“Okay, I don’t want any of you to panic,” Maggie called up to the three riders. “Something is going to happen here that might cause you some alarm, but I want you to remember that I have everything under control, okay?”
“She’s going to turn into a bird or something,” Aiden whispered loudly to Ronan, who gave him a curious look in response. Contrary to this statement, Maggie did not, in fact, turn into a bird of any sort, and instead put two fingers into her mouth and blew out a piercing whistle. Nearly a minute later, Aiden was giving serious consideration to grabbing the raelani by the hand and pulling her over the saddle so they could get on with the journey, when he suddenly froze, staring at something approaching through the trees.
It had been difficult to see at first because it was mostly white, but as it came closer, Aiden could see he was looking at a tiger, its white fur interspersed with vertical black stripes that gave it surprisingly effective camouflage. He had seen mountain lions and bobcats in his time, but this was the first instance that Aiden had ever seen a tiger, and he had to wonder if they were all as massive as this one.
“Watch out, Margaret,” Sir William warned as their horses caught the scent of the approaching predator and tensed up, snorting and rearing their heads in alarm. Maggie still had all of the reins and continued to whisper softly to them as the big cat approached, unperturbed. It loped easily over the frozen ground, speeding up as it came closer.
To Aiden’s surprise, the horses did not bolt as the cat finally arrived, practically bowling Maggie over as it nuzzled her with genuine affection. Maggie whispered into the ear of the great cat, and then drew the horses in closer with a gentle tug on the reins. The horses cautiously leaned in and sniffed the tiger, who responded with a throaty purr as it licked their noses, one at a time. Even Bastion, whose training might make him more prone to attack, nuzzled the great cat as if they were old friends.
“I’ll be damned,” Ronan breathed, watching the scene unfold with fascination. “That’s one of the more amazing things that I’ve ever seen.”
“This is Thorn,” Maggie explained when her face wasn’t covered by the cat’s huge tongue. “I had to leave him out here when I went into the city, as you’d expect. The poor thing has missed me terribly, it seems.”
“Did you train him, or are you using some trick to prevent him from eating the horses?” Aiden asked, dumbfounded at the display.
“If by ‘trick’ you mean ‘prayer to the God of Nature’, then yes,” Maggie answered slyly. “Without my influence, Thorn would make a meal out of your horses, but I’ve curbed their instincts. They’ll be good friends for now, but after a few weeks apart they’d forget all about that and revert back to their normal selves. I’ll tell you more about it at the end of the day, as I have a sudden desire to feel the wind in my hair.”
Maggie released the reins and with a gesture, the tiger flattened its body onto the ground, allowing the tiny woman to climb it as if it were a horse. There was no saddle or reins to hold her in place, yet that didn’t seem to worry her. As it climbed back to its feet, Maggie ran her fingers through its thick fur and moved into position, using her legs to hold her in place.
With a word, Thorn leaped down the road, loping along at a brisk pace and kicking snow into the air. With a grin, Aiden shook the reigns and prompted his horse to follow, with the others close behind as they began the journey south.
They rode for hours, making good time as they cantered along through the undulating countryside. The farms of Fairloch thinned out after a while, giving way to a forest of pines that obscured the majestic mountain ranges to their west.
It was roughly midday when Sir William called for a break, for which Aiden was silently thankful — his legs were already sore, and he had some difficulty dismounting. What pain he was experiencing was nothing compared to Ronan however, for the sailor unceremoniously fell of his horse and lay on the ground unmoving.
“This is why I prefer the sea,” he muttered with a strained voice as Sir William offered him a hand.
“Nonsense, there’s nothing like a brisk ride through the country to brace your spirits,” the old knight said, sounding more like his old self.
“It might be an hour or two before I can get back on,” Ronan cautioned as he hobbled over to a nearby tree.
“You’ll become used to it soon enough,” Sir William assured him, clapping the sailor on the shoulder. “I recall my first few days riding a horse in my youth, and—”
“Days?” Ronan interrupted. “This lasts for days?”
“You’ll live,” Maggie shrugged, easily sliding off Thorn to land gracefully on the snow. “Let’s have a bite to eat before we move on.” They didn’t bother to light a fire, and ate fresh bread and cheese.
As he ate, Aiden glanced around at their surroundings, and noticed a building of some sort off in the distance. The details were too faint to make out, but Sir William was able to offer some insights.
“That is my estate, Highlorn,” he explained as he ate. “My squire and his family harvest lumber and produce wheat, as the seasons dictate. The Bryce-Clifton’s have tended the surrounding lands for four generations, of which I am the last.”
“You have no children?” Maggie asked, to which the knight shook his head.
“My first and foremost duty has always been to the Crown, and I have, regrettably, neglected other aspects of my life. When I pass on, Highlorn will be given to another knight to tend, and the Bryce-Clifton name will fade from memory.” He sounded melancholy as he spoke. “I do apologise for my earlier reticence, as I was dealing with some weighty issues.”
“I think we know each other well enough by now to talk about such things,” Maggie said, running her hand through her tiger’s thick fur. “Speak your mind, Sir Knight.” He explained the death of his old friend, Patriarch Corvyn Elward, and took a few minutes to convey the full weight of his loss. The two of them had been friends for over forty years, and had helped each other through difficult times. Aiden and the others expressed their condolences, which the knight received with quiet dignity.
Like the duke’s aide Sir Godfrey Davis, Corvyn had been promoted while Sir William had been passed over, growing apart from his friends and comrades. There was an issue that needed clarifying, however.
“You and Sir Godfrey are not of the same Order, correct?” Aiden inquired.
“No, he is of the Order of Aielund, as are most of the king’s knights these days,” Sir William replied. He stuck out his chest, brandishing his heraldic breastplate so that they could see what was etched upon its surface. Aiden had seen the spread wings of an eagle upon it before, but it was faded and indistinct. Upon closer examination, however, he could spy something gripped in the eagle’s talons.
“Is that a flower?” Ronan asked, also paying it close scrutiny.
“A rose,” Sir William clarified. “I am of the Order of the Rose Eagle, who prize chivalry and honour above other concerns.”
“That explains a few things,” Ronan remarked to himself.
“One hundred and eighty years ago, it was the pre-eminent Order of knighthood in the realm,” the old knight went on. “It was a bulwark of ethics and standards in a less civilised world. Now, most of the younger knights have taken up with the Order of Aielund, for as the world changed over time, notions of chivalry were deemed to be of less importance than mercantile and political concerns.”
“Are there many Rose Eagle knights left in the realm?” Aiden asked, suspecting what the answer would be.
“I was the last to be inducted into the Order, decades ago, and even then it was considered archaic. With my passing, my family name and the Rose Eagles shall be no more.” The old knight explained all of this with a measure of sadness, though Aiden suspected he was keeping the full extent of his feelings in check.
“So, there it is, my last great battle is against entropy itself,” Sir William finished, his mood turning black once more. “I have no heirs to carry on my name, and no great me
mories to comfort me in my twilight years. If you ever wondered why I was not called upon to serve more often, it is because I was considered to be upholding ‘unproductive values,’ and was looked down upon by the other knights. And though you were kind not to say it, I failed in our fight against the cultists.”
“Wait a moment,” Aiden protested. “We were sorely outnumbered in that battle, and I saw you stand against five men at once, not to mention the dark powers their high priest conjured against us.”
“That was the benefit of Solas Aingeal, for the hand of God was upon them,” Sir William clarified, laying a hand on the hilt of his holy weapon. “Had my aged body not failed me, we might have prevailed with fewer casualties. I am compelled to ponder what benefits my presence offers on your quest, Mister Wainwright, for it is neither fortitude nor strength I possess in abundance.”
“You underestimate your value, Will,” Aiden replied, clapping a hand onto the dejected old man’s shoulder. “Your loyalty and wisdom are more than enough, even if you did not carry such a powerful weapon at your side.”
“When we succeed in dealing with my Order,” Maggie added, “and returning to Fairloch with the Sceptre of Oblivion, you will have the glory that you seek, and the thanks of a grateful nation.”
“Would that it was enough to stave off the oncoming darkness,” he muttered, casting aside the remaining crumbs of his lunch and climbing atop Bastion once more. Aiden exchanged a concerned glance with the others before they all took to their mounts again, following Sir William as the old knight raced against the inevitable.
Chapter Three
Accustomed to travel as he was, Pacian nonetheless found the journey from Fairloch to be tedious and boring for the most part. The sky was grey with heavy cloud, hovering over the frozen landscape of empty fields, all covered with the blanket of winter. The road itself was heavily trafficked, as trade between the cities of Fairloch and Stonegaard was brisk, leaving the muddy road rough from the passage of so many wagons.
As the party trundled along the interminable road, the Stonegaard Mountains, shrouded in fog, grew larger and more distinct. Their majestic peaks were intimidating to behold, though the novelty wore off quickly. All-in-all, Pacian would much rather have spent the time talking to Nellise, or at least having the option to look at her from time to time.
Valennia, true to her word, was easily jogging alongside the wagon. Her earlier protestations against riding horses had a ring of falsehood about them, and Pacian suspected she didn’t actually know how to ride and resorted to bluster to cover up her weakness.
His view at the front of the wagon was dominated by the rear end of the ox that pulled it along, and the merchant was more than pleased to have someone to talk to for a change. His name was Austin Campbell, and he was boring Pacian to tears.
“If you take the time to look to your right, young sir,” he was saying, as if someone had appointed him as an official tour guide, “you will notice the tremendous view afforded by our increasing altitude. Notice the inlet over yonder? If you look closely, you can see the twin forts that guard the entrance. I’ve travelled this road for nearly thirty years…”
In an effort to save his sanity, Pacian let his mind wander while maintaining the appearance of paying attention. Now and then he’d voice a surprised ‘You don’t say!’ or ‘How about that,’ to continue the illusion. The view was quite impressive, but he didn’t need someone telling him about it, because it was right there. His ears popped as they continued to slowly climb through the foothills, the inexhaustible ox continuing to pull them along without complaint.
Eventually, Pacian’s generic platitudes wore thin on Campbell, and he quietened down for the rest of the day. Pacian dozed off after a while, bored beyond measure and more than happy to catch up on sleep. He awoke just as the sun was setting, and noticed that the wagon had come to a stop at a large, open area off the side of the road. A dozen or so other wagons were parked nearby, and large fire pits filled with wood were being lit by the people who would be their neighbours for the night.
“This is MacKenner Plateau,” Austin explained as he jumped down from the wagon. “It sits halfway between Fairloch and Stonegaard, and serves as a decent campsite for travellers like us. I hope you bought some warm blankets, as you’ll be sleeping in the coldest place in the north.”
“Just like home,” Valennia murmured between heavy breaths that sent mist wafting around her head. Pacian wrapped his cloak tightly around him and stepped down, shivering in the bitter cold despite his thick clothing. Aside from the merchants and travellers gathering around the fires, the plateau was devoid of life. They were right at the beginning of the Stonegaards, positioned between two huge mountains that made Pacian feel insignificant.
An even more captivating view awaited him at the edge of the plateau, which overlooked the route they had taken through the foothills, winding through the snow like a snake. As the light continued to fade, a heavy fog settled over the land as far as the eye could see. Through the thickening mist, the twinkling lights of Fairloch could be seen fighting off the encroaching darkness, lending a dream-like quality to the landscape.
Pacian was unaccustomed to deep thinking, but the sight from atop one of the highest ranges in the land of the largest city in the known world, in all its evening glory, made him more contemplative than usual.
“Magnificent, is it not?” Nellise said quietly, coming to stand alongside Pacian. “I haven’t been up here since I was a little girl, yet aside from a few more lights in the city, the place has hardly changed at all.”
“You’d think some enterprising bloke would build a proper inn here,” Pacian grumbled, shivering slightly. He was pleased she was talking to him again, though he kept his excitement well hidden. “There’s good money to be made here, and I for one wouldn’t mind handing over a few coins for a nice warm bed tonight.”
“We’ve been through worse,” Nellise hinted.
“On the frontier, sure,” Pacian shrugged, “but this is supposed to be the beacon of civilisation. Yet here we are, smack-dab in-between two major cities, freezing our backsides off. I should warn you — with conditions this cold, we may have to share a bedroll for warmth. You know, to survive.”
“You have a singular talent for killing the mood, Pace,” Nellise sighed, turning and walking away, leaving his smile to fade as he realised he’d pushed too far, too early. He smacked himself on the forehead and berated himself silently. The lines he usually relied on to warm his bed on a cold evening were only useful on regular girls.
“You’ll just have to keep yourself company tonight,” Sayana consoled him in mocking tones, giving him a pat on the back as she walked past. Pacian glared at her, his eyes boring holes in her back as she hurried after Nellise.
Shrugging off his introspection, Pacian went to stand by one of the fire pits, the flames providing a welcome relief from the icy wind. They dined on cured meats brought with them from Fairloch, roasted over the flames until crackling with flavour. Outside of the immediate circle around the fires, the temperature was plummeting even further, so Pacian set up his bedroll close to the nearest pit, with the partial shelter of a nearby wagon providing a measure of relief from the wind.
There was little point in staying up, as there was nothing to see or do on the barren plateau. The small crowd of travellers began to seek their tents around the same time as Pacian, resigning himself to huddling around the fire for the night. The exceptions were those enterprising merchants who had left a little space in their wagons, just big enough for them to sleep in. Austin Campbell was one of them, forcing Nellise and the other women to find an empty patch of ground, just like Pacian.
As he piled on the blankets, Pacian was suddenly surprised to find someone slipping in beside him. A sly smile found its way onto his face as he realised Nellise had taken him up on his offer. Rolling over to face her, he found himself nose-to-nose with Valennia.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, hopi
ng Nellise wasn’t seeing this.
“You made a good point before,” she replied in a similarly hushed voice. “I will share your bed this evening, Pacian, although your previous performance back in the city does not fill me with confidence.”
“I don’t even remember that,” he protested, momentarily torn between his unreciprocated dedication to Nellise and the prospect of companionship for the evening. As her cold hands started furrowing around underneath his clothing, he finally relented and just went along with it. She was, after all, soft and warm, with many fine qualities one might look for in a partner.
“Try to keep it quiet,” he whispered as his heart started to race. “I don’t want to put on a show for the rest of these bastards.”
“They won’t even know what happened,” the akoran woman assured him as she grabbed his backside with both hands.
* * *
If anyone overheard the amorous activities going on beneath Pacian’s blanket during the night, nobody mentioned it the following day. They set out shortly after dawn, every one of the travellers eager to be done with the journey, and Pacian sat on the driver’s seat once more, watching Valennia jog alongside with mild amusement. He had offered to give her a break by relinquishing his seat, but the proud woman had refused, as Pacian knew she would. If he thought for a moment she would have accepted his offer, he would never have made it.
Pacian found it refreshing that her attitude towards him hadn’t changed as a result of their dalliance. They had some fun, and didn’t let it affect their lives, which he was just fine with. Most of the women he had bedded in the past couple of years seemed to expect something more the next day, so he had learned early on to vacate the area at the earliest opportunity to avoid complications. Pacian and Valennia seemed to be of like mind, however, and he barely gave it another thought for the rest of the journey.
Soldiers of Ruin Page 5