Shiver the Moon

by Phillip M Locey

  His reasons came back to the Lady Saffon. She reminded him of everything he had before his arrest, that there is more to live for than revenge. Was her influence responsible for the memory of his crying son, the son he abandoned with the rest of his lost life? What else could Saffron return to him, he wondered?

  “Don’t be foolish,” he chided himself, listening to the echoes of his own boot heels as he followed the battlements back toward the keep. After all, Saffron was from another land and she had her own agendas, which he did not fully understand. Yet, were he forced to swear, he could not deny feeling something between them. He saw firsthand in Blackthorn what regret could do to a man. Would the rest of his life be tortured if he failed to at least ask her how she felt?

  His thoughts heavy about him, Rogan did not notice the woman leaning forward, forearms against the parapet, until he was a mere ten paces from her. He inhaled sharply when he saw her, thinking his mind had somehow conjured Saffron to him, but breathed out when he realized it was Dhania. Her pale dress still stood out, despite the muted shades of nightfall. She did not seem to notice his approach, either.

  “I see I am not the only one who needed to consult the stars tonight,” he said before taking a spot next to her. She glanced at him and forced a smile, before looking back over the eastern countryside, haunted by the shadows of a distant forest. “Anything particular on your mind?” Rogan offered.

  She shrugged. “Just thinking about how far away home is. As much as I wanted to get away and see something of the world, my adventure has not turned out like I envisioned.”

  Rogan peeked at her face, which seemed more stern than usual in the dark, then back toward the horizon – easier to talk of loss when you didn’t have to see one another’s eyes. “No, I suppose it didn’t. But you have your sister here; I know she cherishes you deeply.”

  Dhania sighed. “Yes, but she is not home. Saffron is dear to me, but I miss my mother brushing my hair. I miss my father’s tiny presents when he returns from the bazaar.”

  Rogan heard the smile in her voice without looking. Pearl flashed in the corner of his eye as Dhania whipped her neck to face him.

  “Do not tell her I said this.”

  “I won’t,” he promised. “Have you talked to Saffron about returning to Begnasharan?” he probed.

  “No,” Dhania confided. “It is not time yet. I can tell she cares for these people, and wants to see this through. I would not ask her to leave until she is ready.”

  Her answer surprised Rogan, and he decided to search her eyes to help understand it. Alas, the night was too full for his attempt to read her face. “Even after all you have been through, you don’t feel like you deserve to speak for what you want? I cannot imagine Saffron would place the plight of these Easterners, even if they are friends, above her own flesh and blood.”

  Dhania’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head slightly. “I know this. I love her, and that is why I would not ask. Saffron does not need Begnasharan like I do. Of course I wanted to see new places, but I always planned to go back. I am not so sure about her. Saffron has always had a hunger for learning. It is no secret she was gifted with much talent: her music, discovering the name of every plant she sees, mastering the wind-dance when she was younger than I am now. But there will always be more for her, and she must be free to find it.”

  Rogan was impressed. “How old are you again? I certainly did not understand things so well at your age.” He tilted his head back and made a vain attempt to start counting the stars. “I was already married by my eighteenth summer. She was the love of my life, and all I knew.” He heard Dhania exhale and swallow, but she did not speak, so he continued. “She died…she was killed by servants of the same king who captured you.” Eight years later, it was still a difficult thing to say. “We had a son together, and I thought he was lost as well, but now I’m not so sure.” Rogan found his lips suddenly trembling, and felt the pinch of tears starting to form. “That is also why I feel I should leave. I need to find out for sure whether he is still alive.”

  As Rogan blinked the welling tears from his eyes, he suddenly felt Dhania’s soft hand on the side of his face. She turned it toward hers, and a second later rose on her toes to press her lips against his in a gentle kiss. He was shocked, felt a rush of panic, but did not pull away. He watched her face as best he could in the dark, her eyes closed, yet for some reason could not produce a thought other than it felt nice. As he felt her tongue applying pressure against his lips, he gave in for a second before regaining his faculties. He recovered enough to place his hands on her shoulders and gently return Dhania’s heels to the ground, separating their lips.

  Rogan cleared his throat, trying to buy time as he thought of what to say. Whatever it was, it had to be put delicately. “I, uh, I think I’m going to find some more wine.” He walked back toward the keep, closing his eyes and shaking his head as soon as he was past Dhania. That is all you could come up with, he thought. He didn’t turn back, unsure if he could handle whatever look Dhania might be giving him. At least he spoke the truth – he did need more wine.

  Chapter 24

  Gods and Men

  J aiden awoke to the rumble of thunder outside. A third consecutive day of rain loomed, though today he had to ride in it. Sir Golddrake gave them a short reprieve from travel after the banquet, deciding it prudent to wait a few days to assure the illness did not resurface among the Order, lest they spread it further. Thankfully, none of the men became sick.

  Nearly half of them would remain garrisoned at Windhollow Rock, under the gracious hospitality of the Duke of Rosegold, to train the new recruits. With his own forces depleted by the plague, his Grace had the room, and would benefit from having armed soldiers nearby. The whereabouts of the King-priest’s northern army was still unknown to them.

  Jaiden, however, was tapped to accompany Sir Golddrake to Selamus, the shining capital of the province of Dawn’s Edge. He was returning home. Reluctantly, he threw back his blanket and set his feet to the cold, stone floor without thinking. He lifted them quickly, wincing at the unpleasant intrusion to his half-sleep, and repositioned on his stomach, clinging to the residual warmth of the bed. Head upside-down, he peered over the side of the mattress to locate his chamber pot.

  The pressure in his bladder bestowed the bravery necessary to cross to the corner of the room. Rain sounded on the roof as he relieved himself, and his eyes began to shut as the steady sound and dissipating pressure lulled him back to a reduced consciousness. Surely the Master would not have us head out until the weather breaks, he thought. Jaiden was about to crawl back under his blanket when a knock rattled his door.

  “Sir, the morning meal has been served,” a voice spoke through the wooden barrier. “Sir Kilborn asked me to inform you that the Order departs at the bottom of the hour.”

  So much for warm, dry thoughts.

  Only a dozen of the Order took the winding path down from the castle at Windhollow Rock that morning, but Baron Rogan, Lady Saffron, and her younger sister accompanied them. Jaiden could not fathom what effectual difference it made, but now that he was a knight, he rode a little straighter in his saddle. He was sure Inferno could tell, as his horse’s steps seemed crisper, more precise.

  They rode north along the road in a column, two abreast, with Sir Golddrake at the fore. Saffron ended up at Jaiden’s left, and he noticed her glancing his direction on more than one occasion, though she said nothing. The rain washed the green countryside in grey, and heavy clouds hung low, muting the sun, as an ineffectual lantern in a fog.

  After an hour the rainfall lightened to a misting, and Saffron drew back the hood of her riding cloak. “I have noticed you sleeping later these past few days; are you feeling well?”

  Jaiden thought it odd for her to be paying such attention to his routine. “I feel wet, but otherwise cannot complain.” He was not about to admit he had been sleeping longer to spend more time in his Goddess’s embrace. “I suppose I was drained after the long
night of healing, and just taking advantage of the comfort of a warm bed.”

  “I am glad that is all. I was concerned you might have acquired the sickness.” Saffron followed with a weak smile.

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. I am healthy as a horse.” Jaiden patted the neck of his stallion for emphasis. “Right, Inferno?”

  Saffron’s smile brightened, and they fell back into silence. The column rode into late afternoon before breaking. The worst of the weather seemed left behind, though, the clouds parting enough to show traces of an azure background.

  While the horses were being watered, Jaiden stretched his legs and took a swig from his own drinking bladder. When he lowered it, it nearly dropped from his hands. Saffron had somehow crept beside him without making a sound. “You startled me.” He wiped the spilled liquid from his lips.

  “This is fertile country,” she said, looking west. “You must have excellent farms around here. The practice fascinates me. In the Emirate where I grew up, only land near the rivers was good for growing, and it was protected as sacred ground.”

  Jaiden shrugged. “Farming always seemed boring to me. Waking up early, doing the same thing every day, tied to the same plot of earth. A couple more days along the Dawn Way we’ll enter the hills. Now that’s beautiful country – rolling green as far as you can see. Excellent ambushing opportunities.” Jaiden put away his waterskin and sighed. “You never really know what lies beyond the next rise. Well, until you see the eight hills of Selamus. There’s nothing quite like it.”

  “I have to agree,” Saffron replied. “I was very much impressed by your city. I was to play there for Prince Falcionus… before our caravan was ambushed. Sir Golddrake took me there shortly after rescuing me. I did not go to the palace personally, but when the Prince heard my story, he gifted me a new lyre.”

  Jaiden nodded solemnly, a touch jealous not to be the first to show her the area where he grew up.

  “How long, do you think, before we reach the capital?”

  “It shouldn’t take more than five or six days, depending on how we push the horses. Assuming the road is clear,” he added.

  “That should leave plenty of time, I would think.” Saffron took steps toward the reservoir to claim Sheen by the reins.

  “Time for what?” Jaiden asked.

  “Time to practice,” she called back. “In case the Prince still desires me to play.”

  Remaining vigilant, the Order could not find any signs that Chelpian forces came before them. Farmsteads were intact, and no indications remained of any large encampments along the Dawn Way. Jaiden’s thoughts turned toward seeing familiar places, though he had no proper home to return to. His father had neither plot nor cottage to pass to his son, though comfort could still be found in the haunts of his youth.

  On the evening of the third day out from Windhollow, as twilight settled lazily upon the land, Jaiden spotted the hills of his home province creeping closer from the horizon. “Dawn’s Edge,” he said, absently. “A village sits at the base of the headlands, just across the border.” He intended his statement for Saffron, but didn’t look to see if she was listening. “I hope we stay there tonight. There is a tavern called ‘Pork & Porridge,’ and they have the best spiced cider. My father and I would always stop for some when we passed by.”

  “That seems a sound plan to me,” she responded. “Perhaps Sir Golddrake is familiar with it as well?”

  “It would not surprise me,” Jaiden finally turned to look at her. The dying light was soft against her features, and he could not ignore Saffron’s beauty – though he had been trying. He had not dreamt of Criesha since leaving the castle. He cleared his throat and looked away.

  Sir Golddrake apparently did share his plan, announcing shortly after that they would be stopping in the border village of Fallow for the night. In the dimming light, eager to exchange the saddle for a soft bed, neither Jaiden nor any of the riders noticed the sixteen pairs of wings gliding toward them from the southern sky. Silent as death, the Aasimar descended to alight in a semi-circle, cutting off progress along the Dawn Way.

  “Palomar, is that you?” Sir Golddrake shouted as he came to a halt.

  But who else could it be? Jaiden broke ranks and rode forward to meet his friend, recognizing the glint of gold at the tips of one set of wings, even in the failing light. “Greetings, Palomar! A relief to see you and your kin safe.”

  “Joyous greetings to you as well, Jaiden Luminere.” Palomar lifted his palm in salutation. “It is lucky our paths have crossed. We did not think to see you until reaching Selamus, though my brethren and I are weary from many days of flight.

  “Master Golddrake,” he set his countenance upon his commander, “there are few of you left. I hope you did not find more trouble in your own lands than we in Chelpa.”

  Sir Golddrake clicked and his steed trotted forward, closing the distance. “Trouble of sorts – though our numbers are not lessened by attrition. There is much to tell.”

  “No doubt from both our parties.” It was not Palomar’s voice in Jaiden’s head, but another, emanating an icy calmness. One of the other Aasimar stepped forward, and Jaiden recognized Illicurus by his frost-blue hair. “Perhaps we should make camp, and Palomar can apprise you of our stratagem’s success. As he said, we are weary.”

  Jaiden looked to Sir Golddrake, who seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “If your Aasimar can manage, we were set to halt today’s march at a village less than a league to the north. Will this suffice? It will provide more comfort than camping alongside the road.”

  Illicurus had already turned to scan the northern horizon. “That is acceptable.” He strode up the road, the other Aasimar following in silence.

  Palomar had always been so warm with Jaiden that he never considered how eerie or quietly menacing a group of them could appear. They each had swords sheathed at their waists, and it occurred to him there were more Aasimar than humans present. He felt ashamed the realization made him uneasy.

  “It is probably better we travel on foot from here, so we can arrive with an escort. Our sudden appearance could be unnerving for your kind,” Palomar iterated as he also turned to walk the Dawn Way.

  Jaiden wondered, not for the first time, if the beings’ telepathy was something more than pure communication. He made a clicking sound with his tongue and nudged Inferno forward to keep pace, Saffron and Rogan advancing alongside him.

  “Palomar, I am pleased you found your way back,” Rogan’s voice carried an undeniable note of fondness. “Though truthfully, if I had wings I might be elsewhere.”

  The Aasimar smiled and shrugged. “Nevertheless, I see you have found reasons to stay. Lady Saffron,” Palomar bowed his head, “your inner fire burns bright as always.”

  “I am thankful for your safe return, my friend,” she smiled.

  Jaiden felt a sense of awkwardness growing, and decided to extricate himself from the situation. “I should probably get back in line, now, but I cannot wait to hear your story.”

  “And I to share it. Some insights beyond the machinations of war have been brought to my attention, which I believe you and Sir Golddrake, in particular, may be interested to hear.”

  Jaiden nodded and peeled his horse off to circle back into his proper place. He saluted the Master as he passed, hoping his breech of protocol would not earn sanction. Sir Golddrake did not betray his thoughts by returning the gesture.

  Less than an hour later, with the sun vanquished behind the mountains, the odd troupe arrived at the wooden gates of Fallow. The Aasimar held back, allowing Sir Golddrake to enter the village first. As they approached the Pork & Porridge tavern, located prominently on the major avenue of the hamlet, men came out to greet them and take their horses.

  Sir Golddrake raised his hand in salutation to a man just outside the door of the establishment, and Jaiden could tell from the welcoming grin on the weathered face of the portly gentleman that the two had done business before.

  “I thought I migh
t be seeing you soon, Amurel!” His voice was a bellow that cut through the night air more efficiently than the lanterns in the windows. “News has already reached us of Synirpa.”

  “Has it, indeed?” Sir Golddrake answered as he swung down from his steed.

  The tavern owner grunted disapprovingly as he watched the knight limp forward to clasp hands. “I was told you were performing miracles, but I see that’s not the case, or you would be skipping into my establishment.” The man bypassed Sir Golddrake’s offered palm and enveloped him in a crushing embrace.

  “You know you cannot believe everything you hear, Verino.” Despite his immobilized position, Sir Golddrake was smiling.

  Jaiden dismounted and handed the reins over to a chest-high lad, who dutifully led his horse around the building to the stables. Jaden bent to touch his toes, stretching out the tightness from his legs, but looked back toward the gate when he heard gasps from bystanders. The Aasimar had been spotted.

  “No need for alarm,” Sir Golddrake announced, attempting to head off the ascending unrest. “They are fighting with us against the King-priest.”

  The Aasimar stalked closer, and as the light of the Pork & Porridge cascaded upon their forms, a brilliant kaleidoscope of colorful feathers and hair differentiated the otherwise similarly perfected bodies of the creatures. Staring at them along with everyone else, Jaiden was shocked he hadn’t noticed during their approach that several of the Aasimar were female. He counted four of them now, with frames slightly smaller than their male counterparts. Three of them bore long locks, with the fourth capped by short, mussed, magenta hair.

  Jaiden had overheard Sir Golddrake ask the Aasimar, before their arrival at Fallow, not to communicate with the villagers using telepathy. Palomar was the only one who had learned any Illanese, so he volunteered to be their spokesperson. Illicurus initially objected, but apparently relented after a conversation Jaiden was not privy to.