17878265

by David

  “What of my husband and son?” asked Elena. Her words were flat and emotionless, but her watery green eyes betrayed her fears as she blinked her tears from view.

  “Both live, milady,” blurted Warnyck, who was unable to hold back his tidings. “I was with them, not a turn of the glass past. Garrick sends word that he and Garrett will come hither as soon as they are able, milady.”

  Elena was relieved, although she tried to mask her emotions with the dutiful face propriety demanded. She smiled through her tears, nodding, as Aldric continued his account, “We did not arrive here a moment too soon, for we have come fresh from another fight, my lady. As you well know, King Hadregeon of Landolstadt dared to make open war on us by bringing battle to your gates. He shall rue the day he chose to attack the Lord and Lady of Durbansdan!” Aldric swore.

  “We have turned him back from Moonriver like the groveling dog he is. Even now, he flees with his army divided. We will rest and await Lord Garrick’s decision, ere we end this matter, for it is his burden to determine our next course of action.”

  Aldric’s report ended acquiescently, as was proper, but Loric thought he was holding

  something back, just beneath his smooth, lordly facade. It did not go by the lady, whose eyebrows rose in question. Loric wondered whether Aldric wished the choice were his to make.

  “What if the decision was yours to make, brother?” asked the lady, as if she too had read his thoughts. “What would you do? You speak as one who has already decided upon a course of action.”

  “I would strike swiftly,” Aldric blurted, with some agitation. His voice trembled as he backhanded his palm and added, “I would hit our foe while he is unbalanced and disorganized!

  Even now, we are losing our precious advantage. Waiting allows him time to re-gather his strength. My mind is made up.”

  “And you?” Elena asked, suddenly settling her green eyes on Loric. “What would you do?”

  “M-Me?” questioned he. A belated, “My lady,” followed.

  “Yes, friend of the Guardian Knight,” Elena answered, eyeing the emblem on Loric’s

  surcoat. She smiled a tolerant smile and explained, “My lord husband is sometimes rash in his decision making, as are my son and brother.” Her eyes jabbed at Aldric. “I often seek opinions of squires and common men. Speak freely. Tell me: what would you do?”

  “My eagerness to pursue our enemies gives me cause to agree with Lord Aldric, for we may never again have an opportunity like the one we have now. Hadregeon’s host is in confusion, so we should move swiftly. However, the enemy came to this place as two separate armies. Even though they have fled as two wounded forces, they may not be as vulnerable as we would like to think they are.”

  “An excellent point,” Elena remarked. “Which of Hadregeon’s armies would you pursue?”

  she asked, her eyes searching him.

  “I would split our forces and destroy both fragments,” Loric answered matter-of-factly.

  “Easier said than done!” exclaimed a voice behind him. It was none other than Lord Garrick.

  His gaze was as hard as stone. “Questioning my military men again, are you, my lady wife?” he inquired.

  Elena offered a subtle nod. Tears flowed down her cheeks, incongruous with her smile.

  Loric was afraid he had said too much.

  A smile broke across Garrick’s hardened features. It pleases me; the way you look after me, my beautiful wife. He turned a hard look upon Loric and questioned, “Still posing as the Ghost of Sir Palendar?” He waved away his query before Loric grasped for a response, beaming broadly at Aldric’s captain. “Pose howsoever you should like!” he cried merrily. “You executed your task perfectly today, Sir Loric of Shimmermir and Taeglin. You have impressed me with each action of this conflict, which is why I value your opinion more with each passing day. Yet, you remain humble. I can see that you are worried you may have offended me.” He laughed aloud, “Not to fear, young knight, for I am wholeheartedly in agreement with you. We should divide our forces and pursue both of Hadregeon’s armies. But we should hold to caution in this venture, lest our enemy should lead us into a trap.” Garrick paused for a moment. “My reason for chasing both halves of Hadregeon’s army is twofold. First, I want neither of those forces to withdraw from Durbansdan intact. Second, and of the greatest importance to me, we are not sure which portion Hadregeon has joined in his flight. He is the man I least want to escape to Landolstadt.”

  “A good point, my lord,” Aldric concurred.

  “I only wish that we had captured him today,” Garrick said wistfully. “But since we lost him in the chaos of battle, we have no choice but to pursue both remnants of his retreating army.” He sighed in painful lament. “King Donigan’s lost sword would be of great use to us in this endless war we wage, but alas it is gone. A pity, that.”

  Garrick’s eyes tried to seek Loric out as he spoke, but the Lord of Durbansdan refused to give them free reign to do so. Aldric was pale, as if he was going to vomit in the audience chamber.

  Stray thoughts kept Loric from dwelling on meanings of those signs, for he too wondered where the Sword of the Dragon’s Eye had gone with the fall of the Great King, Donigan.

  Without meaning to, he fantasized about going on a quest to regain the mighty blade, even going as far as envisioning a desperate struggle through the frozen passes of the Wyrm Mountains. In his daydream, Loric scaled unconquerable heights, entered the lair of Andokandazur and fitted the Dragon’s Eye into the hilt of its legendary sword. Then he returned to Moonriver Castle, where everyone celebrated him with great admiration.

  Loric awoke from his dream, suddenly wondering, Was that my hope for the future or was it a view of tomorrow? He could not distinguish between foresight and fantastic.

  “What happened to you?” Garrick asked. He was peering at Gradlin’s face, aghast.

  “Lord,” Loric answered for his lieutenant, “this man has suffered a grievous injury to his jaw, the likes of which our own physician--worthy as he is--could never hope to fully heal....”

  Loric stalled with the awkwardness of his request.

  Garrick nodded along with each word Loric said, filling in his unfinished statement for him by saying, “I see a man of rank who could lose the ability to speak clearly in battle. Am I right?”

  “Lieutenant Gradlin was invaluable to me today, lord,” Loric assured him with all

  confidence. “I would hate to lose him.”

  Elena spoke up to suggest, “Perhaps Princess Avalana could look at this man’s jaw. King Avalar praises her healing gifts at our every meeting, it seems.”

  Garrick nodded. “Yes, my lady wife. You speak the truth. Take Lieutenant Gradlin to the princess at once and tell her that I plead with her to look to his injuries.”

  Aldric tapped Loric on the shoulder and commanded him, “See to it, captain.”

  Loric struggled to mask his pleasure at his liege commanding him to call upon Avalana. He snapped a salute and answered, “Yes, my lord.”

  Loric and Warnyck assisted the battered lieutenant from the great hall. Loric retraced his steps to Avalana’s guest chamber, trying his best not to move too hastily for the sake of injured Gradlin. Warnyck had to bark for him to slow down three times, due his lack of restraint. Only social limitations kept Loric from running to the princess and throwing his arms about her, as he longed to do. He wanted to take her up in a hug and spin her about in loving embrace, but wandering thoughts of a headsman’s axe intervened to keep him from acting foolishly.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Loric and his companions stopped outside Avalana’s door. The knight rapped on its smooth surface. It opened inward to the warm glow of a lamp.

  There stood the princess, looking just as beautiful as Loric remembered she was. She smiled until she saw his bloody mess of a surcoat, whereupon she moved one hand to her heart and the other to her head. Loric instinctively discarded his helmet and caught Avalana about the waist to keep her from
falling over.

  “Not to worry, my lady,” he calmly reassured her. “The stains you see came from our

  enemies. It is not my blood.”

  “Animals--all of you,” Avalana choked bitterly, recovering to tear away from Loric’s bloody hands.

  That greeting angered Loric. Checked to duty by Avalana’s verbal condemnation, he said,

  “Be that as it may, my lady, we have come from His Lordship of Durbansdan, Garrick, to ask the favor of your healing hands.” He motioned toward Gradlin and said, “We seek this kindness for my lieutenant, who-”

  Avalana saw Gradlin’s face and her wrath for men and their wars fell into sympathy for one wounded. “I see what you mean,” she gasped. “Come in,” she urged them with a twitch of her fingers.

  The princess gently pushed Gradlin into a cushioned chair, where she examined his wound.

  Avalana prepared a pasty balm and applied it to the lieutenant’s battered face. As she touched him with the cream, his furrowed brow went lax and he smiled in contented pleasure. Avalana left her mysterious medicine on his face for several minutes before she began easing it into his skin with her fingers. The paste disappeared after a few minutes of massage, leaving behind an oily sheen.

  “How do you feel?” Avalana asked.

  “I feel great,” Gradlin replied. His expression was one of amazement as he reached up to touch his jaw, rubbing it in disbelief. Minutes before, he had been a muttering fool, but now he was grinning with great joy.

  Warnyck gasped, “Extraordinary. How did you do that, milady?”

  “In Regalsturn it is said that I have pansza nes hotoa ria nes do, or hands of the healing balm, but it is a simple matter of knowing herbs and how best to apply them,” Avalana answered modestly.

  “Lusivenoa hotoa pansza!” Loric remarked, without translating it for Warnyck and Gradlin.

  Avalana did not need Loric’s help to know that he had said, Mighty healing hands! Her cheeks were bright as she replied, “I would say that I am well-schooled in healing and nothing more, lord. You honor my skills too highly.”

  “Whatever your gift,” Gradlin began, “my jaw feels right. My deepest thanks to you,

  Princess Avalana.” He bowed low before her.

  Avalana bade him rise, saying, “Up! Up! Do not bow for this simple matter.”

  “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, milady,” offered Warnyck, “but I must take my leave. Duty ever calls me.”

  “We must all take leave, princess,” Loric amended his friend’s statement, adding a graceful bow.

  “Farewell, milady,” Gradlin said admiringly. “Bless you for your kindness.”

  With a final farewell from the princess, three men exited her room and headed back to the Hall of Heroes. They had just entered the wide hallway leading up to the great double doors of the audience chamber when Loric came to a stop. His companions halted just ahead of him.

  “What is amiss?” Warnyck asked.

  “I seem to have forgotten my helmet,” answered Loric, who remembered tossing it to the floor to catch the faint princess. “Go on ahead of me. I will catch up with you.”

  Loric’s luck pleased him. His chivalry and forgetfulness had provided the perfect

  opportunity to share a few private words with Avalana--in the Beledonian tongue with which he was more familiar this time. He sped back up the hall and rapped on Avalana’s door.

  The portal opened and the princess invited him in. “It was not by accident that you left this here, was it?” she asked, as she handed his protective headgear to him.

  “You know very well that it was not, my lady,” Loric replied, playing along. “You alone know that I live to be in your presence. No one else can ever know that, for my devotion is treasonous. Never should another man, even a lesser nobleman, show affection for the betrothed of a prince.”

  “No,” Avalana gasped. “Garrett and I are not betrothed.”

  “No?” Loric questioned. “I was dining with two kings when these plans were made between them. It is just as you suspected. Your father intends for you and Garrett to wed.”

  “I will never marry him,” Avalana objected. “I would rather die.”

  “Princess Avalana, please do not say such things,” Loric pleaded. “I would perish ere I would let your terrible wish come to fruition, but I must live on that I might still try to prevent this wedding.” He stared into the eyes of the princess and continued, “You must cling to the hope that our love will prevail, even when it seems a fool’s hope to believe this.”

  Loric took Avalana’s shoulders in his hands and gave them a loving squeeze. “I have walked through blackest night with only a bare thread of hope--an illusion, it seemed--in my fingers. I have stared into the cruel eyes of the Soul Snatcher while his scythe swept by me, and I still live. As long as I live, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm. Every ounce of my being is devoted to your health and well-being, so you have to trust me. Will you trust me?”

  Avalana nodded. She gazed back into his eyes and murmured, “I trust you, Loric, but you must not let me to be married to Garrett. Swear that you will not!”

  “I swear upon my blood that I will never allow said union to take place,” Loric agreed. “You were to be married upon our return hither, but the ceremony will assuredly be postponed until the oath breaker, Hadregeon of Landolstadt, is dealt with for good and all.”

  “Good,” she answered excitedly. “Let us be off while these great lords are busy making war.”

  “Avalana, no,” Loric said firmly. “We must not.” He felt his resolve drowning in her big blue eyes. Against his good judgment, he offered, “Await my return from Landolstadt. Once we defeat Hadregeon, I will slip away to return ahead of the others. I will ride day and night to reach you, before the army can come hence. Then we will fly away from here together; if that is your wish.”

  “No!” Avalana cried.

  “No?” Loric questioned. Her reply confused him.

  Avalana shook her head and said, “My poor ami. You misunderstand me. I wish to go away with you, but we should go at once.”

  “No,” Loric flatly rejected her.

  Avalana began to cry. “Why must you go murdering again?” she sobbed. “I have died inside from the time you rode away until now. I have wondered each night, as I lay sleepless in my bed, if my beautiful ami, Loric of Shimmermir and Taeglin, lived to see the sunset--to count the stars-

  -because there can be no sunrise without you.”

  “I often wondered if I had witnessed my last sunrise or looked upon my dazzling princess for the last time,” he returned softly, “but I have lived through it all just to be here with you.”

  “Please, take me away from here,” Avalana whispered, persuasively laying her head upon Loric’s shoulder. “I would not lose you to this barbaric practice of war, to then be married to the heartless Prince of Beledon.”

  Avalana peered up. Her teary eyes pleaded with Loric. He felt his heart sinking into their tow, which was all-powerful against him. He tore his eyes away from the beautiful princess and stepped back a pace. Loric measured his words carefully before he looked at Avalana to express them. He spoke sternly and deliberately, saying, “I cannot grant this request, Princess Avalana.

  What you seek would destroy us. We must find a better way to be together, or it would be better for us to be apart.”

  “Is that what you want?” Avalana asked with a wince.

  Loric chose to ignore the subject of his want, for it was irresponsible to consider it. Leading men into combat had shown him the height of responsibility. Life was short on the battlefield and every decision had bearing on who was to take his last breath. Loric’s response reflected his mindset, as he told the princess, “I have a sworn duty to Lord Aldric, and I have an obligation to men in my service. Beledon is ravaged by war. I came to Moonriver Castle seeking to do my part to end this madness. I cannot in good conscience run away with you now, when we are so close to vic
tory-”

  “You have made your choice!” Avalana fired back. “Leave me for your butchery.”

  Loric pretended not to hear her hurtful words. He went on, “I only ask that you await my return. I will not be away any longer than can be helped.”

  “Run to your slaughter, Farm Lord!” the princess snapped. “Do not expect me to be here when you return. I only wish that I had not considered you my ami.” Avalana shook with sobs.

  She paused, waiting for Loric to leave. “You may go,” she told him.

  “Avalana?” Loric questioned.

  “Leave me!” Avalana commanded him, growling. “That is what you are best at, so be about it.” When Loric hesitated, with his hands out wide, she screamed, “Go away! I order you to leave me, or my next shout will bring my father’s guards,” the princess threatened.

  Loric moved to kiss Avalana’s emotionless lips, but she drew away. “Go.”

  “Very well,” Loric said quietly. “I will go. I wish you happiness in my absence, my lady.

  Farewell.” With that said, he turned and strode from the room.

  Avalana complicates everything, Loric thought fiercely. He kept outward signs of his fury to a minimum, as he walked away from Avalana’s door. Why must she behave as though this is our only chance to be together? It is not the only way.

  Loric paused and contemplated an about face. Avalana does not know I am the Heir of Logant. He teetered toward retracing his steps. Duty was calling him to the Hall of Heroes.

  Loric resumed his march to Garrick’s audience chamber. I will be back from pursuing the King of Landolstadt in a week at most. The worst of the campaign is already behind us. We must simply ride down that scoundrel, Hadregeon. Once he is cornered and captured, even that prideful man will submit to Garrick’s authority. The whole of the north, plus Egolstadt will be one Beledon. Avalana worries about nothing at all, Loric decided.

  The princess had hurt Loric with her words, no matter his denial. Lingering effects of her rich-girl tantrum left him vulnerable to intruding thoughts of another woman he had met. That begged him to question, Would Lady Hadelia be so insistent upon having her way? Would she be as impatient as Avalana is or would she understand, as only a fellow child of Beledon and Her many kings could understand this country, its politics and its people? Loric laughed aloud at how ridiculous his questions were, muttering, “Lady Hadelia would likely stick me with a dagger for my part in her uncle’s defeat. At the least, she would make me choose between retreat and death.”