A Paladin's War Ch. 09

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A PALADIN'S WAR

CHAPTER NINE

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Sealed in Blood

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Under a cloudless morning sky decorated only by the occasional hawk wheeling high in the air, the Dwarven army marched, the Sorral Plain stretching away to the north and west, and the Emerin Forest looming darkly in the south, the vast wood home to as many myths and fables as there were trees. Riding alongside Noah near the head of the long column of mounted soldiers, Elaina stared off to her left wistfully, smiling sadly as she recalled the long years she'd spent there, alone most of the time. It had all been worth it, though.

Moving an army this size through a dense wood was arduous at best, painful at worst, so Burin had moved the force out onto the plain as soon as possible, making the rest of the journey longer as the crow flew, but much faster. There was little danger in travelling in the open; no force existed that could challenge ninety thousand drengr, at least in this part of the world. Unless the Heralds decide to empty their cities and come south, she thought sourly. The idea was unlikely; the Heralds had taken Ironshire but lost the town soon after to darkspawn. Routed, the Heralds had fled north, to Maralon or even further, to their fortified cities called the Dawnguard, which occupied a large section of the northern coast of Ekistair. Either way, Ironshire needed to be taken back.

Of a size with Vesovar, the retaking of Ironshire was likely to be bloody. She absently fingered the leather-wrapped haft of Shatter where it lay strapped across the front of her saddle as she remembered that night not so long ago, fighting in the dark and the rain, protecting a defenceless Noah against waves of monsters. And I'd do it again, she thought grimly. Though I hope I don't need to. I'd like to live a little longer, yet.

"And what has turned your thoughts so dark on such a bright day?" Noah enquired, taking his slate-grey eyes off the landscape for a moment to regard her. Tall and slender and dressed in leathers and furs, with bushy red hair and a matching beard, he gave the appearance of a wild man from the Edincairn, though it was just an appearance.

Elaina gave him a brief but genuine smile. "Darkspawn, war, Heralds of Dawn. Any one alone would be enough, my love, but all are weighing heavy on me, this morning."

"I see," Noah replied. He studied her for a moment. "Are you not glad we will be with your friend, soon? Henley?"

She was glad for that. To see Henley again in the flesh would be a ray of sunshine penetrating an otherwise stormy sky. Thinking of storms added another worry to her growing pile; there hadn't been a wild, unpredicted storm for two weeks, now, when for the past several months they had been more regular. Why had they stopped? She should be pleased for it, but something told her the reason for the quiet weather was not a good one. "I am," she answered Noah. "Truly. It will be grand to be together again. You will like him, I think."

"I look forward to meeting him," Noah said, glancing behind him to check on his sister, who rode a short way back. Pale and pretty, with a light smattering of freckles that matched her deep red hair, Edda Stoneman was staring at her rotund horse's mane - though not really seeing it - while doing breathing exercises.

Elaina smiled when she noticed. Edda was a quick learner, and the death of her sister and parents had ignited a fire in her, a deep desire to grow strong. She would make a great Paladin, if Elaina could keep her from letting that fire consume her. So far, she seemed to be balancing her training and her grieving well, though Elaina was watching her carefully for any signs of emotional struggle.

Thinking of Edda's family made Elaina think of her own. A mother, father, and brother whose faces she had not seen for over thirty years. She'd turned Vesovar upside-down searching for them after the battle, but to no avail. Maybe they'd moved from the city already and were living somewhere else, or maybe their bodies were still there somewhere, missed by her searching. She hoped they were well, wherever they were, though a small part of her was relieved she had not found them, alive or dead.

She still remembered the look in their eyes on the day she'd left. Her mother and father, staring at her as if they'd never seen her before. Her little brother, Edmund, his wide-eyed gaze full of fear, as if his sister had become a monster right in front of him, or perhaps had been a monster all along.

Sadness welled in her, but it was an old ache, a far cry from the terrible, raw pain she had endured as a young woman of eighteen.

"You are thinking about them again," Noah observed accurately, sparing her a compassionate glance.

She sighed. Not many people knew about her family. Henley did, and Aran, of course. Noah had pulled it from her after watching her comb Vesovar for three days with no explanation. "I just thought if I found them," she began, "I would at least get some closure. The not knowing is almost as bad as finding them dead would have been." She winced as soon as she said that; Noah's family were in very fresh graves, and he was still reconciling his own grief. "I am sorry," she said quickly. "I did not think."

He only smiled at her, though. "Nothing to be sorry for," he told her graciously. "I know you meant no hurt." After a moment he added, "But you are wrong in what you said. Anything is better than finding them dead, my heart."

He was right, of course. He knew better than most. Her meldin fell silent for a time after that, and she gave him some space. Wanting to do something useful - and to get away from her troubled thoughts - she fell back a bit to ride alongside a young man who was very lucky to be here at all.

Deven Blake rode alone in a small pocket left for him by the surrounding soldiers, all of whom considered him to be the enemy. They were under orders from Burin to leave the young Herald - former Herald, now - alone, but that didn't stop them from casting menacing stares in his direction.

Barely twenty years old, plain-faced young Deven had been buried in rubble and an hour or two from death when she'd found him in Vesovar. A few days in Dwarven care had seen him on the path to recovery - it had taken some convincing to make the Dwarves tend a sworn enemy - and now all that remained of his injuries was a bandage around his temples and a slight limp. He rode hunched in his saddle, however, as if he expected a knife or arrow to find him any moment, though in reality he was safe enough; the drengr would not disobey Burin's orders. He appeared lost in his thoughts, his dark eyes pensive. Elaina knew all about that, these days.

"Are you well, Deven?" she enquired gently as Willow fell into step beside the roan gelding that had been found for him. He looked up briefly and nodded, then hurriedly averted his eyes, his cheeks colouring. Elaina grinned despite her sombre mood; seeing a young man's reaction to her face added a little brightness to the morning. He had given her the same yesterday, and the day before that.

"Well enough, miss - uh... madam." He stumbled over what to call her.

"Elaina will do," she told him kindly.

Another brief glance, though this time he held her eyes for a second. "Elaina," he repeated, then withdrew again, uncertain of himself.

"Are you being treated well? If there are any problems, please tell me, and I will resolve the matter." Five days she had been coming to him, to make sure he was well, and the Dwarves weren't making his life miserable, but each day he had chosen to remain quiet. She could have aligned with him, but something told her not to use her abilities with him, just yet.

Deven winced as if she'd just hit him, which didn't make sense. She was just trying to show the boy some kindness, something he'd no doubt been in short supply of. "What is it?" she asked. "Have I said something wrong?" She got a shock when his head came up, his eyes blazing.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he demanded. This was the first real life she'd seen in him since she'd found him in Vesovar. "You know what I am!" Some of the nearby Dwarves shifted in their saddles. A few hands strayed toward weapons, but Elaina held out a hand to stall them. There was no danger, here.

"What you were," she corrected firmly, but Deven scoffed. Despite his sudden incensed attitude, it was nice to see some spirit from the lad.

"You don't understand!" he said angrily. "It is not so easy as you think."

Elaina frowned. "What isn't?"

He appeared ready to say more, but then just shook his head in resignation. "Never mind." He withdrew again, shutting her out.

"Deven," she said softly, leaning close to him. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was listening. "I'm trying to help you. Is there a way you can help me to understand?"

His lips curled in the beginnings of a grimace, or maybe a snarl, but then a tear escaped the corner of his eye. "They'll find me," he said in barely more than a whisper. "They will. And they'll punish me before they execute me in public. That's what they do to traitors."

Elaina finally understood why he'd been so silent. "And the more you speak with me, the worse it gets for you." She didn't need his nod to know the truth. "Did you believe in them, Deven? The Heralds?" The poor lad looked like he was about to be sick.

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "My beliefs make no difference."

"That's what they want you to think," Elaina countered gently. "And if you're so afraid of them that you never question, never leave, they get exactly what they want."

"All it takes is one, Elaina. One spy, one pair of eyes to see me with you and I'm done."

Elaina nodded. "I agree. Which is why I'm going to protect you."

The younger man's shoulders shook with mirthless, silent laughter. "It won't make a difference," he said flatly. "They have... ways... of killing even people like you."

Elaina's mouth twisted with distaste. He was speaking of the Nameless. "I am aware," she replied. "Believe me." That statement brought his attention back to her face.

"You have seen them? You have survived?"

"We are harder to kill than your superiors would have you believe," she told him firmly. "There was an attempt on my life not so long ago. As you can see, it failed."

Deven held her eyes for a few seconds before dropping them again. "I used to talk with Rem about it, quietly, where we couldn't be overheard." He sounded as sombre as his downcast face. "But he didn't make it. Vesovar. They came in the night. We weren't ready. Shouldn't have even been there, really." Elaina put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and this time he didn't flinch.

"Rem used to say," he went on, "That there was something wrong in the Heralds. Something deep." His expression became thoughtful. "What was the word he used? Fundamental, I think. He was always smarter than me, was Rem."

Deven was finally opening up, and Elaina wanted him to continue. "He was the one with you that night, in Maralon, yes?" Aros, it felt like years since that night, sneaking into Maralon to rescue Ayla and Tavish with Aran and Henley.

Dev actually chuckled. "He sure was. We always tried to get assigned the same detail so we could be together. He didn't really like anyone else, and neither did I. Anyway, after meeting you and your friends, we stayed in that cell until the next watch came." He fingered his left eye almost fondly. "We wanted it to look convincing, so we clocked each other good."

Elaina grinned, more for Dev's memories of his friend than for what the poor lads had no doubt endured after that night. That thought pulled the grin away quickly enough. "You made a great sacrifice that night, Deven," she said earnestly. "Truly."

Dev nodded. "I know. Not sure how, but somehow I know."

"I hope they didn't punish you too harshly."

"Got away easy, we did," he replied almost brightly. "Two whippings each, was all. Barely even a scar, now." Elaina was shocked at how lightly he spoke of it. Then again, she wasn't sure anything she heard about the Heralds was really so shocking. A hot burst of anger flared in her gut. They needed to be dealt with, and soon. Up ahead, Noah turned in his saddle, his eyes finding her quickly after feeling her anger. She smiled and shook her head to let him know all was well.

"After that," Dev went on, "We weren't trusted with anything more important than night watch in a town where nothing ever happens." He shrugged. "Suited me just fine, being away from Maralon and all. They just thought we were stupid, and I suppose you could say that I'm not the sharpest tool on the rack, but Remen? Well, he was clever as they come. Bright as a button."

Elaina smiled sadly. "You miss him a lot, don't you?" When Deven nodded, she added, "We're going to take them down, Deven. I'm not sure how, yet, but the Heralds will not be allowed to continue as they have been. This I swear."

"I want to believe that, Elaina," he told her earnestly. "I really do, but they've been in control for a thousand years. How can they be stopped? They're everywhere."

"Not everywhere," Elaina replied. "You would be surprised how many places in the world do not feel their touch. Not directly, anyway."

"I don't know about any of that," Dev said stubbornly, his mouth set. "Unless you mean the places where Humans don't go." His eyes briefly cut to the Dwarves riding closest to him, and his tone said he didn't care for those places much.

"It is a shame," Elaina said quietly as she looked up. A hawk's screech had pulled her attention that way. As she watched, the bird folded its wings and stooped sharply, aimed at the prey it had spied somewhere in the tall grass. The hawk vanished behind a low rise in the distance, lost to sight. "That most Humans do not see the lands and cities now lost to us. The Ten Rings of Dun'Arghol, carved from the very mountains of the Amarion Peaks, or the Great Tree of Ildernass, tall enough to be seen for a hundred miles, her branches so wide the Elves use them as roads."

"Why did you help me, that night?" Dev asked suddenly, not taking the bait. "If the Heralds are wrong, and you're right, you should have killed me and Remen."

"That is not what we do," Elaina said softly. "We sensed the goodness in you, Deven, the conflict. You are not the Herald you claimed to be."

"I just wanted to do something that mattered, you know?" he confessed, his voice cracking. "I wasn't born special, but I thought the Heralds might teach me how to make something of myself anyway. But they frightened me, Elaina. Every day was another rule, another threat, another punishment."

Elaina's heart ached to hear it. It must have been terrible to live under oppression like that. "This is your chance to do something that really does matter," she implored. "To help us remove the Heralds from power and end a thousand years of tyranny. We know too little about their inner workings, and your knowledge would be most valuable, if you'll share it."

Deven sighed despondently, though he did meet her eyes for longer, this time. "I'm dead anyway," he said fatalistically. "So, I suppose it won't matter either way if I help you or not."

Not exactly the answer she was hoping for, but she let it go, for now. He was willing to help, at least. Wanting to make the most of the opportunity, she began to ask him about life among the Heralds.

*

Much later, with the sun touching the horizon in the west, Elaina navigated her way through the sprawling camp, an organised series of square blocks of low-peaked tents, with the command tent in the centre. Meat cooking over small fires between rows of tents filled the air with a pleasant, appetite-inspiring smell. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it; there would be time to eat later.

"You need to eat," Noah remarked, echoing her thoughts. He was shadowing her in the twilight as she made for the command tent. "I can feel how hungry you are."

She eyed him briefly over her shoulder. "I am aware of this, my meldin," she replied wryly. While she was turned, a Dwarf carrying a steaming kettle of stew stepped into her path. She stepped around him smoothly without looking away from Noah.

Noah met her stare evenly. "Then why are you not eating?"

"Because I must speak with Burin."

"Can it not wait an hour or two? Burin might appreciate a late-evening visit even more. Especially from you."

She chuckled at his sly tone. Noble king or not, Burin had all the appetites of a man, and when his evenings weren't occupied by talks with his captains and general, he amused himself with a small collection of concubines that he'd brought on the march. Nothing compared to the harem he'd left back in Dun'Arghol, of course, but bringing two dozen women just for the king's pleasure had no doubt been considered excessive, even for the Lord of the Ten Rings.

While Noah had been healing, she had spent a few evenings with Burin herself. They had been enjoyable nights; Burin was both charming and educated, with an edge of arrogance she found equal parts attractive and frustrating, depending on the moment and the topic of conversation. Noah was well aware of her interludes with the king - a meldin could not hope to keep such a thing secret from another - and he trusted her decisions well enough. The man had quickly grown accustomed to the liberal ways of the arohim, and had even begun to enjoy himself apart from her when she was busy with Edda or Burin.

As they walked through the camp, Noah received the occasional look of interest from a female drengr in passing. Not as many as Elaina received from the men, but then he had no vala.

"Perhaps you are right," she told him lightly. "Perhaps his majesty would prefer to meet with me in private, later. While I am there, perhaps you can spread yourself among some of your many admirers."

Behind her, she sensed him stumble, then right himself quickly. A hot flash of embarrassment burst through the melda from him. Well, perhaps he wasn't completely accustomed to this life, yet.

"Relax, my heart," she said gently, offering him a smile. "This is a hard life, but it has its rewards. I am glad you are receiving them." He smiled back, and a moment later they were in front of the command tent, a wide, square shape, squatting in the growing darkness. Two burly guards in heavy iron plate flanked the entrance, though they nodded respectfully when they saw her approaching. Elaina was treated as something close to royalty, these days. Noah said she was growing into something of a legend, according to what he heard among the drengr. One of the ancient arohim returned who had saved the king's life and fought off a horde of darkspawn alone at Vesovar.

Entering the tent - a wide, square space with thick, finely woven carpets on the floor and a heavy round table in the centre for planning - Elaina's eyes fell on Burin immediately. The king of the Dun'Arghol Dwarves was a handsome man, if a little hard-faced, with long black hair and a matching beard cinched with silver clasps at intervals along its length. He was standing by a brazier off to one side with his hands clasped behind the small of his back, staring into the burning embers thoughtfully, his dark eyes reflecting the orange light.