“More than that—and do mark this, my friends—your minds must be sharper than your steel and quicker than your feet.”
The warrior priests bobbed their heads and whispered furtively to one another. Yet Justine’s eye wavered to the distance, where a tall woman sauntered forth: her short blonde hair reflected with the sun, though her pressed doublet of white and gold seemed at odds with the sheathed longsword at her waist.
Lady Amerie, Justine thought, but addressed the attendant warrior priests. “No more gawking. Ser Marcus will see to the sparring for the afternoon. Be about it.”
Marcus shouted commands at the gathering until they dispersed. Amerie brushed through the crowd and leaned forward on the wooden fence, offering a slight smile, almost forced.
“The news is not good?” Justine asked as she stepped over the fence. “Lord Theodore has returned to this land?”
“No, Justine, but not that much more comforting,” Amerie said, shrugging her shoulders. “The priesthood complains endlessly, decrying us and the masons for their unfinished cathedral.” She paused a moment, her face tensing. “They are convinced their faith will keep us safe—not the walls that are not near tall enough. I fear they will wield more than words, soon.”
The clangor of dulled steel against wood and iron echoed endlessly, but not loud enough for Justine’s comfort. The less who knew of these matters, the better. “And what has Father Curtis to say?” she asked quietly, leading Amerie through the training yard and towards the clump of stone homes beyond. “He will temper their fervor, lest he has foresworn his oath.”
“If you demand it, but no other,” Amerie said harshly and quietly. “‘All is lies in accordance with the Mother’s wishes,’ or so he tells me. Justine, I know you must see to our defenses, but if these priests are not leashed, we will dwell in a ruin, whether Lord Theodore returns or no.”
Listlessly, Justine gazed towards the training pits. The warrior priests laboured heavily, sweat dripping down their foreheads. Most had stood their ground, but a handful were covered in mud; and yet the defeated rose quickly, their eyes glimmering with resolve. No, Amerie has read it wrong. They will not forget what Lord Theodore did to them, and the risk I took. It is subjugation they fear, and that I shall never inflict on them.
“Justine?” Amerie asked suddenly, holding the gate open to Dale proper. “The priests—”
“Will stay true, my friend. If it puts your mind at ease, I shall speak to Father Curtis at the banquet tonight.”
Amerie inclined her head slightly in acquiesance, but Justine knew her friend was not satisfied. Over the long years, the knight had doubted much, even when ordered to keep silent. There is something else, too, but she will not share it under the sun.
The sun had passed its midday height. A handful of faithful and wayward travelers walked the dirt streets with heads held high, smiling and affording slight bows to Justine. She smiled in turn and placed her hand on their shoulders as she passed.
“This banquet,” Amerie said after a time, “you know what is truly is, Justine?”
“Of course I do,” Justine replied simply, smiling at middle-aged priest who clasped a black leather book firmly to his chest. “Father Curtis wants the men and women whom he trusts to meet with me and become familiar. They are another foe, just not one we will greet with sword and shield.”
“Do not give into them, Justine, we are hard pressed as it is, and if—”
“Not here, Amerie,” Justine said curtly with a smile. She suspected what her friend wanted to say, dreaded it. “In private.”
“As you say, Justine.”
In the distance an old woman leaned out a first-floor window and gazed suspiciously at a young boy and girl, who giggled as they ran.
“See those pair of younglings, Amerie?” Justine asked, pointing to the boy and a girl racing towards a discarded hoop. “These priests insist upon their faith, but that innocence, that is what they covet. So long as children run free without a care, the pact will hold.” She paused and sighed. “They recall the fear of Lord Theodore and do not wish a return to the gaols and servitude; and they know apart, that is what awaits them.”
Amerie shook her head. “They have faith, Justine, until belief in our steel and iron fades.” The knight paused, looking to and fro, then began whispering softly. “The faithful are sheep, whimsically obeying the will of their shepherd. But what will pass when the wolves encroach upon the green, and they feel the need to defend themselves? They will flee, trusting to the Mother’s judgment, and where will that lead us?”
Justine passed by the boy and girl, smiling at them, though they simply ran away with the hoop. “I am their shepherd and I will not fail them. Not again.” The guilt of the past kept her up on so many sleepless nights. Lord Theodore subjugated so many because she decided to flee the politics and in-fighting. It was cowardice, and she would not falter again. “They know that to be true, Amerie.”
“I trust to your judgment, as I always have.”
Justine turned north, down a narrow street much like the rest, though at its end stood a tall home with a walled in garden and a sapling to the east. She did not want a grand home, but Father Curtis had insisted on it. “We shall need wine,” she said, opening the door.
The ground floor had no rooms or antechambers and Justine had adorned the walls with long swords, great swords, claymores, halberds, and two-handed axes. A wide hearth stood upon the eastern wall, with couches and chairs gathering around it. Justine leaned her scabbarded longsword, Resolution, against a tall backed chair. “Sit, Amerie.”
Striding across the floor, she retrieved pewter goblets from a cupboard and poured two glasses of white wine. “From the vineyards, out to the east. Brennon swears by it,” she said whilst handing Amerie a goblet.
The knight took in the aroma, smiled slightly, and took a long sip. “If I had known Brennon had any taste for wine, I would have accepted his courtships seasons back.”
“Brennon?” Justine asked coyly, slumping down in a chair. “You have not shared this with me before.”
Amerie went beet red. “I, er, he tried to woo me when we were squires. He had a charm about him, and …”
“He brandished his sword and you thought it uncouth?”
“H-his swordsmanship is, uh, it fared, Justine. Do we not have other matters to attend, besides Brennon’s, um, prowess?”
Justine smiled; it had been too long since she thought of any man that way, but she knew such indulgences must wait. Duty called. “The northern fortifications?”
“It meets our eastern and western walls, but that is all that can be said for it,” Amerie began, her smile slowly fading as she stared into the hearth. “It is no more than waist high. Marcus has worked the masons hard, and he dare not relent.”
Justine took a sip of the white wine. She did not look forward to the conversation with Father Curtis. “You do me no favours tonight. The cathedral will not stand until next spring, if that.”
“That cannot be helped.” Amerie placed her goblet on the floor and turned to Justine. Her deep blue eyes glimmered, but her brow creased with worry. “And it is not the end of our difficulties.”
“Lord Theodore,” Justine mused. Two seasons had nearly come and gone, though the lord had always been a distant spectre. She did not think he would stay away for long.
“The castles and fortifications in the north lie abandoned,” Amerie said solemnly. “Since the autumn, at the very least. I do not know why it took so long for the scouts to mark that.”
“East. They have gone east.”
“Where else could they go, Justine? That is not what worries me.”
Nor I. “The lords that assisted Lord Theodore. He took them east. The king must know by now that we are here. That may embolden more of Lord Theodore’s allies. We have a foe upon either side.”
“And,” Amerie began sullenly, “a priesthood who thinks a cathedral will shield them. Strong arms will shield them. We will shield them.
Father Curtis must see that, but it will not be enough.”
Justine swallowed the last of her white wine. “You want to look for Irwin Kole?”
“I do not think we have any other recourse. If we had any allies in Trecht, they are all but spent. Irwin Kole, the men and women who love him, they would fight for us, for you, if Lord Theodore holds a sword ‘gainst our throats.”
“I fear he will.” Justine said, and her eyes drifted to an iron banded chest to the left of the hearth. A heavy iron padlock locked it, but she knew the crystallized stone stirred within. Dormant and still, it never left her mind. Reluctantly, she drew her gaze from it; buried as it was, she did not want to hear its call. “Take only who you can trust. Leave at dusk.”
“It shall be done,” Amerie intoned and she left.
Justine walked to a low table near the front-facing window. Shifting through a stack of papers, she unrolled a worn parchment that revealed a map of Dale, or what it would look like when the masons had finished their work. She stabbed the corners with slender, ornate daggers.
Looking to the west where the training yard lay, armories, forges, and barracks were marked behind it, though unfinished. She traced her finger eastward, past lanes of homes and market squares, to open swaths of land that nestled against the eastern fortifications. There shall be no lords or noble get, but magistrates must hear matters of law and justice. I still do not know whom should head such a charge, though we will build their halls, blessed by steel and faith.
Her finger drifted southward, towards the end of the cliff and the natural harbour beneath. Three months past the workers completed the docks and landings, and a handful of priests whose families had been shipwrights constructed long boats and small galleys. Our strength at sea—frail as it is—remains just as strong as arms with steel. More, we have learned much concerning Lord Theodore, and when he returns, the ships will provide warning. It must be stronger, even if the priests do not understand it.
Then her eye drifted to the northern gate, and just towards the right was a crude, stunted building with the words Cathedral of Light beside it, though it was yet little more than a foundation. The Light is their shield, but they must wait. The Mother forgive me.
Suddenly the front door swung open. An older man with greying hair stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on a cane. Justine seized a dagger from the table.
The man met her eyes and said, “I am unarmed and alone. You will have no use for that.” He pointed dismissively at her raised dagger.
“I warned you that the blood debt was not paid, Lord Arthur.” She did not lower the steel.
“The girl I raised would not slay an unarmed man.”
Justine stiffened. “That was long ago. You are a butcher, no less than the king. None of my knights would mutter injustice if I cut your throat.”
“They might,” Lord Arthur protested, walking towards the hearth. “Do put a fire in the hearth, for an old man.”
Justine gripped the hilt of the dagger hard, her knuckles whitening. Rivers of blood flowed in the streets of Trank on account of the lord and the wretched king he served. Yet Lord Arthur had sat where Amerie did, resting his cane against the chair.
“I am not your father, but I raised you better than this,” Lord Arthur said flatly. “Even in this mild spring, these old bones need warmth.”
It is only for what you were, my lord. Justine sheathed the dagger at her waist, tossed a couple logs into the hearth, and struck flint and tinder until it blazed.
“A warmth I have missed,” the lord mused. A skirting smile spread across his face. “I am not a man of the sea.”
“Why are you here?” Justine demanded, uncaring for whatever discomforts the lord had suffered. Lord Arthur simply stretched his bony hands out, oblivious. She slammed into her seat and grasped Resolution’s scabbard, baring an inch of steel.
Lord Arthur turned suddenly and glanced at the steel. “Jonas never raised steel to me, but you are so much like him. He did not understand the politics of the court, and for that ignorance he is dead. Lord Theodore, hmm, he did and remains alive, but mayhap not for long.”
“If you have come here to taunt, my lord—”
“I have not,” he snapped. “I came to your city guised as a hopeless traveler, as so many have done before. I am unarmed, my escort is leagues away, and I have much to say. I know better than to taunt.”
Justine slowly slid her steel back into the scabbard and leaned it against the chair once more. “Why have you come, my lord?”
Lord Arthur shifted in his seat, but his cold eyes never left her. “The king has learned of the strife between you and Lord Theodore.”
Justine’s eyes shot to the chest, but she cursed herself for it. When she turned back to the lord, he smirked. “And you affirmed it for me.”
“It is my father’s burden,” she professed. “It is no concern of yours.”
Lord Arthur rapped his cane upon the floor. “Then you understand less. Your father did not act alone. ‘Tis all our burden: yours, your father’s, mine, and Lord Theodore’s.”
Justine laughed. “All Lord Theodore sees is power and subjugation. He is no more than a thief whose recklessness ambitions breeds death.”
“While not entirely untrue,” Lord Arthur said solemnly, “your father and I were not the only ones who knew of the crystalline stone that you now possess. Lord Theodore was a trusted advisor to the king, far before that curse was ever found. Yet when it came to the king, we were all there. We saw it. We heard the whispered name—God Stone—and we watched as King Adrian changed.”
“Changed?” Justine asked, frowning. The words were far too similar to that of Lord Theodore’s.
“Yes, changed,” the lord replied. “The king was not always cruel and hard. He was kind, caring, almost like the priests you protect. He sat in judgment of knights, peasants, and nobles. More than once the commons called him King Adrian the Just, but that was so long ago.
“Whence the king grasped the God Stone, he seldom took advice or called council. Petitions came as they once did, begging for judgment; the king took the life’s blood of the accused and the accuser for the simplest matters. It was not long before the lesser lords quavered at summons, and even I walked the castle with trepidation.
“Before long your father cracked. He summoned Lord Theodore and myself in secret, laying out his intentions to take the God Stone from the king, but he needed our help to see it away. I urged him not to give into such foolishness, that our duty was to our king, but Lord Theodore, he did not agree: he pushed your father, even hired mercenaries to aid him in the theft.
“I warned, I warned him what would come of this. I warned him that your life would be forfeit, but he insisted on it. The fool pressed on. I distanced myself from the pair of them, but did not speak a word. I did not know what his plots entailed, only that they faltered, and that Lord Theodore was guiltless.”
“Guiltless?” Justine exclaimed, unable to contain her anger. Not at the claim, but what Lord Theodore professed two seasons back that he did not act when her father did. She did not want to share that with Lord Arthur. “The mercenaries, and, he had the crystalline stone when we fled!”
“I could never convince Lord Theodore to share what went wrong, and Jonas would only say that his death would bring the change we always wanted, but he made me promise to shield you from all this. I did.”
Father, why did you not … she thought solemnly, before letting it all drift away. Lord Arthur still stared at her. “You want the God Stone?”
“I would not have that trinket near the king,” he replied, shaking his head. “You must keep it hidden, keep it secret, but that is where your peril lies.”
“Speak plainly,” Justine demanded.
Lord Arthur sighed and stared into the hearth as the words spilled out. “Undoubtedly you are aware that Lord Theodore sailed east, lest your scouts mire you in ignorance.”
“I took your lessons to heart, my lord.”
&nbs
p; “That is well,” he said. “Not all the lords who flocked to Lord Theodore’s banner are as loyal as he may think. There are a few who listen intently, then send birds to Trank. The land to the east is flat with green plains stretching through the summer, but at its heart is a sea of mountains, and within its depths lies a treasury of ore and metal. Lord Theodore mines those mountains and crafts weapons, armour, and engines of war, all whilst huddling in caves. He will return, and it shall not be long in coming.”
Justine leaned forward in disbelief. Lord Theodore’s return was inevitable, but Lord Arthur’s words made it so real. Our defenses are not ready. “Two seasons back, Ser Brennon trained a guard for the lord. Not for war, but they shall be more than nobles with expensive steel.”
“More than you can surmise,” the lord intoned solemnly. “That guard is more than just the sons of nobles that Ser Brennon trained. The eastward ships brought mercenaries and bandits. Lord Theodore commands an army steeled to the teeth.”
“How soon?” Justine asked, fearful of what would come. The warrior priests were far from ready to battle legions of mercenaries. “How soon will they be on my shores?”
“I do not know,” Lord Arthur replied, his eyes transfixed on the roaring flames. “None of the whisperers are within his inner council, but he will not wait long.”
Moments passed in silence. Justine looked to the bent lord. He looked so tired, a shell of what he was, but she would not let his sins be washed away. “The blood debt is not paid for this warning.”
Lord Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “I am not your enemy, Justine, whatsoever you may think.”
“Whatsoever I may think, Lord Arthur?!” she shouted. “I shall not forget that you shielded me from my father’s crimes, raised me, and set me upon the path of knighthood. Yet under your orders, Ser Gerold was sent to that gathering, where I was sent, and I—”
“Did you ever stop to consider why I sent you there?”
The only reason Justine could recollect was the order: to ascertain the names of all who planned to act against the king and bring them before the crown for judgment. Is that what he meant, or … “What did you scheme? And why could you not tell me?”
The Prelude to Darkness Page 13