“Yes, Sir,” the lieutenant replied, then returned to tallying troops and marking up orders.
Jaiden appreciated he was a man of few words. “Good, I’ll be back by morning.” He stepped outside and mounted his horse, heading for the practice archery range, where he grabbed an extra bow and a quiver of arrows.
“I always preferred the sword,” he explained, though Palomar had not asked, “but my father insisted I train for ranged combat as well, in case necessity demanded.”
“What exactly do you intend to do when we find Master Golddrake?”
Jaiden had an idea, but found it too grim to speak aloud. “Can you lead us toward Crowesdale?” he asked instead.
Palomar let it be, nodding and launching into the blue afternoon, bearing south. Jaiden allowed Inferno the freedom to stretch his legs and give chase, relegating his concentration to maintaining balance in the saddle. It only took an hour or so of hard riding before Palomar descended and waited for Jaiden to catch up.
“I did not want to be seen,” he explained as Jaiden slowed his horse to a trot and approached. “The makings of an army lie another half-league in this direction.”
Jaiden looked back the way they had come. “Not far at all, but it is late enough they should be bedding down before going much further.”
“Sir Luminere, before you do whatever it is you are intending, I should tell you what else I heard from my inquiries.”
“Palomar, please, it’s just ‘Jaiden.’” He dismounted to stretch his cramped legs as much as to grant Inferno a reprieve from his burden.
“Jaiden, you should know what we might be heading into. I have no doubt now that the ruby pendant the King-priest wears is crafted of the Living Fire. Such a weapon not only enhances his channeling, but it appears to have granted him invulnerability.”
Jaiden clenched his jaw then crossed his arms, resting them against his chest. “Of course he’s not invulnerable. Everyone has a weakness.”
“I do not fully understand the power of the Juda-cai, but I talked to several men who saw Ebon Khorel personally in battle, and they gave the same story. He rides surrounded by a cadre of armored devils, which no weapon can harm. The few who have been able to engage him in close combat have withered within seconds, as if they aged a hundred years at once.”
Jaiden squinted and shook his head. Tall tales like that were how legends were born. “Palomar, such stories are natural to a side that loses a battle. My father warned me of it many times. He heard campfire retellings of warlords who stood ten feet high during his campaigns, only to find the next dawn they were no larger than he. All men bleed, Palomar. The King-priest and his goons are no different.”
“I would agree with you, normally. But remember, the Juda-cai were a myth in your world not long ago. Last year, had you even dreamt of your Goddess? Had you dreamt of someone like me? There is magic in this world again, Jaiden, though it has slept a deep sleep.”
Jaiden had no retort; the Aasimar was right, but he would not allow himself to be talked out of hoping.
“I say this not to dissuade you from your course, only so you can make an honest assessment of the risks you take.”
“I appreciate it, friend.” He relaxed his jaw and loosened his stance. “I am still going to try, though.”
“And I will stand by you.”
“Let’s take some cover under those trees,” Jaiden suggested. The western portion of Neresgreen was filled with wide-open fields, punctuated by un-cleared pockets of woodland. He guessed the approaching army would bed down before reaching this far, but he didn’t want to be spotted in the open by a scout.
While they waited for evening to descend, Jaiden practiced lacing one arrow after another into the hollow of a large elm. He prayed silently to Criesha to provide a sign or speak to him if she had some other intention to deliver Sir Golddrake safely. Unfortunaetly, his Goddess remained silent.
Palomar provided helpful distraction by sharing stories of his life before the curse, though he would not speak of the days leading up to it. Mount Celestia sounded like a fascinating place, though he couldn’t quite picture how its slope could climb upwards yet expand horizontally for vast distances as well. Palomar told him it was a different sort of mountain than the ones he could see from here, and that the spaces of each Plane obeyed their own set of rules.
The concepts preoccupied Jaiden until at last, as twilight fell, the story-telling was interrupted by the vibration of a thousand footsteps approaching. Jaiden stood and took hold of Inferno’s bridle, lest his horse get overly excited at the prospect of battle.
“Should we fall back?”
“Not until we can see them.”
“Won’t that mean they can also see us?”
In truth, Jaiden fought back his urge to charge forward and engage. He longed for another crack at the army that had first gotten the better of him. An uneven line of gray broke slowly but steadily across the horizon, slowly morphing into shapes he imagined to be units of soldiers. Before taking discernable form, however, they stopped, and the earth became still. Jaiden leaned forward, the lower half of his face concealed by foliage, and strained his eyes. From this distance it was hard to tell much, other than the gray was no longer advancing. “They’ve stopped to set up camp.” He looked at Palomar. “We’ll wait here for it to get darker.”
Though confident the army was through marching for the day, Jaiden knew he couldn’t account for sentries or spies, so he set an arrow lightly to the string of his bow. When he saw the bright flecks of torches and campfires in the distance, he knew it wouldn’t be long.
Jaiden was thankful the moons were almost new as true darkness replaced the dying half-light. He did not want the reminder of Criesha looking down on him tonight. He drew his white tabard over his head and left it draped across Inferno’s saddle. Underneath, his tunic and breeches were a deep brown, much less conspicuous. He patted his horse’s nose, checking to make sure he was secured, yet with enough slack to graze on the tall grass covering the countryside.
Jaiden replaced the arrow into his quiver and looked to Palomar. “I’m getting closer. Do you think you can remain unseen?”
“Like the wind,” he said, as if his bright gold hair, pearlescent skin, and snow-white feathers were not hindrances to stealth. “You lead the way, and I will join you.”
Jaiden decided to trust his companion. He ducked until the arch of his back was barely above the grass line, and cut a path through the overgrown turf, bow extended. Now and again he rose to peek, noting the distance of the fires and maintaining his bearings.
He spied a patrol of four sentries walking the perimeter, establishing a border he knew would be foolish to cross. As they turned to head in his general direction, he stopped advancing and sank as low as possible into the grass, wishing it grew a little thicker, even as it enveloped him. He waited, still as a statue, until the patrol had ample time to pass. Pushing up slowly on his arms, he surveyed what he could of the camp.
Tents and wagons, troops and cooking fires – Jaiden knew enough of the soldiering landscape to assess it quickly. His search stopped, however, when he noticed a man stooping atop a cart to offer water to another bound there. He heard a rustle of grass behind him and turned as a stiff wind blew aside a wide swath of the dry, non-pastured blades.
“Did you find him yet?”
Jaiden swiveled his head to locate Palomar, only to nearly fall to his belly when he found the Aasimar pressed down into the grass immediately to his right. “How did…” he started, then thought better of it. “I think so. Look there.” He let his eyes direct Palomar’s vision toward the man on the cart. His hands protruded from a wooden stockade and his head drooped as if he were dead, keeping his face from view. He wore a wreath of dead flowers around his head, however, and his hair, though filthy, was undeniably blonde.
Jaiden felt Palomar’s hand squeeze his shoulder, and he slid his knees beneath him to take the strain off his shoulders. The man who attempted to slak
e the prisoner’s thirst stepped down and walked away.
“The Rising Moon adorns his tabard – it must be Master Golddrake.”
“I believe so,” Jaiden agreed after swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes weren’t as keen as his friend’s, but he felt the truth regardless.
“And you mean to shoot him?” The questioning in Palomar’s voice told Jaiden it was the first time he deduced what the bow was really for.
“He is suffering.” Jaiden did not take his eyes from the limp form of his mentor. “I aim to bring him peace.” As he reached for an arrow, his companion began to sing, though so quietly they were in no danger of being discovered. Jaiden recognized enough of the short verse to place the melody. It was the song Palomar used to sing to ease the pain of his wounds. Remembering it, and imagining what Sir Golddrake went through at the hands of their enemies, brought sudden tears to his eyes.
Was he doing the right thing? Could he really end the life of the man who’d guided him from the edge of ruin to this new, almost unimaginable existence? Yet, for the same reasons, how could he not? Criesha had already told him the gifts he received were not for any other. Sir Golddrake was broken, and even Criesha could not bring his body back from the devastation it’d no doubt endured.
“I don’t think he can hear you, my friend,” he whispered when Palomar finished. And yet, as he watched, Sir Golddrake slowly raised his head to face their direction – only his eyes were replaced by vacant sockets. “Merciful spirits,” Jaiden mumbled.
“He heard me. I sent the song to him on the wind, and his pain is eased. He knows we’re near.”
Jaiden wiped the tears from his eyes and rose to his knees, mindful the patrol would come around again soon. He drew his bow and narrowed his gaze. They were perhaps fifty paces away, but the breeze had stilled and he knew he could make the shot if he concentrated. He aimed for the purple of the moon on Sir Golddrake’s chest, barely recognizable from distance as more than a dark crescent. Had it really come to this? How could he take the life of the man who had brought him back from the edge of death? Who had believed in him when he doubted himself? Who had seen potential beyond any hopes of his own? And yet, given the state Sir Golddrake was in, how could he not?
As he let go of the taut, braided twine, he prayed the moment would not haunt him the rest of his days. The arrow sped through the night air, striking the center of Sir Golddrake’s breast. A tremor of surprise shook his head for an instant before it once again slumped to his chest.
No one in the camp seemed to notice, or at least no cry of alarm rose as Jaiden and Palomar skirted through the grass in the opposite direction. By the time they heard noises suggesting discovery of their deed, Jaiden was only several strides from the tree where Inferno remained tethered.
“Time to fly, Palomar!” he said as he hastily untied and mounted his horse.
“I will make sure you are not pursued.” The Aasimar took a running start to unfurl his wings, and then lunged upward. Great, sweeping thrusts of gold-tipped feathers pushed him airborne, and within a few blinks, Palomar was high enough to be out of earshot. Jaiden focused on his own escape, urging Inferno to a speed that nudged the threshold of safety.
They reached the Naresgreen Palace grounds before midnight, with no disturbances from Chelpian forces. Jaiden checked in with Orestes, who had managed well in his absence. Jaiden shared the location of the troops he saw, declaring that battle would find them on the morrow if the enemy advanced. He did not, however, share what he had done, nor tell anyone of Sir Golddrake’s fate. He was prepared to bear that weight alone.
Orestes, in turn, gave updates on their incoming allies, including a full two hundred of the renowned archers of Crimsonmoon. Their arrival was a welcome surprise, given how the Duke of that province had clamored for aid from the Prince against orc incursions.
At last, Jaiden retired at Lt. Orestes’s insistence, realizing he needed sleep, but secretly afraid of what his dreams might hold. Visions of Sir Golddrake’s eyeless face rising to stare at him with blank, blood-crusted sockets already tormented him during his return ride. Even after closing his own lids, Jaiden prayed for forgiveness to both Criesha and whatever spirit of the dead might be lingering after his deed.
Mercifully, though his mind churned with countless concerns and unanswered questions, it did not take long for him to fall asleep. There, he found peace among the clouds of the night sky, opening his eyes to the starry realm of his cherished Goddess.
“Put to rest your guilt, my Champion. No doom awaits for what you did out of compassion.”
Jaiden heard Criesha’s voice first, then caught the beam of green moonlight as it approached and transformed into the comely form of his deity. He sat up on the comfortable bed and regarded her with unsure eyes. “But it is my fault he was captured by the King-priest in the first place. I should have taken my men south weeks ago, not remained in Selamus to keep eyes on the Prince.”
Criesha sat beside him and took his hand in hers. “But Prince Falcionus needed watching. I recently learned he negotiated with agents of the King-priest and planned to empty the capital of defenders, in exchange for a peaceful transition and place in the new order.”
Jaiden’s posture snapped rigid. “How do you know this?”
Criesha’s unearthly eyes softened and she tilted her head a fraction. “The land of dreams is my domain – you may be my Champion, but you are not the only one I visit.”
Jaiden cast his eyes downward, a surge of jealousy driving heat to his face.
“The Prince has paid for his betrayal, though,” she continued. “He fell to an orc assassin, and his faction of the Order is moving to join with yours.”
Jaiden lifted his head at the shocking news, his mind swarming with questions his mouth failed to translate.
“You are the only leader they have left, Jaiden. You must remain strong and true, or the influence of Gholdur will spread unchecked. You are the only one with a chance to kill his King-priest.”
Just as he started to speak Criesha hushed him, guiding him to lay back down as she slid to receive his head in her lap. “What you need now is sleep, my Champion. Wake up strong. Act boldly. Never give up.” With her last word he shut his eyes, content to feel her delicate hands through his hair, all questions forgotten.
He awoke invigorated after the best sleep he could ever remember. No longer protected by sleep, however, his mind turned back to the dark deeds of the day before. He thought of Sir Golddrake through breakfast and as he sharpened his sword, imagining each stroke of the whetstone represented another enemy he would fell. Once satisfied with its edge, he sheathed his weapon and made his way around the estate’s fields, visiting the captain of every legion. He let them know the Goddess was with them and to have their men ready, as the day was finally upon them.
By the time he ended at Lt. Orestes’s guard tower, the sun had passed its peak. Palomar waited as well, wearing the chest-shield given to him upon induction to the Order. His great, two-handed sword was slung upon his back, which Jaiden had not seen since Blackthorn.
“The Chelpians have drawn nearer, but halted their advance half a league to the southwest.”
Jaiden nodded. “They are waiting for nightfall. Their beasts see better in the dark than we do, and they believe they’re attacking a stationary target in the palace.” He paused, looking from Palomar to Orestes, remembering what Criesha told him the night before. “They are wrong.” He took a step closer to the table the Lieutenant was using for a desk and pointed to the map of the ducal lands. Orestes already had wooden markers for both their own, as well as enemy troops, placed upon it.
“I will lead the cavalry on a swift approach up the middle, here, hopefully catching them unprepared. We will wedge into their ranks, then use an Operian Crest maneuver to curl back around. If they pursue us, they will feel the sting of the Crimsonmoon archers, who will be stationed behind these lines, beyond range of their missiles.” Jaiden moved the appropriate markers to i
llustrate his plan.
“And if they don’t?” Orestes asked.
“Then we send in our heavy infantry to demoralize them with our discipline. The cavalry will split and flank their position and the archers will push to here, close enough to pepper their reserves who fail to engage. Our lighter infantry will guard the archers and act as support for the armored units. We don’t give them a chance to use their siege engines or archers, and thin their numbers as quickly as possible.”
Orestes nodded. “I’m sure the Duke will be glad to keep his palace out of it, if possible.”
“If it doesn’t go well,” Jaiden concluded, “we fall back here and dig in. I know we have limited defenses, but the trenches we’ve dug and the walls around us will help. I’ve been told the Prince’s faction is on their way.”
“I had not heard any reports from Selamus… but they will be welcome.” Palomar looked at him wide-eyed, as if determining whether to openly question the source.
“Welcome, indeed,” Orestes echoed. “About time Falcionus changed his tune.”
“Give the orders to mobilize, Lieutenant, then get into your armor. I want you leading the infantry.”
Orestes stared at Jaiden with a look of simultaneous surprise and appreciation. “Yes, Sir Luminere!” Jaiden knew Sir Golddrake valued his former man-at-arms too much to risk him in the field, but the man was a proud and capable fighter, and under the circumstances, Jaiden knew his presence could well save numerous lives.
Jaiden needed Lothander’s help to put on his own armor, and Palomar followed him out.
“Was it Criesha who told you?”
“Told me what?” he asked as they crossed the open space toward his tent.
“About the Prince’s troops.”
“Yes,” he answered, not bothering to stop. He left Falcionus’s death out of it. “They should be here within days, but not a help to us this evening.”
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