by Mark Barber
Aestelle looked over her shoulder. Orion had appeared at the tavern doorway. Standing a head taller than most men she had met, and nearly twice as broad shouldered, he was never a man to hide in a crowd. However, the shaven headed, bearded thug she had met at the beginning of this ordeal had now been replaced with a dashingly handsome, clean shaven knight with neat blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. His armor was polished to an almost mirrored finish, and his blue surcoat was cleaned as if for a parade. A few of the villagers closest to him, clearly unsure as to what his social status was, elected to err on the side of caution and bowed or curtseyed respectfully. At the back of the crowd, Aestelle saw a trio of young women whispering elatedly to each other as they watched him embarrassedly ask the villagers not to bow.
As Orion walked over to her, the gaps in the facade he had created became immediately apparent to Aestelle’s experienced eyes. Fifteen years of fighting allowed her to see past the mirrored shine of the armor; ragged holes had been torn in his mail, great dents and smashes were evident in his breastplate, and the size of the tears in his surcoat he had stitched up were evidence of horrific injuries. There was proof enough before her that he had suffered enough wounds to die twice over; without the intervention of the Elohi, he would be dead and gone. She briefly wondered which of the Elohi had visited him, and if the huge significance of personal intervention by one of the angels of the Sacred Ones had actually registered in the paladin’s mind. The thought of their complete lack of interest in her parentage did, however, leave a bitter taste.
“This all supposed to impress me?” Aestelle planted her hands on her hips as Orion approached her.
“You… actually think that the words and actions of everyone around you are for your benefit?” Orion asked wearily.
“Not all of it,” Aestelle shrugged, “but certainly the overwhelming majority. I mean, look at me. Anyway, I’ve been busy. There’s a horse on the way here for you and I’ve collated as much information as is available regarding where these bastards have been attacking. All accounts indicate that there’s never more than a dozen or so of them attacking at once. These attacks are scattered and often simultaneous. I would guess that there are no more than a few hundred of them. Certainly not enough to mount a credible threat to a major settlement. This is nothing more than a large raid.”
“So why are they even attacking the villagers?” Orion mused. “Why come and try to drag them off?”
Aestelle leaned in close to Orion.
“They still have to eat,” she muttered quietly, keeping her voice low enough that none of the villagers could hear.
Orion let out a breath and nodded.
“To get a few hundred of them here would not take too much effort,” Aestelle continued, “not in the grand scheme of things. Compared to the far corners of Mantica, we are quite close to the Abyssal scar. Sending a few hundred Abyssals a few hundred miles does not require world-shattering power. But it does require enough to make the effort worthwhile, so they are here with a very specific reason in mind. And based upon where they have been seen, they’re circling. They’re looking for something.”
“That was me, I thought of that!” the little merchant piped up. “She kissed me for that!”
“Is that your normal approach for acquiring assistance?” Orion smirked.
Having spent her entire adult life constantly pursued by men, Aestelle recognized even the subtlest jealousy as soon as it presented itself to her. She suppressed a smug smile.
“Oh, I’ll go a lot further than that,” she said casually, jabbing a thumb at the jeweled greatsword on her back. “You should hear the story about what I did to get this sword. Back to the task in hand, you and I alone can’t stop this army. But what we can do is hamper them until reinforcements get here from the south, or word reaches the border forts to the north. Either way, if we pester these bastards by killing any of them that dare to stray from the main pack, they’ll stop straying. They’ll be forced to stay together and that will seriously hinder their attempts to find whatever it is that they’re looking for.”
“What do you think that is?” Orion asked.
Aestelle bit her bottom lip.
“I have my suspicions. We can talk about that on the ride out of here. Ah, speaking of which.”
The small crowd parted as a farmer led a broad, black horse with a neat, white stripe running down from the top of his head to his nose. Aestelle narrowed her eyes. She was no expert on horses, but it was clear that this particular specimen was well past his prime. Still, the animal looked strong and was saddled.
“I have the two things you asked for,” the bearded farmer announced as he led the horse over. “One horse, one bottle of the best wine I could find.”
“Good job,” Aestelle said.
She snatched the bottle of wine, pulled the cork out with her teeth, and spat it out before draining half of its contents in one continuous gulp.
“And to think that you were a nun for nearly twenty years,” Orion whispered under his breath.
Aestelle lowered the bottle and let out a gasp of contentment as the bitter liquid quenched her thirst.
“And now I’m making up for lost time with all the fun things in life they kept from me!” she smiled sarcastically at the paladin.
“Does that tie in to the story behind how you got that sword, too?” Orion asked with a sardonic smirk.
“Maybe,” Aestelle returned the smirk.
“This is the best horse for a good few miles,” the farmer cut in, handing the reins over to Orion. “He’s a little long in the tooth, but as strong as an ox. He’ll do you proud.”
Taking Aestelle completely by surprise, a small boy of perhaps seven or eight years of age suddenly ran from the back of the crowd and yanked the reins out of Orion’s hand, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“No!” the boy cried. “You can’t have him!”
The farmer smiled uncomfortably, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“My son, Davith,” he said apologetically. “I’m afraid he loves this old horse.”
“You can’t take him!” the boy shouted again. “He’ll get hurt!”
Aestelle held up a hand to stop Orion’s response. She leaned over the distressed farm boy and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she beamed. “He’s old now! He’s had a good run. This is a great way to go out!”
The boy’s eyes widened in horror and his crying amplified in volume to hysterical wailing. Aestelle stood and took an uncomfortable step back. After years of finding nothing but annoyance in children, all of the bridges built by her heartfelt encounter with the little girl she had recently rescued were instantly torn down by the wailing farm boy.
“That is the best you could come up with?” Orion snapped incredulously.
Aestelle swore at him and returned to necking her bottle of wine. The paladin dropped down to one knee in front of the boy and smiled.
“What is your horse’s name?” he asked gently.
“Henry!” the boy cried.
“I only need to borrow Henry. I just need his help for a few days. I shall bring him back to you. You see, he is a farm horse, not a knight’s horse. He belongs here on a farm, with you.”
The boy nodded, his cries dying down a little.
“Henry does not know how to be a knight’s horse, so I cannot use him in battle,” Orion explained. “I just need him to move around a little quicker. If things get dangerous, I shall not be taking Henry near the fighting.”
The boy looked up at Orion, the hysterics continuing to die away.
“It is just for a few days,” Orion said again, gently taking the reins, “and I promise you that if I am still fit enough to ride, I shall bring him back here to you before I go home. Is that alright?”
The farm boy nodded slowly before turning to bury his head in his father’s chest as the farmer picked him up, nodding to Orion and Aestelle to leave. Aestelle walked over to her own horse and swun
g herself up into her saddle.
“Well, if you are quite done with yanking on the heartstrings of the simple folk, shall we go kill something?”
Orion jumped up into the saddle of the muscular farm horse. His face screwed up in confusion and he leaned forward over the animal.
“What’s that, Henry?” he asked, perplexed, and then nodded and sat up again.
“Henry says you are dead inside and need to take yourself less seriously,” Orion translated with a feined, uneasy smile.
Aestelle turned in her saddle to fix Orion with a dangerous glare.
“Tell Henry to go f…”
The small crowd of villagers cheered and waved as the two warriors rode at a fast canter off to the south.
Chapter Seventeen
Orion was not well suited to stealth. Trying to emulate Aestelle’s silent, graceful movements, he clunked behind her as they dashed from tree to tree, closing the distance between themselves and the small group of Abyssals moving through the twilight lit undergrowth ahead. The wooded hill crested at an opening up ahead where, according to the information they had been given by locals, a stone circle had been set up in the Time of Light for worshipping the Celestials. After a few minutes of following the demons up the shallow slope, Orion saw the site up ahead; twelve rough obelisks standing tall at the top of the hill, silhouetted by the setting sun.
Aestelle crouched behind a tree trunk up ahead, a few feet back from the edge of the foliage. Orion walked carefully over to her again, wincing as every footstep resulted in the jingling of mail armor or the dull clunking of metal plate impacting metal plate at his elbow and knee joints. Aestelle fixed him with a warning glare as he knelt next to her. Orion shrugged an apology. Aestelle leaned against him and pressed her lips next to his ear, the scent of her expensive perfume washing over him.
“Did you have to polish that bloody armor? It’s like sneaking next to a lighthouse.”
Orion opened his mouth to point out their inability to attack from downwind due to her vanity, but Aestelle silenced him by holding a leather-clad finger up to her lips. She beckoned for him to wait where he was and then crept silently closer to the edge of the clearing at the top of the hill. Orion watched the Abyssals, ten in all, stomp purposefully around the ancient site of worship, their blazing eyes alternatively checking the trees around them and the obelisks themselves. It seemed surreal to Orion to watch them carry out the sort of activities one would expect from intelligent beings; to him, lower Abyssals were little more than wild animals, yet here they were checking over the tall stones ahead and even exchanging words in their guttural, vile language.
The last moments of his fight against the Abyssals at the campsite suddenly forced their way back to the fore of his mind. He remembered his feelings of rage and violence giving way to fear and despair as he succumbed to his wounds, surrounded by a neverending tide of demonic adversaries as his lifeblood flowed from his multiple injuries. He remembered the sight of the dead paladins who lay at his feet amidst the devils he had cut down, little more than names to him the day before the battle, but now they were dead brothers and sisters in arms who he bitterly regretted never taking the chance to befriend. Above all, he again regretted his failure with Kell, the boy who had looked to him for guidance and found none. The dark humor he had briefly shared with Aestelle at the tavern now gave way to waves of despair as years of campaigns, killing, and dead comrades washed over him; horrific sights he would not wish upon anybody, wading their way from the back of his mind to dominate his thoughts. Orion let out a gasp, raising a hand to his head and closing his eyes. When he looked up, he saw Aestelle crouched in front of him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked directly at him, concern registering in her silver-blue eyes.
“You alright?” she mouthed silently.
Orion nodded.
She moved closer to whisper into his ear again.
“I couldn’t understand much of what they were saying. They’re looking for something, and it’s not here. As I said on the ride across, I’m pretty sure it’s a portal stone they’re trying to find.”
“I thought you spoke their tongue?!” Orion whispered. “You said you were a demon hunter!”
“Apprentice! A decade ago! So forgive me if I haven’t been keeping on top of my demonic language studies! Listen, I’m going over to the far side of the clearing. Give me two minutes. Then I want you to do what you do; come out fighting and hack these bastards down. As soon as they turn to face you, I’ll start putting arrows through their backs. Understood?”
Orion nodded. Her words triggered uncomfortable thoughts. ‘What you do.’ Was there more to him than just killing? Had Jahus succeeded in guiding him into becoming a better man than that? Had the Elohi?
Aestelle fixed him with a serious expression.
“Keep it together, Paladin, I don’t know what’s going through your mind but if you lose it now, I’m in trouble. I won’t stand for that. Just do what you do best.”
Orion nodded again and watched her disappear into the rapidly darkening trees. He slowly and silently unsheathed his sword and looked down at the blade. When he was rescued by the Elohi, his helmet, longsword, and shield had been left behind. He still had his greatsword, but that was too heavy to effectively use on horseback if the situation called for it. The greatsword was meant to be used as a two-handed weapon, so the lack of a shield was not a problem; but fighting without a helmet to protect the most vulnerable part of the body was less than ideal. But fight he must, and the time had come. He rested a hand briefly on his uncle’s Eloicon, muttered a quick prayer, and stood to stride to the edge of the clearing.
Without ceremony, Orion walked purposefully out toward the center of the stone circle. He felt calmer than normal before battle, less angry, but the clarity of mind also allowed him to realize the danger he faced. He felt fear. An angry, hateful phrase was growled from the first of the Abyssals to see him, and the ten red-skinned monsters immediately fanned out to encircle him, hissing and snarling as they stood with their swords and axes held ready.
Orion heard a thud and saw the head of one of the Abyssals loll. The hellish creature turned groggily to look behind, revealing an arrow lodged in the center of its back. A second arrow flew, catching the same Abyssal through the neck and dropping it down to the earth. Roars and snarls were quickly exchanged, and five of the lower Abyssals hurtled toward Orion while the others ran toward where Aestelle was no doubt loosing her arrows from the trees.
Rushing out to meet the first attacker, Orion flung his sword down in a powerful overhead attack. He was surprised to find his strike skillfully deflected by an agile defense from the creature, but the might of his attack threw the demon’s guard aside. Orion took advantage of the opening by swinging a clenched fist into the Abyssal’s face, feeling the crunch of bone as he dislodged the monster’s jaw and knocked it dazed to its knees. The paladin quickly took off the demon’s head with his sword and brought his guard back up as the remaining four demons stood in a loose circle around him, shouting out aggressively in their hideous tongue.
Orion lunged at the nearest devil, linking a flurry of blows that forced the Abyssal to step back as it desperately tried to defend itself from the vicious onslaught of strikes. The demon fell down on its back, but before Orion could finish the creature off, he was attacked on both sides by two more of his adversaries. His advantage was now completely reversed as he desperately brought his blade up to block attacks from all quarters, conscious that a third Abyssal was moving around behind him in an attempt to stab him in the back.
Deflecting a low blow aimed at his legs, Orion brought his sword swinging around in a long arc to connect the flat of the blade with the face of one of his Abyssal assailants, sending a torrent of blood and sharp teeth flying from its mouth. Continuing the sword’s line of travel in a long, fluid arc, Orion brought the blade back up to sever the same creature’s leg halfway up the thigh. The maimed demon fell to the ground, spraying black blood up fr
om its stump as it writhed in agony. But the attack had left his right side exposed, and Orion knew the attack was coming moments before he felt an axe bite into his own leg, parting the links of his mail armor.
Letting out a cry of pain, Orion felt his leg give way beneath him. As he dropped to one knee, he saw the axe-wielding Abyssal responsible for his wound dart toward him, weapon held high in both clawed hands. Orion thrust his heavy sword out, piercing the creature’s neck with the broad blade and sending it falling to one side, clutching at the fatal wound and gurgling in its own blood. Gritting his teeth, Orion forced himself back up to his feet and pressed a hand against his wound, summoning his meager knowledge of divinity magic to heal the injury.
The two remaining opponents advanced warily toward him, one of the creatures stopping briefly by the prone, screaming body of the demon missing its leg. The tall Abyssal brought the tip of its own blade down to pierce the chest of its injured fellow, killing it outright before remorselessly continuing toward Orion. Feeling drained from the simple act of one healing spell, Orion knew he needed to make the next few moments count, as he would not be healing the next wound he suffered.
Darting to his left, Orion bought himself a brief moment by lining his two adversaries up to deny them the opportunity to attack him simultaneously. He then flung himself forward to attack, slashing his blade at the closer demon’s head and chest, and forcing it to bring its blade up to defend. Unable to counter Orion’s superior speed and strength, the Abyssal took a step back, its guard still high. Orion lunged forward and thrust his sword through the demon’s gut, sliding the blade all the way up to the hilt until he was eye to eye with the dying Abyssal.
The final demon brought its sword down to strike Orion’s pauldron, failing to penetrate the thick armor. Orion planted a foot on the dying creature in front of him and yanked his sword free, but that gave his final opponent enough time for another strike. This time the demon aimed well, catching Orion in the upper arm and drawing a spray of blood from a deep gash across his bicep. Orion growled in pain, instinctively turning his uninjured side to face the maniacally grinning adversary. Unsure whether the wound would hinder his ability to wield his heavy sword, Orion flung himself at the final Abyssal and knocked it to the ground.