Tales of Mantica:Steps to Deliverance v042219

by Mark Barber

  His nights had been torn apart by horrific dreams ever since his fight against Dionne. The fight itself did not leave any lasting mark upon his mind, nor did the confrontations with his Abyssal horde. It was something else, something new and unexplained that troubled his soul. A new feeling in his core, something missing. It dominated his thoughts whenever his mind was left unoccupied.

  Up ahead, Orion saw his destination; a grand inn overlooking the south coast, its rooms and services priced to eliminate all but the richest of patrons. A main building housed a reception, eating hall, and bathhouse; while separate houses around the walled complex allowed lavish living conditions for those wealthy enough to enjoy them. Orion saw a lone horse outside the gate, with a tall, slim figure busily checking saddlebags.

  Aestelle looked up as Orion approached. She wore a shirt of white silk to contrast her leggings of soft, black leather and a sash of deep blue around her slender waist. She offered him a smile as he dismounted his warhorse and walked across to her.

  “Well, well!” she greeted. “A new aesthetic! I suppose this goes with the promotion?”

  Orion wore a long coat of scaled mail with rich robes and a cloak of blue, and tall, thick pauldrons lined with gold to denote his new rank.

  “It is a little ostentatious,” Orion smiled uncomfortably, “but it is appreciated. Tancred wrote a long report on my conduct. I owe him for this.”

  “I owe him for this,” Aestelle said, pointing to the rich accommodation behind her. “I was very well paid for my part. Shame that Tancred’s first thought of me was one who desired payment above all, but I only have myself to blame for that.”

  “That is not true,” Orion said as he stepped closer to her. “Have you not heard the songs? You are famed across the land now. The bards sing of you defeating the evil demon Dionne atop the mountain.”

  “They sing of you, Ri!” Aestelle laughed. “Or us, I suppose. I have to confess to being rather amused by the political requirement to change my portrayal in the songs to something more agreeable for the great-unwashed masses. ‘A fighting nun, purer than driven snow,’ I believe is my introduction. One assumes that is more inspirational to children than a money driven mercenary with a foul mouth and an uncontrollable wine addiction.”

  Orion failed to match her short laugh and smiled sympathetically.

  “Those who know you do not think of you as such.”

  “Well,” Aestelle secured the buckle on her last saddlebag, “speaking of those who know me, I have to go. Z’akke, an old salamander accomplice of mine, has taken an interest in our adventures. We are off to make sure that the undead menace we awoke trying to cross that ravine is not going to cause any trouble.”

  Orion nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. Aestelle turned to face him and looked up at him expectantly.

  “Oh,” Orion raised his brow, “I nearly forgot. I really could not think of anything as sentimental or impressive to give to you in return for your Eloicon. I am afraid this was the best I could do. Its color is the same shade as that of my Order. So you can remember us. Fondly, I hope.”

  Orion handed over the small sapphire he had bought and had drilled through to add to her collection of colorful beads in her hair. She accepted it with another smile.

  “Thank you, Ri,” she said gently.

  “Do you have to go?” he found himself blurting out.

  Aestelle’s smile faded, and she looked off to the north as the coastal breeze whipped her blonde hair out to one side.

  “It’s what I do,” she shrugged. “What else is there?”

  “You could stay,” Orion offered. “You could… I do not know… rejoin the sisterhood. They would take you back in an instant. Or… you could become a paladin. You can fight better than anybody I know! You can ride a horse in battle! Tancred could put in a word for you. You would only have to learn to fight in armor, and that is not so difficult.”

  Aestelle exhaled and narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

  “I don’t take orders well, Ri,” she replied, “I never did. That is why I left the sisterhood. I don’t want to go through all of that again.”

  “I wish you would not go,” Orion plucked up the courage to admit out loud.

  Aestelle stepped closer, only a few inches from him, and looked up into his eyes. At that moment, she seemed more beautiful to him than ever before.

  “Then give me a reason to stay,” she said seriously.

  His mind racing, Orion played through every possible scenario he could concoct in his head in a desperate attempt to find a reason to convince her not to leave. He thought of every role she could fill within his order, from soldiering to spying, scouting to instructing. None of them would satisfy her need to avoid the harsh oversight of authority.

  “You are right,” he conceded with a heavy heart, “it would never work. I have to respect who you are and what makes you happy. You are best living your life of adventure on the open road. I have to respect that.”

  Aestelle’s eyes closed as her head sagged forward, an audible breath escaping from her lips. She took a step back and inhaled deeply before looking up at him again. She fixed him with a wide grin and a cocky wink before pressing a clenched fist against one of his shoulders.

  “Take care, Ogre,” she beamed, “you’re a good friend.”

  Orion watched sadly as the tall woman vaulted back up into her saddle and dragged her horse around to face the road north. She looked down at him.

  “You’re a good man, Ri. Don’t ever let anybody tell you otherwise.”

  Orion watched in silence as she kicked her horse into a canter and disappeared over the foothills to the north.

  ***

  Seated on a bench behind his house, overlooking the gardens extending away toward the fields to the east, Valletto sighed with contentment as he swilled his white wine within the delicate, stone goblet. His daughter, Jullia, waddled to and fro from a small barrel of water, experimenting with a succession of garden objects to ascertain whether they floated or not. His son, Lyius, sat on the bench next to him, an introductory text of beginner’s magical spells open on his lap, his head rested wearily against his father’s shoulder. Clera, his wife, sat on a chair opposite them, smiling in contentment as she watched them both in silence. Valletto returned the smile, so happy that even the pain in his slowly recovering abdomen could not take the shine off the moment.

  Clera stood and wordlessly took Valletto’s goblet back inside, returning after a few moments with a refill and a lit candle for the small table in their garden. She looked over at their daughter.

  “I’ll have to get her to bed soon,” she said quietly. “It’s a shame. I don’t think any of us want this moment to end.”

  “I’ll get this fellow tucked up in bed,” Valletto nodded to his exhausted son, “but we can do exactly the same tomorrow.”

  Valletto turned to evaluate the best technique for carrying his son up to his room, but his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the front door. He heard Hustas, his servant, walk along their hall inside to answer the door. There was a brief exchange before Hustas emerged from the kitchen door to enter the back gardens.

  “A visitor for you, sir,” he announced, “Paladin Defender Orion of Suda.”

  Lyius head shot up and his eyes opened wide.

  “Orion?” he repeated. “The Orion? The one from all the songs?”

  Valletto looked across apologetically at his wife as she grimaced at the sudden evaporation of any chance of getting their son to sleep at a reasonable hour. Valletto stood slowly, wincing as pain flared up in his gut.

  “Thank you, Hustas,” he said. “Could you get a drink for him, please?”

  Valletto walked back into the house and to the small entrance hall, his eyes falling for a moment to the spot where he had collapsed down in despair at the thought of leaving his wife and children to join the hunt for Dionne. But that was over now.

  Orion waited just inside the house, clothed resplendently i
n the new, spotless armor of a paladin defender. He turned to greet Valletto with an apologetic shrug. Valletto offered his hand.

  “I am so sorry for arriving unannounced,” Orion said, “especially at this hour, I was just on my way back from…”

  “Please come inside,” Valletto said. “You are always welcome here.”

  Orion walked into the entrance hall.

  “I just saw Aestelle off,” Orion said, “I had rather hoped she would stay.”

  Valletto nodded. He had seen the way they had both looked at each other on the journey home and was surprised that the mercenary had chosen to depart. Still, it was good to see Orion’s response to the disappointment. He seemed a little sturdier, a little more content in himself after the hollowness he must have felt from finally slaying his uncle’s killer.

  “Come through to the garden and have a drink,” Valletto offered. “The family are all out for sunset. They’ll want to meet you.”

  Valletto led the paladin through his house and to the small garden. Clera rose and walked across to meet him.

  “Orion, this is my wife, Clera.”

  “A pleasure,” Orion bowed his head respectfully, “it is wonderful to finally meet you. Valletto spoke so highly of you while we were away.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Clera replied with a polite smile, “my husband tells me that you were one of the men and women I have to thank for his safe return.”

  Valletto winced at the words. When he had told her of his actions atop the hill, Clera had been furious with the paladins who had allowed him to fight by their side instead of protecting him. She had reminded him that sword fighting was not his strength, or his responsibility.

  Jullia looked up at Orion momentarily from her barrel of water, but saw nothing of interest and returned to her task of dropping stones into the barrel. Valletto suppressed a smile, thinking of the day he would tell her that she once met one of the most famous warriors in the whole Hegemony and proceeded to ignore him completely.

  “That is Jullia,” he said to Orion, “and this is Lyius.”

  The small boy dashed across and looked up at the towering paladin in awe.

  “You’re Orion? You’re the one who killed all of the demons?”

  “Not… not all of them,” Orion replied uncomfortably.

  “Is that the sword you used to kill Dionne?” Lyius pointed up at the blade on the paladin’s back.

  “Lyius!” Clera snapped.

  Orion looked across apprehensively at Clera. Valletto watched awkwardly as Lyius continued to stare up in wonder at the paladin. Orion looked back at him and then lowered himself to one knee, still towering over the small boy.

  “I gave that sword to a friend. This is a new one. In fact, the only thing I have here that was with me when we were away is this old belt buckle.”

  Orion carefully unbuckled his belt and removed the gold plated clasp, holding it up in front of the amazed child.

  “This buckle has been everywhere with me,” Orion continued with a warm smile, “and I want you to have it. If anybody ever asks you why you are wearing a paladin’s belt buckle, you tell them that Orion of Suda gave it to you. To say thank you because your father saved his life.”

  Valletto smiled proudly as his son’s eyes widened in amazement.

  “But there is one condition,” Orion said.

  “Anything!” Lyius gasped.

  “When you grow up, do not be a soldier. Find yourself a safer job, something where you can help people. Your father and I became soldiers to keep people safe, so others do not have to. Do something better with your life than I did with mine.”

  “I will!” Lyius said as he accepted the buckle. “I promise! Thank you! Thank you very much!”

  Valletto had long ago talked his son out of a future in the military, but he appreciated Orion’s gesture nonetheless. He looked across and saw his wife look down at the paladin, silently mouthing the word ‘thank you.’

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