Chapter 1: A Lord’s Quest Chapter 3: Twisted Paths
Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?
Pent and his party were not met by anyone for a few days as they left Reglay, travelling across the neighbouring county as they headed closer to the mountains on the Etrurian/Lycian border. Every other night Pent used his little staff to contact Castle Wrigley, and every night contacted General Douglas in the capital, Aquleia.
“Well, I haven’t been able to find out how they discovered it,” Douglas told them two days later, camped in a small forest on the edge of a broad belt of farmland, right by a river, “but it is definite that Duke Ocery and Lord Blier have discovered your mission, and there are hints that Lord Arcard and Duke Nord have wind of it as well.”
Pent frowned. “Arcard? He’s just slippery enough to be trouble, though nothing has ever been proved. Nord and Blier are useless; I won’t worry about them just yet. But Arcard could be dangerous.”
“Don’t forget Ocery, either. He has power and determination enough to be a serious distraction and even a substantial threat to the kingdom, if he gained the power of the jewel.”
“I know, I know,” Pent said, pacing with his staff. Ceniro wondered if General Douglas found that at all disconcerting. “Blier will just want it for the prestige; a pretty bauble with fame. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him who hired those clumsy assassins we met a few days ago. Nord would want the power and to move up the rank ladder. Ocery… is a bit more of a mystery, especially since he’s usually so straightforward.”
“He would also gain power. Consider it a combination of both Blier and Nord’s ambitions, backed by the strength and sheer willpower to hold on to them. Rhost, my youngest knight, is from his county in Deis… I have asked his insight.”
“And Arcard? He will be more subtle. He’ll lie, cheat, steal, and murder to obtain it – more so than the others, and more deviously – and play the good little king’s servant for a few years…”
“…and then stage a coup.”
“My apologies, my lord Pent, but what if – just what if – any one of these nobles has heard of your quest but does not desire the jewel?” asked Priscilla, listening in with wide innocent green eyes.
“My dear, that would be a very astounding happenstance that would bestow upon Lord whoever the Saint’s blessing itself,” Pent told her, smiling. Priscilla blushed and looked away.
“Well, we haven’t been attacked in the last few days, so either those lords have lost our location and trail, or they’re sending out their own parties to take it, or they’re waiting for us to get a little further, perhaps even for us to return triumphantly before they make their next move. Although that is optimistic.”
Douglas nodded once. “I certainly hope they have lost you. The jewel does not deserve to be in their grubby greedy hands, a mere power-toy. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can relax.” He disappeared.
“Pent, may I ask more about what this jewel is?” Ceniro asked quietly from his seat on a fallen log nearby. “If it’s important enough that the mere whisper of it sends nobles at each others’ throats…”
Pent paused in his pacing and turned towards him, and then sat down on the log next to him with a swirl of his lavender cloak. “All right, then, Ceniro. I suppose you have a right to know. And the rest of you, too, come on over.” The rest of the soldiers gathered around Pent like children listening to a storyteller, though Ceniro would never call big tough George or Caddie a child.
“It’s no secret about the Eight Heroes and how they drove away the Dragons in the War of the Scouring, or what their weapons were. Ilia’s Barigan used the great lance Malte; Lycia’s Roland fought with the great sword Durandal. And Etruria’s St. Elimine wielded the tome Aureola – but she also used a healing staff of great power. And we do not know where some of the Heroes are buried, and we certainly have no clue where any of the Divine Weapons are laid. Presumably their creators and wielders thought their power too great for humans with no dire need. However, the healing staff was not a weapon; most of the books that mention it discuss its function and power. Yet we still do not know where it is. There were whispers that it had been found several years ago, but that turned out to be a false tale. But in some old sources, ecclesiastical documents, even ancient folktales, even tiny signs in old and bizarre bureaucracy, I have read that the jewel and the staff were separated. I’m not sure why that was done, whether it was by accident or by choice on the part of a guardian, but the one book – I suppose the name would mean nothing to you – was quite certain it had been split up and hidden in different places. That book did not say where it was hidden, except that it was buried, or something of the sort: ‘And the pieces shall never see the light of day again, only the light that comes from their own purity in the dark places of the mountains.’”
“So why the Lycian mountains?” asked Fiora.
“That clue came in another scroll, one which was in the back of an old, unused cleaning closet in Castle Aquleia.” Pent shuddered. “It was barely legible, but it said in ballad form that (apparently) St. Elimine was actually in love with the knight Roland, and left her staff as close to him as possible so that in great need he could rely on it to help him.” He looked around at the faces watching him, some stoic, a couple sceptical, some fascinated. “I suppose you’re wondering if I have my head correctly nailed onto my shoulders, randomly heading out into the wild with a handful of warriors to find an ancient, possibly non-existent jewel on the say-so of a few beer-befuddled scribblings on centuries-old parchment, but I can’t find out any more while staying at Wrigley or Aquleia. I need to get down to the border mountains and poke around more.”
Cavven shrugged, exchanging his sceptical face for an utterly confident one. “Well, goose-chase or not, sir, it’s going to be exciting.”
Pent smiled slowly. “It certainly will, if this keeps up.”
“It certainly will, but only for the next ten minutes or so, if you are unlucky,” came a strident voice from outside the camp. The heads of the whole group snapped around to see the intruder.
He was a short young monk with black hair and a lean, tanned, angry looking face, dressed in travel-stained white robes with a red scarf. “My name is Albert and there are brigands and mercenaries closing in on your position. They have already attacked me believing me to belong to your party. And so they have driven me to fulfill their expectations, for I offer my services with light magic in exchange for all our safety.”
“Well met, Brother Albert,” Pent said, rising and extending his hand to the young man. “I am truly sorry for your inconvenience, but I and my tactician Ceniro here shall try to right that as quickly as possible. Can you tell us where the enemy is?”
Albert nodded and, going to the edge of the copse, pointed across the fields at several small figures that were distinguishable from farmers by their gleaming weapons. Pent looked at Ceniro, who was already calling orders in a quiet, calm voice as he directed who should go where.
“We have to be sure that they don’t bother the peasants, either,” Ceniro said softly to Pent as they walked quickly to the road, where most of the enemy were sure to come – it was faster than trudging through the field, watching for ambush where indeed Ceniro had set up most of the retinue after seeing that a few enemy soldiers were heading straight through the middle. “Either by harming them, or burning the fields… to drive us out…”
“What is your plan if they do set fire to the field?” Pent asked.
“I would isolate the fire using your ice magic, if possible. But I am planning to take them out before they can remember that. See how our ground people are close to the edge of this field? The enemy won’t get far in before they have to fight and forget about torching things. But I just had another idea.”
The tactician called to Fiora, who swooped down and landed in a cloud of dust next to them on the road. “Yes, sir?”
Ceniro waved away the ‘sir’ and some dust. “I just thought of something. If you do see fire, could you get the bucket from camp and water from the river and try and put it out? Otherwise, keep on the lookout for archers and try to take them out as I said before.”
“Yes, sir!” Fiora flew off, first to the camp, presumably to get the bucket to save time later.
“And now we wait,” Pent said. “Very clever – turning their ambush into our ambush. Here come a few horsemen. Wouldn’t it be funny if they thought I was all alone except for you? Ha ha!”
Ceniro laughed too, though his stomach was nervous. Pent blasted the horsemen with Elfire easily, and then Ceniro went to watch the fight in the field unfold.
The first wave was repulsed easily. Mostly composed of axefighters, they were taken down as soon as they stepped out of sight into the field. Their disappearance would have been mostly undetected, too, except that Albert’s light magic shimmered in the air over the field. Which was fine by the tactician. It would keep Pent from being swamped as the enemy tried to split their resources.
Fiora suddenly dove, lance out, and Ceniro caught sight of an arrow that had whizzed over her right shoulder. He looked far ahead and saw a few mercenaries and a couple more archers – and a mage. He tapped Pent’s shoulder and pointed.
Pent turned from the corpse of a horse-mounted archer and nodded. “I don’t have Bolting with me today, and I don’t dare cast that without referring to a tome. Shall we advance?”
Ceniro glanced back at the little group in the field and nodded. He gave a sharp whistle and pointed. “Same form, next front!” He didn’t hear any acknowledgements, but that was part of the ambush plan. He and Pent themselves ran forward down the road. “Let’s get most or all of the enemy away from their leader and take him out with Fiora, after she gets that mage.”
The enemy mage, confirming Ceniro’s fears, cast a fire spell on the dry field. “Fantastic,” Ceniro grumbled. “Fiora! Mage first, water later! Everyone else, take out the archers! Pent, we need that ice spell after all, if you could.”
“Certainly, but I need to get a little closer first.”
The plan, hastily thrown together as it was, caught the enemy off guard by the sudden charge. Caddie and Cavven flung themselves through the wall of fire and began holding off all comers, though Caddie was at a slight disadvantage. George and Albert gave them brilliant covering fire, and Fiora stooped on the mage like a hawk, dodging another arrow at the same time. His hasty Fire spell missed. Pent stopped running once he judged himself close enough, and closed his eyes and spread his arms.
Chunks of ice formed around the edge of the fire, keeping it from spreading.
Ceniro kept running forward toward the battle. “Albert, please hit that swordsman attacking Caddie! Cavven, look out for that man on your left and the swordsman in the back but get the archer beside him if you can. George, can you move forward to Caddie? Fiora, help Cavven!” An arrow hit Caddie in the leg and Priscilla healed it.
The mercenary leader strode forward, preventing Cavven from attacking his archer. “I am Worelt, and you are my prey as defined by Lord Blier. You fight fiercely, but I will clear you all out myself!”
“Albert, get the archer! Cavven, don’t press the attack! Fiora!”
This last mercenary was much more difficult to kill. He was more patient than the others that had been throwing themselves at the group. His archer fought at his side, clearly terrified.
Pent caught up to Ceniro. “I think that last mercenary might be talked into surrendering,” Ceniro told him. “Could you speak to him, please?” Pent nodded, smiling, and walked toward Worelt. “Hold, everyone!”
The two sides backed off, panting.
Pent pointed at the mercenary. “You are named Worelt? You are outnumbered and outfought. Surrender and we shall not slay you.”
Worelt looked around at the dead mercenaries and the living soldiers, and then at his shaking archer. “We’ve been hired to destroy you all, and if we fail the consequences will be just as dire. And I still have confidence I can pick off one or two of you, weaken you up for the next group.”
Pent smiled slightly. This mercenary was a good businessman, but terrible at withholding information. “We still have no wish to kill a beaten foe. –Stop watching our healer!” Priscilla withdrew suddenly, as the two mercenaries had glanced at each other and the archer had nocked an arrow to his bow. A semi-circle of Elfire blazed up around them. “I warn you, you are completely outclassed. Leave, or die. Or join us; we could use one as determined as you are. You may do as you wish, though I would certainly hope your choice allows you to survive.”
Worelt drew himself up, glaring at the lord through the flames. “We never join the target.” He made as if to break out, then thought better of it and went running off down the road, the archer right behind him.
Ceniro sighed. “Well, at least we can regroup before the next batch get here.”
The red-scarfed monk approached him. “Well,” said Albert as they were cleaning themselves off and putting out the fire in the field, “I am unfortunate to have been in the vicinity of these villains, but most fortunate to have your assistance in escaping them. Now, I couldn’t help but hear the story you were telling about St. Elimine’s staff. While I have never heard of such an object, if it is true, then it is my duty to continue to offer you my services. Will you accept them?”
“Certainly,” Ceniro replied, and Pent nodded.
And then Ceniro had to deal with angry farmers complaining about the burned and trampled crops. In the end he gave them some gold, which mollified them completely. The group assisted in the quick burial of the dead mercenaries, and then went back to their camp and pack-horse and hurried on their way.
Louise went hurriedly to the door of Castle Wrigley. “Lord Lesil? This is an unexpected… pleasure. What brings you here?”
“Lovely Lady Louise. I just happened to be staying in the neighbourhood for the next few days and thought I should call on my fair cousin.” Lesil, blonde and hard-eyed, was not actually Louise’s cousin; he was only using a courtesy. “I was just dropping by, today, to let you know I was here, but might I call again tomorrow? It must be lonely for you, with Lord Pent away from home.”
Louise hid her confusion in a smile. “I will be at home for the next few days. I have an engagement with the representative of the smith’s guild in two days, but otherwise, you are… welcome. Please make yourself at home.”
Lesil glanced around at the pleasant manor, the slightest trace of disgust in his eyes. It was clear he felt more at home in either a mansion or a castle, and Castle Wrigley was neither. “I shall certainly avail myself of your invitation at the first opportunity, my dear, delightful Lady Louise.”
And he left on horseback as he came, leaving Louise to her disturbed thoughts and misgivings.
That evening, Douglas greeted Pent and Ceniro with an odd face. “Strange news, Pent. It seems that Nord is having nothing to do with this affair, at least openly, while Blier has… departed from court.”
“We fought some mercenaries today that he hired,” Pent told him. “We let a couple live, hoping they would surrender. Perhaps he’s coming to check on them?”
“Perhaps.”
“Does the king know anything of this?”
“No, surprisingly. It seems that the noble spy network works well enough at that, although my own spies are better, I think. And yes, I am certain this conversation is confidential. I have not yet told the king; it is not yet dangerous to him and I think we can handle it. He’s completely distracted with his infant son, Prince Mildain.”
Pent smiled. “Understandable.”
The conversation did not last long this night. They soon went to rest.
The next day, they were still travelling on the road beside the river when they were met again, this time by a large troop of mercenaries right on the road.
“Wait,” said Ceniro, and the whole company stopped. “We haven’t met anyone all day, and this may turn out to be completely unrelated to us, but if they are hostile and we meet them right here, we’ll be cut to pieces. Let’s get off the road a short way. Fiora, do they have many archers or mages?”
“They have many archers, and… yes, they have two mages.”
Ceniro hissed in vexation. “This will be tricky. I don’t suppose we can avoid them by going across the river.”
“That would look funny if they happen to be just using the same road as we are,” Albert pointed out.
“True. Well, let’s-“
“Hold,” Fiora said suddenly from her vantage in the sky. “I can see that – that mercenary from yesterday, whatever-his-name-was. I think they are quite probably hostile.”
Ceniro held a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked around, frowning. “No cover at all. Priscilla, get back. We’ll have to meet them head-on and hope that messes up their archers. Right back, Priscilla. George, please target their mages first, and then their archers. Everyone else, hold until they look hostile, and then the instant you feel they’re about to attack, charge them before they can.”
They waited, their weapons clenched in their hands, and then, as Ceniro heard rattling in the oncoming group, he shouted “NOW!!” and the three soldiers of House Reglay, the pegasus knight, and the two magic users dashed forward, Albert stopping just behind the other soldiers due to his less sturdy stature.
Ceniro slowly retreated back to where Priscilla was waiting with her mare by the pack-horse. “This is no good,” he said. “We’ve taken them by surprise, but eventually their numbers will wear us down. And if any of us slip up – oh, George is wounded. You’d better heal him up.”
“What do we do?” Priscilla asked nervously, raising her staff. “We are only a healer and a non-fighting tactician.”
Ceniro beckoned. “Come with me. We’ll surprise them properly, even with no cover. Wow, look at Pent!”
Pent had let loose a wave of Elfire that blistered its way down the road, taking out at least six enemy soldiers. Ceniro looked at Priscilla incredulously. “Maybe I don’t have to do anything clever. I can just sit back and let Pent take care of them all. Oh, Albert’s been hit with an arrow… Still, come with me and look threatening. Pretend you know Bolting.”
“I-I once looked at a Fire tome… it made sense, though I was not enough in tune with the forces of magic to use it…” Ceniro could see that perhaps half the enemy force was still fighting, but Worelt was still standing at the back of the group, watching the fight. Then he saw Cavven, who was distracted by fighting one of the axemen in the group, and charged him. Caddie called a warning to the young swordsman just in time.
“Well, pretend you have what you like, and let’s go. Here’s The Diaries of Garlant, Lord of Ositirn. I’ll keep you safe.”
The healer and the strategist left the pack-horse behind and reached a little rise to the left of the road.
A few seconds later, the fighters heard loud talking. “It looks like we’re still in time, Lord Ken!”
“Indeed it does, Mage Patricia! There are still a few left for us! Hardly worth bothering about, really!”
They looked, and saw a slim girl in green and white lace, with a white hood over her head covering her face, brandishing a small book. They also saw a hooded young man on a horse with a green billowing cloak and a jeweled staff. The man was struggling to keep his horse’s head, and was not doing a terrific job, but to the mercenaries it looked dramatic and spirited.
Pent nearly burst out laughing, but used the enemies’ temporary slack-jawed reaction time to cast a thunderbolt on the last archer.
“Hear me!” cried the girl. “You are facing Lord Ken of Santaruz, the great Mage Knight! Throw down your weapons and surrender, or none shall be left alive!”
Worelt indicated four of his remaining axemen to go deal with the distraction with a flick of his head. They approached with apprehension, and then slightly more arrogance as lightening death did not rain down on them from above.
Ceniro and Priscilla hurriedly changed places and he took up his place in front of her with his plain wooden staff. “Well, it partly worked.”
“Yes, we are under attack.” Priscilla’s voice was breathless and quavering with stage fright.
“Not that, but see, our side has – ungh! – gained an advantage with – ungh! – the distraction… and…”
“And there are fewer fighters facing them. I understand. Ah! Fiora’s been hurt.”
Ceniro managed to knock out an axeman with his staff. Priscilla was retreating slowly, which turned into an outright flight of terror when one of the others came at her. The tactician was on his own, surrounded, again, when Albert and George suddenly attacked them from behind. The field was actually looking quite dead and bloody, and Worelt was still dueling with Caddie, and now Fiora, with Cavven fighting off the enemies around them.
The axemen taken care of, Ceniro, Albert, George, and Priscilla returned to where Worelt fell back, grabbing at a cut on his lower arm, glaring at not Fiora or Caddie, but Pent. “You… defeated us again? With our superior numbers and knowledge?”
“You may have known our number and make-up, but you’ll never know our quality,” Pent told Worelt. “I’m sorry; I know you’re just doing your job, but your time is up.”
To his credit, Worelt went down fighting to the last.
Pent turned to Ceniro, struggling still with his laughter. “Ceniro, who’s ‘Lord Ken of Santaruz’?”
Ceniro shrugged, turning a deep red. “It worked, didn’t it? Good job, Priscilla. Your acting skills probably saved all our lives.” Now it was Priscilla’s turn to blush.
The young knight, Rhost, was wandering the outer walls of Castle Aquleia when he was approached by a cloaked figure. “Sir Rhost!”
Rhost, boyish, handsome, blue-haired and green eyed, turned to the speaker. “Father Windam? I remember you, you came to my knighting.”
“Indeed I did. My master and I believe you are the finest young knight in the capital, perhaps in all of Etruria, a belief shared, I think, with your own tutor, General Douglas. How could I have stayed away?”
“Thank you,” said Rhost, bowing. “What brings you here, Father Windam?”
“Well, surely you have not missed the fact that nearly all but the king know of the Mage General’s quest for the holy jewel of St. Elimine.”
Rhost frowned a little. “Well, to be sure, I did hear of it. I’m under the impression that my old master, Lord Ocery, knows of it, and probably Lord Blier as well. I suppose General Douglas knows too, though of course I do not know for certain. But what does that have to do with me?”
“Well, I was thinking idly about you, and what an opportunity it would be if you were to find it yourself.”
Rhost laughed out loud. “Ha ha! And here I am in the capital, while Count Reglay is both closer and more fit than I to find it! He studies magic, after all, while I am but a knight.”
“Still, it would make you the talk of the nation like never before. General Douglas in particular would be very impressed. Count Reglay could study it afterwards.”
Rhost, still chuckling, shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The general needs me here to help him.”
“Does he?”
The younger man gave the priest a confused look. “Of course, he does. I’m practically his right-hand man, at least here in command of this wing of the garrison, and of course I’m little Percival’s tutor until the squire gets old enough to be trained by the general himself.”
“Ah. Just wondering. Sorry to bother you, Sir Rhost.”
“No problem, Father Windam. Nice to talk to you again.”