Amurel had to admit, this was a woman who seemed sure of herself. “Very well,” he nodded. “Make it happen.”
Saffron took her leave to deliver the commands and make preparations for the ride. Amurel decided to observe from atop a platform behind the villager’s palisade. Though the enemy kept a fair distance, he could make out their location by the slow movement of black lumps against the greenery of the hillsides. He was eager to see how Saffron’s plan unfolded, and also wanted extra time to think.
As eager as he was to return to Synirpa, a thought had rooted in Amurel’s mind that he could not shake. He knew sowing doubt was the King-priest’s objective, but it did not change the fact enemy troops, feeble or not, were able to sneak behind his lines. The Order couldn’t cover that much land, yet he was sworn to protect the weak.
How could he ensure the entire countryside remained safe, yet not dilute his forces to be useless against a major assault? The question demanded further attention; he would pray on it later. For now, he turned to the south, where he could see Saffron’s riders bearing down on the skirmishers. The enemy, unprepared for a fight against trained soldiers, spread in disarray to escape the wrath of the cavalry. Much as Amurel expected, the archers felled a third of their number before they surrendered. The fight was over before it had truly begun.
He congratulated Saffron on her victory before turning his attention to those she captured. No useful intelligence was extracted from the prisoners, though Amurel did not judge them liars. They simply did not know much in the way of plans or purpose, and no definitive leader stood among them. Those facts, however, still served to paint a picture.
Clearer than ever he saw these incursions as a distraction, either to lure his forces from Synirpa, waste his time pursuing trivial combats, or at the least, undermine the north’s sense of security. Perhaps all three were the goal, which he couldn’t argue had been accomplished. That knowledge started a sinking feeling in his gut, which he tried to subdue as he ordered his troops’ return to their main camp.
They had a fifty-mile ride northeast back to the seat of the province, and a long two days for Amurel to speculate on possible disasters that may have befallen in his absence. His worries failed to manifest, however. Tents still filled the fields outside Synirpa, and the wagons of supplies were loaded and waiting for the journey south. Almost like a sickness of his mind, though, Amurel could not find a reprieve from his suspicion that something was amiss.
Saffron did her best to put him at ease and even played a soothing melody to calm him, but sleep did not come easily. With no recent reports, Amurel hungered for news as well as action. He decided to leave immediately, the morning after his return, to escort the supply train bound for the Caves of Criesha. He desired not only to replenish the stores they had consumed when last taking refuge, but to feel the presence of his Goddess, which came more often in her sacred space.
Sir Kilborn and Lady Saffron both insisted on coming with him, but before leaving, he dispatched two scouts to the ruined keep at Halidor. “We will come there next,” he told them, “so be alert. I want to know of any signs of the enemy between here and the border over the last fortnight.”
His men nodded their understanding before riding south, into the misty morning.
A week had passed since his anointing, and Jaiden was already weary of his new responsibilities. Then, an emissary from the province of Crimsonmoon brought an appeal for the Prince to send troops, which seemed like a second chance for Jaiden to see action. An alarming number of orcs had amassed near the northern border, and the Duke wanted to deter an invasion.
Yet Prince Falcionus downplayed the danger and refused to send his men afield, speaking of his responsibility to defend Dawn’s Edge. A few savages on the outskirts of the provinces, he claimed, were no equal to the threat of the King-priest invading from the south.
While Jaiden did not disagree with the assessment, he saw no reason why both threats couldn’t be addressed. After all, was that not precisely why Sir Golddrake split the responsibilities of the Order? As long as he was guarding the south, what prevented Jaiden from slipping to the northeast and crushing a disruptive gathering of orcs? They weren’t even human, for Criesha’s sake.
The argument played out again as Jaiden stood at attention in the throne room. The Prince and his advisors were awaiting the entry of Sir Golddrake’s envoy, who arrived much sooner than expected at the gates of Selamus.
“I have been Prince of Dawn’s Edge since before you could lift a sword, Sir Luminere.”
“I appreciate your experience, Your Excellence, I do. But one thing I know about enemies, especially those with the reputation of the Black Hills Orcs, is that it is much better to strike before they have time to organize. Perhaps they are only gathering for some savage celebration and intend to disperse. But if not, what might be a small problem today could swell into a major liability.” Jaiden knew he would not win this argument – not with the Prince of Dawn’s Edge – but lessons learned from his father were difficult to silence.
The seneschal stepped into the gilded, cavernous room followed by two men, robed in white tabards of the Order. “Your Excellence, may I present Lothander Highgarden and Bremmil Barigor of the Order of the Rising Moon.”
The olive-skinned man with thick, dark hair stepped forward and bowed. “Your Excellence, I bear news and counsel from Sir Golddrake, Master of the Order. But first, let me say what an honor it is to stand in your presence, here in the finest city on Elisahd.”
Jaiden rolled his eyes, not feeling guilty in the slightest for interrupting. “Lothander! Greetings, friend. I am glad to see you’ve made your way to the capital.”
Lothander raised his palm and smiled widely. “Jaiden, er, Sir Luminere. How is all with you?” He put a hand to his face to shield his mouth from the others, though the distance between them was too far for a whisper. “I brought my Skirmish cards, if you fancy a game later.”
Bremmil looked from Lothander to Jaiden and forced an insincere smile, before returning his attention to the Prince. “Your Excellence, I am a native of Chelpa who has recently earned the trust of Sir Golddrake and joined his Order. I previously served in the army of the Empire, and have knowledge of their movements and tactics that his lordship thought might benefit you in your planning.”
Jaiden straightened his posture at the announcement. “And what news from Synirpa? Is Sir Golddrake continuing to the Caves as he intended?”
The recent initiate cast a glance over his shoulder at Lothander before continuing. “There has been a minor detour, my lord. Your enemy has infiltrated the Cradle further to the west, as I warned they would. Sir Golddrake took some fighting men to halt their advance.”
“My goodness,” Prince Falcionus stated calmly from his throne. “I hope it is nothing too threatening.”
“No, Your Excellence, I do not think so. The pass through the mountains is too narrow for a very large force to navigate.”
“Did Sir Golddrake ask that I bring reinforcements down the Dawn Way?” Jaiden interjected.
“In fact, no, my lord.” Bremmil’s words were short and his pitch heightened. “If I may continue with my report?” After a shared moment of silence he did just that. “Sir Golddrake said he has the matter well in hand, but given the slippery nature of the enemy, you should be on alert for attacks against the capital. I know from personal experience, the armies of Chelpa are adept at subterfuge and have ways of surfacing where you least expect. Upon my recommendation, Sir Golddrake suggested you vigilantly patrol the areas around the City of the Eight Hills, so as not to be caught by surprise.”
Prince Falcionus smiled. “Now, that seems like sound advice. Keeping Selamus from harm should be our priority – for as long as the capital stands, the Northern Provinces will have a stalwart bastion to look to.”
Jaiden frowned. “I still think it would be wiser to meet our enemies and deal with them on our own terms, not wait for them to strengthen their positions. Sir, are
you sure Master Golddrake is in no need of reinforcements?”
The pitch of the Prince’s voice heightened as well. “Sir Luminere, we all heard what the messenger said. You are outnumbered in this – you should learn to trust the judgment of those more experienced. Start sending out staggered patrols to ensure the highlands are secure. My men will continue drilling on city defense procedures. Now, if that is all?” Prince Falcionus stood from his throne, and the room bowed.
“Actually, Your Excellence – if I may have a word in private?” Bremmil asked, lifting his head quickly to catch the Prince before he got too far.
“No, messenger, you may not. You are from the South and I do not know you. But I will give you two minutes in the western antechamber to speak – guards present, of course.”
“Thank you, Your Excellence.”
Jaiden waited patiently until the Prince and Chelpian messenger left the room before moving. He joined Lothander and put an arm around his shoulder as they departed through the main exit. “Ah, my friend, I feel as if I am going to miss the entire war stuck in this palace.”
“There are worse places to be, Sir.” Lothander lifted his head, taking in the vaulted ceilings.
“Just Jaiden, please. You knew me before I was knighted. I’m not one for all this ass-kissing, anyway. What do you know about the conflict this Bremmil spoke of? Is it really of no concern?” He dipped his neck and squinted slightly to better assess his friend’s face.
Lothander shrugged and Jaiden let his arm fall away. “Sir Golddrake did not inform me of his plans. He rode west from Synirpa with a hundred men, and the rest were preparing a journey to re-stock the Caves of Criesha with supplies. They won’t leave until he returns, though. Sir Kilborn did instruct me to tell you, when we were alone, that the Master sent the Aasimar Marshall to assess the threat in the Black Hills. He is supposed to bring you a report on his return.”
“Illicurus running errands? Curious,” Jaiden mumbled in reflection.
“What’s that, Sir?” Lothander asked.
“Nothing important.” Jaiden snapped back to the moment. “I will be glad to get more intelligence on the orcs. The timing worries me – seems like more than coincidence.”
“There is one more thing I wanted to talk to you about, Sir, though I feel a little strange doing so.”
“It’s alright, Lothander,” Jaiden reassured him. “I am not Master Golddrake – you can tell me anything.”
Lothander pressed the fingertips of both hands together as he walked, presenting a toothless smile along with a creased brow.
Jaiden came to a stop and turned square to Lothander. “Come now; out with it.”
“Well, Sir, after the Southerner and I left Synirpa and rode for a mile or so on the Dawn Way, we came across Dhania – Lady Saffron’s sister.”
“Came across? I thought she went south with the Order.”
“She did – I mean, I saw her in camp, but she must have left ahead of us. When I suggested we escort her back, neither she nor Bremmil would hear a word of it. She said she was a free woman and could make her own decisions where to ride; I suppose I couldn’t really argue with that. To be honest, I thought it might make the trip more enjoyable, having a pretty girl for company instead of just the Southerner.”
Jaiden nodded silently. He imagined he might have thought the same in Lothander’s boots.
“It’s just, uh, when we would camp for the night,” Lothander continued, “it was Bremmil that was enjoying her company – if you get my meaning. He just took his vows before we left, is all.”
“I see.” Jaiden was vexed. Though he felt some responsibility for the welfare of Dhania, given she was a foreigner in a far-away country, the last thing he needed was another soul to look after. Bremmil, on the other hand, clearly required a closer watch as well as discipline. “And is mistress Dhania in the city now?”
“She came with us to the palace,” Lothander answered. “Bremmil told her to wait for him while he reported to the Prince.”
“Did he?” Jaiden couldn’t have this newcomer smuggling a woman into the barracks. “I will have the seneschal make sure quarters are provided in the palace for Dhania, and that Bremmil is suitably occupied over the coming days.
“It is good to see you, Lothander.” Jaiden clasped his friend’s shoulders with both hands. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. We shall have to rustle up some players and get a game going after supper. If you will excuse me, I need to commune with the Goddess. I shall find you this evening.” Jaiden nodded and turned down the corridor toward the new apartments gained with his promotion. He was sure Lothander could find his own way to the barracks.
Back in his room, Jaiden stripped down to his breeches and lit a crucible of the incense given to him by Willem the Shaper to facilitate concentration. His skin tingled in anticipation as he sat cross-legged on his mattress and closed his eyes. His favorite part of the day, he started the ritual the first afternoon after being tapped by Sir Golddrake for ascension in the Order.
He did not always reach her, but knowing he might kept him excited from the moment he ignited the incense until his communion began. Jaiden focused on the regularity of his breath, his chest rising and falling while his hands lay limply in his lap. He thought of the pale green light that accompanied her, the night sky full of stars, and felt a soft breeze stirring his hair.
When he opened his eyes he was still seated on a bed, though surrounded by the soft, silken veils of his mistress. The stars looked down on him, returning his attention. He was in her realm.
“My Champion,” Criesha’s soft voice teased his ear.
He turned to find his chin against her cheek, her luminescent skin bathing his in its glow. He leaned to kiss her but she drew away, pressing her hands against the bare muscles of his back. A low growl of dissatisfaction vibrated his throat. “Am I out of favor so quickly?”
“Patience, my Chosen. I do not visit you solely to accommodate your base urges. I am molding you into the person you need to be.”
Jaiden swiveled his lower half to match his head, which had already moved to follow Criesha’s alluring form. “To what end? I thought you chose me precisely because of the person I am.”
“Potential, only.” Criesha crossed her arms. “Is it not fitting I should instruct you? You are the mortal and I the goddess, after all.”
Jaiden moved his eyes away, taking in the shifting shape of a small cloud as it sped by overhead. “I heard you called by another name.”
Criesha’s left eyebrow arched as she awaited explanation.
“I heard you were one of the Juda-cai: beings from another realm.” Only after the words were spoken did Jaiden’s gaze return to his hostess.
Her eyebrow lowered as her lips turned upward, and Criesha slowly sank to a horizontal position on the bed, her head cradled in one hand, propped up by her elbow. “Juda-cai, Goddess, Scepterina of the Midnight Heavens… does it really matter what others call me?”
Jaiden lowered himself to match her posture and adopted a more relaxed tone. “I have sworn to obey and dedicate my service to you – I think I deserve to know your true nature.”
“One’s true nature cannot be explained, it must be discovered.” Criesha’s eyes narrowed as she reached between his legs, taking him in her hand and stroking, “I discovered yours easily enough, Jaiden Luminere.”
His lids began to close involuntarily as her electric touch stimulated his arousal. After a few seconds of indulgence, he forced them back open, unwilling to relent until he received a clearer answer. “Who is the one lacking patience, now?”
Her arm ceased moving and she searched his eyes, testing his resolve. “Good,” she said, releasing his manhood when he did not blink. “I am the keeper of magic, a boon to those who practice it. I am the watcher-in-the-night, bringing light to those who would otherwise dwell in darkness. Is this what you want to hear?”
Jaiden sighed. “Is it true you and your kind walked the world more t
han a thousand years ago?”
“There are many worlds, and time is measured differently in each.” Criesha sat up and lifted her arms above her head. The sky around them lightened as if the sun had risen, then quickly dimmed again to the dark of night. She raised her eyebrows, “Did a day just pass? Here, I could teach you all you would ever care to know about my world, and when you went back to yours it would be the very next instant. Your body is somewhere else while your mind is with me. My body and mind are both elsewhere simultaneously. It does little good to explain what you cannot experience on your own.”
“You did not really answer my question,” Jaiden persisted as he, too, sat erect.
Criesha’s laugh rang of honest delight. “Yes, Sir Luminere, a drop of my essence traversed the Veil of Nessus and walked the paths of your world in physical form a score of centuries ago, as you judge waking time.”
Jaiden did not understand the implications of her words, but nodded and moved on. “A messenger arrived today saying that Sir Golddrake wished me to patrol the hills near Selamus. But why go looking for imaginary danger when I know where some lies?” Jaiden leaned back until he splashed onto the silk-soft sheets of the bed. “My heart tells me I should ride to Crimsonmoon and confront the orcs amassing there.”
“Your talent is wasted on orcs. They thirst for war but cannot grasp the tactics necessary to win one. What of your duty to the Order? Does Sir Golddrake not command your allegiance?”
“Sir Golddrake passed leadership to me when he conceded the same to the Prince. I am responsible for my own men now, though I value his instincts.”
Criesha lay beside him, tracing her hand across his bare chest. “As you should. He is a trusting man, and has experience and advisors to draw upon. It may be your place now, Jaiden, to learn from those around you, but do not be mistaken. I am preparing you for something greater.”
Shiver the Moon Page 45
