Heading back to shallower depths, he decided to look for paths out of the cave other than the one they used for approach. He found no easy way, but a lip of rock at the southeastern edge of the cave continued out to a ledge, which wound around a boulder and onto a lessened slope on the lee side of the hill. Grasses and stubborn shrubs dotted the incline in a patchwork of dull green and brown. Even a few mostly bare trees jutted out in defiance of the rocky terrain. Their trunks were twisted as if shaped by the wind, but their fallen branches supplied enough dry wood for Rogan to consider a signal fire.
He gathered what he could with one hand, still carrying his torch, whose flame whipped incessantly in the spiraling gusts. It took a while to find a usable spot shielded from the wind, but he stacked his wood and several handfuls of dry grass to serve as tinder. The sun had nearly fallen to the horizon and darkness would blanket the foothills soon enough, so he set his torch to the pile, lighting a signal fire he hoped Palomar might spot from the air.
It would have been easy to stay there, warming by the fire in solitude, resting from a weary day. Rogan, however, knew he had work to do. The soldiers could handle setting up the caves for their stay, but he had another agenda. He’d heard the rumors among the men during their retreat – many saw Palomar’s arrival as a sign from their goddess. Using that, he’d been swaying them toward liberating Blackthorn Prison, telling of the other Aasimar imprisoned there. It was a half-truth, of course, but if the Master of the Order couldn’t be convinced by Rogan’s arguments, perhaps Sir Golddrake could be influenced by the desires of his own men. He wanted to reach as many as he could, and let the stew simmer before broaching the subject again with their leader.
When he returned to the cave, it was significantly more crowded than when he’d left. The south end had been designated as the kitchen, as the air current helped smoke escape from the cooking fires. Two huge cauldrons were nearing a boil, and he could smell the pleasant aroma of venison and potatoes being prepared.
Unexpectedly, he thought he caught a note of female speech from deeper in the cave. He wove around tired soldiers in the direction it seemed to come from, until he caught it again. Could it be? Hurrying toward the back of the cave, he broke through a line of men and there she was – Saffron, stooped over, inspecting a man’s wounds with the aid of a lantern. Nearly a score of wounded men, actually, lay lined up in a carved depression of rock, their backs propped against the smooth curve of the wall. Saffron appeared to be presiding over the impromptu infirmary.
She stood and addressed two eager-looking lads on the verge of manhood, designated as her helpers. “I need a kettle of hot water from each of you, needle and thread, and as many clean bandages as you can find.”
“Yes, Lady,” they intoned together, heading off to gather the requested supplies.
Saffron’s eyes passed over Rogan’s presence initially, then returned as recognition struck her. She smiled. “Baron Rogan, you are not easy to spot in this dimness.”
Looking down, Rogan realized that next to the white tabards of the Order, his black and scarlet armor was especially unobtrusive in the frail light. “It is good to see you safe, Lady Saffron.” He bowed his head. “Your long absence worried us all.”
“It didn’t worry me.” The response came from the man Saffron had been inspecting.
“Pardon me?” Rogan cocked his head sideways in an attempt to see the speaker, seated behind her.
Saffron closed her eyes and blew a wayward strand of hair falling across her face. “Baron Rogan, meet Jaiden Luminere.” She gestured to a dark-haired northerner with a brutal-looking injury to his right leg.
“Jaiden…ah yes, the one Sir Golddrake mentions often. I heard you were spectacular with a sword. A shame about the leg,” Rogan gestured to his exposed, mangled thigh, where the blood-stained cloth had been cut away in preparation for treatment. “I’ve seen too many warriors fall before their prime.”
“This one’s going to get back up; I assure you that. Did you also hear how a goddess has chosen me as her Champion?”
Saffron shook her head and turned back to Rogan. “He has been through a lot. I am doing my best to help him mend.”
“Of course.” Rogan reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, caressing it slowly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt treatment. I would like to speak with you, when your obligations allow.”
Jaiden pointed toward the subtle touching. “Hey, what was that?”
Rogan ignored him and smiled at Saffron, who huffed initially, before mirroring his smile.
A bustling amongst the soldiers caused Rogan to shift his attention, reluctantly, behind him. Before he could clearly see the cause, he heard it in his head.
“I knew I would catch up to you sooner or later, Baron.”
Rogan perceived the accompanying toothy smile before the crowd broke wide enough to let the Aasimar into view. “Palomar, you found us!” He stepped forward and embraced the angelic creature, much to their mutual surprise. “You managed to escape, unhurt?”
“I did. Hopefully, I helped a few others do the same.”
“Did you spot my signal fire?”
Palomar nodded, “And put it out upon arrival. The last thing we need is an untended fire setting the entire hillside ablaze.”
“What took you so long getting back? Your wings should’ve allowed you to bypass the difficult terrain.”
Saffron stepped past Rogan to make herself seen, rubbing against his shoulder in the process. “Greetings, friend. I am pleased to see you safe.”
“Lady Saffron, I am delighted to be in your presence once more. Have you kept up your singing practice?”
Saffron glanced toward her patient. “I found opportunities. Jaiden’s leg was reinjured and needs attention, though. Would you like to assist in my operation?”
Palomar’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, any way I can. How is Jaiden?”
Rogan noticed Palomar’s thoughts were in his head as well, though his friend was speaking to another. He briefly wondered whom else Palomar chose to include during their conversations. Could the whole cave perceive them now?
“Come see for yourself, he’s right over here.” Saffron led the Aasimar to the infirmary and Rogan followed, stinging that she had not asked him to help, regardless that he lacked the desire to do so. The errand boys returned with their water kettles and clean bandages, as well as needle and thread to sew the wound shut. Saffron confiscated a nearby lantern and lay out the supplies on an unrolled cloth beside Jaiden.
“My friend, it seems your valor has once again been costly.” Palomar smiled broadly, a hard thing to do while looking at the remnants of the soldier’s thigh.
“Palomar!” Jaiden and another, more distant caller, invoked the Aasimar’s name simultaneously. Rogan and the others turned to find Sir Kilborn approaching, lifting his hand to draw attention.
The elder knight stopped short when he saw Saffron crouched beside Jaiden in the corner. “My goodness, you all showed up. Better late than never, I suppose.”
“Greetings, Sir Kilborn. How are things with the Order?”
“They’re downright sideways is how they are. Sir Golddrake would like to speak to you straight away to get your report. I imagine you as well, Lady, if you’ve anything to add. We’re sending out riders at dawn.” Sir Kilborn fidgeted, first with the fingers of each hand, and then with the end of his short beard.
Palomar extended his wings, spreading the feathers as if he were stretching, then folded them once more behind his shoulders. The movement caused Sir Kilborn to take a backward step. “I do have news I think the Master should hear, but it will have to wait. I’ve promised to help Lady Saffron perform surgery, and it certainly looks like young Jaiden is in need.”
At the mention of his name, Jaiden raised the wineskin he’d been sipping, in preparation for the imminent incisions. “Just make sure the knife is clean, huh?”
“Be still, Jaiden,” Saffron chastised, preparing to flush the wound with hot
water.
Sir Kilborn’s eyes moved from Jaiden to Saffron, Palomar, and finally Baron Rogan. “Very well, I suppose none of you actually belong to the Order, and are therefore not under my command. Whenever it pleases you,” he snapped a stiff bow, “the Master would appreciate your input, so he might proceed determining the fate of all these men.” He concluded by spreading his arms, palms raised, giving a deep grunt, and trudging off in the direction he had come.
Palomar’s brows were arched over wide eyes. Saffron waved her hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn her attention from her task. “Palomar, can you grip tightly just above the knee?” The Aasimar knelt and did as asked.
Seeing he was no longer useful, Rogan went after Sir Kilborn. “I’ll smooth things over,” he called over his shoulder, certain no one was listening.
Jaiden took another long swallow of the wine as hot water washed over his wound. It scalded yet strangely soothed him, though he knew the worst was still to come. “I don’t think I’m ready, Palomar,” he said, staring straight into the golden pupils of the Aasimar. “I don’t want to lose my leg.”
“I am not going to take it off – not yet, anyway,” Saffron scolded. “I am going to set it again, cauterize, and stitch it closed.”
“Perhaps this will help.” Palomar sang.
The calming tune was similar to the one Jaiden had already heard on several occasions, but familiarity did nothing to wane its compulsion. Immediately the pain in his leg dissipated, and whether it was the wine or a new effect of the vocal variation, keeping his eyes open suddenly became a struggle. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was the white skin of Palomar’s face, virtually glowing in the near dark. The image stayed with him as he began to dream.
Opening his eyes, Jaiden still saw Palomar in front of him, though all was quiet, save the distant movement of air. He noticed the accoutrements of his dream world – grey clouds constituting the floor and ceiling. Ample space surrounded him, though it was the lofty chasm of an immense palace, not the limitless night sky.
“This is odd.” Looking down, he found his leg in perfect condition, though the goddess was absent.
Palomar shrugged. “You are dreaming.”
“You, you spoke with your mouth.”
“Indeed. Jaiden, you are at a crossroads.” Palomar stood and walked toward a door at one side of the vast, open chamber.
Jaiden followed. “What do you mean?”
“You have spent most of your life trying to prove yourself. You are concerned with how others think of you, but mostly try to sway their view by seeking to impress them.” Palomar stopped in front of the door and waited on Jaiden to catch up.
“How would you know, anyway?”
Palomar continued, resisting the bait. “You are eager to show people what they should think of you, while not allowing them to know you well enough to make up their own minds. This is a problem.”
“Oh, is it?” Jaiden quipped, unsure he wasn’t just arguing with himself. He had never dreamt of the Aasimar before. “I don’t know, I think I have done pretty well so far, all things considered.”
“You feel lost because you fear losing the very thing that made you stand out – your fighting prowess. I am here to console and also guide you, Jaiden. The key to life beyond fighting is to change your perspective on what brings you joy.”
A lump grew in Jaiden’s throat, and he had trouble swallowing. “What would you suggest?”
Palomar sighed. “I can tell you the turning point in my own existence – when I began to put the needs of others ahead of my own. When my efforts served another, I never partook in a useless endeavor. Every selfless action is filled with meaning.” He nodded toward the door. “Go on, open it. There is nothing to fear on the other side.”
Jaiden reached out and grasped the elegantly carved handle. “Where does it lead?”
“Open it and find out.”
Releasing a controlled exhalation, Jaiden pushed on the door and as it opened, so did his eyelids.
Blackness surrounded him, but after a moment his eyes adjusted, and Jaiden noticed a scattering of dim lanterns around the cavern. He looked down at his leg, throbbing with every heartbeat, and saw it thickly wrapped.
“I knew you would pull through, Jaiden,” the Aasimar’s warm voice glid into his mind.
Palomar was seated on the ground beside him, wide awake, while everyone else in the cavern seemed to at least be attempting to sleep. “How late is it?”
“It is early, I think. Not yet dawn.”
“Have you been here the whole time?” Jaiden carefully sat up and slid to prop his back against the cold cave wall.
Palomar smiled, his bright teeth eerily visible in the dark. “I do not need sleep as you. Meditation is enough to keep me refreshed.”
“I had a dream. You were in it.” Jaiden’s eyes strained to catch any change in the Aasimar’s countenance, but it was useless.
“That is not surprising. My hands saw much of your blood.”
“I was considering studying for the initiation, you know, to the Order. I know Sir Golddrake left us that scroll, but in truth, I cannot read.” He was not embarrassed by this deficit, for he knew the majority of the infantry was also illiterate, but it was an obstacle to preparing on his own.
“Nor can I – not your Illanese, anyway. Luckily, Lady Saffron can, and she read it to me in return for the songs I have been teaching her. I would be pleased to assist you in your preparations. It would only strengthen my own resolve.”
Jaiden swallowed hard past the same knot he’d encountered while sleeping. “I would appreciate that.”
“After breakfast, then? Baron Rogan convinced Sir Golddrake to wait until morning for council, but I don’t think he’ll put it off much past sunrise.”
Jaiden could not hold back any longer. “How is my leg?” he blurted. “Is it ever going to get better?” Silence stretched out, intermingling with the dark. Finally, the deliberate, unsatisfying words filled his mind…
“Destiny will decide, my friend.”
Chapter 13
Redirection
R ogan trailed Saffron into a deep recess within the Caves of Criesha. Her lamp provided just enough light to prevent running into a wall, though they had to step carefully on the uneven floor. Embedded crystals glistened like hidden fairies as the light struck them. Saffron’s black hair was relaxed, unbraided, concealing her shoulders in dark waves. She looked only half-real in the dimness, an apparition perhaps, mysterious yet alluring. She could have been leading him down a tunnel to the Abyss itself – he would have still followed.
Finally, other lights shone ahead, and they passed through a narrow opening to a natural hollow forming a room at the end of the corridor. Far enough from the main cavern to provide privacy, the space was just large enough for the six participants to stand an arm’s-length apart. Rogan kept closer than that to Saffron.
“I see we’re the last to arrive,” she said, holding up her lantern. Sir Golddrake and Sir Kilborn, as well as Lieutenant Orestes and Palomar, had already gathered. “I apologize if we’ve kept you – the night has been long on deed and short on sleep.”
“I appreciate all you have done for the men, Lady Saffron,” Sir Golddrake said. “These past days have been difficult, and that is why I have asked to speak with you all. We were not prepared for an ambush, having become used to choosing our battles.”
“Do you think someone gave our position to the enemy?” Rogan saw that as a distinct possibility, but Sir Golddrake bristled.
“No, I do not. My soldiers are loyal to a man.” He challenged Rogan with his eyes, but softened when no response came. “We must learn to be more vigilant, however, and take care, lest too much is said to outsiders.”
Rogan opened his mouth, but Sir Golddrake stayed him with a raised palm. “Present company excluded, of course. I know you’ve fought long against the King-priest, Baron. I have seen your prison marking, and Palomar explained what it meant.”
“What is your next move, if I may ask?”
“That depends on what the Aasimar has to tell us,” Sir Kilborn answered. Five pairs of eyes fixed on the angel-winged council member.
“You are correct, Sir Golddrake – these have been difficult days. I do not wish to dictate the choices you make for your men, though I intend to become one, shortly. However, what I have learned may lead us to an agreement on proceeding.”
“Well then, out with it.”
Rogan raised an eyebrow at Sir Kilborn’s eroding patience, but watched his unearthly friend simply glance at the aged knight with a calm smile. Did he speak directly to him, privately? Rogan wondered, but it was impossible to tell.
“As you know, once the retreat sounded I stayed behind, hoping to save as many of the wounded as I could from a likely cruel end. I carried several survivors, one at a time, and deposited them among the tall grasses south of the road. It was anguishing to choose, as many could have been saved.
“Yet, I knew time was against me. When I could risk it no longer, I claimed some rations and salves from a supply wagon, and flew to our hiding spot. There, masking my song with the wind, I commanded the growth to fold over and conceal us.
“We lay still for hours, listening to the cries of the remaining wounded as they were dispatched, until all grew silent and I dared forth to seek the enemy. The wagons were gone, though the bodies of the fallen remained, unburied – I fear that stretch of road shall remain haunted for an eternity.”
Rogan shook his head at the recounting of wasted life, but Sir Golddrake’s face remained a mask.
“I flew westward first, backtracking to see if any Chelpian forces lingered. With none to be found, I suggested the survivors take the supplies and make their way back to Greyhorne if they could, for there were bound to be foes along the east road, and cutting cross-country would prove hazardous in their condition.
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