“I don’t think I can divulge that right now,” he hedged, “but you should know that the men we fought today were from some sort of death cult, and they were part of the army the Ironlord led against Fort Highmarch at that battle a century ago. Now we know of the connection between the conspiracy against the Crown and this Ironlord, it makes a little more sense. I know you may not believe me, but I would ask that you trust my word on this.”
“As you wish, Aiden,” the duke nodded. “Misinformation is our enemy at this point, so I feel compelled to use my own judgement in determining who should know the truth. The Ironlord is a piece of living history from the distant past of this land, even before Aielund existed. It is not a man, but more of a device, similar to the constructs that our own University uses. This one contains a living spirit capable of higher thought, and bent on destruction.”
“When it was spotted moving toward the borders of our land over a century ago, King Alaric the second brought together an alliance of diverse peoples to thwart it and the cult that had sprung up around it. It was hoped they would destroy the thing, but as they soon learned at the cost of many lives, it was impossible to kill.”
“Our greatest hero, Reikthor, was at that battle,” Valennia remarked soberly. “Our shamans tell us that he held it back while your leader enacted some mighty spell to make it disappear.”
“Yes and we are deeply indebted to the akora for that alliance, however brief though it was,” Sir Godfrey replied gratefully. “It pained us to see your people taken over by a despot earlier this year, but word has reached us that your father, Morik, has reclaimed leadership of the akora, and assures us that the threat of hostilities has been averted.”
“You won’t have to put up with being in exile any longer,” Sayana remarked. “Perhaps I might join you when you return home.”
“Yes… home,” Valennia mumbled, her face an unreadable mask. Aiden thought she would have been pleased by this news, but perhaps she simply had a strange way of showing it.
“As to making the Ironlord disappear, that part is mostly true, though it was not King Alaric who eventually won the battle,” Sir Godfrey continued. He went on to explain more of the real history, repeating much of what Aiden had already learned from Salinder. When it came time to explain how they actually stopped the Ironlord, the collective disbelief from Aiden’s companions was predictable.
“A golden dragon?” Nellise whispered, glancing at Aiden in shock. Sayana also looked at him, but with eyes that seemed to accuse him of something.
“Yes and only this creature’s sacrifice prevented the destruction of our Kingdom, and the lives of our ancestors,” the duke finished. “This too was withheld from the records, and those who survived the battle were sworn to secrecy. Now, this infernal contraption is about to be loosed upon the world once more, and I can only pray that His Majesty’s army is up to the challenge of destroying it once and for all.”
“This is a lot to take in,” Sir William remarked, scratching his head.
“If swords and arrows were unable to stop it last time,” Ronan mused darkly, “what makes you think they’ll work now?”
“It is thought the Ironlord will be in a weakened state, vulnerable to such attacks,” Sir Godfrey supplied.
“And if it isn’t?” Ronan pressed.
“Then it is likely that we shall bear witness to the destruction of our Kingdom,” the knight stated flatly.
“Wait, we know of at least one other dragon in the area,” Sayana interrupted. “I have no love for such creatures or the price they ask for their aid, but could we not persuade it to provide its services in the same manner as the last?”
“From the information we have received, there are no other dragons powerful enough to do what Salinder accomplished,” the duke explained mournfully as the castellan re-entered the room with Kinsey at his side.
“You’ve had a hundred years and more to plan for this event,” Aiden stated, “and the best you can come up with is to throw an army against it? Is there no arcane device or spell that might be of use?”
“Alas, no,” Duke Montague replied. “Despite the research conducted by the University and a thorough search of historical records, there was nothing that was deemed to be of immediate use.”
“‘Immediate use’?” Aiden repeated, his ears pricking up. “What exactly does that mean?”
“The only thing we found that might have a chance of being useful was uncovered only this year, in an ancient text thought to be written by the necromancer Aeldrith before his fall into darkness,” the Duke said. “Given the source, I’m sure you can understand our hesitation to use it.”
“Given the situation, I would think you would investigate every opportunity, regardless of risk,” Aiden criticized. “Can I see this text?”
“As you wish,” the duke shrugged. “It may be at the University still, where such things are kept safe.”
“Actually Your Grace,” the castellan interrupted, “I have been reading through it of late, trying to make sense of some of the more obscure writings. I had the presence of mind to fetch it when the subject of the Ironlord came up.” He carried in his hands a large book, its cover faded with time but still legible.
“‘Ancient Artefacts from Olde Tymes’,” he spoke aloud, having no trouble with the Olde Aielish that it was written in. “I see you’ve placed some bookmarks in here, castellan.”
“Those are the sections I found most pertinent,” he explained. “The item the King did not consider using is called the ‘Sceptre of Oblivion’, thought to banish anything it touches into a distant realm.”
“And what was the problem with obtaining it?” Nellise asked.
“As I understand it,” the castellan disclosed, “there are three possible locations for the artefact, all of them quite perilous. There is mention of the dwarven city of Ferrumgaard, but since it was destroyed the chances of recovering it are remote.”
“Yes, there isn’t much left of that place,” Aiden remarked, shuddering at the memory of his time there. “It might be possible the dwarves still have the sceptre, having brought it with them to their new home of Stonegaard after the evacuation.”
“We hadn’t considered that possibility,” the duke mused, “but so much was left behind in the chaos, the chances are slim at best I would say.”
“It might still be worth a try,” Aiden suggested, carefully turning the page to where the sceptre was depicted. The sketch was faded terribly, but seemed to be an elaborately designed metal rod, not unlike the sceptre he had found back at Ferrumgaard. “What about the other possible locations for this relic?”
“If you look closer, the name ‘Feybourne’ appears at the bottom of that page,” the duke pointed out. “We believe it is referring to an earlier version of the University located in the ruined city where relics like this would have been collected. The Archmage Cuthbeort was a renowned artificer who may well have held the sceptre in his collection for a time. Of course, Feybourne has also fallen, and the time it would take to sift through the ruins and recover it would be untenable.”
“Feybourne?” Maggie chimed in, speaking for the first time since Aiden had seen her flung out of a window. “Ever since they moved into the area, my order declared it a sacred site and limited access to the ruins. That was before they became rather adversarial towards the Kingdom, too. Aiden and I were going there soon to deal with the problem, so we can probably break in and conduct a search of the place.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Aiden asked quietly, trying to avoid specifically mentioning the loss of her arm.
“I can regrow my arm,” she told him, “and I still have a job to do and I’m not going to let it stop me. I may not be able to juggle for a few days, but I can still walk and breathe, and until that changes I’m going to finish what I set out to do.”
“Did I fall asleep and miss the part where we’ve agreed to look for this thing?” Ronan remarked dryly. “If the King’s advisors didn’t think
it was a good idea to try and find it, why should we be any different?”
“Because you have the time to conduct a search,” Duke Montague said, “and also because Aiden is something of an expert in this field, is that not correct?”
“I think the wizards at the University might disagree on that point, but tracking down artefacts is a speciality of mine,” Aiden reluctantly agreed. “But more than that, I know what’s coming if we don’t do something to help.”
“Sometime soon you shall have to explain to me how you came across knowledge of this affair,” Sir Godfrey remarked suspiciously. “But, regardless, you have more than proven your loyalty to the Kingdom so I have no compunctions about allowing you to take the lead on this task.”
“What about this third place you mentioned?” Ronan asked. Sir Godfrey and Duke Montague glanced at each other in trepidation as the old man cleared his throat before answering.
“Understand that this is purely conjecture at this point,” the duke began. “The two locations mentioned in the text are quite clear, but there is another possibility. As I said, this tome was written by Aeldrith, before he began the dark path of necromancy. After he was defeated by the Church of Aielund, he fled to what is now referred to as the ‘isle of the dead’, not far off the coast, there to live out the remainder of his days in exile.”
“You think he might have taken the sceptre with him,” Aiden surmised, drawing a nod from the castellan. “Then if we don’t find it at the other two locations, we may have to find out if the rumours concerning that benighted island are true.”
“It is a remote chance, but if all else fails, that may be your only hope,” the castellan warned. “I implore you to search Feybourne and Stonegaard thoroughly first, however, because if even half of what I have heard about the isle is true…”
“Well, let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” Aiden agreed, recalling the sight of the island from on board the Redoubtable and feeling a chill run down his spine.
“To Feybourne, then,” Pacian nodded.
“I am more than willing to help in this noble endeavour,” Sir William said, looking at Pacian, “but I will no longer associate with this man. Regardless of his protestations of altruism, he is a killer, and I will have no further part of anything he is involved with, or those who stand for his beliefs.”
“That’s fine,” Pacian shrugged. “I was getting kind of sick of you anyway. The rest of us will manage without you anyway. In fact, better, actually.”
“You were talking about me then, weren’t you old man?” Valennia growled. “Without my fearsome prowess, the battle would have been lost, yet you dare question my motives?”
“There is no question as to your motives, madam,” Sir William replied evenly. “But if you support Pacian’s misguided philosophy, then you have no place in our company.”
“You don’t get to decide who stays and goes, Willy,” Pacian shot back, “only Aiden gets to make that call. What do you say, mate?”
“Valennia is invaluable in a fight, as is Sir William,” Aiden replied after a moment of thought. “He does make a good point though - killing the senator was bad enough, but being proud of it? You’re way out of line, Pace, and I don’t think we need your particular kind of ‘help’ in the future. There’s too much at stake.”
“You’re kicking me out?” Pacian cried in disbelief. “I don’t believe it. I expected a short-sighted attitude from some of these people but to hear it from you? I get it… it’s this place - it’s changing you. If you think you’re going to become one of these rich nobles and get some respect, then you’re as deluded as they are.” The rage and frustration Aiden felt growing within him since the senate could not be contained any longer. He walked up to Pacian and stood nose to nose.
“You and I? We’re through,” Aiden growled through gritted teeth. “I’ve tolerated your thuggish attitude far longer than any sane man should, and this is where we part ways. Three times now you’ve gone and killed a helpless man, and that’s my quota. Stay the hell away from me, and if any of you have a lick of sense, you’ll keep your distance from this maniac as well,” he added, casting his baleful eyes around at his companions.
Nobody spoke after Aiden’s brief tirade, and one could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The nobles stood back, watching without comment as events continued to unfold. Aiden stepped away from Pacian and gestured for Maggie and Sir William to follow suit, intending to find out where everyone stood.
“Anyone who wants to join us on the journey to Feybourne, now’s the time to do so,” Aiden said plainly. “There will be no indiscriminate killing. We’re going to try and talk our way through first, but if it comes to it, we’ll fight if we have to.”
“I don’t care what you think about me,” Pacian said in a low voice. “I did what was necessary, and I’m not going to apologise for it. But I’m still working for the Crown, even if you don’t want to have anything to do with me. Since time is an issue here, I’ll go to Stonegaard and see if I can locate the sceptre and I don’t much care if any of you come to help me or not.”
“You paid me to fight for you,” Valennia said to Aiden. “Yet you have given me more wealth than I ever hoped to find in one single payment, which I accept as a measure of my worth. Since you have made it clear my servitude is ended, I am free to choose my own path. I will go with you Pacian, and seek this relic from amongst the short people.”
“I thought you’d be heading home?” Nellise asked curiously.
“I… choose not to,” Valennia replied stubbornly.
“Well, I don’t know if my opinion counts for much with you lot,” Ronan remarked laconically, “but I agree with Aiden. Getting away from killers and thugs like you, Pace, is one of the reasons I left the guild in the first place, and I’m not going to hang around while you shower yourself in blood at every opportunity. No offence.” He stepped over to stand with Aiden and then looked back at Sayana, an eyebrow raised expectantly.
Sayana’s gaze flicked back and forth between Aiden and the sailor, and it didn’t appear she was especially enthusiastic about either of them.
“Don’t take this as approval of his methods, but I’ll stick with Pacian,” she finally said. “He’s going to need my help more than you will.”
“Makes sense,” Ronan replied, failing to hide his disappointment. Aiden avoided the wild girl’s gaze, understanding the rift between them had grown too far for them to ever get back together.
“Alright, Your Grace,” Aiden sighed, “it looks like we’re going to tackle both places at the same time, which is probably a good idea, for many reasons.”
“I concur that this new arrangement is probably for the best,” the duke replied hesitantly, “though I have my doubts that Pacian’s methods will be welcomed in the dwarven city.”
“That’s why I’m going along with him,” Nellise interrupted, surprising Aiden and the others who had automatically assumed she would be travelling with Sir William. “Although I appreciate his desire to help the Kingdom, I think I should lead the expedition to Stonegaard as it may involve delicate negotiations, the likes of which I am better trained to deal with.”
“As you wish, dear lady,” the duke replied, inclining his head slightly. Pacian shot a victorious look at Aiden, whose stony features revealed nothing of what he truly felt. He was already regretting his outburst, but he was still too angry to apologise now.
“Aiden, if you could provide Nellise with half of the funds you were given by the Crown, I’m sure she could put them to good use,” Kinsey instructed.
“That’s a good idea, I’ll be sure to do that before we leave. So if there’s nothing further, I think we should all get some rest before we head off.”
“A splendid idea, one that we should all take heed of,” the duke commented. “It has been a stressful day for all of us, but one I think you can all be proud of. You have ended the threat against the princess and saved the lives of many important people this evening, and for this
we are eternally in your debt. Thank you.”
Aiden nodded his thanks as they started filing out of the royal court in two separate groups. Criosa caught his attention on the way out, offering only a forlorn look as she was escorted further into the castle. She managed to mouth two words to him before disappearing into the castle, howeve - ‘Thank you.’
It was small recompense, because for all of their achievements, the sentiment felt hollow to Aiden as the rift between his companions became greater than ever, and his simmering rage at Pacian did not relent.
Epilogue
After a brief word with the other three, Aiden decided they would move to a different inn for that evening. He found the thought of sitting in the same common room as Pacian uncomfortable, picturing them silently eating a meal that tasted of ash in their mouths.
At Maggie’s suggestion, they headed to another establishment in the southern part of the city called the Tradeway Tavern, where the raelani druid had first stayed upon her arrival. It was one of the few places in the city that catered directly for raelish men and women who visited Fairloch, even going so far as to feature half-sized rooms the little people felt right at home in.
The feeling of warmth from the fire as they stepped out of the cold weather carried with it the scent of exotic herbs from the kitchens, and before long the four of them were enjoying a hearty stew that was more than filling, with fresh buttered bread on the side. There was little talk among the companions that evening, for they were all exhausted beyond measure. Maggie touched Aiden’s hand briefly during the meal, offering silent comfort at the loss of his friend.
After his second helping of the delicious food, Aiden felt sleep slowly overcoming him, so he bid the others a good night and headed up to his room. It was smaller than the accommodation at the Fair Maiden, and the bed was noticeably less comfortable, but it was good enough for the weary young man.
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 38