Durgen had been found nearby; bodies of enemy fighters were stacked up around him. He had fought bravely to the end, killing many, but eventually the numbers had overwhelmed him and all the other defenders. The dwarf’s lifeless hand was still gripping his son’s axe. The axe was given to the few remaining dwarves to be taken back to Dwarf Mount where it could be placed in a position of honor.
Jonas spent a long time on the battlefield, helping where he may, but much of the time was spent walking amongst the dead, thinking about all those who had died in the struggle. He didn’t know what happened to you when you died, and he had come to realize that it was possible that maybe Ulren’s silver palace was just a story made up to make people feel good about death, but it made him feel better thinking that at least the energy that made up the dead would rejoin the Ru’Ach and once again be a part of everything around them, the wind, trees, and stars. And then maybe there was a place you went to when you died. The fact is, he did not know. Jonas’s heart hurt. It ached for all the losses…for all the deaths he had witnessed. But it had also begun to harden, to lose the naivety of youth. His heart had slowly been building a thin wall, like an egg growing in a dragon’s womb, slowly hardening by each loss he had experienced. Taleen’s death, along with everyone else, had felt like a dragon was squeezing his heart, and the only way to protect it was to build a wall around it. And that was what he did.
The following day Jonas was up early and he stood on the outer wall looking out at the battlefield below. Tulari, now the size of a big wolf, nestled her head into his thigh, feeling the pain he felt and wishing she could take it away.
He heard someone approach, turning he saw the Blade Singer move next to him. They were silent for a moment, and then she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “How is Fil?”
“He is going to live. The healers said that he suffered severe head trauma and that it will be a while before he can walk. But they said that with time he should heal fully. I’m glad he will live. He was my first true friend.”
“But he is not your only friend,” she consoled, stepping in closer and leaning her head against his strong shoulder. Instinctively he reached out and put his arm around her, pulling her in tight. They had never really embraced like that, and it felt good. It felt nice just to feel someone near him, to feel her flesh and heat, to remind Jonas of why they fought, of why they risked their lives to do away with evil in the world.
“Did Lor-telliam leave?” Jonas asked. He knew that the courageous elf planned to return home where he would die within the next few weeks. His last act was to find another secure location for Tihr-Alliam and the armor, as well as the Shan Cemar that was recovered intact. There had been a heated debate about the sword, many thinking it should remain with Prince Riker, knowing that he was the only person alive who could use its true power, but in the end Lor-telliam won. Possessing the sword brought great risk to the owner, and he believed that it was better off in hiding, where someday it could be brought forth again if needed. Jonas had already said his goodbyes to the Ekahal, but knowing that the world was losing another champion brought more pain to Jonas’s already heavy heart.
“He was gone before the sun rose,” Allindrian answered. “I am happy he will get to spend his last days at home, with his own people.”
“It is nice to have a home. I do remember that feeling, sitting in my chair before the hearth, smelling my mother’s soup boiling. Is it strange that I miss the days when I was a cripple?”
“Each part of our life brings joy and pain. Fear not, Jonas, you have lost much, therefore I think happiness is searching for you as we speak,” Allindrian reassured him.
Jonas squeezed her shoulder, taking comfort in her words. “What has the council decided?” Jonas asked her. The last couple of days the Council of Lords had been meeting trying to figure out who will be the next king. King Baylin had no heir, and some spoke of Kiln taking on that role, and yet others thought that Prince Riker, who shared Finarthian royal blood, should be the next king. Kromm of course was against that idea. He wanted to go home and rebuild his city with his son by his side.
“They have not decided and I have not yet heard what Prince Riker desires,” Allindrian replied.
“Speaking of that, what are your desires now that this is all over?” Jonas asked.
Allindrian looked into Jonas’s eyes. “I was hoping you were going to ask me to join you,” she said with a smile.
Jonas couldn’t help but smile back. “I thought you wanted to go home.”
“No…not yet. Besides, if you are going to be this Shadow Knight, you need to learn to live in the shadows. That is something I can teach you.”
“You will train me?” Jonas asked with a mixture of excitement and astonishment.
“I will,” she said. “And I think I need your company as much as you need mine.”
They had never really opened up to each other and it felt good for Jonas to hear her words. Jonas squeezed her tighter, leaning down he kissed her head. “You’re right, I do need you,” he confirmed. There was a long pause before Jonas spoke again. “We have lost so much, so many people; do you think it was worth it?”
Allindrian looked up at him. “Of course it was.”
“But so many died.”
“Say their names, Jonas. Let us honor their courage, and sacrifice, together.”
“My mother…my father…our entire town, all dead because of greed and power,” Jonas said as he choked back the lump forming in his throat. “Taleen, killed to save a king and his family. Myrell, Kilius, Durgen…King Gavinsteal and his son, King Baylin. Embry at the Oasis, all the guards and patrons there, plus the soldiers and people of Tarsis and Cuthaine, not to mention the thousands killed here. Lor-telliam and the other Ekahals who gave up their lives to defend a far off land.” Jonas paused to wipe the tears from his eyes. “And Hagar, a gentle heart who died to protect a people that would probably never have accepted him. Evryn, who died to save me in the Hallows. Cade and Tolvar, great warriors who will never again be able to serve their king.” Jonas stopped to look at Allindrian. “And there were many others, too many to name here. So many, Allindrian.”
“It is true, and my heart aches for each of them. But it also gives me hope, hope that we all, when the time comes, will come together to protect each other from the evil that wants these lands. Because rest assured Jonas, that this fight is not over…it has just been halted. It may not be us, or even our sons and daughters, but it will be someone who will have to face a similar threat again, as that is the nature of evil men. They will always want what they don’t have, and as long as there are men and women like us, like the ones that died in this cause, then there is always hope. And that eases the pain, just a little.”
Jonas smiled down at her. “You sound like Fil, although you are much more eloquent.”
“I knew I liked him for more than just his charm.” It was her turn to smile, and together they looked out at the horizon and thought about the adventures to come, feeling better about the unknown, knowing they would be side by side, a powerful force against any who brought darkness where there was light.
And Jonas couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something deeper between them, a bond that was even more than friends, and he smiled as he thought about the possibilities.
Years later…..
Jonas stepped through the inn door and carefully looked around, as he always did when he entered an unknown place, especially an unknown establishment located at a town far from home. He had been travelling long and hard and finally he had come to his destination, a small town called Cer’une, located on the Ronith River that flows west of the Tundren Mountains. His dark grey cloak was pulled tight around his body and his hood kept his face in shadow. The patrons occupying the various chairs of the inn’s tavern looked up momentarily, their eyes appraising him briefly before turning away, back to their own conversations. That is good, Jonas thought. The whole point was not to draw attention to hi
mself. Little did they know that the two swords he wore around his waist were enchanted by Shyann herself, and literally everything he wore, including the bow presently nestled in the quiver on his back, was blessed by the goddess, Shyann. But to any observer they looked like your average weapons worn by a typical traveler. But Jonas was no mere traveler.
Jonas moved his way through the throng of men and women and found a small unoccupied table in the corner. He was famished and thirsty, and with any luck the inn would have a spare room for him. The room was open and spacious, dominated by a long pine bar on one side and a large river rock fire place on the other. Several deer and elk skulls with large racks adorned the wall above the bar while the rooms pine walls were covered with woven tapestries of wool expertly depicting various animals. Oil lanterns hung from the ceiling and each table was lit by a large candle. An impressive fire burned in the stone fireplace adding to the cozy feeling of the inn. A huge black bear fur lay on the floor in front of the fire place and a big tired looking mutt lay upon it, sleeping soundly. It’s a good thing he left Tulari outside, Jonas thought. The big wolf would have drawn a lot of attention and the inn’s dog might not have welcomed her, which would have ended poorly for the old mutt. But the night wolf was aptly named and she would be fine outside, in the shadows, waiting for Jonas.
A young serving lady made her way through the tables checking on her patrons, greeting each with a warm smile before finding Jonas at his table. She smiled at Jonas and despite her heavy set frame and straight simple hair; Jonas found her features quite beautiful. Her eyes sparkled with a warm light and her smile made Jonas feel at home. “What can I get for you traveler?”
Jonas reached up and removed his hood. His hair was long now, wavy and shoulder length, drawn back and tied with a leather thong. It had been five years since Malbeck had attacked Finarth and Jonas no longer looked like the youth of those long ago, but not forgotten, years. A week’s growth of stubble covered his face and his skin was tanned from the many years on the road, traveling the lands, moving from one city to another, one kingdom to another kingdom, searching for areas of strife, for areas where darkness was trying to take root. Jonas was Shyann’s Shadow Knight, her warrior, her champion whose purpose was to help those in need, to try and steer them onto the correct path, and if that turned out to be impossible, then he would be forced to use the blade so they would not be corrupted by evil.
“I was hoping for a warm bed and meal. Do you have any rooms available?”
“We do. I am Galeen and my parents own the inn. We have several rooms left and I’d be happy to give ya one for two silvers.”
“Very good,” Jonas said as he produced the coins from the pouch at his side. “And what do you have warm from the kitchen?”
“You are in luck stranger. Tonight my ma roasted several elk tenderloins with potatoes, mushrooms, and onions. And our fresh bread is the best in town. I’ll be honest and tell you that the elk is a little expensive, but it’s worth it. If you have the coin, you will not be disappointed.”
“I trust you Galeen,” Jonas said as he returned her smile. “I’ll take a plate of the elk and a healthy chunk of bread.”
“Very good. Would you like some ale?”
“No thank you. Water will be fine.”
“So it will be another silver for the food, and that will include breakfast in the morning.”
Jonas produced another coin and gave it to Galeen, along with several coppers. “Would you mind drizzling some honey and butter on the bread, I have a bit of a sweet tooth this evening.”
She smiled as she saw the extra coins. “Of course, sir, we have lots of honey. And you came in just in time. My sister will be singing in just a moment and you will swear you’ve heard nothing so beautiful. I’ll be right back with your food.”
It didn’t take her long to return with a heaping plate of steaming meat covered with onions, mushrooms, and potatoes. Two big pieces of thick bread flanked the meat and each piece was dripping with a mixture of butter and honey. And she was right, the food was worth the silver. It was one of the best meals Jonas had had for quite some time.
He wasn’t half way through it when he noticed that the clamoring of voices suddenly died down. Jonas looked up from his plate and saw that everyone was intently looking in the direction of the big blazing fire, and then Jonas saw why. Standing with her back to the fire, a young beautiful girl looked out at the patrons. Everyone must have known who she was as they were whispering eagerly to each other, obviously excited for the upcoming entertainment. She was thinner than her sister, and maybe a few years older. But she had her sister’s glowing eyes and dazzling smile, her dirty and well used apron doing nothing to damper the glow that surrounded her.
Then she suddenly began to sing…and Jonas stopped eating. Her melodic voice was soft and tantalizing, but with enough power and energy to snare everyone with her words. And she sang a ballad that Jonas recognized, a song that brought back many memories. Jonas set his spoon down, closed his eyes, and lost himself in her beautiful words and the many images that the ballad produced.
Against the battlements I stand, eyes on the horizon as a storm approaches,
The minions of Malbeck march, the gnash of teeth, the stomp of boot,
Like a dark relentless bruise staining the land, spilled blood,
Viscous, wet and cloying, petulance pushing against our gate.
Against this evil, oily and oppressive, the fair and righteous stand,
Heroes of Finarth all; dwarf, elf, beast and man,
Sentinels, strong, shielded by the sword and armor of kings,
Mace, axe, wielded with muscle and grit, stances forged from courage and faith.
As if in defiance, above the walls, dropping like a gale bursting from the clouds,
Blackness, veins of blood, an eclipse of wings, teeth, and dread,
Like a crimson clawed hand reaching, Kil-Kannon the demon dragon
Renders a rancid tear ripping across Kraawn’s sky.
Off to the side a massive ballista swivels sharp, like a vicious smile,
A lance of mithral and diamond snaps into the air, cutting through the screams of war,
A wake of Ekahal blue light and might pierce the hell spawn wing,
A roar of pain, jets of steam stream from the beast’s maw in a twisted fall.
Like an avalanche of scales and boney spines, the beast glances off the gatehouse walls,
Landing in the courtyard, ground trembling as taloned claws grip, gouging the granite,
Rearing up in a serpentine rage, veins of crimson and orange pulse with an inner fire
As the dragon releases a roar of heat and malice, fear radiating like a shockwave.
A step, shields raised, a squint of eyes, hands gripping weapons, another step, leaning forward
With determination and hope, fear beat back, ethereal like smoke
As battle kings, mages, and warriors; the defenders of Finarth
Answer back with a growl, a rush of feet, a twist and leap, an exclamation of sword slicing.
Against the battlements I stand, a wet heat beating against my face with each dragon breath,
Through the steam and blood tinged fog, the sound of rending flesh and bone,
I witness the fabled blades Cormathian and Tihr-Alliam, like diving shrikes
Of molten steel, glimmering talons, rising and falling, catching the rays of light.
Rising and falling, crushing tail, snapping jaws and cleaving claws,
Ebb and flow, arrows singing through the air, mace macerating,
The dragon speaking in turbulent tongues of jetted fog,
A terrible voice sizzling silence into the living.
Twin blades purr, piercing dragon hide, honed by Shyann’s hand
And forged from the great roots of her majestic oak, the blacksmith of her faith,
The whistling keen of a blade singer’s blade reverberates off the castle walls,
Lamenting the loss of a Ki
ng, embraced by vapors of swirling searing death.
Like a boulder, tough skin and jagged edges, hewn from hardship, corded muscle bunching,
A ball of steel and spike hammer into the beast like a thunder clap,
Like an applause for a dance, dexterity dipping, a ranger rises high
Flowing up the articulated neck like a feather caught in an updraft,
A leap, deft duck and spin, elven blade singing sharp, leading the way
Landing perfectly, splitting scale and bone, punching a hole in hatred,
Knocking the beast to the ground, stunned, eyes clicking shut, and never opening again,
As a mithral mace arcs through the air and smashes the dragon back to darkness.
A mighty roar, his mace held aloft like a sun burst,
Metal reflecting, a composition of light dancing off black blood.
Against the battlements I stand, elation and hope fueling my voice, arm held high
Shouting with my people, screaming our defiance against the storm.
…and then the ballad was over. Jonas slowly opened his eyes as the patrons clapped and cheered. But Jonas heard none of it, his thoughts were somewhere else, searching for images of his friends, some lost on that day, and others now on new paths. He would never forget that day, when they faced the dragon, or when they met Malbeck’s power with steel and courage. But more importantly, he would never forget the heroes that died in that struggle, that died so that others could craft songs about such deeds, and listen to beautiful ballads sung in their honor. Jonas smiled to himself as he finished the rest of the meal, happy in his role, happy to know that his actions, and those of others who live by the sword, do make a difference. And that sometimes, just sometimes, it is the light reflected off of polished steel that can keep the shadows at bay.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 43