The Last Bucelarii Book 2: Lament of the Fallen

by Andy Peloquin

  His sodden leather armor clung to his body. Sweat had long ago soaked through his tunic and jerkin. Every time he wiped his face, his arm came away covered in road dust. He could only imagine how uncomfortable Visibos and Sir Danna had to be in their plate mail.

  He was only too glad to stop when Sir Danna called a halt a few hours past midday. The knight turned Pathfinder toward a small stand of pine trees a short distance from the main road.

  Visibos fumbled at the buckles of his half-plate armor, pulling the hot metal over his head with jerky movements. "Gods save us, that is good!" He slumped, groaning with relief.

  A cool breeze whispered through the trees, kicking up fallen leaves and dust from the road. The Hunter drew back his hood and let his hair fly free in the wind. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation and basking in his escape from the heat.

  Even Sir Danna looked glad for the rest. Visibos helped her to remove the heavy plate mail, though the knight scolded her apprentice when he dropped the armor. "A knight must treat his equipment with care."

  The Hunter allowed Elivast to graze free alongside the knights' horses. The chestnut gelding whinnied and bent to crop the long green grass.

  The Hunter's stomach rumbled when Visibos produced three portions of rations.

  More Watcher-damned trail biscuits!

  The meal passed in companionable silence. Visibos's scrutiny bored into him every time he gazed elsewhere. When he tried to catch the apprentice's eyes, the man looked away.

  Sir Danna stood and stretched, working the kinks of the morning's ride from her muscles. The Hunter watched her from the corners of his eyes, unable to get over his curiosity. This woman—this knight—she was a novelty, one he could not quite figure out.

  She must have sensed the Hunter's eyes on her. She caught his gaze, her expression hardening. "I know what you're thinking, Hardwell."

  The knight's words caught the Hunter off guard. "Wh-What?"

  "You're wondering how I—a woman—became a knight." It was not a question.

  "The thought did cross my mind, though I would never have framed the question so indelicately."

  Sir Danna didn't return his weak smile. "My father was a poor merchant, one with far too many daughters and no sons. I was the youngest of six, and he deemed me an expense he could ill afford."

  The Hunter glimpsed a hint of sorrow in the knight's eyes, though her expression never changed.

  "He sought to give me to one of the orders of priests. I know the arts of the Maiden or the Bright Lady are deemed more…appropriate for women. Thankfully, my father saw that my desire lay in the arts of war. He took me to the city of Malandria, where he gave me into the care of the Beggar Priests."

  The Hunter's eyes widened at the name.

  "The Beggar Priests accepted me gladly, trained me, and eventually gave me the honor of joining the Order of Piety. I am a knight of the Beggar Temple, and it is a badge I wear with pride."

  The Hunter's stomach sank.

  Something had felt off about these knights, but he had chosen to ignore the voice in his head. Now, his fears had come true.

  Chapter Nine

  "Are you well?" Sir Danna's voice filled with concern. "Hardwell?"

  The Hunter's mind whirled.

  Beggar Priests? Trained warriors, in service to the Beggar God? Surely, they can't be—

  Mocking laughter echoed in his mind. 'Fool! You ignored my warnings, and look what happens.'

  "Hardwell?" The knight's voice pierced the Hunter's thoughts.

  "Y-Yes, my lady?"

  "Is it your wound? Are you ill?" Worry painted Sir Danna's face.

  "I am fine, Sir Danna." The Hunter tried to sound calm, though a maelstrom of fear, dread, and anxiety seethed in his mind. He scrubbed his hand across his face. "Just the heat of the day."

  The knight patted him on the shoulder and climbed to her feet. "Then rest, friend Hardwell. I will pray to the Beggar that you recover soon, for we ride in an hour."

  The Hunter gave Sir Danna a weak smile, which seemed to reassure her. Visibos stared at the Hunter, naked suspicion written in his expression.

  Ignoring the apprentice's scrutiny, the Hunter set his back against the tree and closed his eyes. He pretended to rest, but the demon in his mind denied him peace.

  'You must leave now! If you do not, they will discover your secret.'

  I cannot leave. It will look too suspicious if I ride away now.

  'Then you have no choice. You know what you must do, before they find out who you are.'

  Temptation warred within him. Caution warned him to heed the demon, but the Hunter had no desire to kill the priests. Not yet.

  Soulhunger remains hidden. These featherglass lenses hide my eyes. My face is unknown to them, and they have no reason to suspect I am anything more than the simple soldier of Praamis I claim to be.

  Who was to say the knights even knew of the Bucelarii? The truth of the demons and their offspring was a secret known to few. Could these warriors discover his true identity? Could he take that chance?

  The demon raged. 'They are servants of the Beggar God. They will kill you if you do not kill them first!'

  A gentle throbbing in the back of his mind echoed Soulhunger's desire. The blade, too, ached for death.

  The Hunter would not give in. Not all priests of the Beggar God want my death! Father Reverentus—

  'The fool only used you to achieve his own ends! Even if he meant you no ill will, what makes you think these priests will be so understanding? Or have you forgotten the other priests?'

  The Beggar Priests in Voramis had stared at him with naked hatred in their eyes. To them, he was worse than scum.

  'What if these two try to do what the priests of Voramis would not? Even if they do not kill you, they will drive you away.'

  The Hunter wanted to protest, desperate to deny it. Yet in his heart, he knew it to be true.

  The demon's snarls turned to whispers. 'This is why you hide your eyes. This is why you hide Soulhunger and the Swordsman's blades. Not all who serve the gods are as accepting of you as the old priest in Voramis. You are afraid they will discover the truth. The day you are recognized for what you really are, that is the day you will be forced to kill them.'

  The Hunter's eyes fell upon the sleeping form of Sir Danna. Gentle snores rose from beneath the leather cap pulled over her eyes. Visibos had lost himself in the pages of a book produced from his bag. The peace and quiet of the scene seemed a heartbeat from shattering. Only a weak disguise prevented them from seeing the true Hunter.

  So be it. I will bid farewell to these knights.

  A great weight settled on the Hunter's shoulders. Just that morning, for the briefest of moments, he had shared something akin to camaraderie with his companions. Now he had to give it up, all for the sake of survival.

  But not now. I must bide my time. The masquerade of Hardwell of Praamis will suffice until we can part ways.

  The demon snarled, impatient.

  I can't ride away now. When I depart, it must seem natural. Better to avoid arousing the apprentice's suspicion. Or would you have them hunting us to our journey's end?

  The demon relented, and the throbbing in his head faded to a dull ache. Rubbing his eyes, the Hunter drew the hood of his cloak over his head. He retreated into the comfortable darkness. He needed time to think, to craft a plan.

  A gentle breeze wafted past, pushing back the heat of the day, though it failed to quiet the turmoil in his mind. Visibos' quiet muttering and Sir Danna's snores added to the peaceful calm of the shade, yet the Hunter found himself anxious to move on. The faster they traveled, the sooner he would be rid of the Beggar Priests.

  He forced himself to stay awake, unwilling to relax for a moment, lest he allow his guard to slip. The morning's ride had sapped his energy. The chill breeze cooled and calmed him, and his eyelids grew heavy.

  Feed me! Soulhunger screamed in his head. Its intensity startled him, and he jolted upright.

/>   Keeper take it! Can the accursed voices never fall silent?

  Soulhunger whispered in his mind, demanding death. The demon remained silent, but the Hunter knew well its desires. A red haze tinged the edge of the Hunter's vision, turning the world into a blood-stained blur.

  He knew what they wanted. Why not give them the death they craved? It would be so easy. Sir Danna slept. Visibos's book occupied his full attention. They would be dead before they knew what was happening. He could picture the empty eyes and pale faces of the two knights staring up at him, crimson pools of gore spreading outward.

  The Hunter ached to feel Soulhunger plunging into the hearts of his traveling companions. He craved the rush of power. And if it meant he would be safe on his travels, perhaps…

  I will not! He clenched his fists. He had given in to the voices far too many times in the past. No longer.

  He shook his head to clear it, and found Visibos staring at him over the top of his book. The Hunter smelled suspicion in the apprentice's scent, the same wary odor of prey questioning the presence of a predator.

  Something about the man made the Hunter uneasy.

  He doesn't trust me. And I don't trust him.

  The Hunter steeled his expression, revealing nothing as he met the man's gaze. An almost tangible scent of animosity tinged the air around the two men. The breeze, once so refreshing, pressed in on the Hunter with an intense heat.

  A loud snort from Sir Danna broke the silence, snapping the tension. The Hunter's eyes flicked to the knight.

  "What?" She jerked upright, her hand twitching toward the sword at her belt, her eyes darting around. Suspicion flitted across her face. Then she saw Visibos, and her uneasiness melted away.

  Visibos gave her a reassuring nod. "All is well." His eyes flashed once to the Hunter, but his expression held none of his earlier distrust.

  "Good." Sir Danna leaned back against the tree once more. "How much time has passed?"

  "A little over half of an hour, my lady."

  The knight peered up at the heavens.

  "Do we resume our ride so soon?"

  Sir Danna shook her head. "No. We wait a while yet, Hardwell."

  The Hunter fought to hide his relief.

  Sir Danna returned to her place in the shade. "Hand me the water, Visibos."

  The apprentice passed the water-skin, and the knight tipped it up to her lips.

  "Ahh, a refreshing gift from the gods."

  A muffled snort rose from the apprentice. "Tepid water, my lady? Would that you had allowed me to bring along a few skins of wine, as I intended."

  "Wine is for the weak, my apprentice." Sir Danna regarded Visibos with a stern look. "It is for those who have not the joy of communing with the gods."

  Visibos stiffened. "Or for those of us who prefer something stronger to drink." The man's lips pressed together, his brows furrowing.

  Sir Danna held up a placating hand. "Easy, Visibos. I do not call you weak, nor consider you a failure. One day soon, you too will come to speak to the Beggar for yourself."

  Disbelief showed on Visibos's face, but he nodded. "As you say, Sir Danna." He gave her a smile—clearly forced.

  "And you, Hardwell." Sir Danna turned to the Hunter. "You say you are not a religious man, and yet my understanding is that the people of Praamis are much given over to their daily prayers."

  The Hunter nodded. "It is so, yet my father placed trust in steel rather than the gods."

  The knight shook her head. "Sadly, it is a common thing in this day and age. Even in Malandria, more and more are given over to disbelief."

  "Tell me about Malandria." The Hunter had no desire to talk about religion. "I have never heard of the city."

  Sir Danna's eyes took on a faraway look. "Ahh, Malandria. The City of a Thousand Spires. Jewel of Einan, it is called." Her gaze fell on the Hunter, and her expression grew skeptical. "A well-traveled man such as yourself should have heard of it, even if only in passing. Much of the commerce through the south has its provenance in Malandria."

  The Hunter's pulse quickened. If she found a crack in his façade, she might be inclined to disbelieve the rest of his tale.

  "Well..." He drew out the word in an attempt to stall, thinking quickly. "Most of my travels were south to the Frozen Sea, or between Voramis and Praamis. I had never considered traveling north until only recently."

  Sir Danna studied him for a moment, as if weighing his answer. "Fair enough. So you have never visited Malandria before, eh? With a week or so of hard riding, we will reach the city. You, Hardwell, are in for a treat. "

  "You mentioned before that you were from Malandria?" Perhaps talking about her past would distract her from questioning his.

  "A village a day's walk from the city. But Malandria has been my home ever since Father Pietus accepted me into the House of Need."

  "Father Pietus?"

  "The head of our order in Malandria. A kindly man, worthy to lead us in service to our god."

  "That brings a question to mind. You are in service to the Beggar God, and yet you wear armor worth a fortune. How is it that the House of Need can afford such luxuries?"

  He remembered the dilapidated temple in Voramis, with its mud streets, rickety roof, and crooked foundation.

  "The Beggar God is good to us." Sir Danna lifted her hands to the heavens. The note of zeal in her voice was unmistakable.

  "In Malandria," Visibos said, "only the Beggar God is worshiped." The apprentice's bland expression revealed none of the fervor painted on the knight's face.

  This surprised the Hunter. In Voramis, most forgot the Beggar God even existed, and the rest ignored him. None but the poor and destitute visited the House of Need, and only because they received food and aid from the priests.

  But an entire city worshiping the Beggar God?

  "And there are warriors serving among the Beggar Priests?"

  "Aye." Sir Danna's voice filled with pride. "An entire order of knights, in fact."

  "The Order of Piety."

  The knight nodded. "Trained by Warrior Priests of Derelana, the Order of Piety serves as the Beggar God's champions of justice."

  "And Visibos, here"—the Hunter turned gestured attention to the apprentice, who had buried his nose in a book once more—"he will become a knight as well?"

  Sir Danna gave her apprentice a fond smile. "Visibos is a renowned scholar, yet he is also in training to become a warrior. Though I fear his veins are filled with more ink than blood, eh, Visibos?"

  Visibos returned her smile with one of his own, though it looked forced.

  Sir Danna glanced at the sky once more. "Come, apprentice. I believe it is time to be on our way. We have much ground to cover before dark."

  With visible reluctance, Visibos replaced the ribbon in his book and snapped the tome shut. The three of them climbed to their feet, sharing groans and stretching to work the kinks from their muscles. After a hard morning of riding, the Hunter's legs trembled, his thighs protesting. He strode to Elivast, dreading the thought of mounting up.

  Sir Danna's laugh rang out behind the Hunter, and he turned to see the knight pushing Pathfinder's nose away from her saddle bags.

  "Searching for a treat, are we?" Sir Danna gave her horse a good-natured smack on its neck. "Later, Pathfinder. You will be too full to ride if you eat now."

  The horse snorted its disapproval, but stood placidly as the knight cinched her saddle. Something warm and wet pressed against his hand. He rubbed the horse's long face. The beast's calm presence felt oddly soothing.

  You and me, Elivast. We have only each other to trust.

  As he cinched the last of his bags in place and swung up into the saddle, he listened to the friendly exchange between his traveling companions.

  "Just a few more days of this, Visibos, and you will sleep in a soft bed once more." Sir Danna gave the apprentice a reassuring smile.

  "If only that were so, sir." Visibos's face creased in a rueful grin. "Malandria is over a week's rid
e away, and that's pushing the horses hard."

  "Then we shall endure the discomforts of the road, and our arrival home will be all the sweeter for our suffering. Ten days more on the road is a small price to pay to once again worship in the House of Need, my friend."

  Sir Danna patted her horse's neck and whispered into the beast's ear. The top of her helmeted head failed to reach the horse's withers. When she swung up into her saddle, the diminutive knight looked almost comical atop her towering charger.

  The Hunter stifled his grin. Sir Danna had a knight's pride; she would not take kindly to anything perceived as mocking.

  "As you say." Visibos shifted in his saddle with a grimace. "All the same, I'll be only too glad to reach the end of our travels. Beggar God knows the road hasn't been easy."

  "Aye, that he does." Sir Danna turned to the Hunter. "Come, Hardwell. Let us be off."

  Visibos gestured for the Hunter to follow the knight, and fell into place at the rear. The rigidity of the apprentice's posture and the intensity of his scrutiny told the Hunter everything.

  His distrust is plain, and has only grown.

  Sir Danna seemed an open book, yet something about her knight apprentice made him uneasy. Could the man know the Hunter hid the truth from them?

  He would have to keep a closer eye on Visibos until he found a chance to part ways with the knights.

  Chapter Ten

  Sir Danna slowed her horse to a jog and beckoned the Hunter forward. "Come, Hardwell. Ride beside me."

  The Hunter tugged on Elivast's reins, matching the knight's pace. The horse panted beneath him, a thin film of sweat covering the horse's flanks. Though the sun hung low in the sky, the heat had not abated.

  "Yes, my lady?"

  Sir Danna regarded the Hunter with a steady gaze. "I would learn a bit more about you, Hardwell. We have days of travel ahead, and I like to know those with whom I share the road."

  The Hunter's mind raced, thinking back on everything he had told her about himself—about Hardwell of Praamis.