Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2

by Kade Derricks

  The Sovereign paused. A few scattered murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  “We are at war in the north, and now in the east, as well. For years, the Empire has lived in peaceful coexistence with the grey elves. In many ways, their rule was the model for our own Empire. Unfortunately, regardless of the reasons, that long time of peace has now waned.”

  Dain cringed. He wondered how far the Sovereign would go in criticizing Chalmer. The man remained sheltered in the Emperor’s good graces, and most of the Order, particularly the younger members, still revered him as the Holy Light made flesh.

  Pity so few know the truth.

  “You all know why I wear this ribbon. We’ve lost over twelve hundred brothers in this senseless war. These are their names.” The Sovereign ran his fingers over the smooth black fabric. “I mourn my lost brothers. I regret that there will be more names on this list in the days ahead. The names of some in this very room. We are now fighting for the survival of the Order and of the Empire itself, and make no mistake, our situation could not be more dire.”

  The Sovereign walked out from behind the podium. He stepped off the dais, placing himself on the recruit’s level, and took a moment to look several in the eye. The murmurs were louder now. Dain saw fear among the young faces. A third-year recruit sat in the front row, and the Sovereign clasped him on the shoulder. He waited for the room to grow quiet and then continued.

  “In this most desperate time, we must take extraordinary measures. Next month, all fourth-year students will join Lord Chalmer’s army in the east. Eight months from now, any third-year recruit deemed ready will follow along.”

  A chorus of boisterous roars rose in the hall. Dain’s friends cheered along, but he found his throat too tight to join them. He noticed the Sovereign staring at him. He wasn’t cheering, either. There was a pained expression on his face. The Sovereign was stuck in a war he didn’t want, supporting a man he didn’t like, and sending an army of half-trained boys to their deaths for a cause he didn’t believe in. Dain felt a sharp twinge of sympathy for the man.

  Even if the Order survives, it will never be the same. Two whole classes will be gutted for Chalmer’s arrogance. Not to mention the twelve hundred men he’s already lost.

  The Sovereign smiled then, a wan expression that didn’t touch his eyes, until the cheers died down.

  “We will not send you without further training. For the next month, fourth-year brothers will be pushed as never before on healing. Likewise, third-year brothers will split their time between the standard courses and healing. Seventh-day leisure time is now suspended.”

  Groans echoed around the hall, Kag’s among them. He wouldn’t have time to put that ring on Aleesa’s finger.

  The Sovereign’s expression grew angry with the chorus of complaints. When he spoke again there was thunder in his voice.

  “As I said,” he boomed, “we will not send you without proper training, and training, as you are all well aware, takes time. These skills will save not only your own life, but the lives of your brothers. We are not warriors, not soldiers, not assassins; we are champions for the Creator’s Holy Light. The true strength of our Order flows from both our ability to spill blood and to stem its tide. Anyone can simply destroy; it is our duty to heal, as well.”

  Thistleton’s wall stood exactly as Dain remembered it. He reined his little column in and shaded his eyes against the brilliant noonday sun. Kag, Zek, Trysen, and Dremble fanned out beside him for a better look. They were the only fourth-year students exempted from being sent east. The rest, almost two hundred in number, were now on the way to face the grey elves.

  The gleaming walls remained proud, defiant. They dwarfed the low grass-covered hills and wide expanse of the Emperor’s army. At the top of the wall, defenders passed in and out of sight, marching between the rectangular crenellations. Even the Emperor’s army looked the same as it had when they’d last seen it. The Paladins’ tent had faded in the sun, but it still commanded the army’s center position. Beside it was his father’s, the wolf’s head banner of the Highlands rippling over the canvas. Dain wondered how long it would be before he had to face him.

  “Waiting here won’t make him go away,” Zek said.

  Dain squinted. “You sure about that?”

  “Well, I suppose if you wait long enough you’ll outlive him,” Zek said. He reached down and plucked a long stem of grass, then placed the white end between his teeth.

  Dain flicked Boon’s reins. “My grandfather lived to ninety. I’d rather not be here that long.”

  Excited for the chance to run, Boon galloped ahead of the others. They rode for the Paladin tent, and as it had been years before, no guards challenged them. To Dain’s surprise, Lord Bental stood outside waiting for them. He dismounted and clasped the older man’s hand warmly.

  “Lord Bental, we are at your service.”

  “I am honored to have you,” Bental said. “You left here as boys and now you’ve returned as men.” His eyes strayed to the battlements and then returned to Dain’s. “Regretfully, we’ve made very little progress in the years since.”

  Dain followed Bental inside, the rest of his group trailing close behind. Bental limped now; the man leaned heavily on a silver-topped cane made of dark wood.

  “You may stow your gear anywhere; plenty of room these days. Too few of us left to take up much space,” Bental said. He nodded to a group of three Paladins inside. “Please show our new arrivals where they can draw water and stable their horses. Take Dain’s horse with you. He and I have much to discuss.”

  Dain caught Zek’s eye and nodded once. As his second-in-command, Dain kept no secrets from Zek, but Bental might not agree.

  I’ll catch him up later.

  Bental led the way back to his private quarters. They too were as Dain remembered, right down to the stack of books on Bental’s desk. Dain leaned forward. The stack might look the same, but the titles had changed: Radighal’s Reflections of the Light, Advanced Siegecraft, History of the Aletian Peninsula, and Isles of the Southern Ocean by Taelon the Traveler.

  An odd group of titles. Particularly Isles of the Southern Ocean.

  With a groan, Bental eased himself into a chair. “Please, sit,” the Paladin urged.

  “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather stand. I’m not used to riding so much,” Dain said.

  “I’ve often wondered if the Order should focus more on horsemanship,” Bental smiled. “We spend half our lives in the saddle, either fighting or traveling from one battle to the next.”

  He paused and ran his fingers through his hair. Dain saw a sprig of grey there, and was struck by how old Bental looked. Only three years had passed since Dain had seen him last, but Bental looked aged by ten.

  “You are the first reinforcements I’ve had in over a year,” Bental said. “I’m down to fourteen men. Fourteen. Many retired or died or were reassigned east. The only ones left here are the ‘undesirables.’”

  “Where did the men who retired go?”

  Bental smiled again. “You thinking about retirement already? Most are still right here, joined up with other armies. As is custom in your homeland, many are with your father. The rest, perhaps less than a third, scattered to the winds.”

  “And how is he?” Dain didn’t look at Bental, and for a long moment the question hung unanswered.

  “He is as he always is. Determined. Driven. He could teach patience to a stone.”

  “Hardness, as well,” Dain said. “Last time I was here, you sent me to him to deliver a message. Why?”

  “Would it surprise you to learn that my own father didn’t think I should join the Order? He wanted me to become a bookkeeper like himself.”

  Dain cocked his head, waiting for Bental to go on.

  “A terrible thing, wrath between a father and son. Most
terrible. My father passed away before my fourth year as a recruit. I like to think he would be proud of me now, but I’ll never know.” Bental’s gaze drifted away, and he stretched out his injured leg and rubbed behind the knee. “Caught an arrow in it last year. Never healed quite right. It’s worse when the weather changes.”

  “Sounds like Chaney’s.”

  Bental nodded. “Though I think his healed better.”

  “I often wonder what Palatine would think if he could see us now,” Dain said, “fighting not for the Light but for an emperor. Killing not demons but our fellow men instead.”

  “I imagine he would be ashamed,” Bental said. His eyes were knowing, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. Likely, he too had thought about Palatine during these strange times. “But we live in a different age; an age he himself helped to usher in by defeating the demons. The greatest battles we face now are those that lie within. That’s where the last demons lie. In men’s souls.”

  Dain considered this. “Perhaps the Order has outlived its usefulness, then. I have been sent here as much by Chalmer as by the Sovereign. He had no use for me in the east.”

  “We are more than just his undesirables, you know. Chalmer has accused you and others of sympathizing with the elves. He claims it’s the only way they’ve managed to defeat him so soundly.”

  “He’s made these claims directly?” Dain felt his anger rise. His hand clenched over his sword hilt. “If so, I will challenge him.”

  Bental raised a hand in disgust. “No, no. He’s far too clever for that. Whispers and rumors are his chosen weapons, and if you aren’t careful, they’ll prove deadlier than a hundred blades. He’s sown similar rumors against your father. Even against your entire homeland. That’s why we’ve lost so many men to retirement. They don’t see the point, believing in an Order that no longer believes in them. That, and disgust over Pelion’s greed. Fighting a war on two fronts is madness.”

  “I think that the only way to change things, to shift the Emperor’s eyes and favor from Chalmer, is to succeed here,” Dain said. “Once that happens, the Sovereign, my father, and yourself can return to Karelton and use the entire army to forge a peace with the grey elves. Then the emperor would have to listen. Then we can set about restoring the Order to its former glory.”

  “Lofty goals, Gladstone. I don’t know how that can happen. The walls have defied us for years now. As you see, nothing has changed, and now the Emperor commits more and more of his resources east against the elves.”

  “There has to be a way. No fortress, no defense, no wall can stand forever,” Dain said. “I don’t know how yet, but we will take Thistleton.”

  “A lot of men have thought that, your father included,” Bental said. “Proud men with knowledge and experience. The walls have broken each of them instead of the other way around. What can you try that they haven’t?” Bental shook his head. “No, Dain, I’ve accepted my fate here. We are doomed to obscurity and a slow death while Chalmer destroys the faith I gave up everything to serve.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” Dain said. “I don’t have the answers, but there has to be a weakness, and we will find it. My men and I haven’t spent years in this siege; perhaps new eyes can bring new insights.”

  Dain spent the next few days surveying Thistleton and its remaining walls from end to end, taking his squadmates with him. Afterwards, he had a greater appreciation of the obstacle they faced. They brought their horses to a rocky outcropping that looked out over the city. With the height advantage, they could see the remaining outer wall, the lower one nestled inside, and then into Thistleton itself.

  He looked at the towering peaks of the Cantol range behind the city. They stretched east to west, horizon to horizon. Compared against the works of the Creator, the manmade walls of Thistleton were children’s toys.

  Luckily, they only had to conquer Thistleton. Although, at the rate they were going, that was shaping up to be the work of a lifetime.

  The city held the only pass through the Cantols, and it was the Cantols that trapped the Empire inside the lower continent. Before the Emperor’s siege, the people of Thistleton farmed the space between walls and out into the plains. They had never been a prosperous people. They had neither great natural resources nor a healthy trade route. Goods traveled easier and quicker by circling around the coast by ship.

  But what was true for rice or wheat or cloth wasn’t true for armies and siegecraft. The Empire lacked the naval power necessary to land and supply an army, and that was why the Emperor needed the pass.

  Every other people except the elves had bent the knee to the Karelian Empire. To their credit, the people of Mierten had watched the Empire grow and fortified Thistleton’s defenses accordingly. Each of the four walls, including the two that had fallen and been razed, expanded out into the plains in a half-moon shape. Given all of Thistleton’s advantages, Dain could scarcely believe the Empire had taken even a single wall; to make matters more dire, the defenders grew closer together and more difficult to dislodge at each successive wall.

  We have to breach the last two together or we’ll spend another two years working on the last one. Who knows if anyone will be left by then.

  “No way to attack from any direction but head on,” Zek said.

  “Doesn’t look like it. I didn’t expect one. If there were an easy solution, someone would have already found it,” Dain answered.

  “Riders coming,” Kag said, shielding his eyes from the sun with a big hand.

  “I see them,” Dain sighed. He recognized the banner flying at the head of the approaching group. He’d hoped to avoid this—at least for a few more days—but he should have known better.

  The new arrivals reined in beside the Paladins. Their banners popped in the morning breeze. Dain couldn’t help but notice that they’d fanned out to surround the smaller group. Not taking any chances.

  A single rider dismounted.

  Dain swung down from Boon to meet him.

  “Since when is the Order sending children to fight its wars?” the rider said.

  “I suppose the Sovereign thought whoever was in charge up here wasn’t getting the job done properly.”

  Lord Harren stiffened. He stopped with several feet remaining between them.

  Dain smiled. It was just like his father. If he stepped forward to meet Harren, he would be admitting the other man his better. He stayed as he was. His father might very well be his better, but he wasn’t going to admit it. Not after the insult.

  Harren offered him a grudging nod, his mouth curving up in a wolf’s smile. He resumed walking and Dain met him halfway, as an equal.

  “Father,” Dain said. He offered his gauntlet.

  “Son,” Harren responded, shaking Dain’s hand. “I only got word this morning you were here. You should have let me know.”

  “The last time I visited we didn’t exactly see eye to eye,” Dain said. “You didn’t attend any of my ceremonies.”

  “I was unable to break away.”

  It was a lie. Dain knew it, and his father knew that he knew it. Dain studied Harren. The last time he’d seen him Harren had still been able to look down on him. That wasn’t the case any longer. Though Harren still surely outweighed him, Dain was his equal in height now and still had a few years of growth yet left.

  “I have made my mistakes, son. But tell me again I was wrong to try and keep you from the Order. Tell me it wasn’t exactly as I said.”

  “It was as you said. Most of it,” Dain agreed. “That doesn’t mean going was wrong. The Order has to be saved from a madman.”

  “It’s too late, Dain. Things have gone too far. Chalmer isn’t the cause of the Order’s failures. He’s just a symptom of it. There are a dozen like him, waiting for their own chance at glory, wanting their own lands to rule. Paladins weren’t
meant to hold land of their own. The Order is sick, cancerous. It has to be cut from the Empire.”

  “I do not agree. It can be saved. The Sovereign—”

  “Is an old man,” Harren interrupted. “He can do nothing now. He sent anyone not loyal to Chalmer, anyone more committed to the Order than to themselves, here to shield them from the madness. And how many was that? A bare handful. On some level, the Paladins want Chalmer. Moreover, they want what he represents.”

  They regarded each other in silence, the wind lifting in swirls and whispers around them. Dain knew he’d inherited his father’s stubborn streak. Once his course was set, arguing became pointless.

  “I know you too well, Father. I won’t try to change your mind,” Dain said. He turned and walked to the outcropping’s edge. “But regardless of the state of the Order, there is work to be done here.”

  “Work and waiting,” Harren said. He joined Dain at the edge and looked at the hated wall. “We’ve tried tunneling; the ground is too rocky to dig. We’ve tried siege weapons and, from the wall’s height, theirs have more range. We’ve tried ladders and ropes, but the wall is too high and there are too many defenders. Creator knows we’ve tried waiting them out. None of it works.”

  “So we should just leave, then?” Dain said. Harren gave him a long-suffering look.

  “I didn’t say that. We need more men, though. If the Emperor wasn’t aiding Chalmer and his elven blunder, we would have enough to break through.”

  “The Emperor only started sending men east last year. Until then you had all his troops.”