece of work, if I say so myself.”
“Did you make this?” Jaiden asked, immediately aware how helpful its binding support would be for his leg. Overwhelmed, he fought back the sting of forming tears.
Shiver the Moon Page 19
