Soldiers of Legend, Page 4

  “I shall see to it, Your Highness,” the duke replied.

  “South? Through the mountains?” Nellise asked. “There’s still a dragon blocking the highway between here and Culdeny.”

  “Didn’t Commander Black pay it to block that pass?” Aiden countered, referring to the mercenary who attacked Culdeny months ago. “It probably doesn’t know that he’s dead and the entire organisation it’s working for is no more.”

  “Are you suggesting we go and talk to it?” Sayana asked incredulously.

  “Yes, and if it refuses to budge, I suspect we have the power to force it away now,” Aiden replied meaningfully. “You still have Solas Aingeal, don’t you Nel?”

  “For now, although the Church has been insisting I return it after the demise of Sir William,” Nellise answered quietly. “I am not exactly in good standing with them at the moment, knighthood or not.”

  “They’re not going to try and take it,” Pacian assured her, his voice hard and uncompromising. “We need it to protect the Kingdom, and you’re the only one who can wield it.”

  “I shall have words with the archieros to ensure you may keep it for now,” Criosa added. “You should all go and gather your equipment and meet me in the foyer within the hour.” Without waiting for a reply, she swept out of the war room. As they began to file out, the duke touched Aiden’s arm and took him to one side.

  “I have a request, Sir Aiden,” he asked formally.

  “Anything, Your Grace,” Aiden offered.

  “Criosa is headstrong and talented, but she is somewhat naïve. If she were to come to personal harm, I would take it rather personally. I want your word of honour that you will do everything within your power to protect her.”

  “I will do what I can,” Aiden replied slowly, “but we’re walking into a war. Death, be it hers or ours, may be unavoidable.”

  “That’s a horribly realistic view of the situation, sir,” the duke admonished him.

  “I’m just saying it like it is, Your Grace,” Aiden said unapologetically.

  “Then I suppose I will have to content myself with that answer. Good fortune to you, Sir Aiden, and to all of us.”

  “Just don’t forget to send that army,” Aiden reminded him with a meaningful look. “I could probably take on the Ironlord all by myself, but killing it would take days.” The duke’s laugh was a welcome sound in the otherwise tense halls of the castle.

  “I’ll do what I can, but I cannot make any promises,” he said meaningfully. “Now you know how it feels.”

  “Point taken, Your Grace,” Aiden said, shaking the elderly statesman’s hand before he left the room and returned to the tower to gather his equipment. Despite his bluster, Aiden felt a deep sense of foreboding he could not shake.

  Chapter Two

  Upon returning to the university’s tower, Aiden went about gathering his travelling gear for the first time in weeks. Though he was certain nobody was looking forward to the impending battle, Aiden had good reason to be pessimistic. He had seen the Ironlord first-hand.

  Packing his equipment took twice as long as usual, for Major was in a playful mood and did his utmost to bat away anything Aiden went to grab. He decided to focus on his breastplate and come back for the rest later, hoping the belligerent feline would tire of the game.

  Once the lightweight armour was in place, Aiden strapped on his gauntlet and reached for his auldsteel blade. His hand hesitated over the hilt as he recalled the strange power emanating from the sword. Unsure what to expect, he finally built up the courage to grasp the blade and was rewarded with silence.

  Shifting his sight to the spectrum of magic, he squinted at the blinding radiance suffusing the blade as he held it before him, just as powerful as it had appeared earlier. Aside from this strange occurrence, there seemed to be nothing different about the sword, so he strapped it to his belt with the intention of further investigating it when he had the time.

  Major sat watching with his sharp yellow eyes, his tail lashing about in anticipation of something to pounce upon. Tiring of the feisty cat’s game, Aiden gave up any pretence of subtlety and made a move for his backpack, only to find ten pounds of clawed fury on his arm. Fortunately, Desmond showed up to separate the two.

  “Major, that’s quite enough of that,” he barked. The cat leaped away from the scene of the crime as Desmond took note of Aiden’s appearance. “I see you are ready to embark.”

  “I suppose so, although I had hoped to find something more substantial in our research before rushing off prematurely,” Aiden lamented. “I have a feeling this will end badly.”

  “Indeed, though it remains to be seen who it ends badly for,” Desmond huffed, reaching for his pipe and tamping some pipe weed into it. “Now then, you’d better head off. You don’t want to keep Her Highness waiting.”

  “Quite so,” Aiden agreed. “Any last thoughts?”

  “I will continue my work for another week, before joining you all at the fort,” the old wizard said as he handed a small jar of yellow powder to him. “I intend to travel in a manner more suitable to my vocation, once the appropriate arrangements have been made. You are familiar with my sigil, yes? Find an unused area of the fort and trace out the design on the floor with that powder. I shall use it as a beacon to transport myself and a few others, when the time comes.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Aiden remarked, looking at the fine powder in the jar. “I wish somebody would do that for me.”

  “Well, we can’t all have apprentices running around doing our bidding,” Desmond said with a chuckle. It dawned on Aiden what he had just heard, and he looked at the old man in astonishment.

  “Am I really your apprentice?” he asked quietly.

  “I can’t very well have somebody working for me who isn’t,” Desmond grunted indignantly. “You have the makings of a fine wizard Aiden, and I would be most upset if you were to be horribly killed.”

  “I’ll make it there alive, or die trying,” Aiden assured him with a grin that he couldn’t suppress.

  “How droll,” Desmond muttered. “Run along, you rapscallion.” Aiden gave him an appreciative smile and headed out the door, having gained a new perspective on his role at the university. Instead of thinking of himself as the boy who ran away from home to pursue a dream, he was now an apprentice wizard at the University of the Arcane, not to mention a knight of the realm.

  When he reached the castle’s foyer, he found it deserted. The faint sound of metal on metal could be heard somewhere nearby. Drawing his sword, Aiden quietly moved further into the castle, heading towards the source. If there was a real problem, the Royal Guard would have been called in.

  His suspicions were confirmed when he came to the castle’s training room. An assortment of heraldic banners lined the walls, along with an array of shields and weapons used by the elite guard over the years. A small crowd had gathered to watch a fight taking place in the hall. In amongst them was the princess, Sayana and Pacian, but it wasn’t until Aiden had pushed his way through the assemblage that he laid eyes on the combatants.

  Nellise, clad in a suit of plate armour fought against a sergeant of the Royal Guard. The cleric was wielding Solas Aingeal in one hand and holding a shining shield in the other, both items formerly belonging to the late Sir William.

  The armour she wore appeared to be Valennia’s suit, given to the Akoran woman for her bravery in defending the dwarven king. The suit had been modified to fit Nellise, who had claimed it when nobody else would.

  It was odd to see the former priestess of the Church of Aielund fully armoured like this, but her obvious skill with the sword showed Nellise had been practicing over the past few weeks. Her opponent was running her through a series of challenging strikes, apparently testing her capabilities for the sake of the audience.

  Several members of the clergy were gathered around, clearly judging Nellise on her fighting capability. It probably had something to do with the sword, a holy relic of the Church that they were no
doubt eager to have back in their vault once again.

  Criosa, watching the duel with the others, was clad in form-fitting blue leathers of expensive design and wore an elegant rapier strapped to her belt. A number of pouches were attached to her belt, and a short bow hung over one shoulder, complete with a quiver of arrows. Her silken blond hair was tied at the back of her head.

  She glanced over at Aiden and smiled. He blushed furiously, unaware he’d been staring. He turned his attention back to the fight just as Nellise raised her gleaming sword in salute to her opponent, who had yielded after a series of effective blows had sent his sword flying across the mat. Mild applause broke out from the crowd, most notably from Pacian. As Nellise took off her helm, she wiped the sweat from her brow as her white-blond hair cascaded down her back.

  “I’ll never get used to wearing all of this,” she complained mildly as she sheathed the holy sword.

  “Very impressive, Dame Nellise,” a priest whom Aiden recognised as Archon Price congratulated her. The last time they had met, Price had proven to be officious and bureaucratic to a fault. “Understand that we still wish to have Solas Aingeal returned to the cathedral, as it does not belong to you, regardless of your title or skill.”

  “The archieros granted it to Sir William after receiving a vision, did he not?” Nellise asked. “As high-ranking members of the Church, were you privy to the details of this vision?”

  “We were,” the Archon replied cautiously. Aiden was about to speak up when Criosa, who had sidled up beside him quietly, hushed him with a single glance.

  “I was there when Blessed Kylaris told him it was time for Solas Aingeal to walk the world again, to combat the rise of evil throughout the land,” Nellise continued. “I put to you the vision did not include Sir William exclusively, and anyone of pure heart and mind may carry forth God’s light.”

  “You dare interpret the will of Kylaris?” the other priest challenged. “Only our beloved archieros may attempt that.”

  “You have informed me that he is indisposed at this time,” Nellise pressed. “Tell me Sir William was the only one who could possibly wield this sword, and I will relinquish it. Either that, or admit you do not want me to wield it because I have fallen from your good graces.”

  “I would add that the Crown has complete confidence in her,” Criosa piped in, her voice carrying the sort of authority that one would expect from a member of the royal family. “Dame Nellise is a member of a knightly order devoted to the highest ideals. You have ultimate authority over the weapon of course, though if you forbid her from using it, I will take it as an affront to both myself and the throne. Here, at our darkest hour, is not the time to be playing politics, gentlemen. Choose wisely.” The priests whispered amongst themselves for a while before finally answering.

  “You have the complete support of the Church of Aielund as always, Your Highness,” Archon Price explained with a bow. “Solas Aingeal is yours, for a time. But when this crisis is averted, it shall be returned to us once more.”

  “Of course, Your Eminence,” Nellise replied with aplomb.

  “Then the matter is resolved to the satisfaction of all parties,” Criosa said with finality. “We have a great deal to accomplish in the days ahead, so if you gentlemen will excuse us?”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” the Archon answered in a manner which hinted the issue was far from settled. When the clergy had departed, Sayana was the first to speak.

  “What was that all about?” she asked as she adjusted the straps holding her armour.

  “I anticipated this occurring weeks ago,” Criosa explained absently. “I’ve heard a great deal about the Church’s lack of affinity for you Nellise, and I wanted to make sure they were unable to make things difficult for you.”

  “Is that what the knighthood was all about?” Pacian inquired.

  “In a way, yes,” Criosa nodded. “Don’t misunderstand — you have both earned your induction into the Rose Eagles, yet I also considered the Church’s reluctance to trifle with members of the nobility. The knighthood is a measure of political protection as well.”

  “What about me?” Aiden inquired.

  “I knighted you so you would have some measure of authority when dealing with nobles, generals and the like,” Criosa explained. “I have complete faith in you Aiden. People of rank sometimes see you as nothing more than an upstart. Now, they see an upstart knight, but it’s an improvement.”

  “That’s rather clever, actually,” Aiden surmised with a half-smile at Criosa. “Here I was thinking I was just very brave and handsome.”

  “Well, there’s that, too,” she replied with a grin and a self-conscious laugh. “But enough of such things — we have a long journey ahead of us, and precious little time to accomplish it.” Aiden felt himself blushing under the scrutiny of his friends, but did not press the issue.

  “Pardon me, Your Highness,” the castellan interrupted. “I have received a message from the City Watch regarding a matter that directly addresses to Sir Aiden.” She handed over a folded piece of paper.

  “Thank you,” he dismissed the castellan absently as he read the note. “We have a small detour to make on the way,” Aiden said to Criosa. “The Captain of the Watch has asked me to stop by on a sensitive matter. Apparently somebody they have in custody has requested to speak with me by name.”

  “What about?” Criosa asked curiously.

  “It says they can solve our dragon problem,” Aiden replied.

  * * *

  It was a short walk to the closest watch house, a squat, unattractive building that mostly functioned as a short-term jail for petty thieves caught stealing in the markets. Crios’s face was obscured by her hood, attempting to keep a low profile as she walked the streets of her city.

  The watchman standing guard saluted smartly as they arrived. He immediately recognised Aiden and waved them through without delay. The interior of the watch house was as bland and utilitarian as the outside, made of heavy stone slabs that made the place impregnable to anything short of a proper siege. Small, oblong windows permitted a modicum of light into the hallway.

  “Well, this is a rare honour,” greeted a burly man wearing the uniform of a Captain of the Watch. His face was heavily lined and appeared like cracked leather, giving him an uncompromising appearance.

  “I would prevail upon your discretion, captain,” Criosa replied quietly. “I would rather not attract undue attention at this time.”

  “Don’t worry, I am the very soul of discretion. Sir Aiden, I’m glad you’ve arrived so promptly.”

  “If you’d left the message any later, you would have missed me,” he answered as he shook the man’s offered hand. “Who is it you’ve arrested?”

  “He wouldn’t give us his name,” the captain explained as he gestured for them to follow. “To be completely forthcoming, we didn’t really arrest him, either. He surrendered himself at the gates of the city. The duty sergeant didn’t know what to make of it, so he brought him in for questioning. He was damned evasive, and only told us to get that note to Aiden Wainwright. I hope we’re not wasting your time sir, but he’s got a dangerous look about him and I thought I’d better try and figure this one out.”

  “He has my attention,” Aiden remarked. “Was he armed?”

  “Only with a dagger he carried in one boot,” the captain answered. “He didn’t have much on him at all, only a small pouch of coins and this little trinket.” He held up a necklace with a piece of charcoal mounted in a surrounding of jade. Aiden stared at it incredulously, recognising the elven relic capable of averting the wearer’s death.

  The charcoal used to be a diamond, but it changed after the amulet’s power was invoked, as it had for Sir William after facing the dragon, Vindictus Spitefury.

  “Is this the one?” Aiden asked as they arrived at the barred gate of a jail cell, ignoring the puzzled looks of his friends at the sight of the relic.

  “Yes indeed,” the captain confirmed, banging on the b
ars with his truncheon. “You there! I passed on your message and Sir Aiden was kind enough to grace us with his presence. If you’ve got something to say, now’s the time to say it.” The cell was partially lit by the sun, leaving half of the tiny room in deep shadow. A dark figure sat on the simple bed, impossible to distinguish in the dim conditions until he stood and came to the door.

  “So, we meet again,” said Robert Black in his deep, rough voice. Aiden stood there, staring at the sight of the mercenary commander who he had last seen bleeding to death on the battlefield outside Culdeny, months ago.

  “You!” Aiden shouted to the gasps from the women as they recognised the man. Black’s face showed many scars, but none greater than the one that ran over his left eye. It was covered by a black patch fastened by a leather strap. His other eye was piercing blue, and it gazed out of his cell with a cold malice that defied his otherwise calm demeanour. His dark, swept hair was greying at the edges. His clothing was plain, almost austere, a far cry from the expensive armour he wore on their last encounter.

  “I see you remember me,” Robert said, nodding to himself. “I certainly remember you, and Pacian and sweet Sayana with her axe. Wait… is that Criosa? If I knew I was to be visited by royalty, I would have cleaned the place up a bit.”

  “Damnable scum,” Criosa breathed, “I should have you hanged for your crimes.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” Robert said easily as he leaned against the bars. “Not that it matters, but I was just doing what I’d been paid to. I heard you managed to defeat the ones who were paying me, so bully for you.”

  “How the hell can you still be alive?” Pacian growled. “I stabbed you in the neck just before we left you for dead.”