Soldiers of Legend

by Stephen L. Nowland

  By the soft moonlight filtering in through the windows, Aiden could see she had indeed been attempting to cut the tattoos out of her body. He exchanged a grim look with Robert, who was just as upset by this development. While he was wondering what to do next, Nellise glided into the room, wearing a similar robe to that which Criosa had found in her wardrobe. She lit the place up with a quick prayer and went down on one knee by Sayana’s side.

  “Dear God,” she breathed upon first inspection. “Sy, what have you done?”

  “She’s trying to cut those damn markings out of her body,” Robert grunted, covering any emotions he was feeling with his usual tough façade.

  “Alright, I want you two out of here, right now,” Nellise ordered as she stroked Sayana’s wild hair softly.

  “Are you sure?” Aiden hedged, releasing Sayana gently.

  “Very. I have a lot of work to do here, both physically and mentally, and I don’t need any distractions.”

  “You heard the lady,” Robert said, as Aiden stood up and slowly began backing away. The mercenary released Sayana from his iron grip but made no further move to leave.

  “That goes for you too, Robert,” Nellise advised.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he responded firmly, his eyes never leaving Sayana for a moment. Nellise heard the resolve in his voice and relented, taking out her crystal as she began whispering a healing prayer for the poor woman. Feeling like an intruder, Aiden picked up Salinder and quietly closed the door on his way out.

  When he returned to his room, he went to the basin of fresh water that had been provided and quickly washed the blood from his hands, his mind still reeling from the experience. Until tonight, Sayana had always seemed to accept the price of her power.

  Clearly, the prospect of transforming into some kind of monster was plaguing her, leading to this crude attempt to remove the sigils from her body. He could only trust Nellise and Robert could talk her back to some semblance of sanity.

  A whimpering sound emerged from the direction of the bed, catching Aiden’s attention as he dried his hands. Criosa had slept through the whole incident, but judging by the way she writhed about under the blankets, she was having a nightmare. He could only imagine what horrors were lurking in her mind, the one place he couldn’t protect her.

  Throwing caution to the wind, he took off his shirt and quietly climbed into the bed. She cried out in her sleep as he wrapped his arms around her, but then settled back into a more peaceful slumber as he gently stroked her blond hair. Criosa relaxed as he held her close, and he continued to stroke her hair until the events of the long day caught up with him and he too drifted off into a restless sleep.

  * * *

  Criosa had already left the bedroom by the time Aiden awoke the next morning. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he had a vague recollection about fighting nameless horrors in the darkness. He found clean clothes awaiting him on the chair, and quickly set about his morning routine while trying to ignore the persistent ache in his body. When he strapped on his sword, he recalled Salinder had not responded to any of his attempts at communication last night.

  “Salinder, are you alright?” he inquired softly. Once more, there was no reply. Becoming increasingly concerned at the sword’s continuing silence, Aiden shifted his vision into the realm of arcane auras and drew the blade from its sheath. He had been expecting the same brilliant light that had surrounded the sword when Salinder had first occupied the soulsword, but now he stared at the barely noticeable aura of blue suffusing the blade.

  A feeling of dread descended upon him at the implications of having depleted the dragon spirit’s reserves in the recent battle. Aiden had been relying upon the blade to destroy the Ironlord when the time came, but that was clearly no longer possible. He couldn’t even tell if there was anything left of the dragon within, and could only hope that with time to rest, its power would resurface once more.

  When he was presentable, Aiden went next door to check in on Sayana but the room was already empty. Aiden hurried downstairs to find the rest of his companions sitting around the dining table, enjoying a casual breakfast.

  “You could have woken me,” Aiden reprimanded them as he sat at the table and began filling his plate from an array of fruits, cheeses and bread.

  “I allowed everyone to move at their own speed, today,” Criosa replied, speaking as if they hadn’t actually spent the night in the same bed. Glancing at Sayana, he saw any remaining sign of her self-inflicted wounds were covered by a clean tunic. She ate with gusto, so the previous night’s “event” had not soured her appetite at least. Sayana flashed Aiden a quick look with haunted green eyes that showed she wasn’t quite through her ordeal just yet.

  Robert and Nellise sat to either side of her, carrying on as if nothing had happened, but keeping an eye on the sorceress nonetheless. Both seemed to be very tired, a sure sign the night had been long for them all. Only Pacian had good reason to be well rested, but even he was sporting dark smudges under his eyes and seemed paler than usual. They ate in a silence.

  Lomir and Gwynne entered as the servants were clearing away the remains of their meal, with half a dozen servants following closely behind, bearing all manner of armour and weaponry in their arms. Sayana responded to the arrival of the elven nobles by averting her eyes from them. Nobody else seemed inclined to show any respect for their hosts, and the tension in the air increased as the elves picked up on the fact.

  “I wished to express my gratitude once more for your efforts,” Lomir said formally. “As a token of our appreciation, it is my pleasure to bestow upon you gifts from the vaults of Acadia. You may choose from some of our finest armour and weaponry, and I have granted you access to our vast store of arcane knowledge, should you desire it. When Spartan is fit to travel, he too shall be rewarded before he rejoins your cause.”

  “Thank you for your generosity,” Criosa replied, maintaining a veneer of diplomatic restraint. “I’m sure we will make good use of the equipment.” An awkward silence ensued, broken only by the clink of cutlery on fine ceramic plates.

  “I can see you are busy recovering from your efforts, so we shall leave you to prepare,” Lomir said to cover the silence. “When you are ready, come to the ruling chambers, and Gwynne shall teleport you wherever you wish, to expedite your journey.” Without further ado, they left the group to their meal.

  “So, I’m not the only one who wants to punch him in the face?” Robert drawled after they had left.

  “You’ll have to wait your turn,” Pacian muttered.

  “Settle down, gentlemen,” Nellise scolded them. “They are still our hosts, as well as new allies, so please show a little respect.”

  “I appreciate the show of support, though,” Sayana added quietly. “If I ever do go berserk, please, do what you must to stop me. Also… I’m sorry if I scared you last night, I just… I’ve had enough persecution to last a lifetime. Thank you both for bringing me back from the brink,” she said to Robert and Nellise.

  “All I did was to remind you of the truth,” Nellise replied with a wan smile. “You aren’t broken in any way, shape or form. You are whole, and in control of your own destiny. There is always the possibility that your mother knew what she was doing when she gave you those markings. Perhaps she found a way to prevent the destructive rage that in the past overcame others like you?”

  “I’m confused,” Criosa interjected. “What happened last night?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Aiden confided. “I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.” They shared his sentiments and finished their meal without further discussion. When they were done, everyone went over the equipment on offer and was impressed with what he saw.

  There were several suits of leather armour of a faded blue-grey colour, but clearly crafted with expert hands. The only metal armour present was chainmail, but it was so lightweight and exquisitely woven that it seemed more like clothing than armour. Finally, swords of varying shape and size
adorned a rack, along with several fine bows.

  Aiden decided to stick with his current gear, which had served him well thus far. What really caught his attention were a dozen scroll cases hanging off the side of the rack. He stared at them for a long moment, pondering the risks involved with using them once more. For the most part, he had survived without incident in the recent past — it was only when he had unleashed the power from over a dozen arcane scrolls that he had risked his own life.

  He could have walked away. Aiden had enough self-control to do it, but given the possibility of Salinder’s early demise, and the prospect of facing off against an army of golems, it left him feeling vulnerable. Aiden reached out and took all of the scroll cases and slung them over his shoulder, without giving it a second thought.

  He quickly browsed through the scrolls within, reassured the language of magic had not changed over the course of centuries. Aiden was able to recite nearly everything he could see, and was pleased at the selection available to him. He was surprised, however, when he saw that one of the cases contained a leather belt instead of parchment. Retrieving it from within, he noticed a number of crystals embedded within the buckle, infusing it with some kind of incantation.

  When they were all sorted out, Criosa was wearing a suit of grey leather and held an exquisite short bow in one hand. Sayana’s light plate armour was heavily damaged from the fight, so she discarded it in favour of the chainmail, which she wore underneath her clothing. Pacian declined everything there, reminding them that he already had a suit of dwarf-crafted chain under his leathers.

  Finally, Nellise and Robert declined any further equipment, choosing to stick with their somewhat battered plate armour for the time being. When they were set, they returned to the chancellery and found Gwynne and Lomir awaiting them.

  “You look splendid, Princess Criosa,” Lomir remarked at the sight of Criosa wearing their armour. “I hope you will make good use of our gifts in the coming days.”

  “We shall, and hope to see you on the walls of Highmarch within the week.”

  “You have my word,” Lomir intoned. “Now, where do you wish to be sent? Gwynne is capable of transferring you as far as Highmarch itself, should you desire it.”

  “No, send us to the northern borders of the Akoran highlands,” Criosa instructed, drawing dark looks from Nellise and Sayana. The princess ignored them and awaited a response from the arch mage.

  “A curious location, but easy enough to accomplish,” Gwynne responded. “Gather around in a circle if you would and I shall begin the incantation. I will see you again in few days.” They formed a circle as she directed and linked their hands together. Aiden was positioned next to Nellise, and when he took her hand in his, he was surprised at the strength of her grip and the film of cold sweat upon her skin.

  * * *

  The change from the inner chambers of Acadia to the stark, snow-covered grounds of the Highmarch Mountains was jarring. Aiden squinted against the light reflecting off the snow, and wrapped his battered longcoat more tightly around his body. They seemed to be several miles south of Coldstream, at what must be the current border with the Akoran tribes.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” Robert grunted, checking his gear.

  “It just occurred to me our horses are still back at Coldstream,” Criosa remarked as she took in the bleak landscape around them. A brisk wind stirred up the snow which skittered across the surface in a swirling white cloud. There were hardly any trees visible at all on the white plains, and the sky above was clear and blue, ringed by the high peaks of the surrounding mountains. The Highmarch Mountains were almost perpetually covered in snow, except for a few weeks in high summer.

  “We won’t have to walk far from here to find Akorans,” Aiden replied grimly. “If all goes well, we can head west through the mountains, directly to the Fort.”

  “I fail to see how this could possibly go well,” Sayana said rather pessimistically.

  “I am hoping that their new chief, Morik Far-Eagle, is more amenable to negotiations than his predecessor,” Criosa muttered. “Let’s not waste any more time standing around in the cold than we have to.” As the others started to move ahead, the princess held Aiden back a little so they could speak privately.

  “What was all that Sayana was speaking about at breakfast?” she whispered. “I apparently missed something important last night.”

  “Sayana… tried to cut the markings from her body with a dagger,” Aiden replied hesitantly, and Criosa gasped in horror at the thought. “Nellise and Robert stayed with her to help her through what must have been a difficult time.”

  “Why didn’t you stay with her as well?” the princess inquired curiously.

  “Nellise told me to get out, for one thing,” Aiden answered wryly. “As it turned out, you were having some nightmares so I—”

  “Yes, about that,” Criosa interrupted somewhat self-consciously. “When I asked you to keep me company for the night, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Oh, did I overstep my bounds?”

  “That was, in fact, the first time I’d ever had a man in my bed,” Criosa said, blushing furiously and glancing around to make sure nobody else was close enough to overhear. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It was just rather surprising to wake up in your arms like that.”

  “Ah,” Aiden coughed.

  “Well spoken,” Criosa smirked. “It’s alright, but it’s not something I’d like the others to know about. One must keep up appearances, after all.”

  “I understand,” Aiden nodded, somewhat embarrassed. Criosa didn’t labour the point, thankfully, instead gesturing for them to catch up with the rest.

  Sayana found recent tracks in the snow underfoot, indicating that there were patrols somewhere nearby. Sure enough, within the hour, four heavy-set men could be seen approaching them across the icy ground, their hands upon the hilts of the weapons on their belts. They wore heavy skins and furs, their faces lined with thick beards.

  “Outlanders, you are trespassing,” the oldest of the men challenged in a halting voice when they were close enough. His gruff voice was laced with impatience. Criosa went to move to the front of the group to address them.

  “Greetings, warriors of Akora,” she said respectfully. “We represent the Kingdom of Aielund, and would speak with your chief on matters of importance to both our peoples.” The four tribesmen stood there in the wind, unmoving and silent for a long, tense moment.

  “Chief Morik has long sought the ear of Aielund,” came the slow response from the lead man as his eyes examined the group in detail. “He was expecting you to come sooner.”

  “We’ve been a little busy,” Pacian drawled, unabashedly caressing his weapons before them.

  “Yet, we have made the time to speak with you now,” Criosa added, just to be sure there were no misunderstandings.

  “Come,” was the only reply they received as the four Akorans turned and began to jog.

  “Sure, I love jogging in armour,” Robert growled as he reluctantly clanked alongside the rest of them.

  It was approaching noon by the time they saw signs of life, and Aiden was surprised to see the war camp they had encountered weeks ago still intact. Smoke from dozens of campfires wafted into the sky, indicating the presence of a large number of people within. The city of Akoramark, their only real permanent edifice of civilisation, lay another thirty miles to the south, deep within the mountains. Why this camp still existed was one of the many questions they would be asking of Chief Morik.

  A rudimentary wall made of tall wooden logs hewn from what trees could be found in this sparse land encircled the camp, easily solid enough to repel all but the most well-equipped armies. The huge gates were heaved open by other warriors as the patrol approached, barking out commands to their comrades in loud, husky voices.

  There were at least thirty Akorans guarding the wall, and despite the power they had gained over the intervening weeks, Aiden felt intimidated by
their mere presence. Glancing at Nellise and Sayana, he could see they harboured similar feelings, though for very different reasons.

  As they moved through the camp they finally slowed to a walk, a fact Robert was silently grateful for. The mercenary was breathing hard, his brow glistening with sweat as Aiden lamented leaving their horses behind.

  Akoran men and women gazed cautiously at the group as they moved between large tents and campfires. To Aiden’s surprise, he could hear children laughing and playing nearby, something he hadn’t noticed on their previous visit. Although a hardy people, many of the women seemed undernourished, and the few children he saw were also somewhat underweight.

  A nagging sensation at the back of his mind told him there was something else going on here, and it was with great anticipation that they were led to a large pavilion guarded by several Akoran warriors.

  Without ceremony, the flap was cast aside and their escort led them into the great pavilion. Although still cold, the shelter provided by the tent was a welcome relief from the brisk conditions. Furs and animal skins adorned the interior of the pavilion, along with large, exotic cushions. The guide announced their arrival in the Akoran language, and then stepped aside and allowed them to pass.

  A big man of familiar appearance, clothed in cured hides adorned with metal fastenings arose from amongst the comfort. He was mostly bald, except for a short topknot of grey hair, and his blue eyes gave the impression of a man who had fought long and hard to get where he was in life. The scars on his face were testament to that fact.

  “I am Morik Far-Eagle, Chief of the Akoran tribes,” he said in lightly accented Aielish, after he quickly appraised the small group. His eyes lingered on Sayana for a moment before he continued. “I know many of you from your last visit to our lands. I bid you welcome, and offer my thanks for your role in returning me to power. For many weeks, I have awaited word from the north, and today I believe that word has finally arrived. What say you, Outlanders?”