“Try and relax,” Imogen said.
Marie-Bell looked down at the fists she hadn’t realized she was making. Her fingers ached when she straightened them.
“The others will have to give you some credit for retrieving those artifacts, right? Maybe you’ll even get a medal.”
Marie-Bell snorted a laugh. “I could singlehandedly cleanse the Haunted Lands and the others wouldn’t acknowledge me. I’m a bit of an embarrassment to the order. I didn’t follow the proper procedures to gain my partner and they resent me for it. Nevertheless, whatever’s going on in Heaven is too important for me to let my fear keep me from talking to the others.”
They topped a low hill and the sprawl of tents appeared before them. On the far right-hand side a cluster of white tents huddled around a golden flag with the order’s inverted sword symbol in the center.
She stopped dead in her tracks. If the golden flag was flying that meant the grandmaster himself was present. Marie-Bell had never met the man, but the stories she’d heard didn’t make him out to be a kind fellow. Of course, stories were often exaggerated.
“What’s wrong?” Imogen asked.
Marie-Bell gave herself a little shake. “Nothing, see you later.”
She jogged off before Imogen could ask her any more questions. Heaven’s mercy, how she wished she had even half the beautiful sorcerer’s confidence. Well, maybe she could pretend long enough to find out if the other paladins knew anything. She might not even run into the grandmaster.
Five minutes later she reached the outer edge of the paladins’ camp. A pair of knights, a man and a woman, their breastplates polished so that they looked more like silver than steel, nodded to her as she passed.
She paused and drew breath to ask if they’d heard anything from their angels, but the pair had already moved on. Got to be quicker next time.
There wasn’t much activity in the camp at the moment. Most of her fellows were probably out tending to any injuries amongst the regular soldiers as well as keeping an eye out for the invaders. She didn’t blame them for watching, but during her time with the enemy army she’d come to the conclusion that they didn’t care a whit about the kingdom and her people now that they weren’t an obstacle.
The flag pole loomed twenty feet ahead and she realized she’d lost track of where she was and wandered close to the center of camp. Not good.
She turned to go back out on the perimeter, but before she could take a step a deep, powerful voice said, “Hold there.”
Marie-Bell froze then slowly swung back. Though she’d never met the grandmaster, she had seen a painting years ago. It didn’t do him justice. Malcom Collin had to be approaching seventy, but his back remained straight, unbowed by the weight of his plate armor. A close-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard clung to a craggy face, and light shone from pure white eyes. Beside him stood a pair of paladins just a hair smaller than your average ogre. They glowered at Marie-Bell but remained silent.
The shield on his back radiated divine power just as her sword and armor did. He bore the third piece of the set and the only one to never have been lost, the Shield of Indomitable Might. It was said that whoever carried it couldn’t be defeated in battle.
Marie-Bell bowed. “Sir Collin. An honor to meet you.”
“I’m sure. More to the point, where did you find those artifacts? The sword has been lost for decades and the armor since the fall of the pass.”
“I quested with my companion in the Haunted Lands. We fought many battles, but finally succeeded in recovering both items.”
“Quested? Your angel sent you? You, a girl given her power by a fluke? Why?”
Marie-Bell bristled at the insult but kept her cool. This was her chance to find out about the threat. Surely if anyone knew about it, Sir Collin did.
“My partner warned of a grave threat and said the artifacts would be needed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t terribly specific and he hasn’t spoken to me since. I don’t know if the threat has passed or is still approaching. He indicated that there was some debate amongst the angels about whether or not to tell us more. Please, sir, have you heard anything?”
As she spoke, Sir Collin’s frown had grown deeper and his glowing eyes narrow. “I have heard nothing. Nor have any of my subordinates. My first thought is that you dreamed this warning, but the artifacts in your possession argue otherwise. Whatever the case, you must now hand them over.”
“Sir?”
“You will give me the sword and armor. Once I possess all three divine artifacts I will be able to defeat any threat that might appear. Obviously, that is what your angel intended, otherwise we wouldn’t have encountered each other.” Sir Collin paced and nodded to himself. “Yes, it was destiny that you should bring the artifacts to me, so I could unite them. Nothing else could explain why you would end up with two holy items and I only one. The angels didn’t wish me to risk myself retrieving the artifacts, so they sent you to do it in my stead.”
Marie-Bell listened with growing horror. Her partner hadn’t said anything about turning the sword and armor over to anyone.
“Um, Sir Collin, I’ve already bonded my soul force to the items. They wouldn’t be of any use to you. At least not while I still live.”
He waved his hand. “That is easily remedied. There’s a ritual to separate a paladin from her angel. Once you’ve been reduced to your proper station in life, the sword and armor will be mine to wield. As I said, it’s destiny. We’ve long considered your investiture a mistake that needed fixing. The time has obviously come to move forward.”
Marie-Bell inched back. Whatever she had thought Sir Collin might do, this certainly wasn’t what she expected. She’d rather die than lose her partner.
“Come now, girl,” Sir Collin said. “The ritual is long and tedious. The sooner we begin the better.”
“No. I will never let you separate us. Not while I have breath in my body.”
Sir Collin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s not up to you. I am Grandmaster of the Paladin Order. You will do as I command!”
Marie-Bell straightened and the armor grew warm around her. “I serve Heaven and my partner. No mortal man, his rank be damned, can command me. These items will remain in my possession until my partner tells me to surrender them.”
“Why must you be difficult? Take her into custody.”
Sir Collin’s guards drew their swords and advanced. She glared at them. No paladin could harm another unless she lost favor with her angel. These men had to know that. If they thought to intimidate her into giving herself up, they had badly miscalculated.
They seemed to realize it too. Both men put their weapons away and kept coming. They might not be able to hurt her, but they could still restrain her.
Marie-Bell ran.
She darted past the tents at warlord speed.
The guards were right on her heels and gaining. Naturally Sir Collin would have powerful paladins as his personal guards. No way she could outrun them.
Marie-Bell angled toward the kingdom camp and slowed to a normal jog.
The guards shot right past her.
Marie-Bell ran toward the center of the camp. The king should be there. She’d met the man and surely he would offer his protection.
She ran into what felt like a brick wall and landed flat on her butt. Damien stood looking down at her, his eyebrow quirked.
“Sorry, my mind wandered.”
He grinned and held out a hand. “I’m shocked. What’s the rush anyway?”
“I—”
The answered to his question came running out from between two tents. The guards stared for a moment then stalked toward them.
“Friends of yours?” Damien asked.
“No, or at least not at the moment.” She let Damien pull her up. “I should get going. Is the king in his tent?”
“Yeah, I just left him. My master is getting ready to explain why he shouldn’t be in the field for something as dangerous as this. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”
The guards were only a few paces away now. They couldn’t hurt Damien since he wasn’t evil, but no one needed a scene between the grandmaster’s guards and the most famous sorcerer in the kingdom. She couldn’t let Damien get dragged into paladin business.
“That’s okay, I can find my own way.”
“Turn the girl over to us,” one of the guards said.
“No.”
So much for not getting him involved.
“This is an internal matter and none of your concern,” the second guard said.
Damien turned to face them head on. “You’re wrong. Marie-Bell is my friend. If you goons are giving her a hard time it’s very much my business. Now get lost.”
The guards looked at each other as they tried to decide what to do.
Their hands crept toward the hilts of their swords.
No, no, no, don’t do that!
“You two pull those swords and I’m apt to lose my temper.” Damien’s tone was even but filled with steel.
They froze, hesitated, then one of them said, “We’ll pick this up later.”
The guards stomped back toward the paladins’ camp. Marie-Bell’s heart slowed to a normal rate.
“Where’d you find those two?” Damien asked.
“Long story. Thanks for the help.”
“My pleasure. I hate guys like that. Anyway, how about we go see if Uncle Andy has any tea left?”
“A cup would be lovely.”
Hopefully it would settle her nerves so she could figure out what she was going to do about the grandmaster wanting her artifacts. There had to be some way to handle the problem that didn’t end with her powerless or dead.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Sig stalked from one end of his mammoth-hide tent to the other. When he’d returned from the meeting every ogre he passed shied away from him. His anger caused waves of soul force to roll off of him. It was a waste of power and as soon as he got inside he brought himself marginally under control. He also didn’t want to accidentally hurt Ilda. She lay curled up on their bed of furs like a content cat.
Heaven’s mercy she was beautiful. Just looking at her brought his temper down. At least until he thought of how the king dismissed him and Damien didn’t even have sense enough to fear him. Fools, the pair of them. After he won this war and the two years of peace had passed, he’d be proud to lead his army back to conquer this land. Whatever minor loyalty he’d felt for the people was long gone.
If only the Ice Queen had allowed him to strike Damien down when he had the chance. It would have been so easy. But of course she refused, binding his power and taking control of his body. If Sig had harbored any doubts about who ran the show, that dispelled them.
“Try to calm down,” Ilda said. “Tomorrow’s your big day. You need to be rested and focused. Put everything else out of your mind.”
Sig spun, stomped over, and dropped into the furs. “How can I? He was right there. One strike and I could have had my revenge. And what did the dragon do? She stopped me cold.”
“The queen dictated the terms of your revenge when you agreed to be her champion. Remember what you told me? You have to wait until after the war. What did you think would happen when you defied her?”
Of course, Ilda was right, he just didn’t want to admit it. He sighed and laid his head in her lap. “I know, I know. But if I hadn’t tried, I always would have wondered.” He reached up and squeezed her hand. “I’m okay now, though I’m not certain I can sleep.”
“Perhaps I can help you relax.” Ilda’s hand ran down his chest.
Sig groaned. Sleep was overrated anyway.
A mental prod from the Ice Queen woke Sig from a dead slumber. Ilda had done wonders to take his mind off his problems. He kissed her shoulder and slid out of bed. No one said anything about when the battle was to begin, but if she wanted him awake and moving, he figured it would be soon.
He pulled on his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. Breakfast would be good as he didn’t want to fight on an empty stomach. He didn’t like thinking about the enemy general, but he couldn’t deny that her power was equal to his. If they squared off in single combat the results were unknowable. That thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
“I’ll get you some food.” Sig hadn’t noticed Ilda coming awake.
Ilda slid out of bed revealing flawless blue skin made more beautiful by the occasional scar. As a berserker she could have healed the wounds perfectly, but many ogres left scars intentionally to show how many battles they’d fought. It seemed foolish to Sig, but he was in no position to criticize ogre culture.
“You don’t have to.”
She pulled on her silk dress and tossed a fur cloak over her shoulders. “I don’t mind. This may be the last day we spend together.”
“Don’t say that, you’ll curse me.” He tried to smile but it twisted into a grimace.
Her answering smile appeared genuine and content. “Death in battle is something all berserkers learn to embrace. If you fall, I will mourn, but to die in the queen’s service is a great honor. I shall return shortly.”
She ducked out of the tent, leaving Sig alone. There were many honors he sought but dying in the dragon’s service wasn’t among them. He still had to face the possibility. The enemy was powerful, more powerful than any kingdom forces the ogres had ever faced. He suspected the Fire King’s army could have destroyed their escorts with minimal losses.
He sat back on the bed and stretched out with his sorcerous senses. Since the Ice Queen granted him a fragment of her power, his range had increased a great deal.
It didn’t take long to find his counterpart. She shone like the sun among her people. But she didn’t shine alone. There were many warlords and sorcerers in the southern army. He suspected his berserkers were outnumbered at least two to one.
Luckily, they had the advantage in overall numbers. His extra ten thousand fighters would wear down the enemy. Even warlords couldn’t fight forever.
He shifted his focus east and soon found Damien’s soul force. It was as powerful as ever and he hadn’t even had to bend a knee to a dragon to get it, but soon enough he’d find out just how feeble he was.
The tent flap swished as Ilda entered. She carried a tray heaped with meat and eggs. Where she’d found eggs, he couldn’t begin to guess.
She sat beside him and he took a bite. The eggs had a bitter, iron aftertaste. “What are these?”
“Frost drake eggs. Dozens were gathered for the before-battle meal. They’re supposed to bring good fortune in battle.”
Sig grunted and switched to the meat. Tasted like reindeer rather than mammoth, thank goodness. “We could have used some of these before we went after the linnorm.”
“Yes, as I recall all you ate was some half-cooked steak. How far you’ve come since that night.”
How far indeed. Sig finished his breakfast and strode out into camp with Ilda on his arm. The ogres were all up and moving around, tending fires and readying weapons. None of their faces were twisted by fear. They were probably as eager to die for the dragon as Ilda.
Every monster offered a nod of respect as he passed. There was no need to meet with his war-leaders since they’d spent every night of the journey south plotting their tactics. Not that there was much planning where ogres and trolls were concerned. They’d attack en masse, a wave of muscle and blue skin seeking to roll over their human opponents. Only the berserkers had orders to seek out their human counterparts and take them out.
The sorcerers would be the real threat. Sig would have to try and take them out himself before engaging the leader. It sounded so simple in his head. He feared the reality would be anything but.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Damien, along with Uncle Andy, Jen, Marie-Bell and the archmage, floated five hundred feet above and well to the east of the gathered armies. Three hundred yards of freshly harvested earth separated north from south. Seeing them gathered in such a tight space made it cle
ar just how many warriors each side had brought.
He glanced back at Jen. “What do you think?”
“Ten gold royals on the southern army.”
He grinned. “No way am I taking Sig’s side. The Voice might be crazy, but at least she doesn’t want to kill me.”
“You keep turning her down and she might decide to help him,” Jen said.
Damien’s expression turned sour. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take your bet, Jennifer,” Uncle Andy said. “That’s one hell of a lot of ogres.”
“Don’t encourage them, Andrew,” the archmage said. “According to my star charts and almanacs, the actual equinox hits at a little after noon. Assuming it has some sort of significance to the dragons, they should be starting shortly.”
Marie-Bell held herself rigid and refused to look at anyone. After the incident yesterday, she’d stayed close to Damien and so far, the paladins hadn’t tried to grab her again. Uncle Andy had a lot on his mind so Damien was taking care of this problem for him. He just wished he could do more.
It had been a job, but he finally coaxed the reason for their behavior out of her. What sort of warriors for truth and justice tried to capture and strip the power from one of their own?
Damien had always held the paladins in high regard, but after hearing her story, his feelings towards them had deteriorated. No way was he going to let them hurt Marie-Bell. The nature of their power forbade it.
“How’s Imogen?” Damien asked, hoping to get her talking.
“I didn’t see her today.” Marie-Bell finally looked his way. “She’s on patrol duty.”
Damien shifted his gaze to his master. “Patrol duty?”
“Just because there’s a big battle doesn’t mean a few of them might not decide looting would be more profitable than fighting to the death. I’m taking nothing for granted until they’re all out of our country.”
Dreaming in the Dark: Chains of the Fallen Volume 1 (Soul Force Saga Book 4) Page 30