by Justin Sloan
“They tried to fight,” Kia said. “They took me to the caves and then led a distraction, but… never made it back.”
He knew how hard that must have been for her, so he pulled her back in for a hug. No more questions, not now.
When she coughed, he remembered the two he had brought, and quickly stood, gesturing to Alastar.
“This is her, my Kia,” he said, pride welling up inside as Alastar’s eyes went wide at the sight of her. “My little survivor.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alastar said, assessing her disease. “Would you be okay with me trying something?”
She stared up at him, her nine-year-old trust uncertain in this condition, what with all she had been through. Finally, she nodded. Donnon couldn’t imagine leaving her side in a moment like this, so he held her tight as Alastar stepped up and placed his hand on her forehead. The paladin’s eyes closed, and his lips moved in prayer, and soon a bright light moved down his arm and swept over her until her entire body glowed golden.
He opened his eyes, and they were gold as well, and he said, “By the Order of Rodrick and the blessing of the holy saint, be healed, child.”
The light engulfed her even as she stepped back and whimpered in terror, pulling away from him and even her own father’s grip. Her arms flailed as she tried to fight off the light, screaming, “No, not you, no! No!”
Donnon couldn’t understand what was happening, so at first, he turned to Alastar, ax raised, but he looked as dumbfounded as Donnon felt.
Instead, he dropped the ax and ran to his daughter, holding her by the shoulders as he begged her to tell him what was wrong.
“Him!” she shouted, pointing at Alastar even as the light faded, taking the black marks with it. “He’s one of them! He’s one of them!”
Donnon was still lost, but Rhona was at his side a moment later, one arm on his shoulder, the other on his daughter’s.
“I think I understand,” Rhona said, clearly trying to convey calmness. “His prayer, the Order of Rodrick…”
Kia flinched at the name.
“You called?” a new voice said, and they all turned to see a dozen paladins. At their head was a tall knight with long, golden hair shining in the sun almost as brightly as his white and gold armor. His eyes took them in with malice at first, until they came to rest on Rhona and Alastar. He frowned in confusion, then smiled. “It seems you’ve lost your armor, brother.”
“Taland…” Alastar stood, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Did you do this?”
“Our war is with these witches and warlocks,” Taland said. “Or did you forget what they did to our castle?” His eyes moved back to Rhona, and there was something else there. Shame? Spite?
Alastar shook his head. “The sorcerers who attacked the castle had nothing to do with these people.”
“They all use magic, they are all evil. What else is there to know?”
“You don’t understand, brothers.” Alastar motioned to Kia. “You would wage war on a child over this?”
“Her?” Taland laughed, and the others snickered. “Her most of all. Who do you think burned the village down while we sought shelter?”
Donnon turned to his daughter, confused. She had never shown her magic to others, but now he saw it there in her eyes—confidence, a burning hatred, and power. She wasn’t hiding anymore.
He had hoped she wouldn’t be burdened with this power, at times a curse, at others a blessing.
At the moment, it was clearly bound to be the latter. He pulled out his flint and prepared to light it, when an armored kick hit him in the ribs, knocking the flint out of his hands. He lunged to reach for it, when another paladin stomped on his hand, and the cracking of bones sent a piercing pain up Donnon’s arm.
“Stop it!” Kia screamed, running for them, but Rhona held her back.
“Your war is not with them!” Rhona shouted.
Taland stepped up to her, furious, and raised his hand to strike, but it never came. Instead, he had been distracted by something beyond her.
Now, Donnon and the others turned to look too. All around them, Remnant were emerging through the trees. Hundreds of them.
“The hell is this sorcery?” Taland asked, lowering his hand to draw his sword. “You… you all control them somehow? You called them here?”
“You poor, ignorant arse.” Donnon cradled his injured hand and scooted over to his daughter. “I hope they don’t kill you, so that I’ll have the chance one day.”
Taland didn’t seem to like that remark much, because he brought the hilt of his sword down on Donnon’s head with a strike that sent him spinning down into darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alastar stared in shock as Donnon crumbled to the ground, unconscious, and his daughter screamed and lunged for him. The remnant were everywhere, and now there was this to deal with.
If this had been anyone other than Taland, he wouldn’t have worried, but Taland had been one of the few paladins who had often bested him both in sparring and blessings.
As the other paladins all called down blessings upon themselves, and their bodies and swords glowed, Alastar tried to lift his sword and found the spell to heal Kia had taken too much from him.
He staggered over to Rhona’s side, but before he could make it, Taland had given an order and three of the paladins had taken hold of him and were dragging him away, while the others formed a defensive retreat formation.
“There’s too many,” Taland said, and then pointed at Kia. “Kill them first, including the sister.”
“No!” Alastar shouted, trying to fight, trying to call down a blessing, but he couldn’t. He was simply too drained.
The paladins moved for them, but Rhona was over the other two, grabbing them, and she cast a look back at Alastar as she mouthed, “I’ll find you,” and then all three had become shadow, darting away.
He leaned back, letting the paladins take him as he sighed in relief.
A crack in the sky startled him, and he lifted his head to see that, to his dismay, three shadowy forms were falling from the sky. They fell toward a glowing, purple mist that circled beneath, and then the mist had them.
For a moment, Alastar was certain he saw a face in that mist—the chief sorcerer who he had seen at the fortress and then again in the pursuit. Irdin, they’d called him.
The bastard had them, and there was nothing Alastar could do about it. He thrashed and shouted, but the paladins had him and, as they were strengthened by the blessings, he was like a child struggling against several grown men.
“They have her!” he shouted. “The sorcerers, that’s what they wanted. Her!”
“We’ll have words with the sorcerers,” Taland assured him, marching past as his men met the first of the remnant with a clash of swords against whatever crude axes and hammers they had. “But your sister and the other two? We don’t give a damn.”
Warfare sounded nearby, and Alastar was tossed to the ground with a thud as his captors turned to slay nearby remnant. He had never felt so powerless as at that moment, and hoped it hadn’t all been for nothing. Had he healed that little girl only to watch her die at the hands of the sorcerers?
These were his brothers in arms, more than family at one time, now tossing him about like a mere prisoner. How quickly one could turn from trusted friend to enemy. He lay there, watching blood fly from those creatures that were clearly once human but now survived in a feral state of perpetual anger and bloodlust. Maybe they, too, were somehow simply misunderstood.
Had anyone ever captured one and sat down to try and converse with it? Or even better, tried to heal one?
Not that any of that much mattered. Either the remnant would somehow overpower the paladins, the sorcerers would join up with them for the attack, or they would escape and either kill him for his betrayal or make an example out of him in some other way.
Those weren’t scenarios he was prepared to let happen.
An opening appeared, and he stood, making rea
dy to run for it, only to find an armored, glowing arm clothesline him and send him flying back to the ground with a hard thump on his back.
He gasped for air and stared up at another face he recognized, Sir Bale, shaking his head and shouting something about staying down.
Forget that.
Again, he pushed himself up, this time finding a bit of prayer led to a response. His skin tingled and filled with energy, and then he was up, pushing past Bale and going for his sword where it lay on the ground.
Two remnant charged him, and he caught the first one with an uppercut, but felt the other’s club against his side with a pain that shook his insides. He lifted his fist to strike, when a strange sensation came over him. A bright light flashed before his eyes, blinding him, and he guessed the same had happened to the remnant, because they all screamed at once.
He was swinging wildly, only able to see faint outlines around him. Something swooshed past his face, then a form appeared and had him. More hands grabbed him, and they lifted him off of the ground, carrying him away from that place.
“We’ve got you,” Bale said. “Don’t worry, you’re safe… for now.”
Alastar stopped struggling long enough to ask, “And the others? The sorcerers?”
“After they got what they came for, they were gone.”
It took a moment to process this. Had the sorcerers really been after his sister? He couldn’t figure out why, except for her unique magic. Magic the likes of which he had never heard of anyone else using before.
All of this had started because he had to be the hero back in that farm house. He wished he had a magic that he could use to go back and change that moment, although he had to admit that, if she had the power in her laying dormant, it likely would have come out eventually anyway.
Soon, his captors let his feet fall to the ground, and he was being half-dragged as he ran along with them, and then gradually his sight began to slowly recover enough to where he could make out colors.
This might mean the powers of their blessings were weakening, giving him hope once more.
“The sorcerers who attacked,” he said as they stumbled on, “we have to warn the High Paladin.”
“Sir Gildon knows who his enemies are,” Bale’s voice came from his side. “As of right now, you happen to be one of them. So, don’t be looking our way for help.”
Alastar gritted his teeth, processing the information that Sir Gildon had survived the attack on the castle, but had it out for him. After a few more steps and as his vision cleared further, he added, “We all saw it. They were performing magic unlike anything we’ve experienced before. They’re not the clansmen, I promise you.”
“And I promise you no one gives a rat’s arse,” another voice said, one he couldn’t quite place. “Sir Gildon has ordered that you serve as an example for what happens when paladins betray their kind in favor of the dark arts.”
So that’s how it was. He wasn’t just being dragged off randomly, but to be crucified for the others to see, so that none would make his mistake. His broken body would be a lesson for all.
If that was the case, he was determined to find a way out of this before that could happen. It also meant there was no way these so-called brothers would help him rescue Rhona and the others.
Somehow, he would have to break free, and he would have to do it on his own.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rhona had felt like her soul was being pulled out in every direction, and the next thing she knew she, Donnon, and Kia were falling from the sky. They had been engulfed by purple clouds of the sorcerer, though she didn’t truly see him until she had hit the ground.
When he had approached, all she could manage was a croak of, “Stay back.”
The man who had last spoken to her when she was still back with Estair, the same who had attacked the Castle of the Order of Rodrick, stood before her now. His eyes began to fade from full black to a sharp blue, and the magic around them faded.
He smiled, and she was aware of the sounds of battle not far off. The paladins and the remnant, she imagined.
“Since you already had your chance to join us,” Master Irdin said, “I’m sorry to say this round won’t be so hospitable.” He nodded to his right, where the man with blond hair and white eyes appeared. “Instead, we’ll simply have to take over that brain of yours.”
The thought of this freak of a mystic entering her mind made her stomach churn.
She turned, looking for an escape route, and then realized there wasn’t much room for physical escape when the attack is coming on a mental plane. She saw Donnon there on the ground nearby, pulling himself over to his daughter.
If Kia was hurt, or dead, these sorcerers would feel no end to the wrath of Rhona.
She sighed a breath of relief when she saw Kia reach out and take her father’s hand. Donnon helped his daughter to sit, and then cradled her in his arms, and she wrapped him in hers.
The sight sent a warmth through Rhona that pushed aside all pain and doubt, and she turned to the mystic and smiled.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said, and then felt her eyes cloud over as she saw his turn white.
She knew she couldn’t fight the evil mystic’s magic with simply the power of her mind, as he was too skilled and powerful for that. So instead, she presented him with a new type of challenge. When he attempted to enter her mind, she was ready for him—she let the shadow in, knowing that all he would find was darkness.
His presence tingled, letting her know he was in there, and she pushed in on him at every angle. If he couldn’t get a read on her, he couldn’t do any damage.
Next, she focused on the darkness, letting herself fall into it, and then embracing it so that it was everything.
With a shout of frustration, Wodain stepped back, holding his head, and tears of black fell down his cheeks.
“That witch!” he shouted, pulling up his red shirt to reveal long black lines on his skin, moving like internal snakes. “Look what she’s done to me!”
Even she didn’t know what she had done, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, so she stared him in the eyes and said, “See what happens if you try again.”
“This isn’t working,” Master Irdin said, standing over her, his eyes weighing her. “Wodain, you’ve failed.”
“Excuse me?” the mystic asked.
“When we return to Her, she shall know of your failure.” He frowned at Rhona, then the other two. “This is sickening.”
“And you’d be any farther along without me?” Wodain cocked his head. Eyes turning white.
“Stay out of my mind, child,” Master Irdin said, turning on his companion. “Or I’ll remind you why She named me head of this campaign. It won’t be a pleasant reminder.”
Rhona watched all of this, intrigued. Infighting was always good, when it was amongst the opposing side.
As they continued their bickering, she glanced back to see Donnon and Kia whispering, but gave them a stern glance and a nod of her head toward Wodain. If he could read minds, planning an escape wasn’t likely to work. However, he was distracted, and if she could keep that distraction going, it just might work.
She held up a finger to signify for them to wait a moment, and then turned back to Wodain and, instead of simply releasing her powers, she focused. She had no idea what she was doing, really, but she imagined his mind and focused on the shadows, almost like she was pushing on his brain.
His voice rose as he said, “She would cower before me if she knew what I was truly capable of.” He spun on Master Irdin, hand held out as if he expected the man’s heart to fall into it.
“AHHH!” Master Irdin shouted, grabbing his head. He spun, moving his hands in motion before his chest and then pushed out with fingers extended. The air surrounding them grew cold and Wodain was wrapped up in a whirlwind of snow and ice that suddenly froze, holding him in midair as if time had stopped.
“Don’t let them into your head!” Master Irdi
n commanded, and then spun on Rhona, pointing so that one of the spears of ice redirected and shot at her, stopping an inch from her throat.
It was so close, she could feel the cold from it.
“And you,” he said, “don’t go about thinking you’re invincible.”
“Do it then!”
His eyes burned with hatred, and his hand shook. “You are valuable to a certain someone, but you try something like that again… just remember that I can cause a lot of pain without killing you.”
With a wave, he released the spell that held Wodain. The mystic fell to the ground with a grunt.
“What the hell happened?” Wodain asked, pushing himself up. When his eyes moved to Rhona, they went wide. “That little birdy… how?”
“Just focus on keeping the remnant in line,” Master Irdin said, then raised a fist as if signaling someone. Sure enough, a light appeared in the sky, growing close. He stared at Rhona, moving his jaw as if he wanted to bite her head off. “I’m going to assume you’re drained after that little stunt. How convenient for us.”
With a flash of light, the other two sorcerers who had been with him appeared, one on each side of Rhona as they dragged her off.
“No, Rhona!” Donnon said, standing, ready to pursue.
One glance from Wodain’s white eyes sent him to the ground, screaming. Kia collapsed over him, screaming for Wodain to stop, but Rhona didn’t see what happened next, because the two sorcerers had pulled her forward and over the crest of a hill.
Master Irdin paused, then went back. He followed a moment later with Kia kicking and screaming in his clutches, then tossed her at one of the other sorcerer’s feet.
“Why?”
“So you don’t try anything stupid,” he replied, and joined her to look back over the remnant. They seemed to be staggering about in confusion, some regaining their focus now that Wodain was putting his spell back on them.
A distant look came over Master Irdin’s eyes, and his hand went out as if to grab hold of something. A weapon, maybe? Then Rhona realized it wasn’t a weapon he was reaching for at all, but something to balance on.