A great cloud of dust finally arose in the south at the edge of sight. Carrion birds circled and cawed above it, anticipating carnage in the wake of Chelpa’s hordes. The afternoon was late, but the sun still reflected off the angled slopes of the Wyvernwatch Mountains to the west. It did little to warm the air. Spring had arrived a couple of weeks ago, only to seemingly retreat the last few days, revealing the last of winter’s cold.
The minutes stretched out as the enemy advanced, but slowly Jaiden began to distinguish individual bodies amongst the mass. A line of cavalry on black horses flared across the front boundary of marching troops, spearheaded by Ebon Khorel himself, clad in his black, uril-chent-forged armor.
This is real, Jaiden thought – his chance had finally come. He almost missed that chance altogether as a boulder crashed against the stone of Halidor Keep, exploding into fragments only a few feet below him on the outer wall. Jaiden ducked reflexively as the floor beneath him shook; he had not seen the trebuchets approaching from the flank.
As the battering began, a boastful roar rose up from the enemy, as if the outcome was but a formality – they had not failed a test yet. The plight of the forces inside Halidor was exacerbated by their complete lack of siege craft. Not a single engineer was present, let alone a catapult or mounted ballista with which to retaliate.
Shot after shot came from the Chelpian machines, slamming rock against stone in a primal battle of supreme stubbornness. Eventually, however, the toll of the onslaught rendered itself in deep cracks throughout the keep’s foundation. Groaning and crumbling of the mortar followed, setting off a panic amongst the defenders.
“We can’t just sit here waiting to be pounded into dust,” the soldier to Jaiden’s left protested.
“You’re right. I’m not dying a coward’s death,” Jaiden replied. He unslung the shield from his back and strapped it to his forearm, then shouted as he pushed his way down the stairs to the inner courtyard, “Come, brothers, I’m taking the fight to them. Who’s with me?”
A surge of hurrahs ensued, bolstered when Jaiden convinced the guards at the front gate to swing the doors open. The enthusiasm was loud enough to drown out the Duke’s commands to halt, and within moments the soldiers of Halidor flooded across the uneven, stony field toward their invaders.
The engineers ceased their bombardment as the King-priest raised his mace and circled it in the air, signaling his troops to charge. The horses surged ahead of the trailing foot soldiers, gaining speed to mow down their earthbound opposition. Jaiden halted the Halidor advance, seeing no need to wear themselves out when their enemy was closing the distance on their own. He recalled what his father had shown him about fighting mounted opponents.
A steed’s forward momentum limits lateral movement, which, along with the angle-limitations of the weapon-wielding rider, creates the best advantage for a more agile combatant on foot. Jaiden lifted the hilt of his longsword above his waist, and steadied the top of his shield a shade below eye level. He stood calmly, parallel to the nearest oncoming horse, and focused on the clip-clopping rhythm of the animal’s hooves. He timed its strides, intuiting the number of paces it would take to reach him. Jaiden took another half-step forward to maximize his balance advantage against the rider, who was already lowering his lance to skewer him.
At precisely the correct moment Jaiden lunged to his left, out of range of the rider’s weapon. As his attacker moved past, Jaiden tilted his sword outward, allowing the inertia of the steed to create all the force necessary to puncture the protective links of his enemy’s hauberk. His blade sliced through the rider’s side just above his hip, a bleeding wound that would lead to death.
However, Jaiden’s leap brought him too close to the next horse in line, and though it trailed its neighbor slightly, the creature’s flank collided hard into Jaiden’s shield, spinning him to the ground, where he was lucky not to be trampled. By the time Jaiden regained his feet and wits, the cavalry had pushed past and the infantry quickly closed toward him.
With no fear for his own safety, Jaiden waded into the fray, his sword spinning and cutting, his shield blocking blows. Foe after foe fell before him, broken and bleeding. As his years of training took control, Jaiden lost all measure of the growing distance between himself and his allies.
Oncoming warriors began giving a wide berth to the deadly whirlwind, circling around until he was surrounded. Jaiden was soon deep into enemy lines, and as he searched for another soldier to strike, his head snapped around at the sound of an echoing, gurgling roar.
The roar Jaiden heard was not actually echoing, he realized, despite the nearby rising cliffs. In truth it was five roars, one from each of the ferocious heads of a mighty hydra. Its bulging, lizard-like body shifted from green to gray as it lumbered forward in search of prey. It must have broken free from one of the beast-masters, and men scattered ahead of it, unconcerned that doing so might put them in peril from human enemies.
Jaiden’s mindset didn’t allow for retreat, though the hungry beast was nearly three times his height when rearing its long, sinuous necks. He evaded the first two snaps of fanged maws with inspiring agility, but the hydra’s heads worked together, each aware of the other. Just as Jaiden side-stepped the second head, a third reached from behind and snagged his shield-arm in its jaws.
The frame of the shield kept his arm from being snapped clean off, but it bent under the crushing pressure. Jaiden, strapped to it, was effectively immobilized. A fourth head lunged to bite into his right leg, its sharp teeth puncturing leather and flesh. His sword swung quickly in response, cutting deeply into the monster’s nose.
The jaws released his leg, though the mouth holding his shield yanked back with incredible force before letting go, flinging Jaiden through the air in an uncontrolled spin. Sky and earth alternated rapidly in his vision, and all he could do was stretch his limbs, hoping to land on his feet.
His back, though, came down first with a crack. His neck whipped from the impact, smacking his skull against the stony ground, painting everything in silent darkness.
Jaiden’s eyes shot open as a spark of pain brought him back to consciousness. The back of his head throbbed, but his wrists and shoulder sockets screamed as his arms were pulled tightly away from his body. His right leg felt as if it were on fire. Night had fallen, and the air was cold and dark. Armored men stood over him, their grim features exaggerated in the flickering torchlight. One of the forms looked like a horrid, black spider had enveloped his head, though Jaiden’s pain left him uncertain.
He was tied to a makeshift wooden frame, and the cords around his wrist bit into his skin as they stretched him nearly to the point of breaking. A tall figure clad in black, metal armor joined the gathering above him, before dropping to one knee. His face was obscured by a fearsome, bestial helm, and a hum filled Jaiden’s ears as if the very air surrounding this dark figure vibrated with power.
“What is your name, soldier?” The man’s voice sounded deep and hollow from within his horned helmet.
“Jaiden,” he responded through clenched teeth as he strained to pull his arms inward. “Jaiden Luminere,” he added, figuring his enemies might as well have his full name. He wanted them to know precisely who was going to exact revenge on them, once he found a way free of this mess.
A cold, metal gauntlet gripped Jaiden’s right arm and moved along it, testing the tautness of his extended muscles. “One of my captains reported that you acquitted yourself quite well on the battlefield today. What is your rank in this… army?” The last word was drawn out with clear disdain.
“No rank; I’m a soldier-for-hire.” Jaiden paused, but ultimately couldn’t resist. “That was still enough to best twenty of your men before your beast arrived. He probably spared twenty more.” Jaiden would have boasted further, but his waning endurance made it difficult to craft insults.
“Is that so?” the metallic voice responded. The armored figure moved his hand to the exposed wound in Jaiden’s leg. He pressed his finger int
o one of the hydra’s teeth marks, bypassing the severed muscle tissue and driving straight to the bone.
Jaiden howled at the intrusion.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Jaiden Luminere?”
“I’m not lying!” Jaiden screamed, involuntary tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Good,” the hollow voice receded as the man stood and turned his back. After muttering briefly, the man turned again and Jaiden could see, through the distortion of unfallen tears, the palm of his left hand glowing with an ice-blue aura. The man knelt once more, his hand hovering over Jaiden’s bare chest. The menacing hum in Jaiden’s ears grew louder.
“Do you know who has captured you?”
Jaiden shook his head from side-to-side, teeth clenched in pain.
“I am Ebon Khorel, mouth of The Most Potent and Dread Tyrant, Gholdur. His power assures my victory, and if you don’t tell me what I ask to know, that power is the last thing you shall feel in this world.”
Jaiden searched the faces of the other men standing over him for sympathy, but found none.
Ebon Khorel continued, “There may have been a strange creature among the visitors to this keep the last several days. Do you know of whom I speak?”
Jaiden tried to follow what the King-priest was saying, but nothing registered beyond the panic that his life was about to be extinguished. He reluctantly shook his head, knowing the consequence of doing so was more pain. Ebon Khorel pressed his glowing hand upon Jaiden’s chest, and a sharp pulse of agony wracked his body. His eyes rolled upward, and his vision was obscured by an intruding white light.
“His body is not unlike a man’s, but feathery wings protrude from his back,” the King-priest continued. “He is not easy to miss, and may call himself, ‘Aasimar’. Tell me where he is or what direction he was heading, and you shall feel no more.”
“Please,” Jaiden whimpered, “I know nothing of such a creature, I swear.” Jaiden’s pain allowed him to show momentary weakness, but he quickly blinked the tears from his eyes and regained his defiance. “Even if I did know, tyrant,” he spat, “the Ninth Hell would claim me before I told you anything!”
“You disappoint me, Jaiden. Talented warriors are useful, but you are either lying or indeed, ignorant. Either way, you shall never raise a sword against me again.” Ebon Khorel touched Jaiden’s chest again, and once more, pain surged through him. This time bile rose into his throat, and Jaiden had to turn his head sideways to avoid choking on his own vomit.
The King-priest stood, and Jaiden, teetering on the verge of consciousness, managed to catch only a few more sentences.
“I must find the Aasimar, Uvar,” he said to the man with the spider’s head. “I don’t doubt he was here – next time, bring me a more pliant prisoner. I will continue north, along the road. Resistance should be minimal this far from Selamus. Head west with the Blood-tear Brotherhood and send your report if you pick up the trail.”
Though more was said, Jaiden could no longer hold on. His determination spent, he slipped from the waking world, unsure he would ever return, and happy for it.
Chapter 6
Reality in Dreams
J aiden looked down to find himself knee-deep in mist, which extended in all directions. The air was calm around him, though the brilliant, star-studded canopy of the night sky hung tantalizingly close overhead. Was he standing among the clouds?
He looked at his wrists in wonder, grasping them one at a time, unable to find any trace of injury. Likewise, his leg showed no signs of damage. The question of his whereabouts was just solidifying in his mind when a serene, alluring, female voice answered it.
“You are safe in my realm, Jaiden Luminere.”
Jaiden swiveled left and right, looking for the source of the voice, which seemed to surround him. “And who are you, exactly?” he asked, hoping a response would grant him another chance at locating the speaker. This might be a trick of the King-priest to extract more information.
“I am Criesha. Your people once called me ‘Goddess of the Moons and Magic.’ The night sky and dreams of men are my provinces, though the latter I have not visited in ages.”
This time the words came only from ahead, and when Jaiden looked forward once more he saw a woman of unearthly beauty walking toward him down a mist-enveloped slope. Her ebony hair was drawn above her shoulders with strings of silver and moonstones, and her luminescent skin gave off the slightest green hue. She was dressed in a diaphanous gown of deeper green with accents of royal blue. It shimmered as her body swayed, yet was insubstantial enough that the light of her bare skin could be seen through it.
“So, this is a dream, then?” Jaiden asked, his eyes lingering on a dominion usually reserved for his imagination. The prospect appeared more plausible to him than the alternative; still, her presence felt distinctly more real than any dream.
“Yes, and no,” the woman responded. “You are in a dream of sorts, though not one of your own making. I brought you here for a purpose.” She drew within an arms-length, and all Jaiden’s senses felt heightened to extraordinary awareness. He experienced more vigor in her proximity than at any time in his normal life. The sensation was truly astounding.
“And what purpose is that? Criesha, was it? Will I be staying?” Jaiden certainly hoped the answer to his last question was yes, if only for a while longer. Her presence was intoxicating.
“We are only here so I can introduce myself to you; for now, Jaiden, that is enough. There are others working on my behalf, but I wanted to grant you this visit to prove I am real.”
“Real? But didn’t you say yourself, this is all a dream?”
“You may find the line between the two not as certain as you think,” she smiled. “I am sorry for the difficulty of the road ahead, Jaiden, but you will ultimately have the choosing of where that road leads. All I seek at the moment is a bit of your trust.” One of Criesha’s eyebrows arched as she awaited his response.
Jaiden shrugged. “Sure, why not?” What harm was there in trusting a dream? Especially one so astonishingly beautiful.
“Good. Now if you would, please close your eyes.”
Jaiden did as asked. He felt warmth upon his forehead and the gentle pressing of soft lips. When he opened his eyes, however, the night sky was no longer above him. There was harsh light, and he blinked several times, fighting it off. The pain had returned – his head and chest throbbed, his arms and leg stung.
A woman with dark hair looked down on him, but her face was obscured in shadow. “This one’s alive,” she said, though her foreign accent didn’t belong to the woman of his dream.
His eyes shut again, hoping the pain would ease if he gave himself over to the other world. Nothing. He beckoned that realm with all his desire, but instead felt the tug on his arms relent as the cords around his wrists were cut. His body was lifted, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes, unwilling to acknowledge this agonizing reality.
After a few moments, Jaiden felt the cushion of soft cloth against his back. He dared to open his eyes again. It was darker – he was in some sort of enclosure that blocked the sun. This time, a man’s face looked down upon him. Framed by a coif of chainmail from which strands of blonde hair protruded, it held weary, compassionate turquoise eyes that darted about as they considered Jaiden’s condition.
“Welcome back, my friend. Criesha be praised; life is not through with you yet, it seems.” He added a smile, and Jaiden felt the warmth of strong, rough hands clasping his.
“Where am I?” Jaiden asked. He was riding upon a sea of uncertainty, rising and falling from peace to suffering under the influence of secret tides.
“You are still at Halidor Keep, where you fell in service to the Duke, it seems. I am Sir Amurel Golddrake, Master of the Order of the Rising Moon. We have been riding for days, hoping to make the Keep before the battle, but were delayed. You seem to be the only northern survivor of this annihilation. Unless others fled.”
Sir Golddrake pulled back the coif from
his head, revealing thick locks of flaxen hair, befitting his surname. He wore the full plate armor of a land-owning knight, beneath a pristine, white tabard. Emblazoned in purple across his chest was the image of a crescent moon. “We have not, for instance, found the body of the Duke nearby; though it is quite possible he would have been taken as a prisoner by Chelpa.”
Memories of the King-priest’s withering touch flooded back; had it been real, or just a nightmare? Jaiden remembered walking amidst the night sky, talking to a strikingly beautiful woman. That seemed substantial enough at the time, but now the truth was trying to reveal itself through his body – his chest, head, and leg all spoke of it.
“My mistress, Criesha, told me I would find you here, though I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner,” Sir Golddrake continued, assessing his condition.
Criesha – that name was familiar, Jaiden thought. Yes, that was what the raven-haired woman from his dream called herself. Was she real, after all, if this other man had spoken to her?
“You know of Criesha?” Jaiden asked, hoping conversation might distract him from the pain.
Sir Golddrake raised an eyebrow at Jaiden’s question, as if it were a jest, or he was being tested. “Yes, she is my guiding light. As I said before, I founded the Order of the Rising Moon, and Criesha told me I’d find someone here who would help our cause. I’m guessing by your resilience, and the fact you must have fought bravely and not fled in the face of such overwhelming odds, that you are him. I will pray on it later, of course, but I feel in my bones you are the one she spoke of.
“She also led me to this… said it would be of particular value to you.”
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