Tranquility's Grief

by Krista D. Ball

  “No, Aneese. I will not be. I am Lady Champion. I am a field commander, champion of women, children, and men who cannot speak for themselves. I will not allow anyone to take that away from me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not without a fight.”

  Jud stepped towards her. He was somewhat shorter and had to look up to meet her gaze. “Obey my order at once or you will regret opposing me.”

  Bethany slid the weapons another finger’s length and growled, “Do not threaten me.”

  Jovan circled around to stand next to Jud’s flank. The new commander flinched when Jovan spoke. “Run him through, Beth.” Jovan chewed on a fingernail, though Bethany heard the snap of his dagger holster open. “I’ll write to the Council and tell them it was a training accident. I’ll express our sorrows to his widow and offer to bring her here under my...protection.”

  Jud’s fists clenched as fury filled his face. His skin reddened and a dark, angry tone entered the pompous idiot’s voice. “Do as I ordered and submit.”

  She stepped up and leaned forward his until her nose nearly touched his. “No.”

  Jud stared at her, contempt and fury in his eyes, and Bethany braced for the explosion of violence. It did not come. Instead, Jud took a long, deep breath and stepped back from her. “I’ve read all about your temper in the reports. I won’t take this personally. Now, what’s important is that we all—”

  “You will have to kill me,” Bethany repeated. She pulled out one of her Blessed Blades and threw it on the ground. Dust kicked out around it. “Feel free to use my own sword. Others have tried to kill me with it.” She motioned at her scarred face, the jagged flesh that snaked from ear to mouth. “They failed.”

  Jud cocked his head at her and then looked down at the sword. “Really, Lady Bethany, dramatics are not what we need at this moment.”

  Torius stood. “No, what we need is someone who knows what they are doing. You are not that person. As High Priest, I will remind you the Silver Knights are stationed at the Temple of Tranquil Mercies by my blessing, and not the other way around.”

  “Surely you would not interfere with this lawful transition of power.”

  Aneese lifted her chin. “I will depart this meeting immediately to write the Elven Council and inform them, as the High Priestess and second of the Faith, the Silver Knights are no longer welcome at the Temple as long as you are in charge of them. I have been given the authority to do just that and, as you have said, Father Torius is far too busy to be dealing with such matters.”

  Jud looked back at Allric, confusion on his face. Allric just shrugged. “I warned you.”

  “Guards!” Jud shouted.

  No one came.

  Jud cleared his throat. “Lord Jovan, kindly fetch me guards to arrest Lady Bethany.”

  Jovan stopped chewing on his fingernails long enough to shout, “Kiner! Erem! Get your lazy asses in here.”

  Kiner and Erem both ducked inside immediately. Bethany eyed them; they’d been listening in. Erem was red and flushed. Kiner’s dark eyes looked murderous. She didn’t care. She would not allow anyone to take away her command. If they arrested her, she’d fight. Bethany took a deep breath. Against both Kiner and Erem, she’d probably lose, but she’d fight all the same.

  Kiner planted his gaze on Jud. His fingers curled around the hilt of his Blessed Blade, which hung from a hip scabbard. “Is there a problem?”

  “Please arrest Lady Bethany for refusing to relinquish her command, refusing a direct order, and for assaulting a superior.”

  Kiner cocked his head. “Bethany outranks every Knight in existence, with the exception of Allric and Jovan.” He turned to Allric. “Did Bethany refuse your order?”

  Jud grabbed Kiner’s arm and shouted, “Obey me now!”

  Erem produced a dagger in a moment’s blink and pushed it against Jud’s throat, and his eyes grew wide. “Lord Erem?”

  “A hint,” Kiner said as he tugged his arm free from Jud’s grasp. “Never threaten her around me.”

  “Enough!” Allric bellowed. Everyone froze. “Erem, Kiner, out.”

  Erem hesitated for a moment before inclining his head and lowering the dagger. Kiner gave Allric a questioning looking.

  “I can handle it from here,” Allric said, motioning for Kiner and Erem to depart. Both gave final, weary looks before ducking outside once more. “I suggest we begin again.”

  Jud gave Bethany an uncomfortable look. Her grip on the hilt did not lessen. “Normally, I demand full cooperation and respect from the troops under my command,” he said, fidgeting as he spoke, “but, under the circumstances, perhaps there is merit to your advice, Lord Allric.” He bent down and picked up Bethany’s Blessed Sword. He handed it to her. “I meant no disrespect, Lady Bethany. I am merely carrying out the Council’s orders.”

  Bethany glared at him before taking the sword, returning it to its sheath on her back. “I am the Lady Champion, third in command of the Silver Knights. If the Council is unhappy with my performance, evaluate me and dismiss me. Otherwise, the only way that I am removed from this post is through promotion, retirement,” she stepped forward, glaring in his eyes. He leaned back. “Or death.”

  He cleared his throat, his pale skin flushing. “I smell liquor on your breath.”

  “That’s because I was drinking before Aneese tried to set the outhouse on fire.”

  Jud narrowed his eyes. “Drinking on duty is punishable by fifty lashes.”

  “I don’t drink while on duty.” No one would dare lash her, so his threat was empty. She laughed. “I’m not on duty until tonight.”

  “We do not lash soldiers here,” Allric growled.

  “Least of all the daughter of Apexia!” Torius shouted. All eyes turned to the old priest. He shook a pudgy finger. “You listen here, Juddle Bug.” Jud bristled at the childhood name Torius bellowed. “I remember when you were nothing more than blight in your mother’s womb. You will not tell me how to run my temple. Have you forgotten there is a war on? Lady Bethany prevented the deaths of thousands and you want to kick her out because of the Council? I will not allow this.” The last sentence was punctuated by jabs of Torius’s finger into Jud’s bicep.

  Bethany smirked at that.

  “As I recall, the death toll is over ten thousand,” Jud said. “Clearly, she did not save enough lives.”

  Bethany took a stride towards her new commander apparent, fist rising. Anger bubbled inside her and she struggled to hold back the rising bile of her Power that wanted to burn Jud into ashes. She pushed it down. She did not want Power to hurt him; her fists would do nicely.

  Jovan grabbed her striking arm and, at the same moment, Torius grabbed one of Aneese’s canes and struck Jud in the face. The priest was too old to actually hurt Jud, but the lash was adequate to make him lift his hands in defense and let out a startled shriek.

  Bethany paused. Seeing an elder elf beat on a Knight was not something she’d ever witnessed before. As angry as she was, hers could not match Torius’s. A warmth spread over her, and for the first time in a long number of months, she did not feel alone. He’d been angry on her account.

  “How dare you say such a thing?” Torius shouted the accusation, his face red.

  “She is a Silver Knight. She should be accustomed to discipline if Allric had been doing his job!”

  Torius swung the cane again, this time cracking it across Jud’s knuckles. “I will have Allric back in charge.”

  Bethany stared at them. Erem and Kiner ready to kill to defend her position. Jovan refusing to accept the new leader. Torius and Aneese ready to take on the entire wrath of the Elven Council just to defend her. Allric, trying to be the voice of calm even as his entire life was being ripped from under him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  Torius, cane raised, looked at her. “What did you say?”

  A smile curled her lips and she said, “Thank you.” She’d forgotten who her true family was. For the first time in months, she did not feel
alone. She straightened her back and turned her gaze to Jud. “I will be at the shore if you wish to relieve me of duty. I recommend you bring a sharp sword.”

  Bethany turned to walk away, but stopped as she pulled back the fabric door. “I don’t need you to remind me of the blood on my hands. I haven’t been able to wash it off.”

  ****

  Something fast and pointy whooshed by Arrago’s face. He lost his balance and fell, crashing against the frozen stone stairs. His ribs cried out in protest. Crossbow bolts whizzed above him. Hans, the butler, grabbed Arrago by the arm and dragged him back up toward the doors as soldiers jumped from their horses.

  Hans let out a shriek of pain and tumbled down the steps, an arrow sticking out of collarbone. One of the soldiers kicked the old man in the head before charging up the steps, sword in hand.

  “Mr. Cedar, weapon!” One of the ink servants tossed him an axe. Arrago caught it and still stepped backwards. Servants charged the soldiers and overwhelmed them, knocking them down and forming a line between Arrago and Sir Eli and the king’s men. Arrago flinched.

  Arrows flew from the hedgerow, splattering against the stone walls. Sir Eli collapsed next to Arrago, knocking him back down. Arrago winced when he saw the arrow sticking out of his patron’s bicep. Sir Eli cursed and stood back up. Arrago fumbled to his feet.

  He looked at the open door behind him and the fight in front of him. He didn’t know much about fighting with an axe, only having fought with it a few times, but it looked sufficiently sharp and scary. That was enough. He squared his shoulders. These men came for him. He would not let others fight his battles. He would stand.

  Arrago joined the servant line and swung the axe at the approaching boy. He didn’t want to kill him, just knock him down and out of the fighting. When the boy ducked, Arrago kicked him in the chest, knocking the kid down two stairs. The boy’s head smacked against the steps. Arrago heard a wet snap and blood rushed from the boy’s mouth and nose.

  Arrago blocked out the horror and bile rising in him. Fight now, mourn later. The motto of the Silver Knights. He’d never been able to be one, but he knew them. He’d learned from them. He’d bled with them. He would not back down.

  An arrow cut into Arrago’s thigh, in nearly the same place he’d been sliced open at the temple’s battle. He cursed in surprise and lost his footing, falling backward. As a soldier swung again, Arrago used his good leg to kick the man in the crotch. Three bolts hit the man square in the gut. He dropped the sword before falling backwards. Horses bucked and ran.

  With servants in tow, Edmund rushed past Arrago and easily mounted one of the horses, a ceremonial long sword in hand. “Just like ol’ times, hey?” he shouted before turning the frightened horse to charge the archers, one hand holding a shield in front of his body.

  Three riders came from around the house. Arrago was not a strong rider, or barely able to be considered a rider, so he let Edmund and the servants deal with them. He backed up towards the house.

  “Arrago, get in!” Sir Eli called out. “You’re hurt.”

  A hot, burning sensation erupted on Arrago’s thigh. He looked down to see blood pooling on the inside of his leg. Now that he could see the blood, his thigh throbbed angrily. He looked back at the double oak doors, and the melee in the gravel courtyard in front of him. He couldn’t do anything, but he couldn’t run, either.

  He ducked another arrow that came dangerously close to his throat. All he could see was the bleeding, motionless boy at the base of the stairs. Apexia forgive him.

  “Apexia’s sake, boy. Get up here!”

  Two arrows narrowly missed Arrago’s arm. He stumbled to avoid them, but stayed upright. Clenching his axe, he hobbled up the stairs, taking shelter behind the servants with their bows.

  “I didn’t mean for anyone to die,” Arrago stammered.

  “Too late for that. Get inside,” Sir Eli said, holding a shield in front of him.

  “No.”

  The least he could do was stand with the men fighting to protect him. Fear gripped him. Sweat pooled along the base of his trousers. He would hang for this. A sick, green feeling came over him and Arrago swallowed hard. He’d killed people before, during the Magi invasion. He’d fought beside the Knights, shoulder to shoulder. This was so different. The temple was all instinct. This was because of him and his choices.

  The arrows soon ceased. Edmund and two servants returned a moment later, their swords dripping in blood. Others had killed in his name. Arrago vomited, his breakfast splattering the bloodied stairs.

  “What have I done?” Arrago choked out as he crouched down to relieve his stomach of its contents.

  Sir Eli put a strong hand on Arrago’s back. “Andrew! Feb!” Two male servants stepped forward. “Pack as many provisions as two dog teams can handle.” The two men hurried off, into the house. He pulled Arrago to his feet. “Listen to me. The king’s men are dead. He will send more. Get out of Taftlin.”

  Arrago wiped at his mouth. Blood was everywhere. So much blood, all over his hands.

  “Are you listening to me?” Sir Eli shook him. “Ride southeast, toward the Allied lands. Take Edmund. They’ll never believe he didn’t help. I’ll send money with you. As much as you can carry. Run, Arrago. Run.”

  Arrago shook his head, tearing his eyes from the dead boy. “I have to turn myself in.”

  Edmund took several strides up the stairs. “If we run, Father can pretend he doesn’t know anything. If we stay, or if you turn yourself in, you are sentencing all these people to death.”

  “I will not run.”

  Edmund grabbed him by the tunic and shouted, “Stay and you will be killing my family!”

  Arrago gulped down more rising bile. He stared at the limp, bloody body of the boy. All he ever wanted to be was a Silver Knight back when he was that age. Now, he wanted nothing more than to be a simple farmer, illiterate, and with no connections in the world whatsoever. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The ache in his leg grew worse.

  “This isn’t the time for heroics. That’s what Bethany would say.”

  Arrago narrowed his eyes at his friend, but remained silent until the flash of anger passed.

  Edmund pressed on. “No one else will dare speak her name around you, so I will. If she were here, your ass would already be on a sled team halfway to the Eastern pass by now, bleeding leg or not.”

  Arrago’s injured leg trembled and he sank to the cold stone, the blood already turning to slush. Edmund was right. He couldn’t condemn Sir Eli and his daughters to death just because he wanted to meet Apexia with a clear conscience.

  He flicked his gaze at the vacant stare of the boy’s corpse. “What should I do?”

  Sir Eli’s shoulders relaxed. “We’ll head them off as long as possible. My servants can be trusted. None will speak about this. Markus, get the servants together. Dump the bodies into the river. Cover up this blood on the ground.”

  Markus, still holding a crossbow, shook his head. “How, Sir?”

  Sir Eli shouted, “Shit on it if you have to. Clean it up!”

  “Are you certain, Sir?” Arrago asked.

  Eli put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, those were the king’s men. If you stay, I’ll be hiding a traitor. They will rape my wife, my daughters, and they’ll kill me. You and Edmund will rot in a cell underground until you freeze to death. You have connections with the elven monks and the Knights. They’ll protect you. I can’t.”

  Servants carrying saddle bags, blankets, buckets, and water, piled out of the front doors and dispersed all around them. Arrago had to lean against the doors, his thigh burning. The arrow had only grazed the skin, but it still hurt.

  His gaze flickered to the boy’s limp body being dragged off by two servants. Arrago fought the stinging tears in his eyes. Would Apexia ever forgive him? Would he ever forgive himself?

  “I’ll run.”

  Chapter Four

  The Diamond must stand on pillars of strength to defeat the Vipe
r. Else, the floods will drown her. Darkness will prevail. The end will touch all.

  -Aleu’s “The Agony of the Diamond”

  Amber did not need to possess the Power of a dead God’s lineage to sense that trouble brewed amongst the senior Knights. She stood off to the side, unsure what to do as the most important elves at the temple bellowed at each other. It had not been her intention to eavesdrop. She had a breakfast…meeting? Arrangement? She didn’t have a word for it, but whatever it was called she had one with Allric this morning. Instead of eating foul leftovers with a kind elf, she found herself skulking on the side of the stables, hidden by the shadows of early light and stacks of boxes and hay. She really did not mean to eavesdrop. It just happened that way.

  Lady Bethany drunkenly swatted the blanket door out of her way before stumbling off, muttering to herself. Amber couldn’t read Bethany’s thoughts - she was Apexia’s daughter, after all. Besides, the elorian’s expression said more about her feelings than anything Amber could sense from her emotions. Rarely did any thoughts stray beyond Bethany’s mental defenses. But, a half-goddess or not, anyone with half a wit could read the Lady Champion’s face. The woman always wore her feelings close to the surface and her body language screamed, “Speak to me and die.”

  Amber obeyed the silent edict.

  Amber stepped from the shadows. Surprise flashed across Erem’s pale face, before he acknowledged her with a tight smile. Kiner’s gaze, however, followed Bethany, watching her stumble and stagger down the path to the shore. He said to no one in particular, “She’s going to kill herself if she keeps this up.”

  “Perhaps she would listen to you,” Amber suggested in a sober voice.

  Erem snorted, though it was more of anger than sarcasm. “I hate to say it, but I wish Arrago was still here. She’d listened to him.”

  Kiner’s expression soured. “He’s part of the problem.”

  Apexia, I wish I could help her. Please, help her. I beg you, Goddess.