He looked off to the south in the direction from where they had come. “Do you think you’ll ever come back here?” he asked.
Anuit shook her head. “No. There is nothing for me here now. I’ll disappear into Hammerfold somewhere safe. Once we get to Kriegsholm, we’ll separate. You don’t need me to find Windbowl.”
He felt sad at the thought of her leaving on her own. “If that is your choice. I’m glad you’re with me now. It is nice not to have to journey alone in these lands.”
She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. “Indeed.”
The two of them continued north, leaving the empty trading post behind.
Four hours travel lay between them and the abandoned trading post by the time night fell. They left the road for a small dried ravine where they could set up camp out of the road’s line of sight. There were no trees to hide behind in the desert.
After eating a quick meal from their rations in silence together, Danry pitched the tent. It was a simple A-frame that would keep the wind’s chill from them.
Anuit unrolled her bedroll and placed it in the tent. She crawled inside, her rear end disappearing beneath the tent flap.
“You coming?” she asked.
“In a moment,” he said.
“Okay. Don’t come in yet.”
Her imp hovered over the tent. He would keep watch through the night and wake them should anything approach their campsite. They lit no fire so there would be nothing drawing undue attention.
The sky was clear overhead with a million stars shining down. A waning moon hovered low on the horizon, and wind pulled at Danry’s hair. He felt alive beneath the stars. They were eternal. They watched everything. No matter what happened down here, they would always be there.
“Okay, you can come in,” she said.
It was dark inside the tent, so he touched the crystal around his neck. It gave a soft glow in response.
She had curled up beneath her sleeping bag, letting her body warm it. Her head lay on her green dress, which she had bunched up into a pillow. She looked up at him with glittering eyes. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she said.
He shook his head. “Of course not,” he said and slid into his own bedroll after removing his shirt. Taking her example, he used the garment as a makeshift pillow.
They lay on their sides facing each other. They met each other’s eyes in silence.
“Are you going to sleep with that light on?” she asked.
He gave a single snort of amusement. “No.” He touched the crystal again, and they lay in darkness.
Moments passed, and he was just dozing off when she asked, “What does it mean?”
“What?” he asked, coming awake again.
“‘Kaldor lives.’ What does it mean?”
He thought for a moment. He could hear her breathing in the silence of the tent.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “An old Kaldorite in Astiana told me to pass it to Arda. It must be code. Their order is named after him.”
“Who was he?”
“He lived a thousand years ago. It is said he was a friend of Aaron—the man—before he became the Shadowlord. Before the Empire.”
She shifted and he saw the faintest silhouette of her head rise in the darkness, propped up by her arm. He imagined she was looking in his direction. “Could he still be alive?” she asked. “Valkrage lived long for even a sidhe, did he not?”
“Kaldor was a human wizard. There’s no way he could have survived this long, even with magic.”
“He must have been a great man,” she replied, “to inspire an order that persists to this day.”
“The Kaldorites are the finest men and women I’ve ever met,” he remarked. “They are beyond amazing, not just what they do, but what they represent.”
“What do they represent?” she asked. He heard her bedroll shuffle as she sat up.
“All that is good in the world,” he said. “They ensured the wisdom of the Light endured through the Shadowlord’s reign. I only hope they find some way to rid the world of vampires. Strange. We were supposed to enter an age of peace and freedom after the Shadowlord’s reign ended. Now we have this.”
“I don’t know this Arda,” she said. “But I am from the north. Attaris lived in Windbowl when I left, but I am reluctant to return to that city. I did not leave on good terms.”
He felt the heat of her body radiating through the cold air and heard the rhythm of her breathing. Her scent filled his nose with an enticing aroma. He turned his head and peered into the darkness where she sat, the silhouette of her head and shoulders just visible.
She sucked in breath. “I’m going to sleep now,” she said, and lay back down. He wondered if she could see him looking at her. Surely not. It was too dark, and he had remained lying down in his bedroll.
She turned and shuffled again. He guessed her back was to him now. He too turned away and drifted off to sleep.
7 - At the Crossroads
The sun had nearly reached its zenith overhead. Arda had left the clouds and rain behind two days ago when the road brought her south into the hundred-mile stretch of desert halfway between Kriegsholm and Astiana. The southeasterly road only cut through the upper part of it. Still, it was a three-day trip, including two nights in the desert, and no settlements or inns at which to stop. At least the sky was clear now.
Despite the desert’s lack of rain, a northern wind followed her. The clouds had been spent on the plains, but the winds carried a humidity that made what would have otherwise been a pleasant fall day feel hot and mucky.
Ahead lay the desert crossroads announcing the halfway point to the next outpost where the land grew fertile again. The road intersecting with the one she travelled led to a mining town in the mountains to the northeast, and its southwest path led deeper into the desert where hard rock ground gave way to rolling sand dunes.
When she came to the crossroads, it was, for the most part, nondescript. The two roads were almost indistinguishable from the rock ground, save for the indent of wagon ruts and the occasional flagstone. A large white boulder sat beside the intersection, and a sun-dried wooden signpost marked the destinations of each direction.
In the middle of the intersection stood a man and woman. They had stopped and were staring at Arda as she approached on her horse.
She blinked in surprise. She didn’t know the dark-skinned woman, but she recognized the man.
“Danry?”
He too had been squinting at her. “Arda!” he exclaimed when he heard her voice. He ran forward to greet her, leaving his companion in the boulder’s shade. He laughed. “Blessed by the Light, what are the chances?”
She dismounted Dart and met her friend, arms outstretched. She laughed with him in joy as they embraced. “Danry!” she exclaimed again. “You’re still alive! How long has it been? Ten years?”
“At least,” he said. “It’s been a close call a few times. Most recently, I owe my life to this woman.” He inclined his head towards his companion.
Arda released her friend from the embrace and looked at the younger woman. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Her face and dark, pretty eyes were quite striking. “I’m Arda,” the paladin introduced herself.
The dark-skinned woman smirked. “Yes, I gathered,” she said. “I’m Anuit. I’ve seen you before, once, in Windbowl. You were with the light elf.”
“Aradma,” Arda confirmed. “I don’t recall meeting you before.”
“You didn’t. You passed by my window. I left the city soon thereafter.”
Arda inclined her head, now piecing Anuit’s description with the stories she had heard on her trips back to Windbowl in the intervening years. “I see. So you were the young sorceress who saved Aradma’s life when you interrupted the crone’s ritual. Why did you flee the city?”
“It wasn’t the elf’s life I tried to save. I don’t wish to discuss it,” Anuit replied coldly. She turned to Danry. “You’ve found her. I assume I’ll continu
e on my own then.”
Arda turned to the bard. “What does she mean?”
“You are the reason I came north,” he answered. “Tulley sends a message: Kaldor lives.”
* * *
Danry watched Arda’s expression melt away into something akin to grief and anguish. This was not at all what he expected.
“What, what does it mean?” he asked. “I assume it’s code.”
Arda shook her head. She seemed to have a hard time finding words. This was not the unwavering lady of strength he remembered. The war must have taken its toll. Not surprising, perhaps. It took its toll on all of them.
“No,” she said. “It’s not code.”
“Then what does it mean?” he pressed.
She fell to her knees and pounded the sand in front of her in frustration. “No, no, no…” she uttered. He couldn’t tell if she was laughing or lamenting.
He looked at Anuit. She seemed as surprised as he was.
“So much for your vaunted Kaldorites,” the sorceress said, snidely raising her eyebrows.
He bent down and took Arda’s hands, helping her back to her feet. Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. He had never seen her so vulnerable.
“It means Kaldor lives,” she said. “He made contact with the order. Taer Iriliandrel is not lost.”
Danry’s eyes widened. “After all this time?”
“He is Archurion!” Arda exclaimed. “I knew it! I always knew it! Of course, of course he lives! But why now? Why not sooner? Why did he wait so long…?” she trailed off, looking up to the sky. “I wish you had found me sooner, just a little sooner.”
“Arda, what in the Light’s name are you talking about?” He was thoroughly confused by her strange behavior. He had hoped the message was a code to mobilize some secret plan. “This means the beginning of the end of this war, doesn’t it? This means there is hope.”
“Not for me,” she said. “I have failed the Light. I am going to Tulley for judgment. And now, finally, Kaldor returns? Now, when I’m no longer worthy of serving him?”
“Surely it’s not as bad as all that,” Danry argued. “Come to Astiana. Tulley will know what to do.”
“Yes,” Arda agreed. “This message was intended to summon me to him,” she said, “but he’ll be needing a paladin, ready to carry out Kaldor’s mission. Maybe Kaldor is with him. If he is, then I want nothing more than to run away, as far from him as possible. I cannot bear the shame now of standing before the Gold Dragon.” She shook her head. “I’m fucked. There is no other way. I must present myself for judgment as I am sworn to. I have failed, but I will not betray my final honor.”
Anuit regarded them with a curious expression but said nothing.
Danry turned to the sorceress. “Will you come with us to Astiana, Anuit?” he asked. “I’ve seen you in action. Astiana is the heart of the Covenant. We could use you at our side.”
Arda frowned. “She is a sorceress. Her power comes from demons. From the Dark.”
Anuit walked right up to Arda and placed her hands on the darkling’s shoulders. She stared her straight in the eye. “I am not evil,” her voice was slow and deliberate. “I have slain countless vampires and protected the lives of my city as long as I was able. You know nothing of me. You’ve no right to condemn me.”
Arda’s black eyes flashed for a moment and then relaxed. She took Anuit’s hands from her shoulders and released them. “I am sorry. You are right: I have no right to judge you. I too have done evil. I suppose a sorceress could do good.” There was something else in her eyes, Danry thought. Something she wasn’t saying. She turned to him. “What do you know of the Covenant?”
“At first, the vampires were like we saw in Roenti,” he said. “They were savage, and they killed everyone they drank from. The only things that slowed them down were their own weaknesses, and organized resistance. But then something changed. Those that could control their urges offered people safety. People who let them drink willingly were not killed, and they were protected from the vampires who couldn’t control themselves. For a while, there were still many of those, the first kind. Especially in the country. The Covenant turned their attention to destroying these.”
“This would explain why I haven’t encountered any between towns,” Arda said. “How long has this been going on?”
“It took the Covenant time to take hold. They fought not only the resistance but also other vampires. Eventually, people in the resistance stopped fighting and submitted, helping them clear out the last of the savage undead. Now the Covenant only fights those who continue to resist, like Tulley. He no longer enjoys the support of the people. Even those who do not give their blood freely are left alone as long as they submit to Covenant rule. There are enough who worship the vampires now that they have their need for blood met. They’ve spread to other towns and cities in the last year. Tulley is right to say the problem has grown worse, not better. It will be hard to keep even more from falling to Covenant rule.”
Arda nodded in agreement. “By what you say, Roenti will fall easily. The people will be glad for an alternative to the endless terror and death. If the Covenant offers safety and stability, if they can get some semblance of a peaceful life back…” she trailed off wistfully.
Danry shook his head. No, this was not the paladin he remembered. She almost sounded as if the thought appealed to her. To her!
“They are like demons,” Anuit interjected.
Both the bard and the paladin fell silent and stared at the sorceress.
Anuit looked at them thoughtfully. “Demons are dangerous,” she explained, “not only because they are frightening. They’re dangerous because they’re appealing. They offer you something, and you don’t know the full price until it’s too late. Or you never realize the price. It sounds like this Covenant of vampires is doing the same thing.”
“Come with us,” Danry urged. “Your insight can only help us.”
Anuit frowned. “I may command a few demons, but I would not walk into Dis itself. Going to Astiana sounds foolish.”
* * *
Anuit crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the two of them. Danry frowned thoughtfully and fidgeted, and Arda regarded her quietly. The darkling’s black eyes seemed to hold such sadness, and Anuit felt an upsurge of sympathy for the paladin.
“Arda, don’t go,” Anuit told the older woman. “I know you think you must, and I know you’ve no reason to listen to me or trust me, but I can see a sadness in your eyes. Only more suffering waits for you in Astiana. Come north, where it is safe and still free. This is a battle we cannot win, and I have no desire to keep fighting forever. I can see on your face you already know what Tulley’s judgment will be. Come with me, and we can find a place away from all of this.”
Arda frowned in disdain. “You mean hide under a rock.”
Anuit felt as if she had been lashed. Why would this woman’s words affect her so? She had only offered her advice. It was of no concern to her whether the paladin listened or not. Anuit drew herself up haughtily. “As you wish then. If you want to crash your heart on a rock, it is your business.”
Danry’s arms were folded over his chest, and his shoulders heaved. He was upset. “Please, do not argue,” he said. “There is no need for it.”
Arda straightened her back and inclined her head. “Indeed. I am continuing south.” She took Dart’s reins and started walking. “Danry, are you coming?” She did not wait, but kept moving onwards.
The bard looked at the back of the paladin, and then at Anuit. His face was torn with emotion. “I wish you would come,” he said. Then he hurried after his friend.
Anuit stood there watching them recede from her. Her arms were still folded over her chest. She fumed, eyes burning in anger. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are?” she muttered at the paladin under her breath.
Then, against her better judgment, she followed the two of them. She walked fast enough to catch up, but not fast enough to make it look l
ike she was hurrying.
Arda glanced at her once, but did not say a word.
8 - Campfire Tea
By dusk they had reached roughly the same place that Anuit and Danry had camped on the previous night. The thought of undoing their progress sickened the sorceress, but Danry was the closest thing she had to a friend right now, even if they hadn’t spoken much since they left Rille. And she wanted to be there when Arda’s failure was rubbed in the paladin’s nose. She wanted Arda to admit that she had been right.
By nightfall, Arda no longer seemed upset by Anuit’s earlier words. Her demeanor had softened throughout the afternoon, and although the three of them had said nothing as they walked, Arda stopped making a point of not looking at her. She glanced at both of them thoughtfully as they travelled.
When they stopped, Danry pitched his tent.
“At least we can get a full night’s rest,” Anuit heard him tell the paladin. “One of her servitors watches for us. I’m grateful for it.”
Arda glanced again at Anuit, and then nodded. She went to one of Dart’s saddlebags and withdrew her own tent. “I don’t often use this,” she remarked. “I usually sleep under open sky when on the road. But tonight I think I might.” It was smaller than the tent Danry carried, about half its size.
Anuit wondered how old Arda was as she watched the darkling pitch her tent with militant efficiency. The woman was obviously experienced. She recalled the time she had seen her in Windbowl when the first light elf had been discovered. Back then Anuit was just a girl of seventeen winters. Arda had already been an experienced warrior if she had been traveling with Attaris and Danry even before that. Anuit ventured Arda must be in her mid-thirties. Maybe early thirties. She was obviously mature, but age had not yet started to leave its mark on her. Anuit curiously observed Arda’s horns and her tail’s movements as it followed her. They were not like Bryona’s. Arda’s horns were narrower and had a more graceful curve to them, and the tail was not nearly as thick as the succubus’s. Also, Arda had no wings, yet her darkling features still brought Anuit’s demon servitor to mind.
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 45