by Justin Sloan
She frowned, then chuckled. “I suppose we just are. If you want to believe it’s a separate being, go right ahead. Some still do, even as adults. Others, such as myself, have come to see the light. But if you were to ask a mystic to look into your head and find an answer, I can assure you, it wouldn’t be the one you seem to want.”
“Thank you. For that, and for your hospitality.”
“You’ll be back with the horses,” she replied, then pointed at his chest as she added, “I will have my horses returned to me, whether you all survive this or not.”
“We’ll succeed in our quest, and you’ll have your horses,” he replied, then nodded his farewell and left to find the others. As soon as he turned, he came face-to-face with one of the horses, currently ridden by the water mage Gordon.
“This is how it’s going to be?” Gordon asked. “The rest of us waiting on you?”
“I’m trying to better grasp my magic.”
“Better try grasping a leadership position on this mission of ours. You’re the only one who has a chance of finding this magic sword, so what do you say we get moving?”
Leila tried not to smile, but Alastar noticed.
“Do I need to remind everyone that I was instrumental in taking down the sorcerers?” Alastar asked. “Why do I feel like I’m being chastised for enjoying my one day between battles?”
“Maybe it’s about who you enjoyed it with,” Leila remarked wisely, but when he asked her what she meant by that, she smiled, nodded to Gordon, and walked off. “Do be safe,” she called over her shoulder, before ducking into a doorway of a friend’s house.
Alastar sighed and turned to Gordon. “Do I want to ask what that was about?”
“No,” Gordon replied, and then pulled his horse around. “Get saddled up.”
“If I didn’t know how to heal myself, I’d say there was no way I could even walk after riding yesterday.”
“Too bad your ability to heal doesn’t make you a better rider.”
“I’d like to heal your lips together.” Alastar, not meaning it to come out so harsh, instantly regretted saying it.
Gordon looked at him with surprise, then nudged the horse on. Alastar kicked at a mound of dirt, then followed him. On this journey to save the land, he was going to be accompanied by a guy he was on rocky footing with, a sister who didn’t seem particularly happy with him, and a lover he was not supposed to be loving while they were out.
They were riding out to meet remnant and sorcerers in battle, but that didn’t seem to be the worrisome part here. At least he knew how to kill those.
At the stables, he found Rhona and Estair atop their horses. Kia and Donnon were there to wish them luck.
“Remember, anyone gives you trouble, you send them to me to deal with,” Kia ordered. She was still young, but Alastar felt sorry for anyone who crossed her.
“Will do.” He smiled at her and gave Donnon a hearty handshake. “And you, big guy. Be sure to stay close to your daughter. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Aye, she’d be the one to protect me, not any of you lot,” he agreed with a chuckle. He adjusted his kilt, then stood with his thumbs tucked into its waist. “And you watch your sister. She comes back with a single scratch, I’m holding you responsible.”
“You and me both,” Alastar confirmed.
He mounted his horse with the man’s help. Just moving around in his armor was tough, and it was nearly impossible to mount a horse by himself.
“The four horsemen,” Donnon pronounced with a chuckle. Alastar only got the reference because of old stained glass they had found in some churches, though he was curious what Donnon knew about them.
“Well, two,” Kia corrected. “Two horsemen, and two horsewomen.”
Rhona smiled and said, “How odd that you hadn’t noticed,” to Donnon, who blushed and made some comment about him having plenty of time to notice such things when she returned. Alastar did his best to block that part out.
“Gross, Dad!” Kia groaned, then waved at Alastar as he rode off.
“Yeah, gross,” Alastar agreed with a chuckle, then looked back at his companions. “You coming or what?”
Gordon couldn’t help but smile in spite of the annoyed look in his eyes, and Estair laughed.
“You just focus on staying on your horse,” she cautioned. “We’ll focus on keeping you alive long enough to find this sword.”
“Deal.” He spurred the horse on, already hating the shooting pain each bump sent through his legs.
CHAPTER TWO
The stars glittered in the night sky as the four riders left the village behind. Rhona rode next to Alastar, with Estair and Gordon single-file in back of them. Gordon had insisted he take the rear, to keep a lookout for anyone coming at them from behind. Estair was in the center so that she would be protected enough to shoot her arrows at attackers coming for their party from any direction.
While they all knew magic of one type or another, they figured it would take too long to cast and agreed that they should first use weapons if they were caught off-guard, both for speed of response and because magic was draining. They had to keep moving fast, since none of them knew when Master Irdin and his sorcerers might return.
Riding at night wasn’t easy on the horses, and more than once Rhona heard her brother mutter a curse as his horse nearly tripped. It was necessary, though, to leave at night, because they didn’t know who might be out there watching. They wanted to make as much progress as possible before sunrise, then rest and move on again around midday.
They rode in silence for some time, but when the moon was high overhead they paused to dismount and walk the horses to keep a low profile against the bright sky. Movement in the lands below them gave the impression of the ocean, but they hadn’t ridden nearly far enough yet for that.
Now that they were stationary and could focus their sight, it became clear it was an army moving on the ground below. Remnant, if Rhona had to guess. Even from here, the wind carried their stench—like moldy bread and mud.
“At least they’re headed north,” Gordon stated, “and not east.”
“If they’re headed in any actual direction,” Estair replied, pointing to a few that were starting to meander more to the northwest. As they watched, more and more started breaking off in that direction, then the rest of the group followed. “They seem to be moving at random, all going with the larger group, until a bunch split off in some other direction.”
“Point is, this group likely won’t block our path.”
She grunted. “That’s a plus, for us anyway. Not so much for any clans they might stumble across.”
“When it comes time, we’ll put together an army and push them back into hiding,” Alastar vowed. “They’re too dangerous to have walking about like this.”
A glow appeared from the far side of the group, then another, followed by the sound of someone shouting.
“What in the…?” Alastar craned his neck to see.
Rhona put a hand on her horse to keep her calm, straining her eyes. She knew what the glow was before she confirmed it.
“Paladins. They have the same idea as you, brother, but it seems they think they can do it on their own.”
Alastar grunted, but she could see in his eyes that he had a nascent longing to be out there with them, swinging his sword among his brothers-in-arms.
“You’ll be back with them when this is all over,” she reassured him, “if that’s what you want.”
“I’m a paladin, now and forever.”
Rhona glanced at Estair, who wore the same frown she imagined on her own face.
“There are good men among them,” Alastar declared. “Men who fight for what’s right, who stand for something.”
“Lots of men stand to take a piss,” Gordon commented. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only way to take a piss.”
“I literally have no idea how to interpret that,” Alastar spat, his voice full of annoyance. “Are you telling me I should sit down to pee? Is that
what clansmen do? The kilt helps with that, or—”
“No, you daft man.” Gordon pulled his horse back from the edge of the hill, and Rhona did the same so they could ride out of there before the scuffle below ended.
“He’s saying you can do good without the label,” Rhona offered. “I think.”
Gordon shrugged. “More or less.”
“By the Saint, can you all—” Alastar stopped abruptly, then took a step back.
Rhona wasn’t sure why until she glanced ahead and saw what he had seen—two dozen paladins, gold cloaks flapping in the night wind, white, polished armor bright as the moon in the night.
They looked to be moving toward the remnant, likely to stage a rear attack and catch them from both sides to cause a panic. But now they had paused too, eyes on Rhona and her companions.
One of them stepped forward. He wasn’t recognizable, so Rhona figured he must belong to one of the paladin outposts. “What business do clansmen have out here at night, and…by the Saint, are those horses?”
She licked her lips, glancing back at Estair and Gordon with an eye toward being ready to make a move.
But Alastar had a look of determination in his eyes and, with a flash of gold light in his legs, he was up on the horse. It was the first time she had seen him mount a horse on his own; she figured the flash had something to do with it.
There were mutters from the other paladins. Some were amazed at the horses and wanted to take them, and others reminded the group that they should focus on attacking the remnant, that they had a mission.
“I think we could attack the remnant much more effectively with four horses of our own!” one of the paladins argued, but at this Alastar rode forward with a cluck of his tongue, pulling the horse to a stop sideways between the paladins and his friends.
“They’re under my control,” he said, and let his eyes glow gold.
The other paladins pulled back at this. Seeing a paladin on a horse came as more of a shock to them than three clansmen riding beasts they hadn’t even been sure still existed.
“How—” the paladins’ leader started, then straightened and stepped forward. “Order of Rodrick?”
“I serve under the High Paladin himself, and am bringing these prisoners and these horses back to His Holiness.”
“I am Sir Traton,” the paladin said. “And you, sir?”
“Sir Alastar Blackthorne,” Alastar replied.
A couple looked at each other at that, and Alastar wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. Was it possible word of his supposed betrayal had spread? Of course it was. Not only possible, but likely.
He held his position, however, and let his eyes flare gold again. It wasn’t normal, by any stretch, for anyone but the High Paladin to be able to make his eyes glow without invocation. Even then, the High Paladin usually intoned a prayer before asking for blessings. When he didn’t, he called it divine intervention.
So Alastar’s action caused the paladins, all but Sir Traton and two others at his side, to step back, bow their heads, and mutter a prayer.
“May the Saint shine light upon you, brothers,” Alastar offered, and then nodded to his friends before leading them past the paladins.
The paladins didn’t move, but as he passed, Sir Traton reached out and put a hand on Alastar’s horse, causing him to pause.
“The High Paladin is waiting,” Alastar reminded him.
Sir Traton glared as he hissed, “We have remnant to fight, but know that I’m coming after you with a larger force when this is done.”
Alastar met his stony gaze. “And know that on that day you will die.”
He brushed the man’s hand aside and continued forward. They weren’t far past the paladins when Sir Traton gave an order and, with a battle cry, the paladins charged in to take the rear of the remnant by surprise.
Rhona turned to see them meet their enemy, the clash of the melee loud in the otherwise quiet night.
“They knew your name,” Estair said. “Why didn’t they attack?”
“Power,” Rhona answered for him, and Alastar nodded.
“They fear what they do not understand. Put four warriors on horseback, you already have them almost there. Add me using abilities they attribute to only the High Paladin, and of course they would rather face an army of remnant.”
“But they will return for us,” Rhona stated. “If they think they can track us down, they’ll come.”
“Then we’ll just have to stay out of their reach,” Estair replied. “Crossing the waters ought to do that.”
“If we can even find a way across,” Gordon grumbled. “There’s still that.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Estair noted. “All those remnant, then the paladins. It’s like the sorcerers are out there just waiting for the people of Roneland to eat ourselves from the inside. Then they can move in and finish off anyone who’s left.”
“Actually, that might be exactly what they’re doing,” Alastar told her. “Which might mean that we have time yet before they attack. The paladins won’t be done with the remnant anytime soon, and the clans are strong. If this theory has any merit, we might just be able to find this sword and return in time to change the tides of war.”
“Baby steps. First we need to get out of here,” Rhona added with another glance over her shoulder to see if the remnant were being pushed back. She understood the idea behind finding the Sword; the High Paladin had always spoken with such awe of its magic, and she knew the king of Gulanri would join them once they had it. There would be no standing against them with the king on their side, that was for sure. However, she also knew it was a gamble setting out to find the sword in the first place.
Gordon nodded and pushed his horse into a gallop, the others staying close behind even with Alastar’s constant grunts of pain.
CHAPTER THREE
Although her father had insisted they get a full night’s sleep before beginning their mission, Kia found that sleep didn’t come easily the night before riding off. Add in her worries about Rhona and the others, and she had only been able to sleep for a couple hours. The rest of the time was spent staring at the ceiling and flashing back to those sorcerers and their magic.
Her father had always told her to hide that her magic was different than the others. Not only had she skipped the phase where others saw spirits or familiars, but she could control fire without a nearby flame. No one else even considered that possible. While fighting to save their lives, it obviously hadn’t been such a big deal. Now she wondered where they stood on the issue.
When they went out to the surrounding clans, would she be expected to stand by and pretend like everything was normal, or would she serve as an example of how their situation had changed?
She finally gave up and, opening the door carefully to avoid waking her father, crept out into the early morning. The sun was still just a faint light beyond the clouds on the horizon, a distant glow that sent long shadows across the village.
She still found these people strange; the water mages and their kin. She had almost forgotten about the others visiting, the outsiders who had come seeking refuge after paladins or remnant had destroyed their homes. But as she made her way to the kitchens to see if there were any leftovers, she spotted a small boy by the river. He was moving his hands in a complicated pattern that resembled waves, so at first she expected to see him manipulating water. When she drew close, however, she saw that there was a wind spirit hovering before him, the two in some sort of staring contest.
“They’re not real, you know,” Kia said. Suddenly the wind spirit was gone and the boy leapt up, spinning to face her.
“I was just watching the water,” he said, face pale. His eyes narrowed as he took her in. “Oh, you! You’re that sympathizer girl, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you.”
“Excuse me?”
“The one who’s friends with a paladin.” He shook his head as if she should be ashamed. “The rest of us don’t appreciate that much.”
“So
you speak for the rest of the clans, do you?” Kia folded her arms across her chest.
“Well, no, but my uncle says—”
“You uncle’s an idiot.”
The boy stepped forward, moving his hands again as his eyes turned black, but Kia held out her hand, palm up, and made a flame dance there. It was tiny, but threatened to be so much more.
“I dare you,” she challenged, smiling in the knowledge that the fire’s reflection would be casting creepy shadows across her face that added to the intimidation factor.
“My uncle saved me,” the boy muttered, eyes wide at the sight of the flame. He stumbled back and sat again, black fading from his eyes. “He wasn’t able to save my dad, but he saved me.”
Kia let her hand fall, knowing the answer before she asked. “Was it remnant or paladins?”
The boy gave her a look that confirmed her suspicion and then replied, “Paladins,” as if to rub salt in the wound.
“Not my friends,” she retorted. “The paladins are after them too, for betraying them. For turning from their ways and helping us.”
The boy looked doubtful. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, the boy watched the darkness and the moon’s reflection on the water. Kia sat down beside him.
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Me too. And I know they’re not real…the spirits. Not like my dad was, anyway. But sometimes my uncle is too busy with clan responsibilities, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
“Even if it’s an imaginary wind spirit?”
He nodded.
“You can talk to me.” She offered a smile, but he didn’t notice.
“Thanks.” He looked up, cautiously. “You know, I met them. The mystics that your friends traveled with.”
“You met actual mystics? The good ones, right? I mean, I heard the stories too, about the fight at the Fortress of Stirling, but to actually meet them…”
He smiled, proud now. “It was brief. Out near my home, or in the general area, anyway. I saw their magic, saw their eyes turn white, and knew what they were.”