He paced in front of them, taking time to look each of them in the eye.
“I could not have asked for a finer group. I know I have not always been the teacher I should have been. I’ve made mistakes. But each of you has been exactly the student I needed. For that I thank you. Come what may, I am proud of each of you.”
With that, Chaney left them. Dain watched him go. In a way it felt like the grizzled veteran was taking the last remnant of Dain’s childhood with him. They’d spent every day of the last year with him. For some he was a father, for others a rough uncle. To Dain he was a friend.
True to Chaney’s words, one of the older Paladins collected them from the chapel the following morning. He led them onto the practice field outside of Karelton’s walls where two other Paladins and the Sovereign waited. The judges, Dain thought.
“Greetings, recruits. You will face a group of fourth-year students today,” the Sovereign said. “Your task is to hold the castle while they attack. You will be defending against an unknown number of enemy fighters. Help is set to arrive in two hours, and the exercise will then conclude. You are allowed only ten minutes to prepare.”
Dain and the others moved into the castle immediately. They huddled at the center.
“Standard defense strategy?” Niles asked.
“No,” Dain said. “These are fourth-year students. They’ll expect that for certain. Pair up. When you see them, fall back to the center. They’ll have siege weapons or some other trick up their sleeves to be sure. Kag, stay with me in the center. The others can draw them in and we’ll surprise them.”
Squad five split up and moved into their positions.
Moments later, Strale gave a shout. Pursued by four older students, he and Falion raced into the castle’s center courtyard. Kag and Dain dropped from the outer wall behind them. The first two were taken down easily, but the others struck down Strale before they themselves fell.
Before they could catch their breath, Trysen and Dremble ran in. Four more boys trailed them. Accompanied by Falion, Kag and Dain fell on them as Trysen and Dremble turned to fight. Though outnumbered five to four, the older students’ greater size gave them an advantage, and soon only Kag and Dain remained upright.
Dain had a mere second to wonder how much time had passed when Niles and Zek arrived, eight older boys close at their heels.
Squad five fought like lions. Kag took a shot to the head and fell. Niles went down next. Dain and Zek were the only two defenders remaining. They faced three attackers. Dain considered how long the match had gone on. He bled from a series of shallow cuts on his arms and chest. Sweat dripped from his soaked shirt. More came from his scalp and temples, stinging his eyes. His arms burned.
He ignored the pain and fought on. Help would come. Surely the end must be close.
He lunged for his nearest opponent and scored a nasty lash over the boy’s sword hand. The older boy dropped his sword, and Dain followed with a quick blow to the head, dropping him. Only two older boys remained. Zek and Dain attacked, backing them against a wall. Four more older boys ran into the center of the space. They charged forward, and Zek fell.
Dain fought alone, weaving between their wooden swords and taking out a pair of them before he too went down beneath their blows.
His last thought was again of how much time had passed. Had they made the two-hour mark?
A healer’s flash of Light awakened him. His body ached from head to boot, and he opened his eyes to see a priestess kneeling over him. Held back by a thin band of cloth, blonde curls cascaded over her smooth shoulders. Her clear blue eyes regarded his and her mouth curved up in a smile. He tried flashing her his best smile in return, but even that hurt. It turned to a grimace when he tried to rise and his body refused. Aches and pains racked him. His vision swirled, and he collapsed back against the soft surface on which he was lying. Well that was dashing, Gladstone, he thought with a small cringe.
“Easy now, the older boys were quite hard on you after you embarrassed them. You aren’t ready to be up and about yet.”
“How are my friends?” Dain croaked, throat dry.
“The other boys are mostly in better shape than you. They said you fought like a bull. It took three of them to bring you down.” She raised an eyebrow, and her dazzling smile lit her face once more.
“Three? I was sure there were at least five of them toward the end.”
“You took down two of them before they got you.” The priestess reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his face. Her fingertips felt like fire and ice on his skin.
“Did we pass, then? Help never arrived. We didn’t outlast the time.”
“None of the others did, either.”
“Others?”
“Other squads,” she said. “I’ve healed for the tests before. No one ever wins against the older boys.”
“Really?”
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” she said. She leaned close. Dain caught the scent of lavender soap and felt her warm breath against his ear. “Your squad lasted longer than any other I’ve seen; almost three hours. They don’t send support. Every group fails. That’s the test. To see how you’ll handle overwhelming odds.”
“What’s…what’s next?” Dain asked, struggling to keep forming words and placing them one in front of the other.
“An interview. They’ll summon your squad together and ask you questions about your performance.”
“What’s your name?”
“Valessa.”
“I’ll keep the secrets you’ve told me, Valessa,” Dain said gravely.
The priestess giggled, and a lovely blush stole across her cheekbones. “There are no secrets now. My sisters told most of your squad the same, along with every other. That is part of our role. Sleep now,” she said. “They’ll gather you and your friends soon enough.”
The three judges sat across from the squad at a table. They shuffled through pages of handwritten notes. The tallest judge, Quin, spoke first. His face seemed locked in a perpetual frown. With his wrinkles, he resembled one of the braying hunting dogs Dain’s father employed to help chase down trolls.
“Squadleader, why did you choose to yield the outer wall as a strategy?”
“We deemed it indefensible against a superior force, sir.”
“And how did you know the attackers were a superior force before you even encountered them?” Quin pressed.
“Prior intelligence,” Dain said. “We knew they were fourth-year recruits. It seemed likely they would know the castle better than we would. They would be familiar with the common strategies to defend it, and they would have abilities and physical strength far beyond our own.”
“Sound reasoning,” the second judge said. Silmone was a heavyset man, built like a barrel. A thick, curly beard covered his face. “Recruit Falion, did you agree with your squadleader’s decision?”
“I did, sir,” Falion answered.
“And the rest of you?” Silmone asked.
The rest of the squad nodded.
“Each of you now knows you lasted well beyond the given two hours. You also realize that you were outnumbered two to one. What do you think of the test?”
“It was unfair,” Trysen said quickly, then looked as if he regretted speaking.
“And do you all agree with Recruit Trysen?” Quin asked. He dipped a pen in ink and held it hovering over a piece of paper.
“I do not, sir,” Dain said before anyone else could speak. “The trial is meant to prepare us for life in the field. In that life, we will be ordered to fulfill several roles. To meet unknown enemies. To take on impossible missions. This first test exposed us to that reality.”
For a time the judges and students regarded each other in tense silence.
“Quite right,” Silmone said fina
lly, and Dain let out a breath, the bunched muscles in his shoulders relaxing.
The questions went on for another half-hour. They wanted to know how the squad paired up and why, how they felt and what they thought as more enemies joined in, and why they didn’t give up in the face of overwhelming odds.
Through it all, the third judge—the Sovereign—said nothing. Only as they were departing did he speak.
“What would you do differently?” he said, looking at Dain. “If you had to do it all over again, would you make the same decisions?”
“No,” Dain answered. “I would have gathered everyone together at the first sign of attack.”
“Why? You might not have lasted so long,” Quin commented.
“Perhaps,” Dain said. “But together we are at our strongest.”
The squad waited in the chapel once more. Two other squads, seven and six, waited with them. Every hour, the Paladins collected a boy from each squad and led him away to face the trial’s second portion.
The late-day sun sent beams of light through the windows and tinted the room a soft gold. The number of boys in the room dwindled to a half-dozen. From his squad, he and Falion alone remained.
Palms flat, Dain knelt before the great alter and whispered a prayer.
“Holy Creator, shelter my friends in your hands. Deliver them to the destiny they are meant to fulfill, whether that be within your Order or without. Let them find a life of meaning in service to you.”
He was startled when Falion joined him. The other boy had never shown much faith outwardly. He could hear his friend mumbling a prayer to himself, and then he turned and looked at Dain.
“You’ll make it for sure,” Falion told him.
“I would say the same for you,” Dain returned. “I hope the others do as well, but regardless of what happens, we will all remain friends.”
“I hope so. I’ve never had many friends.” Falion grinned.
“Still time to run off,” Dain said, shoving him lightly with a shoulder.
“Yeah, I think I’ll give the last trial a shot, though. I’ve come this far.”
A clerk touched Falion on the shoulder and he rose. Dain climbed to his feet beside him. He clasped Falion’s arm above the wrist.
“Whatever happens, you will always be my brother.”
Falion clasped Dain’s arm in return, nodded, and then followed the clerk out. Dain watched him go. Less than one in three passed the final test. Of the eight in his squad, only two or three would move on. More than four was unheard of.
But who will it be?
Dain sat on one of the long benches and stared up at the painting behind the altar. Palatine was there, triumphant and holding his great sword aloft. The Light shone down from above, its beams touching the hero and all his followers.
Had it truly been like that? he wondered. Did Palatine know in that moment how his actions would echo down through the ages?
The painting held no answers.
He wondered what his family was doing now. Father was likely still at the siege. Mother would be teaching Rylie more crafts—likely painting this time. His sister loved learning new skills, and she was still too young yet to begin training with Kilian and Thave. Tresten and Thule, on the other hand, would both be spending more time with their uncle and their grey elf tutor.
There had been no news about the siege at Thistleton for some time. According to rumors, the defenders still held the third wall. So much for the siege ending in the spring. Thistleton might never fall. Some said that Mierten had hired mercenaries from the north for support.
Lost in his thoughts, Dain jumped when the clerk returned.
He followed the man out into the courtyard where an older boy with a wooden sword waited. The three judges sat behind a table again.
“Recruit Gladstone, you will face Rollo with the sword,” the Sovereign said. “The fight will be split into three timed encounters of seven minutes each. You will have a two-minute respite between engagements. Charging of swords is not allowed, but you may use the Light to enhance your own fortitude.”
Dain’s chest tightened. Rollo was legendary among the recruits. The fourth-year student had never been beaten at swords. Never. He’d faced four and sometimes five opponents at a time and still had never fallen. Worse, he was Chalmer’s nephew. No doubt he hated Dain as much as his uncle did if Chalmer had had any say in the boy’s training.
The first round began with the ringing of a heavy bell at the judges’ table, and Rollo wasted no time. Dain’s sword stopped the other boy’s opening blow an inch from his forehead. Rollo withdrew the weapon and struck again quickly. His weapon stung Dain’s shoulder. Dain countered in time, but his arm had little strength in it.
Rollo flashed a smile. Already older and stronger, his skill in the Light made him more powerful still.
Dain drew the Light into himself. He felt the warmth of its embrace. The power surged into his muscles as he deflected Rollo’s next strike.
Then he started to fight back.
The first round ended; Dain escaped without Rollo landing another hit. There was a stool and a jug of cold water in his corner. He drank a few mouthfuls of the water and then splashed some over his face. Rollo did the same.
He needed a strategy to score a few points on Rollo, but the bigger boy had every advantage Dain could think of. His reach was longer, he was stronger and more familiar with the Light, and he had three years of additional experience.
That…that might not be true, Dain realized, wiping the water droplets from his brow.
Dain had been instructed in the sword since he could hold one. It was as natural to him as walking. Rollo might have only started to learn a year or two before coming here. Still, he clearly knew enough to go undefeated amongst the other recruits. It wouldn’t do to underestimate him.
The judges called them to their feet for the second round. “Begin,” the Sovereign commanded, and Rollo surged across the ground at Dain. He met Rollo halfway, their wooden blades clacking and dancing. Dain focused on his defense. Suspecting a trap, he passed up a few chances to counter.
In the second round, they both went scoreless. Dain was pleased with himself, while Rollo’s face betrayed his frustration.
A towel sat on the stool when he returned to it, and Dain mopped sweat from his brow. His body felt tired—the toll of the earlier squad match weighed on him—but the Light’s gift was keeping him strong and nimble.
Rollo started the final match with a flurry of movement and sound. Grunting and yelling, his strokes were wild, choppy. He tried powering through Dain’s defense, but with steady parries, blocks, and dodges, Dain fought him off. Focusing on Kilian and Chaney’s words in his head and the sensation of the Light buoying his body forward, he relaxed and let his instincts do the rest of the work.
Then, almost on accident, Dain scored on Rollo’s side.
The blow was light, almost delicate. It had been too quick to have any real power in it. The older boy withdrew as if he’d been stung by a great wooden hornet. A fire blazed in his eyes as he rubbed the spot where Dain’s sword had landed. His jaw clenched, and then he flew toward Dain.
Dain raised his sword and Rollo’s weapon struck his knuckles. He felt them go numb, and he focused on just holding onto his weapon. His sword arm faltered, and Rollo struck him on the back, the shoulder, and the crown of his head. Dain saw stars and stumbled back. He tried to bring his wooden sword up. Blood dripped from his knuckles. He felt a tingling wetness at his scalp; he was bleeding there, too.
Rollo caught him across the chin, and Dain felt the hot flash of Light in the blow. His head whipped back. He fell. There was an instant of utter blackness that gave way to the blurred image of Rollo standing over him. His eyes were menacing and his sword ready. The wood was red with Dain’s blood.
“Paladin Rollo, you are dismissed!” the Sovereign called.
The white-robed man leaned over Dain. In his hand there was a healing spark. He pressed it into Dain’s chest. Light flashed, and Dain fell into darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Galena—The Present
Cleeger’s scouts had explained what was coming. Since Koren’s forces first gathered on the old road they’d flown over and counted them a dozen times, but when her army broke into view and set their camp around the castle, the sight had surpassed all of Dain’s fears.
Golden elves formed the army’s core. With their bright banners, they flashed among the ragged beasts like candles in the dark. Despite the warm afternoon sun, most of the other creatures wore hoods and cloaks, but to Dain’s eye these demons stood out—beacons of shadow. If the Golden elves shone like candles, these creatures smoldered like a bonfire’s coals.
Golden elves, demons, and then there were the other things outside. Dain lacked adequate words to describe the shuffling man-shaped beings that made up the bulk of the invading army. Composed of old bones mainly, mud and muck filled in the rotted gaps where flesh should have been. Numbering in the thousands, Dain sensed their demonic power in his body and mind alike as they mixed and mingled with the true demons across the lands below the castle.
There was a sense of wrongness about them, and he felt the Light’s hunger to destroy them.
He wondered about that. Had Palatine felt the same when he’d faced Atraxas, the father of all demons? The Light was a gift to humanity from the Creator, or so he’d been taught. But Jin, a child of elves, had learned to wield it, as had other elves and Razel and his dwarves. Maybe it was a gift bestowed on all races, a protection from demons and their ilk.
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 26