A soldier approached as they drew near the great hall where the feast was being held. The man went directly to Clint and after an intense whispered conversation, his aide turned to him, “my lord, a member of a search party sent north has returned. His unit was decimated, and he barely made it back alive. An advanced regiment of the horde army ambushed them, mere miles from the castle walls.”
“That was sooner than expected,” he commented dryly. The sad thing was, after everything that had happened, he actually felt revitalized by the news. He could turn his mind to matters other than grief and focus his rage into something tangible. “Assemble my War Council immediately.” He grabbed a plate and started filling it; it was going to be a long day and he would need all the energy he could get. He wasn’t about to wage war on an empty stomach.
“But Sire, you haven’t appointed one yet,” Clint jested in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.
He looked and found that his aide had actually smiled when he said it. “What the hell is so funny? Are you making light of the fact that an army is on our front doorstep just hours after my father’s murder?” He felt a grim satisfaction when the smile fell from the aide’s face. “People are going to die. Look around. Those sitting here celebrating this coronation are shrouded in their ignorance and may be dead by week’s end. So, tell me Clint, what the hell do you find so fucking funny?” he paused for effect. The aide’s head was bowed, and people had turned to stare at the heated exchange. “Now, until I can appoint a council of my own choosing—the old one will have to serve. Get it done.”
Clint knew better than to say anything further. He bowed and exited the great hall to carry out his orders.
He watched him go, aware that there were already whispers over the nature of their conversation. He didn’t bother to offer any words to soothe their suspicions; the truth would be known soon enough. The scout had to be overheard when he reported in, and the fact that he returned alone, bloodied on the castle’s doorstep, was bound to spread amongst the populace quickly. Not to mention, they would soon have an army encamped before the castle walls and that would be very hard to hide.
He finished filling his plate and turned to his wife. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”
“I know,” Jenna told him, raising a hand to touch his cheek. “There’s no one in the world I trust to keep us safe more than you. Go do what you have to. I’ll do what I can to distract people here as long as I can.”
A smile briefly crossed his face, “I love you, my Queen.”
“And I you, my King,” she responded, a smile itching on the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were distant, and he knew that she was thinking of her sister again.
Damn you Tristan, he cursed, and not for the first time. He reached out and gripped her shoulder in comfort; then turned and strode towards the Council chambers. His brother’s disappearance would have to wait; he had a war to win.
III
Merlin had returned with another bundle and a couple of shields.
“Where did you have room to store all this?” Tristan inquired curiously. He was feeling better. He was still grieving, but he had been preparing for this day since his father’s health had begun to fail, and despite the circumstances, his heart had already hardened itself against his father’s loss. It was something he wouldn’t get over quickly, especially after their last conversation, but he was able to stand and move forward; that was a start.
The mage smiled weakly, “let’s say I got a bag that can hold anything I want without growing in size itself.”
“Handy,” Willow remarked, her voice strained with the depression they were both feeling. She had been quiet since the previous conversation ended; lost in her own grief and need to respond. Her sister was being told that Willow might have had a hand in the king’s death and there was nothing she could do to fix that.
“Indeed,” Merlin replied, handing her the bundle he’d been carrying. “Constantine had a gift for you as well. As you know, heavy armor can hinder a magic user’s abilities; you need flexibility that steel will not allow. But that doesn’t mean you should be completely unprotected.”
His fiancé was unwrapping the bundle, her curiosity about what lay within getting the best of her. He had yet to undo his own, only now beginning to stir from his crouched position. Inside the wrapped confines of the stretched cloth was a beautifully oiled set of leather armor. A three-layered cuirass, dark sandalwood with decorative metal studs, and attached pauldrons was lying in the center. Bundled around it were matching bracers, cuisses, corset, and greaves. The cloth that it had been wrapped in turned out to be a light-weight brown cloak, which attached to the pauldrons through little golden rings.
She reached in and pulled out the helmet, turning it to marvel at its artistry. A gemmed golden crown was at its center, with light metal extending down to protect the bearer from forehead to neck. It curved back behind the ears and extended around with enough room to accommodate her gorgeous hair. The scalp was ridged and partially hidden by the two fins on either side.
“I know you rely on the amulet around your neck to harness your magic, but it’s just necklace with a gem; the true power comes from within. If you’d like, you and I can begin training on expanding your powers and learning your limits. When we’re not running for our lives, that is,” the mage finished, a lighter tone to his words.
Willow had a tear sliding down the side of her cheek. His father’s gift was quite generous, and he wished that the old man could be there to see the look upon her face. She nodded in response to Merlin’s offer and the man smiled in return. He had two identical heraldic shields that he passed to both of them bearing the crest of Willow’s forebears. The crest of Griedlok, two extended hands releasing a pigeon, sparkled upon the polished surface. It pained his heart as he was reminded of his postponed wedding; for which these gifts were intended.
Then Merlin brought the last item forward, a very large spiked mace that could be clipped to Willow’s belt. “You never know when you’ll need this. Better to have it and not need it than be without and dead,” he told her, as he handed it over.
She took it graciously, holding it out and testing its balance. It didn’t look to be overly heavy and she swung it in an arc to test its feel. “Thank you,” she told the mage, overwhelmed by the gifts his father had provided.
He hadn’t looked at his yet, and now he was regretting putting it off, but he was sure his father would have understood. He untied the large bundle and felt stunned by the quality of the dark gray armor within. He separated it out on top of his new cloak, handling each piece in turn, admiring the craftsmanship rendered before him. The armor was lighter than any he’d ever used before and he’d seen it’s like only once; his father’s.
“What’s it made out of?” Willow asked, picking up his grieves and inspecting them.
“Graphene,” he told her, lost in thought. “During the early days of our kingdom, shortly after the war, they had begun construction on the fortress walls when they unearthed a relic from the past. It was some kind of machine, broken and completely useless, but the metal that shrouded it was unlike anything they’d ever encountered before. Blacksmiths at the time were hard pressed to replicate it but failed. It was a secret lost in the world’s destruction. However, it was able to be melted down and reforged. Through the ages, my forebears have used it to armor themselves. It takes a massive blow to even put a dent in it, and to my knowledge, it has never been pierced. Only extremely hot temperatures affect it once it’s cooled. It’s so rare and we have so little left—he made this for my wedding present?”
“Your father loved you more than he could say, so he decided the best way to convey it was through this. Sometimes words fail, but a gesture can relay more than can ever be said. On a side note, that machine your ancestors found? It was a space shuttle, one of the last created before the Fall,” Merlin paused, seeing the confused looks he always seemed to get. “An enclosed metal wagon that could travel to the stars,” he exp
lained with a smile. “Now, I’d get to putting it on. We need to be on the move and I have a feeling you’ll be needing it a lot sooner than I had planned.” Then he turned and walked away, a frown upon his face.
Jared was standing by the horses and he and the mage quickly delved into a whispered conversation. Kore was sitting by the stream, axe in hand, idly watching a squirrel on the other side scour the ferns for food. Reyna was standing nearby, her black armor fastened in place, eyes locked on the gear lying scattered on the ground.
To his surprise, she came over to stand at his side. Crouching down, she peered at the armor displayed before them and gave him an envious look. “I’m sure you’re used to someone doing it for you, want me to help you put it on?” she offered, completely out of character and taking him off-guard. “Don’t make such a big thing out of it. Merlin has asked that I test your abilities and begin your training where needed. As we’re apparently going to spend a lot of long hours together,” she sneered, “we might as well start now.”
Willow had already begun fastening her armor on and he looked down at his own gear. He nodded reluctantly. He had experience with the bulky training armor his instructors had insisted upon but had never put a full set on himself. It was a new experience, and he’d be lost trying to work it all out alone.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Reyna told him, and he could have sworn he saw a hint of remorse on her face. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. “I know what it means to lose your parents. Jared and I were orphaned when we were four. You were lucky to have them as long as you did.”
“Thanks,” he replied weakly, then reached down and grabbed the breastplate.
“Chainmail first,” she corrected, as she pulled free the long chainmail shirt. As he was sliding it over his shoulders, he couldn’t help but have his eyes drawn to the helmet lying at the head of the bundle. A single piece of metal stretched up the nose, curved around both eyes and came straight down. Then in at angle, it went up the cheek bone where it drove straight up and around the ears, then passed around the back. A crown was welded above the brow, taller than Willow’s and made of gold. Runes were carved into the metaled cheeks, and he wondered if they meant anything.
After he put the breastplate on, Reyna pulled out the pauldrons and he looked at the spiked, three-layered piece in appreciation. “I wish my armor was as light as this,” the plated warrior told him, having taken off her gauntlets to be able to fasten the armor on. “You’ll have greater mobility, won’t tire as fast, and will be able to move swifter than your opponents. This is a great gift. Keep it polished, oil the leather fastenings, and don’t use it for anything but its intended purpose. It will save your life, treat it with respect.”
It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t heard from the weapon master back home, but when she said it, she was glaring at the orc across the way. His armor was grimy, blackened, and rarely cleaned. While hers, though black, shone with brilliance and looked well maintained. He wondered if she loved her brother as much as her armor.
“Why black?” he blurted without thinking. Only in paintings had he ever seen black armor, and usually on the villains of those pieces.
She eyed him coldly as she fastened his cloak to his pauldrons. “You see my shield lying upright against the tree over there?”
The black shield had a dark red bird depicted upon its surface, wings spread in flames. “A bird?” he asked after studying it for a few seconds, not sure what the significance was.
“A Phoenix,” she whispered, and his blood turned cold.
He jerked away from her, but she had a firm grip on him as the last pieces of armor were being fastened on. “I was tortured and beaten for so long that I have no true recollection of how much time passed. Then one day, she stopped torturing my body and invaded my mind. She stripped away everything I was, molded me as she wanted, and created a monster to serve as a commander in her armies. I was trained by the deadliest fighters, taught that there is no such thing as a dirty trick, or honor. To strike first and kill the enemy no matter what it took. No mercy, no quarter given. No prisoners. The things I did while that bitch was in control—,” she trailed off. “If not for Jared, I might be leading that approaching horde army and you wouldn’t like that; I’m very good at what I do,” Reyna told him with a severe cough.
The last of the armor was on and she was handing him the crowned helm. “I will always be in my brother’s debt for freeing me. He put his life on the line, pulled me back from the edge, and I wear the armor to remind me of that. And when I thrust my sword through that black witch’s heart, I want her to see it’s her own creation that finally killed her.”
She slapped him on the back, gave him a crooked smile, and went to join Merlin and Jared. It was such a personal story, why had she told him all that? They barely knew each other. Maybe it was the grief they were feeling that made her open up? She didn’t seem like the “let’s be friends” type.
“How’s it feel?” Willow asked, stretching to test her flexibility.
“Actually, it’s not that bad. Barely heavier than wearing winter clothing. And it’s not as restrictive as I feared,” he responded as he moved about, flexing his own limbs and rotating them. “If only we had more armor like this; our forces would be better equipped to stand against the Phoenix’s armies.”
Kylee emerged from the trees, Tuskar at her side. “We’re clear of the scouts; they’ve been recalled home.”
“Why, what’s happened?” Willow asked the elf, who had taken notice of the new armor they wore with raised eyebrows.
“I overheard a messenger. One of the scouting parties was slaughtered a few miles north of the castle; the hordes are near. If we want to avoid getting entrenched, then we should move quickly,” she advised; reins in hand. She mounted her horse and with Tuskar at her side, rode along the path winding west; disappearing from sight.
No pause for small talk.
The others were mounting theirs as well. He picked up his shield and slid his arms through it, strapping it to his back. His sword was belted around his waist and he pocketed his scroll in a pouch on the belt he wore; he’d read it later. “Time to go,” he told his fiancé.
They moved to their own horses and he hoped that they had gotten some rest, because he had a feeling it was going to be a hard ride for the rest of the afternoon. He nudged Dancer with his new sabatons and followed the others as they rode down the path Kylee had just taken; on the run once more.
Chapter 10
Orc Pride
I
Merlin had signaled a halt less than an hour after their journey began.
Tristan recognized the clearing they were approaching; it was one of John’s favorite hunting spots. The deer would graze early in the mornings and late afternoons; the trees offered perfect cover for hunters.
The mage and telepath were whispering again, and he wondered what was going on now? He looked to the left and was stunned to see that the ranger had returned. As usual, Kylee had appeared out of nowhere. She stepped quietly towards the front of the group and joined in the conversation with the two whispering men. The mage turned and made a gesture for them to dismount.
His nerves were firing, and he could feel the adrenaline start to pump into his heart as his pulse quickened. Tuskar was growling nearby and it didn’t help, only made things worse.
“What’s going on?” whispered Willow as she came to his side.
“You’re asking me?” he replied softly. He turned to a nearby tree and wrapped his horse’s reins around a lower branch. Willow followed suit and they stepped forward to join the others.
Reyna was standing idly by a large oak on the edge of the forest, peering out at the tree line on the other side. “We are about to have company,” she told them as they approached.
“How do you know?” he queried. She was nowhere near the others and couldn’t be eavesdropping on their conversation; her hearing couldn’t be that good.
“The air. It’s beginning to reek,
” she answered, obviously disgusted.
He sniffed by reflex but couldn’t smell a thing. He was about to tell her that when Merlin beckoned them over. Reyna didn’t move, ignoring the mage’s summons. With Willow, he went to group with the others, Kore’s gigantic frame marching up from the rear.
“Enemy scouting party,” Merlin told them, confirming what Reyna had already said.
“So, have Jared hide us while they pass,” Willow suggested, getting a grunt from the black knight in response.
“Kore no hide,” stated the tall warrior.
Merlin ignored the remark. “Orcs, as a species, have two characteristics that make up their genetic makeup; Elven and Suidae.”
“Suidae?” Willow interjected.
Reyna snorted, appropriately, as she told them, “he means pigs.”
The mage nodded and ignored the glower from the larger warrior. “The point is, their genes share common traits with elves, including their higher brain functions. They’re harder to read, but it is possible. This party, however, is full of goblins. Their minds are as slimy as their bodies, slippery, and hard to grab ahold of. One at a time—maybe, but not a full party.”
Tuskar’s growls had begun to increase and Tristan’s hand went to his sword. “What do you want to do?” he whispered, not sure how much time was left.
“Find a tree to stand behind, hope they don’t see the horses, and wait to see how close they get,” the mage returned. He was backing away from the edge of the forest and making for a nearby oak.
“Kore no hide,” the orc stated again, louder this time.
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