“They’ll run right into the others. We don’t know how far Bental and father were able to get. They may be fighting on both sides.”
Running was flat out impossible, but Dain and the strongest of the others jogged to their horses and, once mounted, they rode toward the remnants of the fleeing army and the still-open gate beyond.
Zek and the others struck at the fleeing men as they rode past, scattering them, but Dain was intent only on finding his father. He swung Boon around and over the outer gate. The chains that had raised and lowered the gate had been cut clean. Kag’s work, likely. The big war axe he carried would have done it easily if he’d charged it with Light first. Inside the wall, Boon continued to gallop. He passed the bodies of a few men; some his father’s, most Thistleton’s defenders.
Another, smaller wall rose ahead of him now, the last of the city’s defenses. Its gate too was down. There were more bodies. Some were civilians—women and children, he realized with a blunt shock. More women and children were on their knees around them, weeping and crying.
Dain tried to ignore their cries and not to think about who might have killed the people lying on the ground around Boon’s hooves. In war, innocence is always the first casualty. Youth is often the second. He’d learned that studying the philosopher Halsten. His book had been one of Thave’s favorites.
It felt different in person than it had on the page.
He and Boon crossed through the inner wall’s gate. Its chains had been cut clean as well. Fighting echoed through Thistleton’s streets ahead.
He saw his father—merely a blur in a mess of swords and men—and rushed toward him. Harren’s horse was gone along with his helmet. His sword was down and he was leaning on it for support. Kag was at his side, facing three defenders armed with pikes.
Dain ran Boon straight into them and heard a sickening crunch as the warhorse’s shoulder slammed into one of the men. He spun the horse, and Boon lashed out with his hooves at the skull of another. Kag’s axe finished off the last.
“Took you long enough,” Harren said, drawing himself up straight with difficulty.
Dain dismounted and moved to his father’s side. “Where are the others?”
“We fanned out inside the city so they couldn’t box us. Lord Harren and I ran into a patrol,” Kag said.
“Father, we need to get you on a horse.”
“I’m not riding that beast of yours. He’ll toss me.”
“Boon tosses everyone,” Dain said. “It’s his way of saying hello. Kag, look around that corner ahead and see if there are any horses in the street.”
Kag shortened his grip on the axe and ran ahead.
“I could try healing you,” Dain offered.
“I thought you said they didn’t train you to heal.”
“I said they half-trained us. I’m afraid I don’t have the knack for it, though.” He examined a deep gash in Harren’s side. “But if I don’t try you may bleed to death.”
“No horses,” Kag said when he returned. “But I did see a cart.”
“Help me get this armor off him. I’m going to try healing him.”
“You? You’ll likely make it worse,” Kag said.
“Well, Kag, I’d let you try, but the only one worse than me at healing is you.”
“I don’t know about that. I thought Instructor Quin said you were the worst.”
“Just stand watch while I try this.”
Dain eased his father’s plate over his shoulders. Harren bit his lip to keep from crying out. The wound in his side was the most serious, but there were more wounds on his arms and neck.
“Honored Creator,” Dain started to pray, “by your name I call on you and your Holy Light.” He said the prayer by rote. His instructors claimed it wasn’t necessary, that the Light would answer his call regardless of the words so long as his intent was pure, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
A tiny spark formed first in Dain’s mind and then in his hand. He pushed more strength into it and it chattered and fizzed larger and brighter. It didn’t feel like enough. Surely he needed more to heal his father. I need more power.
His prayers grew fervent as he tried to concentrate on his faith and on the spark. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it grew to the size of a hen’s egg.
It still isn’t enough, Dain knew, but it might get him to a real healer. His mind was splitting from the strain, but he could force no more strength into the spell. He brought the spark down and slammed it into his father’s chest.
A tiny puff of Light flashed outward. Kag caught Dain before he collapsed, holding him by the shoulders.
“You alright?” Kag asked.
“I’m fine,” Dain answered. “Did it work?”
Kag lowered Dain to the ground and then looked at Harren. “It worked. His wounds look better, even if they aren’t fully healed.”
“Get the cart. Zek and the others should be along any moment. We need to find them and group up. We can take shelter in the inner wall gatehouse.”
“What will we do then?”
Dain looked out at the streets of Thistleton. The bodies of his enemies lay scattered nearby, mixed with those of the women, children, and elders who had gotten in the way. There was blood in the streets. Several small fires were burning in the houses; he could see smoke rising from them. His stomach churned and his head swam.
“We hold until the army returns. When the gate lowered, I sent a messenger to them with orders to get here as fast as they can.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dain tried to remember what his father had told him. Salute when he enters, kneel in the warrior’s stance, answer his questions plain and clear.
Eager, Dain looked again at the steward. The man was robed in silk of royal purple and wore a huge lion’s head clasp of pure silver at his shoulder. A door opened beside him and a finely dressed merchant stepped out, bowed, and departed down the long wooden corridor.
“You may enter now,” the steward said.
Dain ran his sweating hands over the legs of his trousers. He recalled Grenier’s advice, but there was no dirt here to rub between them, no sword to grip tight. He passed between a pair of watchful guards and entered the chamber.
The man seated on a throne of solid jade regarded him. He was old, older than Dain’s father, and his dark eyes held an unyielding power in their depths. His robe almost matched the steward’s royal purple, but his clasp was gold, not silver, and the lion’s head was roaring. His dull-white hair was combed down over his shoulders. On his head sat a golden crown shaped like a weave of oaken leaves. In the heart of each leaf, a diamond sparkled.
“So, after seven long years of bloodshed with only a handful of broken walls to show for it, Thistleton has fallen. The Empire now controls the only pass through the great Cantol Mountains. Through it, we can bring justice and peace to the peoples beyond. I understand from Bental and your father that I have you to thank for this,” Emperor Pelion said.
Dain lowered himself to one knee. He placed both fists to the floor in salute.
“The plan was all of ours, Your Imperial Majesty. I merely suggested it; they made many improvements. It is my duty to serve the Light and the Empire,” he said.
“The Light and the Empire,” the Emperor echoed. “It is good that they are one and the same, isn’t it.”
Dain considered the comment while the Emperor regarded him. The statement seemed half a question.
“May it ever be so,” he finally said.
“Yes, may it ever be so.”
A young woman emerged from the side of the throne and put her hand on the Emperor’s knee. Until now, Dain hadn’t noticed her. He leaned down and she cupped a delicate hand to whisper in Pelion’s ear. The Emperor chuckled and smiled first at her, then at Dain.
&nb
sp; “My granddaughter says you are handsome. She would like you to rise so she might see you better.”
Dain slowly stood. He kept his head bowed.
“You may raise your eyes,” the Emperor said. “Melinia can’t very well see you with your head on the floor, can she?”
Dain lifted his chin. She was beautiful. Indeed, he’d heard legends about Melinia and her younger sister, Jasine, for several years now. Her hair fell in cascades over her smooth shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her eyes were blue and bright and tranquil. Her skin was as smooth as marble. The stories around Karelton said she was radiant like the sun and lovely as a moonlit lake. He believed them now.
“Tall, isn’t he, Melinia? Like his father. But he has his mother’s eyes,” the Emperor said. His expression was amused now. Dain felt a bit like an item on display in a shopkeeper’s window. “Your father tells me you helped lure Thistleton’s army out of the city, and then after fighting your way through them, you rescued both he and another Paladin,” the Emperor continued.
“I did, Majesty.”
“Remarkable.” The Emperor plucked several red grapes from a tray at his elbow and popped one in his mouth. “I confess, I find myself a bit befuddled by you, young Paladin. Your father dislikes—no, dislike isn’t strong enough a word—he hates Chalmer, and the Order by extension, and yet you joined it. That mustn’t have been easy, hmm?”
“My father is a good man, a loyal man, but on some things he and I do not agree.”
“Ahh. It is ever so between fathers and sons; mothers and daughters, too, I suppose. I argued much with my own son before his death. I regret many of my words, as I’m sure all fathers must.”
“I would guess that all sons carry their own regrets as well, Majesty,” Dain said.
“Do you regret joining the Order? It is much as your father described it, I’m sure. He is a very perceptive man, even though he doesn’t have the reputation of one.”
“I do not regret it. Had I not joined, I would not have been able to come to his aid.”
“Interesting,” Pelion said. He turned to his granddaughter. “He speaks well, does he not? And there is truth in his words?”
“He does, and there is,” Melinia agreed, her voice smooth.
“Melinia and I are headed to my gardens. Walk with us.”
It was not a question. The Emperor rose and took Melinia’s offered hand. He and his granddaughter led, Dain trailing after them. Four guards covered head to boot in thick, rattling armor fell in behind them as they walked from the audience chamber down a small corridor and then out onto an open terrace.
“Wait out here,” the Emperor told the guards. One of them started to protest, but Pelion stopped him with a raised hand. “I am perfectly safe with him, I assure you.”
The guards grudgingly filed back into the building. When they were gone the Emperor turned again to Dain. “I would have you do me the honor of speaking plainly as we walk, Dain. I wish to speak man to man. Let us forget for a moment that I am the Emperor and you are a Paladin.”
The muscles in Dain’s shoulders tensed slightly. His father had warned him of this. He was to speak plainly but remember not to offend or pass along words that could harm others—even Lord Chalmer. The Emperor did not like that. He was his own man, stubborn and proud, and anyone caught trying to manipulate him was marked and punished.
Pelion started to walk again, and Melinia moved to his side. The Emperor stopped as she took his arm. “Dear heart, I think perhaps the young man would feel more at ease if you walked by his side instead. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Pelion said with a faint smile. His eyes glittered in suppressed amusement.
Melinia moved to Dain’s side and he offered her his arm, willing the heat in his cheeks away. She bowed slightly and wound her own through the space between his elbow and side.
The Emperor resumed his walk, this time at Dain’s other side. “You lost some friends, I understand, taking the walls.”
“Good friends,” Dain said. He, Kag, and Zek had held a private ceremony honoring Trysen and Dremble, who’d fallen at Thistleton. While he met with the Emperor, Kag and Zek were at the Red Roan waiting for him.
“I am at a loss, young man. There is much distress in the Empire. We fight on too many fronts, stretching ourselves thin, and I am unsure as to what to do about it. I would ask you to consider a problem.” The Emperor looked over at Dain, his eyes piercing despite the wrinkles that surrounded them. “If a man were your tenant and he began an argument with a partner in your business, what would you do?”
“I do not know,” Dain hedged. “I suppose I would ask my tenant to withdraw his argument.”
“Ahh,” the Emperor said. “But what if you needed the tenant? What if you were stronger together, and if you offended him, your enemies might destroy you?”
“Then I might ask both my renter and my partner to settle their differences amongst themselves.”
“He shows wisdom,” the Emperor said to Melinia.
Dain was acutely aware of Melinia’s presence beside him. She looked up at him with her clear blue eyes and smiled. He felt the warmth of her arm though his shirt. Desperately, he fought to keep himself from blushing again.
“But alas, the differences between your tenant and your partner are vast and fundamental. They cannot even agree to meet with one another,” the Emperor said. He leaned over a rose bush and cupped one of the scarlet flowers. After smelling it, he took a small knife from within his robes, cut the stem free, and handed it to his granddaughter.
“I suppose I would choose the most trusted and useful to me—either my partner or my renter—and aid them in bringing the argument to an end. Then I would have the better ally against my enemies,” Dain said.
“Finally, we arrive at a solution,” the Emperor said.
“There is a problem, though,” Melinia said, twisting the rose’s stem between delicate fingers. “How do you tell which is the stronger ally?”
The Emperor laughed. “She cuts to the heart of it, doesn’t she? She’s ever been direct.”
“I would guess you let them argue for a time to see which holds the high ground—not to mention which seems more loyal to you—and then decide,” Dain answered, daring to look into Melinia’s eyes, which were trained on him. “Though, there is another problem.”
“And that is…?” Melinia said. She returned his look somewhat coolly, though a smile still played at the corners of her mouth.
“What if whoever emerges after the struggle decides to argue with you, as well? Then you’ve just weakened yourself by sacrificing an ally.”
The Emperor chuckled again. “Very true, young man, very true. You see, Melinia, I’ve told you the Gladstones are not the hardheaded fools their reputation claims. And in reasoning, young Dain here takes after his mother.”
“Perhaps,” Melinia agreed, returning her attention to her rose. Dain had no doubt that she was still acutely aware of the conversation despite this—the beautiful girl clearly had a head for politics just like her grandfather.
“Will you escort him to the lower entrance, my dear?” Pelion said. He rubbed the leaves of a dwarf maple between his fingers. “I think I will spend some time here among the garden. The day is warm, and I’ve no interest in more merchants and pompous lordlings.”
Dain bowed to the Emperor.
“Until we meet again, young Gladstone.”
“Honor and duty,” Dain said, while placing a fist over his heart.
With her arm still in his, Melinia guided Dain past the guards and back down the small corridor.
“What did you think of the garden?” she asked.
“It was pleasant, my lady. I didn’t know there was anywhere so peaceful in Karelton,” he said.
“And our walk through it?”
“Pleasant, as well.”
“I found it likewise, though I think it is the company you keep that makes the journey pleasant, not the journey itself. Don’t you agree?”
“I do.” Dain felt himself flushing again, silently cursing his traitorous emotions. Melinia squeezed his arm and laughed, low and rich. She may have been a year or two younger, but he found himself stumbling like a child around her.
“Unfortunately, we are at the end of our journey. I am afraid I won’t find company so pleasant—or so handsome—in the days ahead,” she said. “Perhaps next time you’ll come back to visit me instead of my grandfather?”
A guard opened the door ahead, and Melinia guided Dain out. She paused at the threshold.
“If that is your wish,” Dain managed.
“I wish it very much.” Melinia smiled again. Then she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Until then, Paladin.”
With that, she vanished back into the castle.
The sad column rode east over the windswept plains. At its head were Dain and Bental. Kag, Zek, and a few other surviving Paladins from the north trailed along behind.
“I hear the Emperor’s granddaughter was eager to meet you,” Bental said casually.
Dain ignored the comment. Despite his best efforts, the rumor had spread. In the month since their return from Thistleton, he’d heard it a hundred times. Even his mother had written him to inquire about it. It was natural, he supposed.
“I’ve heard she’s quite attractive, except for the huge mole on the end of her nose,” Bental continued.
“Melinia doesn’t have a…” Dain started, and knew he was caught.
“Ahh, so it’s Melinia, is it? You did meet her.” Bental laughed. “And like all her other suitors, you’ve fallen for her.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 37