“Criesha be with us,” Jaiden whispered, tightening his grip on his sword. While the King-priest concentrated on his spell, the uril-chent golems moved to block the approach of the on-comers. Jaiden raised his weapon and let out a howling cry of aggression. The golems wielded barbed spears, and the one headed for Jaiden lowered his like a lance.
Be quick. You have to be quick. They were Jaiden’s thoughts, but he heard them in the voice of his father. Trusting in his armor, he left an opening on his right side, his sword side, which the golem pressed. The spear’s metal tip, however, veered off-target at the last instant, swerving from his breast to under his arm. Jaiden whipped his arm inward, locking the shaft in his armpit. As Inferno and the ghost horse passed one another, the golem refused to release his grip, snapping the spear in two.
Another uril-chent golem pushed in front to block Jaiden’s path, and Inferno reared on his hind legs to avoid colliding with the unearthly enemy. Jaiden held onto the reins with his shield hand, but his right foot slipped from its stirrup and he slid back in his saddle, fearful he would be thrown off. Thankfully, his horse came down quickly, though Jaiden struggled to right himself as the tip of another spear thrust directly toward his clavicle. It also veered aside, but the barbs caught the back of Inferno’s neck as the golem pulled back. His mane caught the brunt of it, but Jaiden saw blood splatter onto his steed’s shoulder. Inferno, however, kept his poise.
Jaiden stabilized and forced the golem back with two quick strikes. Each one caught the forearm of the creature, his glowing, green blade leaving deep cuts. The momentary separation gave Jaiden an opportunity to check how his comrades were faring. He caught a glimpse of another knight landing an overhand strike to the shoulder of a golem, but sparks flew as the steel simply bounced off the uril-chent body. Two nearby horses bounded away from the conflict, rider-less.
Amazingly, one of his knights made it past the golems to the King-priest, interrupting his incantation with a wild swing that failed to connect. Almost instantly afterward, however, the knight dropped his sword and lifted his visor, as if suddenly stifled and struggling for breath.
Jaiden watched in horror as the skin of his ally’s face wrinkled and contracted until it looked like a peach left out in the sun for weeks. He did not have time to see what happened next, another incoming thrust stealing his attention. This one he blocked with his shield, and when he looked back to the King-priest, the attacking knight was slumped over in his saddle, unmoving. His horse then let out a shriek and bolted, its rider falling unceremoniously to the ground as it fled.
The odds were getting worse. Jaiden only had two companions left, and he realized neither of them would be able to harm their enemies. He hoped they could at least hold off the golems while he dealt with Ebon Khorel.
Suddenly, the sound of celestial thunder clapped before him as Palomar’s greatsword struck the head of Jaiden’s golem from above. The impact toppled the uril-chent abomination from his saddle to the ground. Palomar sang, while his weapon hummed with its own energy.
“The time is now, Jaiden. Even my blade cannot penetrate the King-priest’s armor – only Criesha’s Gift can.”
Jaiden glanced at his sword, glowing like the green moon itself, and knew the truth.
“You must attack, but not until I engage him first. It is the only way to keep you safe.”
Palomar had never stopped moving, closing the distance between himself and the King-priest. The remaining uril-chent golems reacted to this new threat to their master, ignoring the Knights of the Order and rallying to protect him.
The Aasimar groaned through clenched teeth as he brought his blade down upon the King-priest. Ebon Khorel was ready, however, parrying the blow with his uril-chent Morningstar, which caused another clap of thunder to ring out. Even as Jaiden raced closer he saw Palomar’s arms begin to wither, decaying before his eyes like rotten wood.
“You are safe for now, Jaiden, but must hurry. Criesha told me the curse can only affect one life at a time, but you must finish him before I fall!”
“No, you can’t die, Palomar!” Jaiden reached his friend just as a golem drove his spear through one of the Aasimar’s wings. A rage overtook him, granting strength beyond normal limits. With a mighty blow he struck the golem’s neck and sliced its head clean off.
The King-priest took notice and raised his empty hand in Jaiden’s direction. With a few words he could not understand, shards of crackling black energy launched from Ebon Khorel’s palm directly toward him. Jaiden raised his shield to no avail. The shards tore through it, past his armor, and into the flesh of Jaiden’s arm. A sharp pain stole his attention momentarily, but he pushed through as his vision went red.
Time slowed, and once again the chaotic din of the battlefield receded to the background. He looked left at Palomar, whose once-flawless, pearl skin had turned almost completely gray, even as he struggled to raise his sword. To the right, another golem bore down, raising its spear to impale him. Straight ahead was the King-priest, whose expression was hidden behind a fearsome horned visage of black metal.
“Strike true, my Champion.” Criesha’s voice was a calm command, and Jaiden didn’t know if she actually spoke or if it came from within, but he determined to do just that. Faster than the golem could thrust his spear, faster than the King-priest could raise his weapon in defense, Jaiden brought his sword down upon his foe, just as Inferno brought him within reach. His blade cut through Ebon Khorel’s armor at the shoulder, severing his collarbone and continuing until it reached his heart.
Then the world seemed to suddenly catch up. In an instant the smoke of the enemies’ horses no longer held shape, flying apart in every direction. The bodies of the King-priest and the uril-chent golems collapsed to the ground, unmoving, the red glow gone from their eye slits.
Jaiden looked over and saw the remaining husk of Palomar on his knees, leaning against his sword, its point stuck in the ground. Jaiden winced as he dismounted, his shredded left arm throbbing as it flexed. He sheathed his sword and unstrapped his shield, letting it fall to the ground. Joining Palomar on his knees, Jaiden lifted his visor and reached out to touch his friend, though his fingers curled inward, afraid to do so.
“Palomar,” he said, soft and trembling. “What can I do?” He saw a spear protruding from the Aasimar’s left side, shielded from view during the melee.
Palomar did not raise his head, did not move at all, but answered with a voice both weak and calm. “You have already done it, my friend. My kindred are free, and I will remember you kindly. Tell the Baron and Lady Saffron I am sorry to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Leave?” Jaiden’s thought choked off with a sob. He tried to smile even as tears betrayed him, “Where are you going?”
Palomar gave no answer, but his body vanished and his sword toppled to the ground. In his place a sphere of white light appeared, not more than a foot across. It floated skyward, passing through the ceiling of low, gray clouds, where it disappeared from view.
Jaiden looked around the battlefield, noticing for the first time that combat had stopped. The disappearance of the cyclones and other traces of the King-priest’s magic caught everyone’s attention, it appeared, and they were staring in Jaiden’s direction, perhaps aware of the vital struggle that had taken place.
With the defeat of their King-priest, the remaining Chelpian forces lost the will to continue fighting, and simply lowered their weapons in mass surrender. Ellingle flew toward Jaiden, though no one else seemed to remember how to move.
“You did it, Sir Luminere,” she said, noting the fallen form of the enemy leader as she landed. “You do not seem happy,” she said, a puzzled look on her face.
Jaiden simply peered up toward where the ball of light had departed.
“Do not mourn too much for Palomar, Sir Luminere. He has simply returned to Mount Celestia.”
He searched her face for some further comfort, and she responded with a gentle smile. Cradling his arm to his body, he took
three steps toward the patient Inferno before she interrupted.
“That is the Living Fire,” Ellingle said, staring at the ruby pendant lying beside the corpse of the King-priest. “You should not leave it behind.”
Jaiden stopped and bent to retrieve the pendant. Holding it at eye level, he watched the inner-light of the gem dance within its facets. “Thank you, Ellingle,” he said, turning back to the Aasimar. “I have no doubt you saved many lives today.”
She nodded solemnly. “My service paid a debt.”
He returned her gesture. “Let us not be idle, for Criesha knows there are many to be cared for and friends who need us.”
Chapter 33
Forging a New Order
G iven the circumstances, the idea of returning to the palace at Selamus seemed strange, but Jaiden was weary and did not know where else to go. The people of Dawn’s Edge mourned their Prince, but doing so did not keep them from receiving the returning army with the ebullience of those who have been saved.
Travelers along the Dawn Way gladly yielded to let the victorious march proceed past, shouting gratitude and promises to spread word of great deeds. In the capital, the streets of the Eight Hills lined with joyous crowds when Jaiden led the combined troops of the Order and the Province through the city gates.
As a familiar face at the palace, Jaiden was unquestioned upon reclaiming residence in the apartments afforded by the now-deceased sovereign of Dawn’s Edge. Only a day or two passed before the requests for audience came in from the rest of the Northern Provinces.
The fighting had persisted for another week after the King-priest was vanquished, and thanks once more to Criesha’s healing grace, Jaiden was fit to lead the effort. Once the most zealous followers of Ebon Khorel were convinced of his defeat, Chelpian forces rapidly abandoned all holdings north of Halidor. Still, uncertainty hovered across the land like an early morning mist, and with the seats of the Prince and two Dukes empty, the remainder called for a summit to discuss the realms’ security.
Of course they chose Selamus as the location for the convergence, and it became Jaiden’s duty as resident of the palace to host. In addition to the remaining four dukes, who were shown proper deference, he admitted eight other parties to the council: himself and the Shaper of Selamus, Ellingle, appointed emissaries for the vacant duchies, and heads of the two most powerful regional trade guilds.
Jaiden was unsure of what outcome he even desired, beyond the freedom to spread his devotion of Criesha to others. His father had always been leery of politics, and like so many other ideas, the distrust found its way into Jaiden’s point of view. Yet the day had come, and as the mantel of leadership dictated, he joined the other distinguished guests in the Great Council Room.
A herald announced their names and titles, leaving Jaiden to call the meeting to order. He stood at the head of the table. “Each of you are most welcome to Selamus. We have come together because we value the safety of the Northern Provinces, and hopefully realize that threats to any of us can be a threat to all. Following the decorum of court, which I assure you is still mostly a mystery to me…” Jaiden paused while the congregation politely chuckled, “His Grace, Duke Gregor of Crimsonmoon, shall have the honor of introducing the first item of concern.” With relief that he remembered more or less all his practiced words, Jaiden sat down and gave way to the Duke.
“Thank you for both your words and deeds, Grandmaster Luminere,” the Duke of Crimsonmoon began. “Let us first raise our cups to the brave soldiers who turned back the black tide of Chelpa.”
“Hear, hear!” the room echoed as Jaiden received their collective nods. He was about to mention that he was not the only one present who had fought the King-priest, but the Duke continued before he had a chance.
“None of us is venerable enough to remember a time when an Illanese King ruled over all the Northern Provinces. But we remember the stories, and have come to shun the idea of giving governance to one man, lest that man become corrupted. Indeed, we have to look no further than our southern neighbors to see the catastrophe that nearly engulfed us as well.”
Duke Preston of Naresgreen leaned forward in his chair and opened his mouth, but a raised finger and glance from Gregor halted him.
“However,” the Duke of Crimsonmoon continued, “with our own eyes we have now also seen our lands taken one-by-one, because individually we do not possess the same strength as our united kingdom of old. That is the quandary before us. The empty seats of Halidor, Rosegold, and Dawn’s Edge are clear reminders of what can happen when neighbors remain simply neighbors.”
“Are you speaking of a formal alliance, or abdication of our thrones?” asked the Duke of Horizon.
“We need to do something to guarantee safety along the Dawn Way,” added the matriarch of the Daylight Trading Company. “Everyone will suffer if we cannot transport goods from one town to the next.”
That seemed to be the cue for everyone to begin speaking at once, each pontificating to their neighbor about their particular priorities in the post-war landscape. Jaiden tried listening to four conversations simultaneously, but was quickly overwhelmed.
“Do they not realize how fragile the peace we have won is?” Ellingle’s calm, but clear voice separated from the others in his mind. “Now that the Juda-cai are involved, everything in the world as they know it will change.”
Jaiden made eye contact with her, struck by how flawless her features compared to the rest of the table. Everything from her pearlescent skin to her blazing, wine-colored hair reminded him she was an outsider, but Palomar trusted in her wisdom, and Jaiden couldn’t begin to imagine the things she’d seen in her travels to other worlds.
“What I would like to know is,” a voice suddenly rose above all others, and the rest shrank away under its authority. It belonged to Duke of Dewfold, who appeared to be of advanced years similar to the Shaper of Selamus, “what are the Grandmaster’s plans for the Order of the Rising Moon? You achieved victory over a powerful enemy, and now you are living in the late Prince’s palace. Given the current situation, your intentions should be the start of any conversation about our future, though no one else seems to have the courage to ask.”
Jaiden felt the weight of nearly a dozen pairs of eyes shift in his direction. He licked his lips while deciding how to respond. “The Order exists both to honor Our Lady, Criesha, and defend those who fall under her protection. Sir Golddrake split the responsibilities of leadership when our ranks swelled beyond one man’s capacity. I plan to follow such wisdom, but my vision extends beyond simply providing a mobile fighting force.” He swallowed and placed his hands upon the table, leaning forward and growing in confidence as he realized everyone listened to his words with keen interest.
“It is important, as Sir Golddrake knew, for us to be prepared to respond to threats anywhere within the Northern Provinces. I hope for the Dukes’ continued support and cooperation toward that end, and I shall appoint a master of our military arm, who reports to me. But it is also imperative that we grow an awareness among the people of the benevolent power of Criesha, without whom these realms would have lost their freedom. So I shall also appoint a master of our devotional arm, to spread the teachings of our patroness.”
Finally, after staring from one guild leader to the other, Jaiden concluded his speech. “Such a growing operation demands significant upkeep, so I will appoint a master to overlook the Order’s financial concerns as well.”
Duke Gregor answered as if he had already taken the measure of the room. “That is all well and good, Sir Luminere, but what I think His Grace is asking is what do you intend to do with the victorious army now under your command? You do, after all, reside in the Royal Palace and have powerful allies behind you.” He spared glances at Ellingle and Willem. “Do you intend to rule here in the Prince’s place?”
The bluntness of the question struck Jaiden as soundly as an invisible maul. Is that what they thought? He had not asked for this. He did not want Sir Golddrake or Pr
ince Falcionus to die. Yet everyone was staring at him, holding their collective breaths, waiting for his answer. When it came, it came slowly and calm, and he made sure to meet the eyes of each person at the table.
“I am in Selamus because this is my home. I am in the palace because that is where I was living when I left for war, and didn’t know where else to go. I have been chosen by Criesha to be her Champion, and that is what I intend to do. I will carry on Sir Golddrake’s work, protect the people of the Provinces, and spread the knowledge that my Goddess has returned to Elisahd. I am not highborn, and my hands will be more than full trying to direct the Order of the Rising Moon. I wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling the people.”
Duke Preston quickly pounced on the following silence to speak. “And I believe your focused ambition would make you a perfect choice to become ‘Protector of the Realm.’ Consider it, Your Graces: We, who know the everyday needs of our people best, continue to rule the Provinces in most matters. A small retinue would be maintained to help enforce our laws, of course, but we also pool resources to help support a single fighting force under the leadership of Grandmaster Luminere, who would ensure the security of our entire realm.”
Jaiden sat back down, watching carefully as the others absorbed the young Duke of Naresgreen’s proposal. He was still considering it himself when the door opened and the controlled cough of Lieutenant Orestes caught his attention.
Jaiden stood. “If you will excuse me for a moment, Your Graces, there is a matter that demands my attention. I should only need a short recess, but please feel free to continue until I return.” He waited for their nods before practically bolting for the door, feeling relief at the brief respite from lordly scrutiny.
Orestes spoke softly but clearly, “Baron Rogan informed me he wishes to thank you for your hospitality and bid you farewell, and is waiting on the palace steps.”
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