“When did this happen? There is nothing to the west but the Wyvernwatch,” Jaiden spat. “I thought Falcionus was intent on defending the capital?”
“Apparently after news of mountain breaches in Rosegold, he wanted to be certain no such passes existed in his own province. Should I have Orestes send word to them as well?”
“Bah,” Jaiden waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, but we cannot wait for them. Even if we left this afternoon, it will take us a fortnight along the Dawn Way to arrive at Windhollow altogether. Does Golddrake have that much time?” He thrust himself from the couch and walked toward one of the large windows, until he was bathed in sunlight. Jaiden stared at the heavy boughs of a mighty tree, blaming himself. “I should have ridden south with him.”
“No disrespect to the Order,” Rogan chimed in, “but I saw the size of this army firsthand. The North is going to need more than your collection of knights to face it. All the provinces need to band together, and quickly.”
“I agree, Baron, but can only control so much. Joining Sir Golddrake and defending Windhollow is my priority now. Hopefully the nobility will follow the Order’s lead and rally with us.” Jaiden looked purposefully at Palomar. “Tell Orestes I have given the order to march on the morrow.”
“And what about Dhania?” Saffron interjected.
It took a moment for Jaiden to register the switch in topics, but the concern in Saffron’s voice compelled him. He could hear the usual sense of control slip, and understood she loved her sister, probably more than he had loved anyone. Then Jaiden slipped as well, wondering for a moment if he made the right choice, limiting himself to an otherworldly being. In many ways, Saffron embodied the vision of who he hoped to become. He realized, however, from the depths of his mind, that he would never get there without his goddess.
A soft smile concealed his flash of regret. “Give me a chance to speak with my squire. Dhania arrived to the city with him and another man. I suspect Bremmil may know where your sister is hiding.” He wanted to add that he may be the one hiding her, but thought better of it. “I will question him by the end of the afternoon.”
“I want to be there when you do,” insisted Saffron.
“Of course. For now, though, I must ask your leave. I have a ritual to perform before I get overwhelmed with other matters.”
Palomar understood what that meant, apparently, and moved to usher the others from Jaiden’s chambers. “I shall attend, too, if it pleases you. We may have more to discuss.”
Jaiden nodded and waited patiently until he was alone. He realized the upcoming journey may make his sacred encounters harder to come by, and he intended to savor each one.
It took a few hours for Lothander to track Bremmil down, but eventually all the concerned parties gathered in the Prince’s throne room, along with several guards and a scattering of curious courtiers. Notably absent was the Prince himself, though Jaiden secretly preferred it so. He wanted to utilize the Truth Aura he had gained during the recent full moon, without the scrutiny of the province’s highest nobility, should he have use for it later.
Jaiden did not want to give Bremmil the impression he was under suspicion, yet wanted to be prepared if he had anything to hide. He nodded to Saffron, who was waiting beside the central approach to the throne, dressed in her red leather armor, a fierce look upon her face. Rogan stood behind her, with Palomar on the other side of the aisle, arms folded across his chest. Lothander led Bremmil just short of the throne’s dais, then took a place behind him.
Jaiden stood before the throne and offered a quiet prayer to his mistress, invoking her gift. Gasps of surprise punctuated the room, confusing Jaiden, until he noticed the globe of golden-green light surrounding him. He ignored the aura and tried to act as if nothing was amiss. “Thank you for answering my summons, initiate.”
Bremmil also tried to mask his amazement, though his eyes narrowed slightly before he answered. “Of course, Master Luminere, I am at your service.” He bowed more deeply than necessary.
“I hoped you could assist me in determining the whereabouts of Dhania min Furasi. I am aware she travelled with Lothander and yourself from Synirpa to Selamus, several weeks ago.”
Bremmil looked over his shoulder at Lothandar, before turning back to Jaiden. “Yes, I remember; a lovely young woman. I enjoyed her company immensely on the otherwise lonely road.”
Jaiden heard a cursing exclamation and saw Saffron take a step forward from the corner of his eye, though Rogan reached around to hold her in check. Jaiden’s tone became firmer, knowing Saffron’s wrath may well fall on him if he did not yield results. “Dhania’s sister is concerned that no one seems to have seen her over the last few days. Do you know where she is, Bremmil?”
The Southerner opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to have difficulty doing so. His mouth contorted, and panic flamed in his eyes before he finally found words. “I took her to the Chieftain of the Black Hill orcs as tribute.”
Murmurs of shock permeated the throne room but were overpowered by Saffon’s demanding voice. “You did what?!” This time Rogan could not hold her back and she strode directly for Bremmil, fists clenched.
“Lady Saffron!” Jaiden called out, extending his palm in her direction. “Please, restrain yourself.” The sharpness of his own voice seemed to catch her, and he saw a look he guessed to be trust, flash across her face. She held her ground for the moment.
Jaiden turned back to Bremmil to follow-up on his revelation. “Where exactly did you take her, and when?” Once again, Bremmil seemed to struggle, perhaps seeking a way to mitigate the incrimination already provided. Jaiden brimmed briefly with satisfaction as his Aura compelled a truer response.
“I met Nejuk the Gouger and his entourage by night in a fallow field, just across the border into Crimsonmoon. There’s an old, abandoned farmhouse north of the road. I left the Begnari girl with the orcs two nights past.”
A quiet dread sank into Jaiden’s stomach and he spoke more softly, unsure if he was prepared to hear the answer to his next questions. “For what purpose would you do such a thing – and on whose command?”
Disturbingly, Bremmil no longer seemed to struggle before speaking, and a wide grin ushered in his answer. “The orc king desired a noble hostage of his enemy as an assurance, and I convinced him she was a wealthy princess. All your lands are doomed, Sir Luminere. My Lord, Ebon Khorel, has a reach longer than you suspect. The orcs of the Black Hills are now his allies, and even your friends are susceptible to his influence.” Bremmil’s eyes darted almost imperceptibly behind Jaiden, toward the throne.
Jaiden caught the glance, however, and took a step of his own toward the smug Southerner. “Palomar, when is Prince Falcionus due to return?” He inwardly cursed himself for his lack of vigilance.
“Hard to say for sure, Sir Luminere, but I would not expect him back in the capital for at least another week.”
“This realm will fall, Master Luminere.” Bremmil spoke confidently. “You would be well served to seek terms with your new emperor before you can no longer make a show of strength. Ebon Khorel rewards his willing servants…”
Jaiden was no longer listening, his mind already preoccupied developing solutions to the growing manifest of problems he faced.
“Jaiden!” Lothander cried.
He did not notice from where Bremmil drew the dagger he suddenly thrust toward his chest, but recovered just in time to swipe the stab to the side with his forearm. Lothander dove forward and clasped his arms around Bremmil’s ankles from behind, felling him to his knees. Jaiden kicked the weapon from his assailant’s hand, and before the man could stand, two of the throne-room guards rushed forth and seized his arms. Palomar and Saffron were not far behind, and quickly flanked Jaiden.
“I’m all right,” he said, anticipating their questions. “Take him to the dungeons,” he ordered the guards. “I may have further need to interrogate him.”
“Long live the Blood Tear Brotherhood!” Bremmil shrieked as they
dragged him away.
“How could this happen?!” Saffron wailed as soon as Bremmil was clear of the room. “What do we know of these orcs, and why would they want my sister as a captive? She doesn’t even look Illanese.”
Though she said “we,” Jaiden knew the question, and her ire, were directed at him. “I doubt they would recognize the difference in human cultures,” he said. “Orcs are brute creatures with minds wholly consumed by warfare. Luckily, they usually struggle against one another.”
“They are not all brutes,” Rogan interjected. “I knew an orc once – well, a half-breed – and his nature held an underlying gentleness.”
“Half-human?” Saffron asked. “They can breed with us?”
Jaiden nodded. “I’ve heard of this, too. Abominations…” he stopped when he saw the implications playing out across Saffron’s features. “Don’t worry, we’ll get your sister back unharmed.”
“How can you promise that, Jaiden?” Saffron’s chin quivered and her face was flushed, as if on the brink of tears. “How can you know she’s unharmed now?”
“I do not wish to further upset Lady Saffron, but Sir Luminere, have you forgotten we leave for Windhollow on the morrow?”
“I will find Dhania,” Rogan said, from behind Saffron. Jaiden, along with the rest of the room, turned to the source of the unexpected offer.
“Not without me,” Saffron insisted.
“It will take more than the two of you. No doubt hundreds of savage orcs stand between Dhania and freedom.” Jaiden knew his duty to Sir Golddrake, but felt the pull of personal guilt for not better protecting Saffron’s sister.
“Perhaps sending Ymrilad would help – he is a capable defender.”
Jaiden weighed Palomar’s suggestion as his brain filtered the myriad responsibilities required to get the Order marching to war. He simply could not do both. He bowed his head, reluctantly giving in to reality. “Yes, send him with my blessing, if he is willing.”
Saffron spoke more calmly than before, a hint of regret tinging her speech. “Thank you, Jaiden. I will leave as soon as possible. Tell Amurel I am sorry not to join him at the castle, but I hope to see you both as soon as destiny allows.”
Jaiden nodded and she left the room with Rogan in tow. He waited a few more seconds before confiding in Palomar, his voice low so the other courtiers could not eavesdrop. “Did it seem to you that Bremmil suggested the Prince had struck some sort of alliance with the King-priest?”
“I would not invest too much into the words of a Blood Tear agent; deception is their daily fare.”
“Normally I would agree with you, but he was incapable of lying within my aura.”
“Is that what this is?” Palomar asked, gesturing to the iridescent globe surrounding Jaiden. “Still, planting a seed of doubt is not the same as lying.”
“I suppose. But if I leave Selamus now, are we going to return to find ourselves facing more enemies? Although Falcionus is the Prince, I fight to protect the people.”
“I believe there is enough to worry over without inviting dissension. Perhaps such questions can wait until a problem manifests. Speculation is moot if we fail to prove victorious over Ebon Khorel. Besides, how would it change your course? We cannot abandon Sir Golddrake in his need.”
“True enough, my friend.” Being on the verge of facing the King-priest’s army was plenty to worry over. He bowed his head and muttered a short prayer of thanks to Criesha for her gifts, and the circle of light surrounding him melted away. Given time, however, he would try and extract more from the turncoat, though compelling a Blood-tear agent to give up secrets might prove a fruitless task. Bremmil would not be caught unaware twice. “I should continue preparing for the march.”
“Before you do, Willem the Shaper asked that I bring you to his chambers to receive a boon. He said it would aid you in the upcoming struggle.”
A snorting laugh unintentionally escaped Jaiden as he stepped down from the dais. “I am not going to turn down any help at this late hour. Let us see what the Shaper of Selamus has to offer. Perhaps he holds a secret bit of wisdom we can use, or knows a trick to somehow double our numbers.”
The pair saved their breath as they climbed the numerous steps to the Shaper’s quarters at the top of the tower. Jaiden occasionally saw Willem around the halls of the palace, but had failed to take initiative uncovering the resource he suspected the old man could be. Timing had always been poor, and he had foolishly assumed there would be more chances to feed his curiosity.
Jaiden knocked twice when they reached the door at the top of the stairs, which was left open a crack. “Willem, are you in here?” he asked as he pushed the portal wider and took a step into the Shaper’s apartments.
“Ah, Sir Luminere and my favorite Celestial! I was hoping you would have time to visit.” Willem was on his tiptoes placing his pet bird, Lydia, back into her cage. “Come in, no need to be shy.”
Palomar placed a hand on Jaiden’s back and nudged him forward. “You will need to go further inside to see.” An unusual excitement tinted the Aasimar’s words, as if he was in on a secret about to be revealed.
“Ah, yes, sir,” Jaiden stammered after a quick look over his shoulder at Palomar. “I am told you wished to see me before the Order begins our march tomorrow.”
“Indeed, I do.” Willem pushed the sleeves of his sky-blue robes back to his elbows. His cloudy eye still unnerved Jaiden when staring straight at it. Lydia let out a whistle as the pair drew closer, and Willem stepped away from her cage, drawing Jaiden’s attention to the other side of the room.
Draped over what appeared to be an armor-stand was a thick, wine-colored cloth. “Now, we had intended to bestow this gift upon you in a more formal ceremony,” Willem said, resting his arm atop the cloaked object, “but there is no time for that now, and it is something you should definitely have before riding off to battle. For saving my granddaughter, you have earned my gratitude.”
Willem whisked the cloth aside to reveal a shining set of full plate armor. The mail glistened silver in the sunlight, offset with violet trim and intricate embellishments. The visored helm had a singular spiral horn thrusting outward like a unicorn, and the crescent moon of Criesha was emblazoned on the center of the breastplate.
Jaiden was stupefied and speechless, and peeked over his shoulder to see Palomar grinning in return.
“A fair improvement from the old chain hauberk you’ve been donning, no?”
“I… don’t know what to say,” Jaiden posited, still searching for the words. The armor was worth more than he and his father had made in their entire lifetimes, together. “It’s magnificent,” he finally managed, only after reaching a hand out to trace the metal and confirm it was no illusion.
“And it is more than just a pretty coat,” Willem added, his voice brimming with excitement. “You will find when worn, the suit feels like it weighs almost nothing. But the second enchantment – well, I’ll let you see that for yourself.” The Shaper craned his neck from one side to the other, sizing up his guests. “Neither of you are armed?”
Jaiden patted his hips, confirming he had not brought his sword.
“No matter, I have something that will do.” Willem retreated to his desk in the far corner of the room and came back holding a thin, iron rod, which he handed to Jaiden. “Any metal will suffice,” he added, though Jaiden had no idea what he was hinting at.
Jaiden clasped the rod with both hands away from his body, waiting to hear why it was given to him. The iron was cold but not too heavy, about two feet long and thin as a riding crop.
Willem shrugged and gestured toward the armor. “Go ahead, have a swing.”
Jaiden laughed briefly, expecting to be the butt of a joke, but Willem merely stood silently, waiting for his participation. “Alright,” he declared, releasing his left-handed grip on the rod. He stepped forward and thrust as if the thin bar were a rapier. Though he had sized up the dead center of the breastplate, his strike went askew, missing the arm
or entirely.
Willem clapped and let out a gleeful squeal. “Oh come now, Sir Luminere, your target is not even moving!”
Bewildered by his embarrassing failure, Jaiden reset his base and hacked downward, this time simulating a sweep from his broadsword. He put his body into the blow, aiming for the middle of the right shoulder guard. As the rod came closer to the armor, he felt it forcefully deflected from its path, until it did no more than glance off the flank of the breastplate. The redirection caused Jaiden to stumble and nearly fall over.
“Watch yourself!” Palomar stepped forward to steady him.
Jaiden looked up at Willem, who had an unshakable grin on his face. “How is this happening?”
“Your armor repels metal. Is it not brilliant?” he squeezed out, shaking his fists in front of him. “The more force behind the blow, the greater the resistance. It would take a giant’s war hammer to overcome the effect.”
“It really is a fine suit, Willem. We will have need of protection in the coming days.”
The Shaper’s tone sobered almost instantly at Palomar’s reminder of the trials ahead. “Aye, my friends. I wish I could give you more. There are worse things than weapons awaiting you at the hands of the King-priest, I’m afraid.”
“You have done more than enough, Lord Willem.” Jaiden handed the iron rod back to his host. “I appreciate your gift more than I can express, and will wear it proudly into battle.”
“Well,” Willem shrugged, “the Prince paid for it.”
Chapter 30
The Defense of Windhollow
“W e need to be quick, but careful,” Amurel noted, and Sir Kilborn nodded in response, neither of them moving their eyes from the map spread before them. Two torches provided the only light in the deep meeting-chamber of the Caves of Criesha. Baron Rogan and Saffron had left the day before, while the Order of the Rising Moon worked to store supplies before a hasty return to Windhollow Rock.
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