“Aiden, this is Sergeant Gordon MacTavish of the Fifth Stonegaard Engineering Corps,” Robert said as way of introduction. “Sarge, meet Sir Aiden Wainwright. Don’t let the title fool you, he’s a pretty decent bloke.”
“I’ll try not to hold it against ‘im,” Gordon chuckled in his deep, gruff voice as he appraised Aiden with squinting eyes. His beard was brown and wrapped into a single plait which ran down the front of his chest. “Young, for a knight o’ the realm. Inherit it from yer daddy or somethin’?”
“My father makes wagons,” Aiden corrected, drawing a look of surprise from the burly dwarf. “Are you a cousin to King Sulinus?”
“Aye, he’s my uncle’s uncle, as it happens,” Gordon nodded. “Don’t go thinkin’ I’m royalty or anythin’ though, there’s a few thousand MacTavishes and we’re all related in some fashion. Look, it’s nice to meet ya and all, but we’ve still got some calibrations to do here so…”
“I’ll keep it brief,” Aiden assured him. “I’m curious what you’ve got under that tarp.”
“Ah, that’d be our secret weapon,” Gordon said with a wink. “We’ve been experimenting with some of the minerals we dig out ‘o the ground deep under t’ mountain. More than that, I canna say.”
“It’s just barrels,” Sayana called from behind the curious mound, having sneaked around while the others were talking to peek under the tarp.
“What th— get ‘er out o’ there!” Gordon barked at his men, who quickly ushered the sorceress away from the sensitive area. “Alright, that’s enough gawkin’. We’ve work to do, so if you’ll excuse me…”
“Thanks, sarge,” Robert offered in a conciliatory manner while exchanging a wry glance with Sayana as she rejoined them.
“You planned that?” Aiden inquired as they walked away from the bustling engineers.
“Have you ever noticed that nobody really notices her?” Robert said. “That’s what we in the business call a ‘tactical asset’.”
“They’ve noticed me,” Sayana remarked, pulling a hood over her head and staring up at some short, thin men in robes walking the battlements.
“The elves of Acadia,” Robert grunted with a nod. “Well, we know they’ve got a stick up their arses about your talents, so take it as a compliment.”
“I could probably beat them all anyway,” Sayana huffed. “They’re little more than a stuffy bunch of old men and women.”
“They’re ancient, but that’s a good thing when it comes to wizards,” Aiden suggested. “Their archers, I’m not so sure of. They better have some trick up their sleeves or they’ll be just as useless as every other archer against an army of golems.”
“They really don’t like me,” Sayana muttered.
“Don’t start getting paranoid on me, Sy,” Robert advised, putting an arm around her waist. “Sure, they’re strange and obnoxious, but I’m grateful they showed up. They might end up turning the battle in our favour.” The sorceress glared back for a long moment before leaning her head against Robert’s shoulder. Aiden found their sudden affection for each other endearing, but suspected neither of them would appreciate him pointing it out.
The doors to the fort opened and Criosa emerged, appearing distraught. She looked around and noticed Aiden and the others peering in her direction and quickly moved to join them.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden asked when he saw her tear-streaked face. When he reached out to comfort her, she pulled away, almost unconsciously.
“I don’t mean to alarm you,” she confided, “but my father has collapsed.”
“What?” Nellise exclaimed.
“Not so loud!” she hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening in. “The prelate says it’s exhaustion. I shouldn’t have become mired in that foolish argument — it’s my fault.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Nellise asked.
“Apparently he’ll be back on his feet within the hour, but he needs extensive rest after months of war.”
“May I ask what you were discussing with him at the time?” Aiden inquired delicately.
“You and I, and why I’m even here in the first place,” she answered brusquely before her flash of anger slipped away again. “My God, what have I done? I should never have decided to leave Fairloch in the first place. All that pain and suffering for what, so I can give my father a heart attack right when we need him the most?” Aiden’s heart went out to her, but when he reached for her, she pushed back.
“I can’t deal with you now, Aiden. I have too much to do. Everyone just… be ready for the fight. Please excuse me, the captain needs my counsel.” With that, Criosa turned and began speaking with Captain Marshald as he pointed to the walls.
Aiden’s thoughts were interrupted by the distinctive sound of wings flapping in the brisk mountain air. Along with thousands of others, Aiden looked to the sky and saw the silvery glint of Spartan, descending through the clear skies towards the courtyard. The dwarves in charge of the ballistae immediately began training their weapons on the dragon, accompanied by the alarm of the Akoran women.
“Ballistae, stand down immediately!” Robert roared at the top of his lungs, the sheer volume of his voice jolting Aiden. The dwarves halted their preparations and stared in confusion as Spartan spiralled down into the courtyard with Pacian clinging to his back for dear life. After a finally flurry from his wings, the resplendent dragon alighted on the ground and Pacian slid off.
“We sure are glad to see you again,” Robert said with a grin.
“Thanks, it’s nice to know how forgiving you are,” Pacian answered, dusting himself off.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Robert responded. “We were starting to get worried you wouldn’t make it, Spartan.” Pacian gave him a sour look, and then lost his confidence as he glanced at a disapproving Nellise.
I made all haste to join you here for the impending fight, Spartan intoned within their minds, ignoring the staring hordes of castle defenders. Judging by the approaching horde to the south, we only have a few minutes before it begins. His strength had clearly returned, and most of his wounds seemed to have healed over, although his armour was still in poor shape.
Pacian and I have had time to speak of many things, Spartan went on. I believe he has something important to say to you. All eyes turned to Pacian as he looked up at Spartan for reassurance. His eyes were troubled, lacking the belligerent glare that Aiden had grown used to seeing upon his friend’s face of late.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Pacian mumbled. “I’m really sorry for being such a tremendous ass these past few weeks.”
“You’ve had issues, Pace, I don’t blame you,” Nellise replied to placate him, stepping to his side and laying her hand on his arm affectionately.
“No, it’s not right,” he insisted. “I’ve been rude, cranky and just plain stupid to you all. It wasn’t until recently I realized just how poorly you all think of me.” Nobody spoke to dispute this comment, and Pacian chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m not going to be the one to contribute to anyone’s death through drunken stupidity. I swear, I can do better.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” Nellise said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Words are cheap,” Robert grunted. Sayana jabbed an elbow into his ribs and managed to squeeze a little more out of him. “But everyone deserves a second chance,” he added. “Nobody knows that better than I.”
“You mean everything to me, Nel,” Pacian whispered to her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I can’t protect you if I’m a complete wreck.”
“We’ll talk more about it later,” she assured him with a relieved smile. Although he still looked haggard, the smile he gave her was the most genuine thing Aiden had seen from him in weeks. Pacian turned and started to say something, but he hesitated, his mouth partially open as if the words simply refused to come out.
“Well don’t just stand there gaping, speak to me,” Aiden said as Pacian continued to hesitate. Aiden’s smile vanishe
d as he realized Pacian wasn’t moving at all, and his concern spread to the others.
“Pace? What’s wrong with him?” Aiden asked Nellise as she stepped back, suddenly alarmed at his frozen expression.
“Sy? Sy! Wake up!” Robert said, drawing their attention away from Pacian for a moment to see that the sorceress was also frozen stiff, one foot in the air as if she was about to take a step. Heavy, thumping footsteps caught their attention as five large, heavily armoured men pushed Aiden aside.
“Secure her,” the largest of the five instructed the others in a flat voice from beneath his white hood. Heavy metal shackles were placed around Sayana’s wrists and chains were wrapped around her, and when Robert moved to stop them, two of the newcomers roughly grabbed him and held him back.
Spartan let out a growl as his head snaked down to draw level with the lead man’s eyes. It would have been enough to force most men to stagger backwards in fear, but he held his ground and looked back at the dragon with unflinching eyes.
“You would do well to keep to your own affairs, dragon,” he said calmly.
“Who the hell are you?” Robert ordered as he struggled against his captors. Aiden quickly took stock of their apparel, noticing the pure white robes underneath their plate armour. Huge sledgehammers were slung over their backs and various religious insignia adorned their breastplates.
“The Holy Inquisitors,” Nellise hissed in recognition.
“Correct,” the leader purred. “We have come to defend our homeland in the name of the Church, and to settle some other matters. I am Archon Morgan White, and by the authority bestowed upon me by the Church of Aielund, these two individuals are to be incarcerated for their crimes.”
“What crimes?” Nellise demanded, as she and Robert looked on helplessly while their two companions were literally dragged away. The inquisitor reached into a pouch and withdrew a sheaf of parchment, then held it before her.
“While she reads that, I shall explain our actions for the rest of you,” White continued gravely. “After an extensive investigation, we have concluded that Pacian Savidge was responsible for the death of Archon Cedric Cain.”
“What?” Nellise exclaimed.
“His body was recovered, and with a combination of study and divine guidance, we determined his throat was severed by a dagger, and his body dumped into the sewers. Cain’s journal detailed his encounter with Pacian, who had broken into his office and threatened him with physical harm if he continued to investigate Nellise. This evidence is sufficient to warrant further investigation, so he is being secured in the fort’s jail until the situation here is resolved.”
“What about Sayana?” Robert bellowed. “She hasn’t done a damn thing to anyone who didn’t deserve it!”
“Cain’s journal also made note of her actions in Stonegaard during an uprising by the local population,” White went on, his calm voice a stark contrast to Robert’s. “Evidently, the wizards of the University have grossly underestimated her capabilities, a matter I will be discussing with them at length when the situation permits. She clearly has the potential to destroy a large part of this fort on her own, and her presence makes a delicate situation even more tenuous. She too is being locked away until we determine what to do with her.”
“Chains and shackles won’t hold her, you callous bastard,” Robert spat.
“Ours will,” the inquisitor assured him with an empty smile. “We are well-versed in dealing with rogue wizards — those shackles are blessed by Kylaris, capable of nullifying the sorcery of whoever they are attached to. She is as harmless as the young woman she appears to be.”
Nellise had finished reading the parchment, and in contrast to Robert’s fury, her expression was devoid of emotion. She handed it back to the inquisitor and lowered her eyes in resignation, consumed in thought.
“I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” Robert growled. “People have been accusing her of being some sort of crazed killer, thinking her guilty with no real evidence. If you want to arrest someone, it should have been me. I’m the one who attacked Culdeny and burned it to the ground!”
“And you would be joining them, if Princess Criosa had not spoken on your behalf,” the inquisitor explained. “Once this conflict is over however, I would advise you to leave Aielund, lest a tragic accident befall you. Now, there is one final matter to resolve before the fighting starts.” He reached over and drew Solas Aingeal from the sheath on Nellise’s hip before she could protest.
“That weapon is mine to wield,” she insisted as White held before him. Aiden had seen others of less than pure intention — namely Pacian — grasp the sword with terrible effect, and although he seethed with rage at the actions of the inquisitor, the sword didn’t seem to have any ill-effect upon him.
“Solas Aingeal was bequeathed to Sir William Bryce-Clifton, Dame Nellise,” the inquisitor corrected. “You righteously took up the sword after he had fallen and avenged his death, but now the archieros has decreed that a member of the Church should be the one to carry it into this battle. You are an aberration madam, not truly a member of the clergy, and your good standing with the Crown does little to assuage our concerns.
“You may take solace in the knowledge that the full might of Kylaris shall be brought down upon Aielund’s enemies. May Her favour shine down upon you all.” With a gesture, the inquisitors released Robert and stomped towards the battlements. Robert spat a number of curses at them as they departed, until Nellise raised a hand.
“Robert, please, you’re burning my ears off,” she begged, rubbing her temples. “They have the full backing of the Church, as well as the Crown… there’s nothing we can do. Oh Pacian, what have you done?”
“Maybe this explains his strange behaviour of late,” Aiden suggested, despondent at the sudden loss of two valuable allies.
“No, he was never distraught at the death of someone he considered an enemy,” Nellise mumbled. “I fear there is more to this than we’ve learned.” Before Aiden could answer, the sound of horns echoed across the landscape, drawing the attention of everyone present to the south.”
“Oh my God,” Nellise breathed. “They’re here.”
Chapter Twenty
Aiden crowded alongside the defenders on top of the wall, looking out over the frozen ground to the south. A few hundred yards away, dozens of men, women and children — the survivors of Trinity — ran for the supposed safety of the stone walls while a twenty armoured cavalry followed at a distance, their hooves churning up a cloud of white powder.
“Is this all that remains of the army?” Captain Marshald asked in disbelief as the beleaguered masses, at the limits of their endurance, stumbled on through the snow towards the southern gate.
“God knows how many perished back at Trinity,” Aiden muttered despondently. “This might be all who live to tell of its demise.”
“I count only thirteen riders,” Robert added, “less than half the number we left at the escarpment. I’d wager they held back to fend off the enemy, the poor bastards. By the way, Captain, I trust you’ve been briefed on the nature of what we’re facing here?”
“Yes, though I can scarcely believe it,” Marshald replied gruffly. “Everyone knows what we’re up against, but it’s nothing I’ve been trained to deal with.”
“Where did Criosa go?” Aiden asked him.
“I sent her inside the keep to watch over her father, right after she gave me complete authority over the defence,” the captain replied. “I guess she didn’t think too hard about that one. Much good it does me, mind you.”
“I refuse to believe we’ve come this far and endured so much, only to fail at the moment of triumph,” Nellise said resolutely, standing with her repeating crossbow in her hands. “God isn’t so cruel, I think.”
“I pray that you are right, my lady,” the captain mumbled in reply.
“I wish Clavis was here,” Aiden remarked suddenly, the crossbow bringing back memories of fallen comrades.
“He is, Aiden,” N
ellise told him. “So is Valennia, and Sir William… I carry the spirits of our fallen friends with me — their memories guide my hand and steel my resolve.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Aiden said wistfully, wishing Salinder had the energy to reassure him of his presence. The survivors had nearly reached the lip of the moat, nearly a hundred feet from the gate.
“Lower the bridge!” Marshald shouted to the gatehouse, and within moments the clanking of chains accompanied the descent of the massive wooden gate. By the time it slammed into the ground, the survivors of Trinity had gathered at the edge of the moat, and immediately hurried across its length. Amongst their number were a dozen or so of the Trinity guard, and their captain looked up to see Robert salute him as he led his people through the gate.
Shortly after they staggered into the courtyard below, the remaining cavalry trotted along the bridge, their exhausted mounts bearing their wounded riders behind the patched-up walls of Highmarch.
I’ll go and see if I can offer some healing,” Nellise said, setting down her crossbow before heading down the stairs, along with five other robed priests, and began to provide them with whatever aid they needed.
As the drawbridge was slowly closed, Aiden noticed the five inquisitors kneeling in a semi-circle nearby, their hands upon their huge weapons before them and their hooded heads bowed in prayer. As the closest thing to a militant arm of the Church, Aiden suspected they were incapable of the same sort of divine healing he’d seen Nellise and a few other priests perform, but the simple fact they refused to assist the others didn’t sit well with him at all.
A subtle, jarring vibration ran through the wall at that moment, followed by another, and another until the ground was practically humming with movement. Turning his gaze to the south, Aiden knew what he was about to see but was still taken aback by the sheer spectacle of it.
From over the windswept horizon came the first of the Iron Legion, their centuries-old metal bodies dark against the pure white snow upon which they walked. Each footstep drew them inexorably closer to the fort, and upon viewing their advance the defenders of Highmarch quailed in fear.
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