Rekka no Ken: The Tactician and the Jewel: Holy Maiden

Chapter 8: The Cost of an Amethyst     Chapter 10: The Farseer

 

Chapter 9: Holy Maiden

 

It was dawn the day after the next when Pent and his company finally reached Aquleia. The day intervening had led them to Deis, where Ocery’s son Roger not only approved his soldiers’ travelling with Pent, but enthusiastically joined them. He was understandably furious at Pent for the death of his father, but the allure of an adventure with possible battlefield action against Lord Eshan excited him even more. Phil, his captain, and Paul, the second in command, had their hands full trying to keep their young lord calm enough to react reasonably to anything. He seemed most unwilling to listen to anything Ceniro said, even after both Phil and Paul told of how well he directed the group. Ceniro shrugged at the two guards after a twenty minute discussion with all three of them.

“It’s all right. Just stick to him like limpets and make sure he doesn’t get swamped. He should be able to take care of himself; just point him in the right direction.”

Phil nodded. “Will do.”

So at evening, they had set up their growing multitude of tents by the road almost two hours ride from Aquleia. Pent had tried to use the contact staff to talk to Douglas, but nothing happened.

The next morning, bright and early, they were entering the white towered city of Aquleia, the centre and jewel of Etruria, and found it in turmoil. The citizens were standing around, buzzing like angry bees; ordinary business was conducted, but an air of tension and excitement pervaded everything.

“Interesting,” Pent commented. “Eshan’s not interested in the common folk, and they’re not certain what to do yet. I suppose we shall see what happens later. Let’s see if we’re stopped heading for the castle.”

They were not stopped along the road to the castle, and indeed when they reached the castle gate, it was devoid of guard except a lone pair of soldiers with Eshan’s livery, who scurried away as soon as the armed group swept up.

“Not good,” Ceniro said. “They weren’t expecting us, but they must have overpowered the entire castle garrison. Yet there are no bodies, no blood… Frank, Cavven, Yens, Albert… …George, and Lence, would you and five lancemen and three cavaliers head to the dungeons? Who knows where the dungeons are?” George waved. “Good. See who’s down there, and free as many friendly soldiers as you can. Fiora, please take your wing on patrol around the castle airspace and let me know of anything interesting; I’ll call you if I need you. Watch out for archers! Take them out if you see them. I can see the castle is crawling with red units, but I can’t see what they are.”

“Acknowledged,” Fiora said crisply, already gaining altitude.

“And here is the welcoming committee,” Pent said, waving cheerfully at a large force of soldiers running up to them. “I’m sure that’s only a part of his army.”

“All right.” Ceniro bit his lower lip for a moment, and then began issuing orders so fast it was all the soldiers could do to keep up with them.

Roger of Deis was first off, of course, not listening to a word Ceniro said; as ordered, Phil and Paul were right behind him, covering his flanks as the impetuous young lord and his heavy broadsword clove a path into the enemy ranks. Erk and Pent, fighting with Fire and Thunder, took out many near the back before they had a chance to become a problem. Caddie was at the forefront as well, taking a small force of Deis soldiers right to the other side of the enemy formation as Louise’s deadly arrows felled several that looked as if they would halt the short axe-man. Priscilla’s staff gleamed blue, healing friends when they were hurt, even if only a scratch.

 

“Cavven, don’t run ahead so far!” George called to his pupil. “It’s not a race.”

“I swear, he wants to be the first one to get anywhere,” Lence mumbled sardonically.

Cavven turned back slightly. “Begging your pardon, sir, but it’s been a race since we left Castle Wrigley on this quest. We may have gone slow at first to avoid missing anything, but we raced to find the jewel, then we raced to get it back, and now we’re racing to keep anything really bad from happening to it.”

“Granted, but we all still have to get there in one piece. Save some of your strength for fighting. You don’t even know the way to the dungeons. We’re going as fast as is necessary, believe me.”

“Afraid of ambushes?” Yens muttered.

“Yes,” George replied shortly.

“Me too.”

Cavven, in some exasperation, stopped and waited for his teacher and the others to catch up to him.

“Left,” George pointed. They burst through a heavy wooden doorway and found themselves surrounded by surprised enemy soldiers with lances. George’s group moved to take their advantage.

“Yens, get in front of Albert and attack the soldier slightly to your right. Albert, use Lightning on the one to the right of him. Lence, George, get the ones on your left. Frank, Cavven, punch through the middle. Deis, follow mop up.” Ceniro’s voice echoed smoothly through their ears, fine-tuning their assault. There was a chorus of “Understood!” from everyone, George switching places with Yens, and then the enemy soldiers fell back. Some called for help.

“We got ’em on the run now!” cheered Cavven. “Yeah, yeah, I know, they’re just going to get more and come back,” he added, catching George’s eye. “But we’re in!”

“Don’t get hurt,” Albert said stiffly. “We have no healers. We just go in, free the Etrurians, and get out.”

“We have vulneraries, though,” Frank pointed out. “As long as we stay alive to use them.”

“Yes, thank you for pointing that out, Frank,” Lence said, glancing at his own bottle of magical healing liquid. His face was pale and sweaty. “But there’s only so much a vulnerary can do.”

“So like I said, try not to get hurt,” Albert said again. His face was pale as well.

“Fine,” Cavven sighed. “Let’s go, already.”

“So impatient,” Yens chuckled. “The journey didn’t change him much, did it?”

“Not at all,” George replied, grinning back.

“Which way?” Cavven called, standing at the top of a landing with two passages and a stairwell.

George brushed past him, heading down the stairs.

“Well, thanks for telling me, captain,” the young swordsman grumbled under his breath.

The bottom of the tower stairs was locked. “I think there’s a large force of axe-men behind that door, with some lance users thrown in,” Ceniro told them. “Lence, can you break the door down?”

“It will take me a while, but all right,” the shaman replied, casting sticky black magic at the door.

The door began to dissolve, and when a large enough hole had appeared, the group could see the horrified faces of the enemy soldiers on the other side.

Lence grinned.

“Okay, Albert, your turn,” Ceniro said. Albert drew himself up straight and cast shimmering balls of white light at the soldiers. They turned and ran.

“Still running!” Cavven cheered at Frank, who gave him a half-smile in return as Yens and George cleared away what was left of the door so the horses to enter.

Just past the next bend, they saw a long line of bars – the dungeon proper – and a large force of enemy soldiers, some frightened, some angry.

“All right!” Lence growled. “Let’s do it!”

“I think some of them will have keys to the cells,” Ceniro said. “Same formation as at the top of the stair… hang on a minute…” The tactician’s voice faded out, presumably to give orders to the battle he was fighting beside Pent. “Cavven, I need you to grab all the keys you can and free everyone.”

“Hey!” came a deep shout from down the prison hallway. “Who’s there?”

“I’m George, captain of Reglay!” George called back, firing off arrows as fast as he could and dodging the occasional lance behind Frank. “Who are you?”

“I’m Douglas! –“

“Cavven, get to him!” Ceniro commanded.

“Right away!” Cavven replied, running a soldier through, taking a slash on his left arm from another swordsman, and ducking under the arms of three lancemen. This left him isolated on the other side of the forces facing him, but Albert’s light magic knocked down the soldiers closest to him long enough for him to grab a key and force it into the lock of the cell door.

Douglas, still in full armour, squeezed out of the door. His face was pale under his brown beard. The general seized the closet weapon to him, a lance that one of the enemies had dropped, and began attacking back. Cavven crept around behind him, attacking the few who got around the general, awestruck at his abilities.

“Over there,” Douglas pointed. “Please free Bishop Yodel as well.”

“Bishop Yodel’s down here?” Frank blurted in unmitigated surprise. “Sorry, I’m just- never mind.”

The old man straightened and left his cell slowly, staying close to Cavven. “Er… what is your name, my boy?”

“I’m Cavven, your holiness. That’s my captain, George. We’re here with Lord Pent.”

“I gathered that,” Yodel smiled. “I’m not deaf, you know. Do any of you feel ill?”

“…” Lence and Albert glanced at each other, then at George, Douglas, and Frank, and three of their lancer allies, who were all pale and looked unusually tired. “I think a lot of us are,” Lence answered finally. “Why is that?”

“I fear it’s Eshan’s work,” Yodel answered, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “We must hurry. Sorry, who is the monk in your party? Does he have any extra spell books?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, my lord,” Albert replied, finishing off one the last soldiers as Yens beside him stabbed another. The hallway was clear. A few soldiers had surrendered and were now being herded into Douglas’s cell.

“Are you done?” Ceniro asked. “We’re heading for the throne room and need you guys pronto.”

“You can just hear him saying “I like the word ‘pronto’; I’ve always wanted to say that”, Cavven mumbled cheerfully, unlocking more cells and letting large crowds of soldiers into their midst.

After a pause, the strategist’s voice came back. “Yes, I did. How did you guess?”

“Just the way you said it, that’s all.”

“If we head back up the stairs and take the right passageway,” Douglas said calmly, “we’ll pass through an armoury. We can get some light spell books there and my soldiers and I can get our own weapons. Does that sound good, Ceniro?”

“That sounds great,” Ceniro replied. “Do it. We’ll be waiting for you in the throne room. We think Eshan is there and up to no good.”

“He probably is,” Douglas rumbled. “Follow me!”

 

Above, Ceniro’s forces had fought through three waves of enemy soldiers. “I wonder how he gathered so many soldiers,” Pent mused as he cast Fire on a soldier attacking Caddie. The soldier tried to duck but that left him open for a swing from Caddie. “Eshan’s not really the type to have a standing army, much though he’d like to. And he’s not particularly charismatic, not from what I can tell.”

“Perhaps it is because you can see through his dishonesty, Master?” Erk said softly at his side.

Pent quirked a smile. “Perhaps. We’re getting close to the throne room, Ceniro. How far away are the others?”

Ceniro paused in midstep and his eyes darted across his farseer. “They’re in the armoury now. I think they’ll be just a few minutes, and our forces already have weapons. No, wait, they’re stopping too. Maybe they’re getting new, better weapons.”

“It would be just like Douglas. I can imagine him now – “Here, have a silver lance! It’s only a small gift, if we save the kingdom!” Yes, that’s probably what he’s doing.” Pent smiled.

“They’re moving again,” Ceniro said. “Cavven should be here in a few seconds. Fiora, we’re heading inside. Could you accompany us? The rest of your wing may continue looking for trouble at your discretion, but I really want you with us.”

“Understood,” Fiora replied, zooming down to land outside the front door in a whirl of feathers and wind. She called a few orders to her group, and then her pegasus trotted swiftly inside, catching up to the others in a few minutes.

The sound of someone else in heavy armour, running, drew closer.

The man who had appeared so often in Pent’s communications appeared around the corner, with all of Pent’s troops who had rescued him behind him. Andy, who’d jumped to the ready, immediately lowered his sword with a sudden relaxing of his whole body.

“Pent!” called General Douglas. “How goes the battle?”

Pent turned and smiled. “Well enough. We still don’t know what’s happening in the throne room, or why our fighting is so bad today, but I’m glad to see you again. We all are.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Pent.” Douglas looked around, saw the tactician, and gave him a smile too.

Ceniro, meeting that gaze, suddenly felt small. Here he was, a humble carpenter’s son from Santaruz, helping great lords of Etruria…

He shoved that thought away. It was not time right now. Later, he would talk it over with someone later. It might be interesting.

Pent raced around the corner, through the towering double door of the throne room, and came to a halt. Ceniro staggered trying not to bump into him. A man in a dark red robe embroidered with gold stood directly between them and the throne, a pale golden staff topped with a fist-sized amethyst in his hand. Soldiers in armour, nearly fifty of his guards, were spread throughout the chamber, their attitude threatening. At the back, on the throne, King Mordred sat with his crimson robe loosely draped about him. The Queen, in light blue, holding the infant Prince, sat beside him.

“I am the new Eliminean Church, Mordred. They will all follow me. You will follow me. For I have the Staff, the Holy Maiden Staff. I have the power to wield it, and my followers will be blessed!” The king’s gaze on the man was steady, resolute, but tired. The Queen shivered and held her son, wrapped in white silk, closer in her arms.

“STOP!” Pent shouted. “Eshan, this madness will end.”

The man turned on his heel, though surely he must have heard Pent’s company and their noisy approach. They were running in, now, in ones and twos. The largest group was still a little behind. Eshan frowned and waved his free hand.

The door began to swing shut of its own accord.

“Aaaaah!” yelled Cavven as he managed to be the last one to slip inside. The rest of the Deis, Reglay, and Aquleia troops had to stop short as it slammed to.

The door locked, and it hummed and flash with pale blue light as additional magic locks activated.

Ceniro’s attention was grabbed by Eshan chuckling to himself. “Well, well, it looks like you have not been idle, Reglay. I see General Douglas and I see Bishop Yodel here. I thought they had been disposed of. No matter.” The man threw back his hood, revealing a face that was old and yet surprisingly smooth. Grey hair with streaks of yellow flooded out around his face. His eyes were blue and merciless.

“Those who will oppose me… will die!” Eshan cried victoriously, throwing a huge light spell at Yodel. The bishop brought up his hands in a warding gesture, but Pent leaped in front of him, taking the brunt of the blast and absorbing or dispelling it.

“We’re not going to die so easily, Eshan,” he replied quietly. “Just tell me one thing – how did you honestly think you were going to gain by this?”

“Simple,” Eshan said as his soldiers drew up level with him. “Those who follow me will never suffer injury or disease. They will not even die! I have the power to work miracles, Reglay. Miracles! I can stave off death itself! Who would not wish to follow such power?” He leaned forward, smiling sinisterly. “And if they do not wish to follow such power, I shall destroy them, for no one can stand against the might of the Church!” He lifted Elimine’s Staff, and suddenly Ceniro felt as if he was going to vomit.

“What-?” he gasped, as he staggered and grabbed at Andy’s saddle to keep himself upright.

“You are not the Church, and St. Elimine forbid you from ever becoming so!” cried Louise suddenly, clearly. Pent smiled at his wife and dodged a thrown spear. Yodel dodged to the other side with surprising flexibility.

“That is entirely not the way to use the Holy Maiden Staff, by the way,” Pent said, sending a fireball flicking out at Eshan, who blocked it. “Using it to drain instead of to restore is not a new idea, but it’s very hard on the staff. Are you planning to break it?”

“Certainly not,” Eshan sniffed. “I do not think you have any idea how powerful this staff is. I can use it for whatever I want and it will stay as strong as it ever was.”

Ceniro ordered the others to spread out, to challenge the forces that Eshan had in the throne room. Douglas, Fiora, George, Lence, and Caddie went immediately to protect the throne, where King Mordred had stood and pulled out a sword from behind his seat. Ceniro glanced at him and saw him holding his own against some very good lance-men; he almost didn’t need Douglas’ protection. Roger, Paul, and Phil were off on the right, Roger blazing through enemies as fast as he could, getting bogged down in a fight with a big lance-man. Ceniro sent Priscilla to stand nearby with Albert and Cavven as an escort.

That left him Erk, Andy, Frank, Yens, Yodel, Louise, and Pent to face Eshan and the other half of his troops. And this time he would remember to keep himself out of the way.

A swordsman beside Eshan took an arrow in the arm from Louise. Eshan raised the staff and an extraordinary thing happened.

Light pulsed from the jewel, washing out over the combatants. Ceniro blinked and squinted against it, and then started. He felt… renewed. But Eshan had held the staff.

Pent laughed out loud as his forces recovered from the pain they had been suffering, and it did not return. “Eshan, what was that? I thank you for your aid, but I don’t think you can use-“

“Shut up!” Eshan snarled. “The power of the restored Staff is more than you are used to, Reglay. I know what to do.”

The battle surged back and forth. Steel rang on steel and the air sparked as blistering spells of all varieties blasted through the room. Several allies took dangerous hits, but Ceniro’s careful placement and individual orders meant that they were quickly brought out of combat and healed before they could become buried in the fray. Eshan, now having figured out how to use it properly, raised the Holy Maiden Staff quite frequently, bringing his soldiers to peak condition even as Pent’s soldiers wounded them.

Ceniro hugged the back wall, trying to watch all the battles at once. And the priceless decorations of the throne room to make sure they weren’t damaged. And for flying spells. He saw a few enemy soldiers looking disgruntled, as if to say “I become healed only to face the same pain. Why not just kill me and be done with it?” He hoped that was sarcasm, as he didn’t actually like people dying. In fact, he didn’t like this whole situation.

As if reading his mind, Pent cried out to the other side. “Why follow him? If you lay down your arms you will not be harmed. If you follow Eshan only for the Holy Maiden, it does not belong to him. He has stolen it.”

“With murder!” cried Douglas. “Aldash is dead.”

“I surrender!” shouted one of the soldiers fighting Roger, drawing back and putting down his lance suddenly. Roger stood frozen, his sword lifted above his head. A lance from the soldier beside the surrendered one drove at him and plunged into his midsection.

“Sir!” cried Paul, cutting down the offending soldier and catching his lord as he fell. Phil gestured the surrendered soldier over to the wall and defended Roger and Paul as Priscilla came to do the best she could. It was not enough…

“Lies!” shouted Eshan, lifting the staff again. His soldiers were renewed, but some of them did not fight as hard as they did before.

Ceniro discovered he was holding his breath and forced himself to inhale.

Pent cast Elfire on a group of soldiers beside Eshan, rendering three of them badly burnt. Eshan lifted the staff again, and the jewel’s glow sputtered and faded.

“What? No!” Eshan cried, shaking the staff. The light flickered some more but the pulse and wash of light did not happen.

“Looks like you wore it out,” Pent said grimly. “I hope it’s not permanent, or I’ll have your hide…” The last words were mockingly chiding.

“No! It can’t be! It’s just… just weak with disuse!” Eshan reached out with his other hand and began to cast a greater spell than he had cast yet.

“Purge!?” Yodel cried. “How did you get that?”

“I am not powerless, old fool!” Eshan snapped, twisting his hand. Coils of light appeared around Pent, and he seemed frozen in place. The sage lifted an arm and covered his forehead, bracing against the spell.

“Master!” “My lord!” Erk and Louise cried out at the same time, but Eshan batted away Erk’s Thunder spell, and Louise’s arrow hit his shoulder but did not break his concentration.

The soldiers were standing around, slackjawed, watching. Ceniro found himself staring too and slapped his own cheek. People were in trouble. He couldn’t sit around.

“Bishop Yodel! Is there any way to help Pent?”

“Not really,” Bishop Yodel said heavily.

“I’m not going to believe that! Master!” Erk cried, stepping through the wall of light to stand next to Pent. Louise approached too, but could not break through.

Golden light flooded the room as Eshan released his spell.

When it cleared, Pent still stood, holding up Erk’s body. The silver-haired lord coughed, his face white, sending a spray of blood over his left sleeve.

“Very good, Eshan,” he said haltingly. Yodel raised his own Mend staff and Pent and Erk were surrounded by blue light. It faded after a moment, leaving Pent looking a little less like a ghost and Erk clearly alive, though unconscious.

“Now it’s my turn!” Pent cried with more vigour. Ceniro motioned Yens forward to take Erk from Pent, who began casting his own spell. He took his time about it, drawing his hands through the air, leaving blue trails in their wake, and muttering under his breath with his eyes closed. Occasionally he would cough, but no more blood came.

Eshan turned to the guards around him. “Well, what are you waiting for? He’s vulnerable! Attack him!”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but we don’t want to fight anymore.” The soldier closest to him ducked his head and drew away slowly. “Lord Pent, General Douglas, Bishop Yodel, and King Mordred… they’re too strong together. We don’t stand a chance. If you win, sir, we’ll still follow you.” Those around him nodded.

“You think I’ll give you a chance?” Eshan blasted the unfortunate soldiers with light magic, dropping their bodies to the polished floor. He tried to cast more light magic on Pent.

“Louise!” Ceniro called. She aimed in a breath and fired, her arrows disrupted everything Eshan was trying to do.

“Fimbulvetr!” Pent cried, flinging a hand forward, blue lights hovering around him.

Ice shot out of the floor, building towers and minarets around Eshan, and he stopped moving, frozen solid inside the block of ice.

 

Chapter 8: The Cost of an Amethyst     Chapter 10: The Farseer

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