“Thank you, my friend, but you need not have bothered.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I am fasting.”
Aric nodded slowly, but her smile dimmed. The two of them had long debated the positive and negative effects of fasting. Aric, who believed proper nutrition was paramount to maintaining good health, could not understand why a man would willingly starve himself for days on end.
As a priestess of the healing goddess, Aric was concerned with caring for the body. Stannel’s training, on the other hand, had taught him that one could deny the flesh in order to empower the soul.
Today, Aric did not voice her protests about how he was making himself more susceptible to sickness—or what a fine warrior he would make if he lacked the strength to swing his claymore.
Instead she said, “Don’t you think it might be a good idea to dine with the men…for their sakes, if not for yours?”
Stannel said nothing at first. He had, in fact, considered this aspect of his fasting. As the new commander of this fortress, he ought to spend time among his men, socializing with them and showing them what kind of leader—what kind of man—he was. And to some degree, he had been doing so ever since Colt and his party departed.
Dinner, however, was a special case. Meals were a time for camaraderie, an event where a commander could relate to his men on a more intimate level. It was also an opportunity to make friends.
But the truth was Stannel wasn’t interested in making new friends—not yet.
“They will always see you as an outsider if you hole yourself up in your room,” Aric said. There was no reproach in her words. She spoke only out of concern for him.
“I concede your point,” he began, “but I will not be a good leader to them if my thoughts are clouded. That is why I fast and meditate. I may not be their commander for long…for when Colt returns, I intend to abdicate…but in the meantime, I intend to do the best that I can.
“If that means I must immolate conviviality for pragmatism, then so be it.”
Aric’s expression softened. She took a seat in an old wooden chair that rested against the wall. Other than the bed and small table, it was the only other piece of furniture in the small room.
“Thank you for thinking of me, Aric,” he said as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. “But I must do as I see fit.”
“You always do,” Aric replied with a little laugh. “But you can’t blame me for being concerned. How are you really holding up?”
Stannel offered a slight smile. “I might ask the same of you. We have lost many friends.”
The healer glanced down at her folded hands, and when she looked up again, her eyes held a faraway look. “When new initiates are accepted into Mystel’s ministry, the first thing they learn is that death is a part of life. Man is mortal, and no matter how good of a healer you become, you will never become the master of death.”
Stannel nodded.
“In many ways, we healers are not so different from the Knights, only our wars take place after yours. Our battlefield is the body itself. Every healer has lost patients. It’s inevitable. In my profession, you become well-acquainted with death. He’s the unwelcome visitor in every infirmary, always leering over your shoulder.”
Stannel remained quiet. Although Aric had come to see to his welfare, she had come for her own as well.
“Many patients have died under my care. Each death is a loss, but a healer must never feel defeated by them. Although we wield the goddess’s power, we are only mortals. When it is time for a person to die, nothing can thwart that destiny. I have lost many patients, and I have lost more than a few friends.
“But never before have I lost so many friends at once.”
Her voice trailed off as she finished, and Stannel saw her eyes were glossy with tears.
“There was nothing you could do,” he stated. “Nothing either of us could have done.”
Aric produced an unconvincing smile. “I know that, and I hope you truly believe that too, Stannel. You were their commander, but even if you had been there, the result would have been the same.”
Stannel nodded again. While meditating, he tried to cleanse himself of guilt. It was important to learn from the past, but one must never let it hamper the present or the future. The fact was, his men were dead, and he was alive. The gods—Pintor himself—must have had a reason for sparing him.
He could only pray he would prove worthy of that gift.
“How are your patients here?” Stannel asked, broaching this new topic as much to leave the past behind as to amass information pertinent to his new command.
“All of them are on their way to recovery.” She signed. “All of them except for Toemis Blisnes, that is. The longer he sleeps, the more likely it is that he never will wake from the coma.”
“What about Ruben?”
Aric smiled, and perhaps it was the first genuine smile of hers Stannel had seen since learning of Fort Valor’s demise.
“Thank the Goddess, he will be fine,” she said. “The goblin arrow didn’t puncture any vital organs. Mystel willing, Ruben will be back on his feet any day now.”
“What about the men who were injured before we arrived?” Stannel asked.
“Plake…he’s one of the Renegades…well, he is faking his injuries. He says he suffers from headaches, but they aren’t distressing enough to stop him from complaining from sunrise to sunset. In truth, he suffers from naught but a broken nose, which is healing nicely.”
“And the Renegade Leader?”
“Aside from Toemis, Klye is perhaps my most perplexing patient. He had a burn on his hand, and his body is covered with more cuts and bruises than I can count, but none of them are enough to keep him bound to a sickbed,” Aric explained.
“Klye is faking too?”
“No,” she replied. “If it were up to him, he would have left the infirmary long ago. He’s terribly weak, however. It must be an effect of the shaman’s magic. He’s recovering slowly, but there’s little I can do to hasten the process, seemingly.”
Stannel listened as Aric described the condition of Matthew Fisk, a Knight who had nearly lost his life to Lilac’s enchanted blade, and was pleased to learn that Sir Fisk looked as though he was going to pull through after all.
A little while later, Aric stood and said, “I really ought to be getting back to the infirmary. I want to be there in case there is any change in Toemis’s condition.”
Stannel walked the healer to his door. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”
“I would say the same to you,” she shot back with a smile. “Please call on me if you need someone to talk to…even though we somehow always end up talking about me!”
“You are more helpful than you know, my friend.”
They said goodnight, and Stannel shut the door behind her. He paused for a moment, looking out the window at nothing in particular, before resuming the cross-legged position in the center of the floor. Shutting out the savory smells wafting from the tray of food and ignoring its effect on his empty stomach, Stannel closed his eyes and reached out for the warm embrace of the Great Protector.
* * *
Lilac was dirty and bone-weary, she and had a headache to boot. Despite all of that, she listened patiently to the horrible events that had happened in Rydah.
She had seen the results with her own eyes—the capital in ruins, its citizens slaughtered—but even after hearing Else and Gomez’s account of the goblin attack, she had plenty of questions. Although she wanted only to curl up and sleep on the dusty floor, Lilac knew she must learn as much as she could before returning to the fort.
Since Else was sobbing in Mitto’s arms, Lilac looked to Sir Dylan for the answers.
While many of the other Renegades, including Klye, had few good things to say about the Knights of Superius, Lilac had always held a great respect for the defenders of the realm. At times, she had envied her younger brother, Gabriel, who had made their father proud by joining the
Knighthood. She had learned a lot about the Knights from Gabriel, including tips and techniques to improve her swordplay.
She couldn’t help but be reminded of Gabriel when she was around Knights. Perhaps it was their general attire, or maybe it had to do with the way they carried themselves. Gabriel had certainly held himself with more dignity after being knighted. Whatever it was, Lilac had seen her brother’s face while sparring with Dominic Horcalus. And Colt, who was roughly the same age as Gabriel had been, unwittingly imitated her brother from time to time.
Maybe it was her great longing to see Gabriel again that so frequently summoned his ghost. Certainly, Horcalus was more rigid and proper than Gabriel had ever been, and Colt, with his dark eyes and brown hair, didn’t resemble her brother physically.
Nonetheless, Lilac couldn’t help but see Gabriel Zephyr while looking at Sir Dylan.
Judging by his age, Dylan hadn’t been a Knight for very long. There was an obvious listlessness in his bearing. When Dylan’s gaze met hers, she realized that she had been staring at him.
Hoping her cheeks weren’t turning red, she asked, “What has become of Corrine Minus? And what of the other survivors? Surely the goblins didn’t kill everyone.”
The Knight fixed her with a scrutinizing stare before replying. “Lady Corrine should be safely to Kraken by now. As for the others, well, a few were fortunate enough to escape the slaughter. A small contingent of Knights managed to hold the monsters off long enough for some of the civilians to flee. Those survivors are now residing in Hylan, where they depend on the farm folk for food and shelter.”
“How many Knights accompanied them there?” she asked. “What is left of Rydah’s garrison?”
“You certainly ask a lot of questions,” Dylan returned flatly.
“We are here on behalf of Fort Valor in order to learn everything we can about the goblins’ movements,” Lilac explained. “Commander Stannel will want to know how many allies remain in the region.”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you were from Fort Faith.”
Opal abruptly rose to her feet. “Fort Faith recently underwent a few changes after the goblins destroyed the original Fort Valor. Now Fort Faith is called Fort Valor, and Stannel Bismarc commands there instead of Saerylton Crystalus. I’d be happy to share the whole story if you have a day or two, but if you think we’re goblin spies, nothing we say will change your mind.”
Sir Dylan blanched at Opal’s candor and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Lilac tried her best to hide a smile. It was nice to have Opal’s sharp tongue on her side for once, not that she expected it would happen often.
“I…I didn’t mean to offend,” Dylan stammered. “It’s difficult not to be suspicious when the enemy can disguise himself so convincingly.”
“We understand,” Lilac said, “but we’re going to have to trust one another if we are to have any chance at ejecting this foreign army.”
When Dylan hesitated, the old man in the black cloak—Else had called him Gomez—said, “Gods above and below, Dylan, just tell the lady what they she wants to know. If they were goblin spell-casters, they’d have killed us long before now. In case you’ve forgotten, the monsters don’t take prisoners.”
Dylan seemed to struggle with the decision a moment longer before answering. “Three Knights escorted Lady Corinne to Kraken. The rest of the warriors…there are less than fifty…remain in Hylan, prepared to give their lives to stop the goblins’ advance. But we have no way of knowing whether the enemy will pursue them south or if they will go west.”
Or both, Lilac thought.
Surely there had been hundreds, maybe even thousands of warriors stationed in Rydah. Add their deaths to the Knights who perished at the original Fort Valor, and, by Lilac’s calculations, the goblins were well on their way to conquering the eastern half of the island.
“Who is in charge of the remaining forces?” Lilac asked.
“A sergeant by the name of Dale Mullahstyn leads the Knights,” Dylan said, “though Captain Ruford, an officer from Rydah’s coastal guard has a say in what goes on. He’s more experienced than Sir Mullahstyn.
“For the moment, they are preparing what defenses they can in case the goblins hit Hylan next. Volunteers like Else, Gomez, and myself, use this cottage as our base. We have been making daily trips to Rydah, looking for survivors and trying to learn what we can about where the goblins went. You were the first living people we’ve found.”
Lilac nodded, committing the information to memory. She glanced over at Gomez and found him staring at her.
Perhaps the old man sensed her curiosity for he said, “You might be wondering why me and my boys are working with the Knights. Well, we’re only too happy to do our part! Rydah was our home as much as it was theirs. And anyway, the goblins are the enemy of all humans. Even if we headed for Kraken or Steppt, the monsters would likely be right on our heels.”
Lilac smiled grimly. The Renegades—Klye’s Renegades, anyway—had come to that same realization.
“We should be leaving,” Opal announced.
“At least stay the night,” Gomez offered. “You’ll not make it far if you’re dead on your feet.”
“Two of our companions are missing. We must find them and get back to the fort as quickly as possible,” Opal replied.
Lilac cast a sidelong glance at the other woman. What was this talk of looking for Colt and Cholk? Hadn’t they already decided that completing the mission was the most important thing? She wanted to confront the headstrong woman right then and there but thought it best not to argue in front of Dylan and the others.
Not that she had the energy for another disagreement with Opal.
“We understand,” Dylan said. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t go near Rydah. The goblins’ camp is somewhere to the west of the ruins.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Lilac said. The idea of staying at the cottage to sleep for a while was tempting, but she knew they couldn’t afford to waste time. “And thank you for your hospitality.”
Dylan grunted. “What hospitality? We accuse you of being goblins and can’t even offer you a meal…or a chair to sit in.”
Opal rose to her feet. “Let’s hope next time we meet, it’ll be under better circumstances.”
“Indeed,” Dylan said.
Then the rest of them stood except for Mitto and Else. The merchant continued to hold the woman. Clearly, he had no intention of leaving Else’s side anytime soon. Mitto had wanted only to reach Rydah. He had never planned on accompanying the troupe back to the fort.
Although she didn’t know Mitto very well at all, Lilac was sorry to leave him behind. If nothing else, he was a brave man who had risked his life to get back to his home—and to Else, apparently. Lilac prayed the two the two of them would find peace together.
Her eyes met Mitto’s in a silent farewell as Dylan walked her, Opal, and Othello to the door. The Knight muttered brief goodbye, and then the three of them were swallowed up once more by the cool night air.
Passage III
Othello took the lead without being asked. Lilac followed, aware of Opal’s presence only by the sound of her footsteps behind her. A sliver of moon provided more shadows than light.
Her hand resting on the pommel of the vorpal sword, Lilac kept an eye out for signs of the enemy. As tired as she was, she wondered if she could muster the strength for another battle should the goblins attack again. Othello’s quiver was nearly empty, and neither he nor Opal were adept at hand-to-hand combat.
Opal made no mention of tracking down Colt and Cholk after they left the cottage, and neither did Lilac.
Ever since she had joined Klye’s band of Renegades, determined to protect Ragellan and Horcalus from assassins, she had felt a sense of purpose and of true accomplishment. In the end, she had failed Chester Ragellan, but Horcalus was still alive because of her efforts. Never before had she been a part of something larger than herself, and the combination of self-satisfaction and cons
tant danger was more than a little intoxicating.
She had been glad to join Colt’s company, not only for the chance of avenging Ragellan and her brother, but also because she yearned for the chance—any chance—to make a positive difference in the war.
By no small miracle, they had made it to Rydah. If the three of them were killed now, the Knights and Renegades back at Fort Valor might never learn what had become of the island’s capital. She could only trust that the gods would get them back home safely.
And it would probably take divine intervention to dissuade Opal from her fool’s errand.
As they walked, Lilac stole what glimpses she could at the night’s sky to confirm the direction they were traveling. But even though autumn’s winds had swept the leaves from some of the treetops, many held fast to their foliage, like old misers hoarding what they must surely lose in the end.
She never once questioned Othello’s choice in paths. If what the others said about Othello were true, the archer had spent most all of his life in a wilderness like this. Anyway, he seemed confident in his path.
At dawn they rested for a few hours, but none of them wanted to linger, so they resumed their hike with aching feet and grumbling stomachs. The forest looked entirely different during the day. At night, there were odious silhouettes lurking everywhere. In the daytime, however, the setting was more awesome than it was awful.
The colorful leaves on the trees and the sweet smell of those that had already fallen reminded Lilac of better days, back when she and Gabriel carefully constructed piles of leaves, only to scatter them a moment later while jumping into them.
They saw no sign of any goblins that day or the following night. When they stopped to make camp that next morning, Lilac was beginning to feel they might make it back to the fort alive after all.
As soon as they stopped, Lilac leaned against a tall, slender birch and slid down to a sitting position. Opal, on the other hand, announced she was going hunting.
“At this rate, we’ll starve before we make it home,” she said. “There has to be something besides goblins in this forest.”
Williams, D M - Renegade Chronicles [Collection 1-3] Page 73