Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty     Chapter 6: The Price of Hunger

 

Chapter 5: Secrets in the Storm

Pent sighed as he reviewed the latest news from Douglas the previous night in camp that morning, somewhere in the mountains. The clouds were thick overhead and the air was cool and moist. “Well, that’s not the best of news. Unless Rhost finds us, in which case we’ll be happy to have him along. And it’s important to know that Lorad is abroad as well.”

“At least he’ll stop bothering the girl General Douglas is taking care of,” Priscilla said hopefully in her soft voice. She was swathed in a heavier cloak than usual.

Pent smiled. “Yes, that’s true. Well! Let’s get going, shall we? We have a lot of ground to cover today. We’re going to search the next dozen mountains before dark!”

 

They searched three small mountains, the foot soldiers for caves, the magic users for traces of magic, and Fiora just for anything that looked odd, when they noticed something odd. But it wasn’t the landscape around them.

Fiora fluttered down near Pent and Caddie. “We’re being followed, sir.”

Pent looked up. “Are we? I thought they were other hunters of magic. Why do you think they’re following us?”

“Some of them have this insignia on their tunics or armour,” Fiora said, drawing it on the cliff with a finger.

Pent raised an eyebrow. “Duke Ocery, huh. That doesn’t change anything. Well. Perhaps it does. Ceniro!”

“Yes?” answered his tactician, appearing around a bend in the path beneath a large pine.

“If our people run into a soldier, we need to conceal ourselves or knock them out. They’re from our present rivals.”

“I understand.” Ceniro got out his farseer and spoke into it.

Progress was slower around the next mountain. Fiora still flew, since Ceniro pointed out it was rather difficult to know where something was in the air without being up there yourself.

Then it suddenly got very cold and snow began to fall. Within a few minutes the ground was white, though the snow was only as yet falling gently.

Ceniro regularly checked his farseer to make sure no one was stuck or left behind. He could also see some of the strange soldiers, but not many. They were fading out as the snow clouds thickened. There appeared another figure from the east, moving fast across the landscape in green.

Immediately, he called to the entire party. “There’s a traveller coming from behind us along the road. Could everyone please make sure you can’t be seen from the road and wait until I give the word? Thanks. Don’t freeze.”

The young tactician struggled up to where Pent was making his way carefully past a frozen waterfall.

“I don’t think it will be a problem, but it would be better if we were not seen, right? Even by travellers.”

Pent looked at him quizzically. “Certainly. It might even be safer for the travellers. …Ceniro, I don’t think we’re going to get twelve mountains done today.”

“Yes, this snow is going to hinder us as long as it stays.”

“Which could be a few weeks,” Pent told him with a sigh. “Oh well. We’ll make the best of it. I’m glad I hired Fiora, now. I’ll remember that for next time.”

The green figure passed the two of them, and Ceniro looked down on the path to see him. He was dressed in dark robes with splashes of light blue and yellow, and a yellow hood.

“A shaman,” Pent whispered beside him. “A user of elder magic. Fascinating characters, some of them.” Ceniro put a hand out warningly as the shaman glanced around, but he continued on his way without stopping.

“Well,” commented Ceniro. “Everyone can continue the search,” he said into the farseer.

“Keep an eye on him,” Pent suggested. “Let’s see what happens when he runs into the soldiers.”

“If he begins to fight them…”

“We will help him.”

And then the shouting started.

When Pent’s company arrived – Fiora first, of course, even through the snow – the shaman was standing on a little knoll beside the road. Five or six soldiers were watching him, their weapons at the ready, and two had been killed already by dark magic. The shaman’s hood had fallen back, revealing very close cropped red hair and a lean, weathered face.

“So you are with them!” one of the soldiers exclaimed, seeing Pent and his guards.

“No,” said the shaman patiently. “I have no idea who they are.”

“We just heard shouting and came to see what the matter was,” Pent said cheerfully. “Is there a problem?”

“…” The soldiers and the shaman both stared at Pent in slight disbelief.

“Of course there’s a problem,” the shaman said at last. “I have been attacked by these clueless idiots, thinking I am obviously with you, whoever you are. I suggest they take their quarrel up with you and let me go on my way.”

“Certainly,” said Pent. “Look here, he really isn’t with us. He’s just a traveller.”

“That’s what you’d want us to think, isn’t it?” asked one of the soldiers suspiciously. “We’re not buying that. Attack them all!”

“Forward!” Ceniro shouted, pointing at Caddie, George, Cavven, and Albert. Priscilla, Andy, and Frank were hindered by the deep snow. Suddenly, Fiora shot out of the sky and skewered an enemy soldier on her lance, and Pent called down lightening on another.

“Sir, you can go on your way,” George said to the shaman. “We’ll stop them here.”

“My name is Lence,” replied the shaman. “And I will help you, after all, especially since there seem to be more soldiers ahead.” He pointed to the dozen or so cavaliers emerging from a wood ahead. “It would be stupid of me to head straight into them by myself.”

More cavaliers began to close in from behind.

“My goodness,” said Pent, casting Elfire, “aren’t we all supposed to be searching for something, not trying to bash each other’s brains out?”

“Stupid soldiers,” agreed Lence, fighting shoulder to shoulder with George. Black strands boiled out of the ground near one soldier and enveloped him in a sphere of black murk. When it evaporated, a lifeless body lay on the snow.

“Oh, look there,” Pent said, pointing through the falling snow at the following group of knights. “It’s Lorad. How bizarre.”

“He’s arrived quickly,” said Andy, catching up to the main group. “Wasn’t he the one that just ran away from Aquleia yesterday?”

“He and another,” replied Caddie shortly, joining the yellow cavalier to begin making a defence against the horsed knights from the forest, along with Albert and Cavven.

“How do you know it’s him?” asked Ceniro, confused, adjusting his farseer. “Keep moving, everyone! Don’t let those knights get good angles!”

“The heraldry,” answered Pent. “Son of Lord Jonathon.”

“Oh,” said the tactician.

The following knights struggled through the snow up to where Pent was keeping a wall of flame. “Hey! Count Reglay!” called the one named Lorad.

“What is it, Son of Jonathon?” Pent called back, tweaking the flame with small hand gestures.

“Let me through! I gotta meet with Duke Deis!”

“Er… aren’t you just here to kill us all?” replied the sage, sounding confused.

“…No!”

“He’s lying,” Albert said instantly. “I can tell.”

“Well?” Lorad said, riding up to the wall and batting at it with his sword. Pent made part of it billow out at him, making his horse rear back, and Pent chuckled. “Sorry, but Ocery’s determined to ruin my day. I can’t let you through.”

Lorad spat. “Then we’ll go through the hard way. Come on, boys!” His horse plunged, rather unhappily, through the fire and back into knee-deep snow drifts. The other cavaliers followed suit, all but one, who hung back and could not make it through.

Lorad advanced slowly, swinging his sword as Albert and Cavven moved to block him beside Pent.

Just then, the wind rose, bringing blinding snow sheeting down, and Lorad cursed at the top of his lungs as he faded from sight.

“Everyone gather together!” Ceniro shouted urgently into the farseer and into the snow. He could hardly see Pent, a few feet away, and the farseer wasn’t doing much better. He could hear nothing except the wind, howling like a wolf.

“We need to find shelter!” Pent shouted back to him. “Fiora! Did you see any caves recently?”

“Yes! Close by – mountain to the north! Follow me!” Her manner was somehow familiar, reminding Ceniro of someone he had met before…

“Everyone follow Fiora north!” Ceniro called.

The pegasus knight led them to a wide dark opening in a cliffside. Pent and Ceniro stayed at the mouth, shivering, counting the men stumbling past them. “Albert; Frank; Cavven; George; Priscilla – oh, good, you have the pack-horse; Caddie; Lence; Andy…”

“Is that everybody?” Pent called to Ceniro. “No one got lost?”

“Yes, it is!” Ceniro replied. “Let’s get inside. I’m freezing!”

 

They stacked some of the wood – soaked, of course – that the pack-horse carried and Pent set it on fire, deep inside the cave. They clustered around it, shivering, some checking their weapons and others shaking the snow off everything.

Pent was going through his small bundle of equipment when the contact staff began to quiver slightly, the orb on top glowing the tiniest bit. “Oh, it’s a call to us,” Pent said, curious. “I wonder who it is…”

“Hullo, Erk, what’s the matter?” The usually solemn mage looked more solemn than was normal even for him.

“Oh, are you all right, Lord Pent? Has it been snowing?”

“Yes, indeed it has. We’ve found shelter in a cave, though, so all of us are safe. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you, Lord Pent, but we have a little problem. Lord Lesil was visiting again, and, well, he is making advances towards Lady Louise. She’s making a brave face, but she’s disturbed and even, I think, frightened.”

“Frightened? By Lesil?” Pent’s face lengthened. “Can I speak to her? In private?”

“Certainly,” said Erk, and he vanished. Ceniro was shooing the company further down toward the cave mouth.

Pent joined them again a few minutes later. “That’s really not good,” he said after a minute. “If I could, I’d drop this right now and go comfort her properly… tell Lesil to shove off, too. But I can’t do that…”

Ceniro could hear the yearning in the man’s voice and suddenly, the sage was not just a sage but a mortal and a husband.

“Well, it looks like the storm won’t be letting up for a few more hours,” said Lence, turning back from where he squatted just inside the cave mouth. Ceniro wondered how much colder it was by the mouth of the cave than inside, but wasn’t about to go and find out.

“Let’s explore!” Cavven exclaimed. “Sir.”

“Sure, why not?” Pent replied, getting up and helping up Frank. “We can’t really do anything else right now.”

“Everyone have torches?” asked George, rummaging in one of the pack-horse’s saddlebags.

Some didn’t, and gratefully accepted one from the sensible archer. Priscilla had brought a torch staff, and Pent had a handful of fire. They put out the fire, gathered up the unused wood, and all set off slowly down the long dark winding tunnel, the horse mounted men and women on foot and leading their steeds.

It went on for about a kilometre without branching, and then there was a definite split in the path. Two tunnels of equal size led at about 45 degrees away from the original tunnel.

“Very interesting,” said Pent. “I don’t think this cave is entirely natural. Most of it is, but the right tunnel has been widened intentionally.”

“Which way do we go?” Cavven asked eagerly.

Pent glanced back and forth between the tunnels. “Well, not much to go by, but let’s go down the right tunnel first. We can come back later. Ceniro, marking that down?”

“Yes!”

The right tunnel, besides some pick marks at its mouth, didn’t look any different from the other at first.

Then Lence saw something written on the walls in a black substance. “Hey, look at this. Soot, I think. Ancient writing.”

Albert and Pent were right there with him. “Scrawls of workmen,” Pent said. “’Harnam was here’ and the like.”

“First century,” said Albert. The other two looked at him with interest and then continued studying the writing.

“I don’t think the rest of us will be able to make head nor tail of first century scribbles,” Cavven whispered to Caddie. “Let’s go on a little further.”

“I’ll come, too,” said Fiora. “If anything’s dangerous, my pegasus will let us know.”

“Go on,” said George. “We’ll be behind you in a minute.”

 

“Come quick!” Cavven shouted, running back to the scholars as fast as his legs could carry him. “We’ve found some really interesting stuff!”

“We’re coming!” Pent answered, rising and dusting himself off. George gave Lence a hand up and Albert was already on his way.

The rest of the group followed more slowly. Ceniro was at the back. “Why so far back?” Andy asked him. “I mean, you’re not going to be left behind, but… uh…”

“I’m wondering what happened to Lorad and Duke Ocery’s men. They might have found shelter here as well, and if they do, then they’ll find our fire and our wet footprints heading down the tunnel.”

Andy shrugged. “They’re probably too afraid to follow us. I know I would be, if I were facing you.”

Ceniro laughed softly. “I’m not a very formidable fighter.”

“No, but you seem to know exactly how to tell us where to go and what to do to utterly demolish the enemy.” Andy punched him in the shoulder, chuckling. “It’s scary, man. How do you do that?”

Ceniro thought for a minute. “I don’t really know. When I get better, I’ll know exactly what’s happening inside my head, but right now I mostly just direct on intuition. I see how each of you fight, and I set up what I think will work best against the forces facing us, assuming average enemy fighting ability and-“

“Whoa, whoa, I didn’t ask for a whole dissertation,” Andy said, holding out his hand pleadingly.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s interesting, but – wow. You’re pretty serious for ‘intuition’.”

“I guess. I have to be, you know. My teacher was very serious.”

Then they rounded the corner, catching up to the others.

“Wow,” Andy said again.

The tunnel ended there, in a chamber carved into the rock. There had once been a door, but it had fallen open and anyone could enter easily. Someone had lit old torches at the back of the chamber, and now it was brightly lit. It looked like it had once been a hideout for a couple of people – there were two beds against one wall, and a sagging chest of drawers. The centre of the chamber was raised slightly, with a small altar in the centre. It was plain, but the walls were covered in fantastic tapestries except for a small smooth space at the very back of the room.

Lence was looking intently at the tapestries, Albert was hunched over the altar, and Pent was off in another corner of the room, examining a book.

“Whoever lived here was pretty well off for hiding out,” said George. “Everything’s all neatly laid out, so they didn’t leave in a hurry, and they had plenty of supplies, mostly bread and cooked meat, and water that used to be in those jars, and I think that sticky stuff is honey. There’s ventilation from that crack in the upper corner, so the air’s good.”

“I wonder who they were,” Fiora said, stroking her pegasus’ mane.

Pent turned from the book with a look of amazement. “Saint Elimine herself, and one of her first bishop-women. This place is from just before the Scouring. This book is her diary.”

Everyone stared at him in astonishment.

“The book is about ready to fall apart, but it’s still all right for now. It will take a few binding spells, and then someone can copy it and add its knowledge to the library in Aquleia. From what I can make out of these last few pages, she had been living here for five years, practicing light magic, when Roland of Lycia and Lord Athos came and asked her to join the army of the Scouring. She had the jewel we’re looking for, though it wasn’t part of the staff just yet.”

“Does it say what happened after that?” asked Priscilla.

Pent shrugged. “Presumably she went with them. And had the staff made. It stops right there.”

“Well, we’re close to that jewel, then,” said Lence. “What jewel?”

“We’re looking for the jewel that was in the Staff of St. Elimine,” Pent answered. “We finally know who has found the staff – it’s Lord Eshan, who lives towards the east of Etruria… but we’re looking for the jewel that crowned it.”

“Oh. That sounds interesting. Like I was telling George, there, I was headed for Ostia to see my nephews, but I can take a short detour to see you through this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. This is too good a chance to pass up.”

“Thank you, and welcome, again.”

 

Finally, Pent’s study complete for the time being, they headed back to the main tunnel. Everything was fine until Pent slipped on a patch of smooth rock and landed heavily on his back.

“Sir! Are you all right?” George asked quickly. There was no answer.

Priscilla quickly switched staves and raised her heal staff, but she shook her head. “He’s not hurt. Is he unconscious? I don’t have a Restore staff…”

“Yes,” said George. “He’s out cold. Damn.”

“Our fearless leader is down?” Cavven asked, and ducked a swipe from Caddie. “I always wanted to say that,” he mumbled to himself.

“Well, he won’t exactly thank us for continuing while he can’t study anything, but we can’t wait around for him to recover,” Ceniro said. “Frank, can we put him on your horse for a while?”

“Sure,” said Frank readily. “I’ll watch out for his head in the low parts.”

The silver-haired lord was bundled onto Frank’s horse, and they continued down the tunnel.

Pretty soon they heard voices, men’s voices.

“Soldiers?” whispered Priscilla, and Albert, beside her nodded.

“The same ones we fought before,” Ceniro said, looking at his farseer. “A few are missing, but some are still injured. …Lorad is with them.”

“Shall we help them or fight?” asked Fiora, in the lead.

“Fight,” said Lence instantly.

Fiora looked at the tactician.

“We shouldn’t attack them if they aren’t hostile anymore. Lorad may need subduing, but the others may surrender. We’ll see. Anyone good with lassos?”

All the troops shook their heads.

“All right, well, Cavven, I will need you to get up to him and knock him down. George will cover you. Leave the other knights to us.”

“Got it!” Cavven nodded emphatically, but in a louder voice than he probably should have.

“There they are!” Lorad cried, a few hundred meters away down the corridor. “Get them!”

“Uh-oh,” Ceniro took the luxury of saying. The tunnel, after a sharp bend to the left, was straight and fairly tall, and the enemy knights were still on horseback. “Cavven, go. Everyone else, weapons forward. Albert, Lence, I need something to slow them down so they don’t charge us at full speed.”

“Why not-“ Lence began.

“Just do it,” Fiora snapped at the shaman, gripping her lance in front of her with her left hand and twirling her javelin with the other.

Lence shrugged and cast sticky webs of black stuff in the path of the knights; Albert’s light magic blinded a couple of them.

“Frank, Fiora, you can throw your javelins.” A few enemy horses shied and slowed, and the pegasus knight and the cavalier retrieved their weapons with the wrist-cords attached to them. Ceniro checked his farseer. “George, shoot Lorad, in the shoulder if you can.”

The enemy horse-men finally met their bristling wall of weaponry, and for a few minutes everything was light and dark and nerves and blood. Priscilla kept her torch staff high, and the knights had no bows or javelins.

“Hit ‘im,” George grunted, ducking a sword sweep of a cavalier. “How’s Cavven, Ceniro?”

“He’s all right. Lorad can’t hit him. Dancing…” Ceniro backed away from a cavalier as Caddie jumped in front of him to attack.

“All right!” Cavven called finally. “He, uh, he’s dead. I think. Not to plan. Sorry, sir.”

“Listen up!” Lence shouted at the enemy cavaliers. “Your young boss is dead, and you’re outnumbered and outclassed. Stop fighting and I won’t have to strip the life from your worthless bodies.”

Ceniro winced. “That’s one way to put an ultimatum.”

“Wasn’t an ultimatum,” the shaman told him coolly. “Are we gonna stop ‘em or what?”

Some of the cavaliers were putting down their weapons. A few did not, and were quickly brought down. The ones who surrendered were clearly exhausted, perhaps suffering from frostbite.

Ceniro walked over to where Cavven was cleaning his sword. “I’m really sorry, really I am, sir. He just pushed and pushed and then I reached too far and he fell off his horse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ceniro told him. “It’s not your responsibility. You did take him out of action, and we got some to surrender. I’ll see what Lord Pent thinks when he wakes up, but you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“All right,” Cavven said, much cheered. “I won, anyway. That’s good! I think I’m improving.”

“Yes…” Ceniro bent over the enemy cavalier.

Lorad was still breathing. Cavven had stabbed him in the stomach below the armour, but he was still alive, only just.

The youth’s eyes fluttered open and he reached up and grabbed the tactician by the collar venomously. “You… you… my father will… Lord Eshan…”

“Priscilla!” Ceniro called as well as he could. “Come quick!”

Lorad smiled, a smile with a snarl in it. “You – if you heal me – more fools you… Must win… stupid squire…”

Priscilla came running up just as Lorad sighed and fell back, dead.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t fast enough…”

Ceniro sighed as he sat down heavily. “Don’t worry about it. He was pretty much dead anyway; probably beyond your ability to heal on your own. I just wanted to take the chance if we could.”

“I understand.” The rose-like girl sat down beside him. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? And Lord Pent is a little bit out of it…”

“Our fearless leader awakens!” Cavven cried, popping up in front of him. “No, it’s true. Just now. We managed to get a fire going for those surrendered knights and he twitched and woke up.”

“Thanks, Cavven,” said Ceniro. “I’d better go tell him what’s happened.”

“Lence and George are doing that,” Cavven said cheerfully. “Oh, Miss Priscilla, Andy wants a cut healed, if you could. Thanks!”

 

“Lorad is dead, hmm,” Pent said to himself a few minutes later. “…Well, looks like you had a pretty good time of it, from all the bodies strewn around… Lots of horses standing about. Do we get to keep the ones they don’t need?”

“…I was thinking the surviving knights could keep them,” Ceniro answered, glancing at his farseer. Lence and George had finished their summary and left the count and his tactician to talk. “We’re not going any faster on horseback, and we don’t need another packhorse. Besides, if we’re looking for the jewel underground, horses definitely won’t help.”

“I guess I concur,” Pent said, laughing. “What are the soldiers going to do?”

“They have enough food to get them to a village. They’re going to turn mercenary rather than go back to Vork. They say it was someone named Vork who sent them.”

“Vork…” Pent thought. “He’s a cleric. Pretty high rank, too. Odd, him getting involved in force of arms. His usual strategies are more insidious.”

Ceniro squeezed one eye shut like Lyn sometimes did when disgruntled and didn’t ask what he meant.

“Oh, lad, you are easy to read,” the sage told him, laughing some more. “Not all Etrurian nobles and politicians are evil. Just the ones causing trouble. There’s a lot of power-playing going on, and a little dirtiness, but mostly we’re fairly civilized for a continental kingdom.”

Ceniro smiled ruefully. “Sorry. I guess I don’t know much about courts. It just seems that talk of assassinations or theft or backstabbing is pretty casual, and I think more about straightforward combat.”

“Ever had to sneak into an enemy mansion?” Pent asked him, leaning towards him conspiratorially. “No, I was kidding. I know you haven’t. With a heart like yours, it would be a mercy mission, anyway, and good on you.”

Recovered, the count stood. “Well, can’t sit around jawing all day. I hope I haven’t lost us too much time with my ineptness. Shall we go down the other tunnel?”

“We’re all ready,” George reported, saluting briefly as he finished marshalling Pent’s company.

“Let’s go, then!”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty     Chapter 6: The Price of Hunger

Chapter 3: Twisted Paths     Chapter 5: Secrets in the Storm

 

Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty

Pent’s company continued winding its way through the mountains between Etruria and Lycia, fighting off the occasional bandit attack. They hadn’t seen any soldiers since they had fought Lord Blier. Ceniro found the farseer extraordinarily useful and would hardly put it down, although he nearly learned the hard way not to rely on it wholly as a substitute for eyes when he himself was attacked by a bandit whom he had thought further away than he was. Other than that slight slip, his tasks were much easier and even more successful than they had been, though he attributed that in part to the fact that bandits were disorganized and stupid.

When Pent spoke to Castle Wrigley, Erk and Louise both told him they were fine. Erk was nearly finished reading his “General Compositional Theory of Anima Magic: Volume 3”, and was incorporating what he had learned into his Fire spell, and was looking forward to the discussion of Thunder in Volume 4. Louise did not say too much, but did show him a lopsided brown rabbit she had embroidered on a pillow.

Douglas was still in contact, though barely – the magic of the staff was wearing thin. He had disturbing news.

“I think there is another spider in this web, Pent. I don’t know who for certain, yet, but several people have been acting strangely.”

“Not on orders from Blier, Arcard, or Ocery?”

“No. Blier is gone, of course, but Arcard has been staying out of it and the signs are too subtle for Ocery. Aldash, though, has been sneaking around. My people have spotted him apparently making deals with Lord Eshan.”

“Eshan!?” Pent cried. “That’s very disconcerting.”

“He’s also been talking to Lesil, though that may be unconnected with this affair. Lesil does have business in Faria at present, the county next door to Reglay, where Aldash has relatives.”

Pent sighed. “The question – does this plot reach further than it appears on the surface, or are we dragging too many names into the mix?”

Douglas nodded. “I would personally suspect that we have not found out half of what is going on.”

“Magic jewels can do that,” Pent agreed wearily.

“The most worrying part is that my knight Rhost occasionally has this funny look on his face, and he’s been jumpy. He’s still true to me and to his knighthood, and he hasn’t gotten short of temper yet, so I will continue to trust him, but I do think someone has approached him for information and he doesn’t want to let me know.”

“I see…”

“How close are you to finding the jewel? I can’t say how glad I will be to have this all over with.”

“Unfortunately, I still don’t know where it is. I think we’ve been getting closer – the last two villages told us it was rumoured to be either blue or purple; they weren’t quite sure on that account. One says one, and the other says another, you know. There haven’t been any villages around for the last couple days, though, only thieves and highwaymen.”

Douglas shook his head. “I hope you make it safely, Pent. Good luck to you.”

“Thank you, for all you have done, Douglas. We’ll speak again soon.”

 

 

Lord Lesil glared at Aldash, a man with white-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, dressed in purple silk and red armour. “I don’t see why this visit is necessary. It’s a pretty little pigsty, nothing more. It could be taken within an hour at most.”

“Nevertheless, you must visit again tomorrow after your negotiations are concluded with Faria. I leave for the south in an hour. I don’t have time to discuss this, Lesil. It must be spied out to make a probability a certainty. The country is rich, yes? If you want it-“

“I don’t want that frilly flower-garden of a county. You know what I want.”

“Yes, well, if you want it, you will do as Lord Eshan wishes. Once you have obtained it, your business will be concluded and I shall trouble you no more.”

“I hope to heaven that we may move soon, then,” Lesil muttered, watching Aldash leave Lesil’s castle and mount his horse. One of Aldash’s attendants released a pigeon and Lesil watched it flap away, wondering what news it brought and if it were to Eshan or Arcard or a third, more secret master.

 

Ceniro pulled his cloak tighter around himself and his hood lower, fumbling with the fastenings with numbed fingers. It was raining heavily, a steady cold rain from the west. Pent and Fiora didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all, a fact that earned them more respect from the tactician. Albert, the monk from Kafti, on the other hand, was greatly irritated by the rain, though he was determined not to show it and trudged along grimly.

 

“Whoa! Frank! Help! Someone, help my brother!” Someone was calling urgently from around a bend in the path.

Pent, in the lead, sped up. At a wave from Ceniro, Fiora and her pegasus leaped lightly over him and to the top of a crag. “Cavaliers,” she called back. “Two of them. Attacked by bandits. Do we assist?”

“Of course!” Pent cried, picking his way along the slippery path as fast as he could. Ceniro ran, nearly fell, picked himself up, and joined Pent. Albert, still determined not to show his weakness, joined him a moment later. Priscilla was nearly last, but Caddie stayed back to help her and the horses along.

“Fiora, they have a shaman on the bump just beyond the cavaliers. Please take him out. Pent, Cavven, George, Albert, assist the cavaliers. Get between them and the bandits. Cavven, take the axe-man on the left. Albert, George, attack the swordfighter on the right.” Pent was using fire spells. His tactician wondered if thunder spells might be more effective in the rain, but then realized they might be too effective and harm his own side, though he had absolute trust in Pent’s abilities.

“I should use my sword, right?” George asked. “I can use my bow if you really need me to, but…”

“No, you should use your sword. Keep your bow dry for now.”

Ceniro caught up to the cavaliers. They were dead centre in the narrow valley, just off the road. One had light brown hair and blue eyes, wearing yellow armour with white edges, and the other, blue haired and black eyed, wore dark blue armour with white edges; they both wore white tunics that were muddy with travel. The blue one was lying in a heap beside his black horse, blood from a cut on his forehead streaming down his face, and the yellow one, clearly his younger brother, had dismounted in a hurry from his brown horse and was cradling him.

Priscilla hurried up, leaving Caddie to bring her horse along more slowly, and raised her staff over the blue cavalier. The yellow cavalier looked up with a grateful expression of relief.

“Oh, thank you, thank you! I was worried for a minute, there. My name is Andy. This is my older brother Frank. We’re mercenary knights from East Bern.” His voice was much deeper than Ceniro expected.

“Well met, Andy and Frank,” Pent said, turning from brigands to kneel next to the young men. “We’re just glad to help.”

Frank stirred, grunting, and put a hand to his head. Andy pulled him up to sitting and gave him a hug. “We’re all right, Frank! These people are helping us.”

“Then what are we doing sitting in the mud?” Frank demanded. “We have to get up and fight, too!”

“Absolutely, brother!”

“Hello,” Ceniro said. “I’m the tactician for this group. My name is Ceniro. For this battle, I’m going to be using this magic thing called a farseer. It lets me plan strategies and talk to my people, so don’t be surprised if you hear me speaking but I’m not nearby. Okay?” They both nodded. “Frank, I want you to attack that axe-man standing under that tree over there with your sword. Andy, please attack the myrmidon beside him with your lance.”

“Yes, sir!”

A few minutes later, Caddie, who had somehow gotten ahead of the group and was fighting at the top of the pass with Fiora, turned back to Ceniro. “Reinforcements! Enemies!”

Cavven cursed, then swallowed other words and offered a muttered ‘sorry’ to the air near Priscilla. Albert was clearly thinking along the same lines.

Ceniro and Pent hurried forward to the pass. Caddie and Fiora were holding against the enemy fighters, axe-men and mercenaries mostly, but only just, and as Ceniro glanced at his farseer, he could see why. Then he came over the head of the pass and saw for himself.

The valley beyond was filled with soldiers, not mountain thieves, but actual soldiers. Ceniro, comparing the view with his farseer, counted three wyvern knights, a pegasus knight, four cavaliers, five miserable-looking archers, two shamans, four monks, four mages, two myrmidons, and twenty each of axe-men and swordsmen. In front of them all was a paladin.

“Oh, dear,” Ceniro breathed. “This will be difficult, even if we discount the archers.”

“Where did Aldash get the wyvern knights from?” Pent murmured, beside him. “Yes, that’s Aldash on the horse. He looks like he wants to say something. That’s why the others aren’t attacking yet.”

“Ah. Well, I will set up our side for the inevitable.”

“Good luck,” Pent told him, smiling from beneath drenched silver locks plastered to his face. Ceniro ducked behind a lump of rock sticking out from the mountain beside him and began to direct his units.

“We should be able to hold them here at the pass if we do it carefully and only let a few come at a time,” he said, gesturing for Priscilla to move her horse and the pack-horse back into a clump of trees on the right. Caddie, Cavven, and George went into the birch woods on the left of the path. “The real trick will be doing it without getting surprised by those wyverns, and the pegasus, and the shamans. And the monks. They have a lot of monks.” Fiora went further back, hovering at the level of the peaks on either side of her, ready to charge the flying units when they came over the crest of the hill, keeping an eye out for ambushes.

“George, you will probably have to help Fiora; she can’t deal with four fliers at the same time. Will your bow work in the woods? Is it dry enough?”

“Yes, it is. You just give the word.”

Ceniro nodded, a little nervous, and put Andy and Frank dead centre on the path, with the instructions to hit the enemy fast and then pull back, riding in circles if necessary. He worried about the footing, but there was nothing else really to do. Then he went to watch Pent talking with Aldash. Pent and Albert would fill in the hole on the right in front of Priscilla.

“-that’s preposterous,” Pent was saying clearly, rocking back on his heels. “And silly. Why should I join you?”

“Consider our great numbers, Lord Pent. With our forces at your disposal, we could comb the mountains even more quickly for the Jewel of Elimine, and dispatch brigands more easily. Consider, also, that if you oppose us, you will be cut down in moments. Your great power and knowledge is not enough to stand against all of us. Blier was weak and foolish. You won’t have the same luck here.”

“Pent, we’re ready. When he attacks, get back here as quick as you can,” Ceniro whispered into the farseer. Pent raised a hand to show he understood and ran it through his rain-slicked hair.

“I still don’t understand why you want me to join you. You’ve stated why it’s in my interest to join you. Why should we let you join us?”

Aldash spread his hands disarmingly. “We have the greatest interest in discovering the Jewel of Elimine. Lord Eshan, though he is not a formal member of the Eliminean church, has acquired Elimine’s Staff. The only thing missing is the jewel, and he desires to present the staff to the church whole. It would be a greater honour for him. I am his loyal vassal, and thus I have been sent to inform you of our plans.”

Ceniro knew Pent would be rolling his eyes at Aldash calling himself ‘loyal’.

“Come, let us join your search. You will, of course, be allowed to study the jewel once it has been joined with the staff and presented to the church. No one could deny you that.”

Pent hesitated. Ceniro saw Frank lean over to whisper to Andy and the tactician frowned at him.

Pent laughed shortly and came running back to where Ceniro waited, turning back at the top of the pass. “Sorry, Aldash, but I can’t do that. I already have my own faithful little band, and I know better than to trust a word you say. I know neither you nor Eshan have any interest in the study of that jewel, no study at all except power. So I say to you, firmly and irrevocably, no.”

Aldash scowled darkly. “Then you will be destroyed without trace. Attack!”

 

“Sir Aldash,” said a deep voice. “You have failed, haven’t you?”

Aldash coughed, trying weakly to move. He felt healing magic upon him and sat up, slowly. His face had been cut horribly over his left eye.

“Vork,” growled Aldash. “I-I…”

“There is no need to speak. Lord Pent is stronger than we have been informed, and exceptionally lucky, but his luck will not last forever. Your men who fled have mostly been retrieved. You will be of use again.”

The white-robed figure and the battered paladin warped away, out of the valley of battle.

 

“We can’t thank you enough, sirs,” Andy said earnestly in the next valley over. “I think we would have been killed if you hadn’t been nearby.”

“You’re welcome,” said Pent affably. “Like I said before, we’re just glad to be able to help. But you said you’re mercenaries?”

“Yes, sir,” said Frank. “We’re mercenaries from East Bern. We were knights abandoned by our lord, and now we earn our own living, defending villages and the like.”

“Hmm.” Pent thought for a moment, then turned to his tactician and saw the look on his face. “Thinking what I’m thinking, eh, Ceniro?”

“Yes, I believe I am, Pent. Please?”

Pent laughed. “You don’t have to ask.” He turned to the cavaliers. “Would you like some work for the next week or two?”

Andy brightened considerably. “We’d love to work with you, sir!” Frank nodded. “We’re good at fighting in mountains, since that’s where we are!”

“Well, that’s settled, then,” Pent said. “Welcome aboard. And you don’t have to call anyone ‘sir’ if you don’t want to. We’re a little eccentric that way. For some reason, they all still call me sir except Ceniro here.”

“That could be something to do with the fact that you’re still Count Reglay,” Priscilla said shyly. Pent shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“And you definitely don’t have to call me ‘sir’,” Ceniro told them. “In fact, I really would prefer it if you didn’t. I’m no lord, and in my last campaign, everyone called me by my name.”

Andy shrugged. “I guess we can do that.”

“Thank you so much,” Frank added again warmly.

 

Louise herself answered the door. “Lord Lesil! How kind of you to call. What can I do for you?”

“I came to avail myself of your hospitality once more, my dear lady. Surely you would like some company?”

Louise resisted the urge to say “never yours, you creepish twisted snake, and that’s the second time you used that line since you visited three days ago” and invited him in.

They sat in the marble room, Louise’s favourite sitting room with its big white soft armchairs and lush red carpet.

“A game of chess, milady?” Lesil asked, waving carelessly at the little ivory and ebony chess set in the corner. Louise nodded, smiling politely. She lost, not unusual when she was playing against Lesil.

The silence was nearly unbearable, but Louise thought that speech might be more unbearable. Lesil was so different from Pent. Where Pent was warm, cheerful, funny, tender, and – when not engaged in research – thoughtful for her comfort and happiness, Lesil had no sense of humour at all, was aggressive and proud, and his pleasantness seemed only a mask over a face of lust for power. His eyes were cold and she suppressed a shudder each time he looked at her.

“Excellent match, milady. Of course, I won, but I am an experienced general. While I hear you are an amateur archer of sorts, one must never forget you have no knowledge of war.”

Louise bent her head politely.

“You are lonely, are you not, my dear, with Lord Pent away?”

“Oh, no, milord,” Louise replied earnestly. “Erk is always here, and I have plenty of things to do. I have my archery, as you said, and I have my own reading – and I do love making food with our cook, although I am not very good at it yet.”

Lesil frowned slightly. “If I were married, I would not treat my wife in such a way, nonetheless. I would not leave her helpless in my castle while I went gallivanting across the country. And cooking! It is no fit occupation for a lady.” He shook his head. “If I were married, my wife would be above all that. She would have no need of such things to pass the time.”

Louise coughed lightly. “I am sure there are many ladies who agree wholly with your views.”

“But none of them are as beautiful as the foolish woman I love,” said Lesil, his gaze raking her body. Louise pretended not to notice and tried to engage him in other conversation. They talked of horses and hunting for a while, and then Lesil asked to see a little more of the house and grounds. She obliged him, though she avoided Erk’s room. The young mage was sure to be studying hard and she did not want to bother him. Not while Lesil was around, at any rate. When they reached the courtyard, she did not take him into the barracks out of respect for the soldiers’ privacy, but Yens, near the door, came out and saluted smartly. Louise thought Lesil looked, at last, a little bit impressed.

But she didn’t even show him the rabbit pillow.

When he had gone, Louise rushed upstairs and sat alone in her bedroom, twisting her hands together anxiously.

Finally, she collected herself and dressed in her archery gear and spent three hours sending arrows thudding viciously into targets in the garden.

Erk came to find her. “Lady Louise? Usually you have called me at least twice by now to take a break. What is the matter?”

“Oh, Erk…” Louise began, her next arrow sliding from her slender fingers. “I’m so worried.”

“About Lord Pent?” the mage asked quizzically, sitting on a bale of hay and running a hand through his purple hair.

“No… Yes… No… Well… Yes. But not for his safety, this time.”

“Lady Louise, it is obvious you are under a great deal of stress. Tell me, and we’ll find a way to solve it together.”

“Well…” Louise sat down beside Erk, took a deep breath, stopped twisting her golden braid, passed both hands over her face, and began.

 

Douglas was walking to the throne room of Castle Aquleia when he heard raised voices in a side room. It was Duke Ocery, the strong lord who had showed signs of interest in the jewel Pent was after, and another. Douglas listened for a moment and then decided it was probably Arcard.

“Why can’t you see?” Ocery was saying. “I can handle myself. I’m not going to let any other bastard have all the fun chasing down Pent and that jewel. I’ll let him find it, of course, but I’m strong enough to take possession of it and keep it.”

Arcard said something in a low voice.

“You coward,” Ocery said. “That knight of Douglas’s has the right idea, at least. I never thought he had it in him. He was always playing the faithful little apprentice.”

Douglas stiffened and walked away quickly. He had heard enough.

“Percival! Percival, come here, lad.” The blonde squire came running from Douglas’s study. “See if Rhost is in his room, lad. I want to talk to him about something.”

The boy was back almost immediately. “There’s no one there, sir. And it seems strangely empty. Should I check the barracks? Or the sparring ground? Or-“

Douglas raised his hand. “That’s all right, Percival. Just go and continue what you were doing. I’ll find him myself.”

Rhost’s room was quite empty; both of Rhost and some of his personal belongings, especially clothes. There was a note on the desk, addressed to General Douglas. The old knight wondered that his squire had missed it.

“Dear sir,” the note read, “I write to you with regret, but also hope. Regret that I must disobey your word that has been law to me these last ten years, but hope that you may think better of me once you find out where I am gone.”

“I could not ignore the stories that have been circulating about the holy jewel that Count Reglay has gone to find. I suspect he has your help in this somehow, sir, though I never knew for certain and I know better than to commit certainties to paper. I have heard tale of the mighty powers of this jewel and have thought that, though all the stories be false, yet it would be great honour for my family if I were to either find the jewel myself, or at least to assist Count Reglay. Granted, I have never met him, and have only his portrait to go by, but I am sure I will find him, either on the way there or the way back. But it is not only I who have heard the stories, and perhaps attended to them more than I should – Lorad has disappeared with horse and arms, and his closest companions are complaining that they were left behind. It is quite certain he has gone in search himself. Sir, I know I am only one man, perhaps off on a wild goose chase. Yet I cannot risk even the smallest chance that such a one as Lorad discover this prize.”

“Please forgive my hasty departure, but I am afraid if I see you, sir, you will keep me here and send someone else in my place. I will ever be your true knight, but I beg your forgiveness (rather than permission) and leave, for this quest. I will be back soon, I am sure. Do not worry. I will be careful and always keep your training at the front of my mind. I have entrusted my duties to Harald; he should carry them out as well as I. I also beg Cecilia’s forgiveness that I will not be around to call upon her as I promised.”

“Yours ever,”

“Rhost.”

Douglas refolded the note slowly and sat down in the wooden chair, putting a hand to his head. All that time, and Rhost had suddenly snapped and run off into the blue. It was almost absurd. It couldn’t have been just the stories flying all over the capital; it had to have been constant pressure from someone Rhost trusted. There was no other way he would abandon Douglas and flee the castle.

Well. He was late for his meeting. Douglas rose and walked swiftly to the throne room.

 

Chapter 3: Twisted Paths     Chapter 5: Secrets in the Storm

Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?          Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty

 

Chapter 3: Twisted Paths

Two days after they had faced Worelt and his mercenary company, Ceniro woke up in the tent he shared with Pent to find the sage sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, fiddling with tiny bits of metal and glass.

“What is that?” Ceniro asked after a moment. He had to ask three more times before Pent even looked up from what he was doing.

“This?” Pent replied at last, as if startled. “It’s a toy I’ve been working on for the past few days, actually. You always fall asleep so quickly you miss seeing it. It’s almost done, though. Just another hour or so and I can start messing with enchantments.”

“It’s a magic toy?”

Pent grinned. “If I told you what it was, you probably wouldn’t call it a toy. Be that as it may, it is indeed a magic toy. I brought the pieces with me; I hadn’t had time to finish it before we left Wrigley.”

“I see,” said Ceniro, though he didn’t. Pent reached out and patted his shoulder.

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay. You’ll see soon enough.”

 

A cloaked and hooded figure met with an armoured one in a dimly lit room in Aquleia…

“Roartz, what is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning of it, my dear Arcard, is that I want you to lay off the search for that jewel. Let the others kill each other for it and remove themselves from play.”

“But… why? They may suspect me, but they have found none of my pawns yet. This jewel will give us the power to topp-“

“Not this time, no. The monarchy is too stable; not even having the jewel’s power on our side will give us the prestige and popularity to succeed in a rebellion or even a coup. I have a meeting with the King in three hours, at which time I will inform King Mordred of Count Reglay’s quest. This will create friction between the king and his ‘beloved’ General Douglas, who is of course one of Reglay’s closest supporters, and accuse him of keeping secrets. Bide your time. Cover your tracks. The time to act may not be in the next few years, but rest assured, I am doing all I can to make it come.”

“I… understand, Lord Roartz. It will be so.”

 

Pent and Ceniro were still following that river into the mountains. Pent had slowed down and was taking more time now to speak with villagers in the little settlements they passed. He asked them about mercenaries and soldiers in the area, and then move on to talking about St. Elimine. Most often, they reacted with astonishment when he told them of St. Elimine’s Staff. In one village, one old, old man only seemed surprised by the fact that Pent knew of the staff as well, but could not tell him anything he didn’t already know. Pent would often take the ‘toy’ out of his pocket and tinker with it for a few minutes while he was waiting, saying he liked to keep his hands busy while thinking. Ceniro wondered why he hadn’t seen it before, and then realized they had been walking most of the previous days.

The next village after that, a few hours travel away, was more promising. The elders there told Pent of the amazing healing powers the staff was said to have, saying that if there was only a breath of life in a person, the jewel would restore them to full health. Old age it could do nothing for, but injuries it was near-miraculous. It could not just heal one person at a time, too, but had a wide range, like a Fortify Staff, but much greater.

Soon after noon, Pent presented the little device he had been working on to Ceniro, saying “Wave your hand over it and see what happens.”

It was a flat silver oval, with flat surfaces of glass and some strange-looking spots and tiny dials set into the surface. Ceniro held the thing with one hand and waved at it with the other, waited, and gasped and had to sit down.

The largest flat glass surface had begun to glow with magic. A tiny white flash sprang up into the sky and faded. Seconds later, over the far-seer, a landscape appeared in glowing blue.

But what had really struck awe into the young man was the appearance of a tiny village on the landscape with two tiny (but oversized for the village) figures clearly recognizable as Pent and Ceniro. Nearby were other tiny figures showing Fiora, Priscilla, George, Caddie, Albert, and Cavven, and even some villagers.

Ceniro looked back up at Pent with his mouth hanging open. “T-thi-this…”

“I call it a farseer. Different from a telescope, you know? Oh, stop staring like that. You look like your eyes are going to fall out of your head!”

“Is it really for me?”

“Who else is going to use it? Here, let me show you how to work it.”

Pent sat down on the bench next to Ceniro and showed him what different things on the farseer could do. “Oh, I know! Try touching Cavven – yes, like that. Now say something to him!”

“Cavven?”

“Huh? Wha-? Ceniro…? Where are you?” Cavven’s tiny figure began to run back and forth, utterly confused.

Pent laughed heartily. “All right, call them all over and show them.”

Ceniro drew a circle around all the friendly figures on the map, excluding the villagers, and said: “Everyone come to the inn. Pent and I have something to show you.”

The movement of the tiny people was very fast, and it was truly astonishing to look up and see all those people he knew come in real life quickly down the street, looking worried. When they saw Pent laughing and Ceniro looking delighted, they relaxed.

The tactician jumped up. “Look at this! Pent made it. It’s a farseer, and it’s magic.”

“Is that how you scared me?” Cavven demanded in a bit of a huff, his Fibernian accent more pronounced than usual.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t even know it would do that.”

“In other words, blame Lord Pent,” Caddie said, giving Cavven a slap on the back.

“But see, you can see everyone, and what weapons they’re using, and if they’re hurt, and the surrounding countryside, and… if anyone’s coming…”

Pent jumped up. “What’s the matter? Is someone coming?”

“Yes, and they’re marked red, which I assume is hostile, because we’re all in blue and the villagers are in green. See, from the north, a lot of axes, lances… mages, but only one archer. And a… general-class. Well, that will be no problem. Here’s what we’ll do if they truly are hostile…”

 

An hour later, the valley floor was covered with the bodies of ex-hostile soldiers and a troop of opportunistic bandits that had attempted to raid the villages in the chaos. The approaching soldiers had been demanding that the villagers surrender Lord Pent to them in the name of Lord Blier before they even reached the village, and the count had gone out to talk to them with his little company around him. Fortunately for him, the soldiers had been spread out across the valley, allowing Pent’s forces to engage them pretty much piecemeal as soon as the closest ones attacked. Ceniro had discovered that he could talk to his fighters without the enemy being able to hear anything more than his fighters’ replies, and also that he couldn’t talk to the enemy through the farseer. But he could hear everything that his fighters could hear.

He had lost no one, and while the last few enemy soldiers were being subdued, Pent went to confront the general of the opposing army.

The general looked around with trepidation. “My invincible army! What has happened? You outnumbered those insects! You were supposed to protect me!”

“Who are you?” Pent asked, stepping up to him.

The general flinched and took half a step back. “Count Reglay! You-you have met your match here!”

Pent looked around in confusion. “You mean that army? Rather a lot just for one man? Oh, wait, I have one of the most brilliant tactical minds in the world on my side, aided, abetted, and augmented with magic…”

“Don’t puff yourself up, Reglay!”

“I’m not. He’s over there, helping my archer knock out a mountain-thief. Anyway, you still haven’t answered my question. Who are you? And why are you trying to stop me?”

The general removed his helmet. “Tremble, for I am Lord Blier! You shall never reach that jewel, for it is mine! Mine!”

Pent shook his head in disgust. “You just want it because it’s shiny. Blier, you’re an idiot.”

Blier was shaking, but now with rage. “No one calls me an idiot! You shall die for this!”

The sage smiled easily, though his eyes were like steel. “Ceniro? Is this going to plan?” He kept his eyes on Blier, sidestepping a clumsy charge. “Just checking. Thank you!”

A few minutes later, they reconvened near the village. Caddie had taken some more serious injuries, but Priscilla and Pent healed him together.

“Well, that was interesting,” Pent said when they had finished. “I never would have figured Blier one to do his own dirty work. He must have really lusted after that gem.”

“Do you think he knew what it could do, sir?” Fiora asked.

Pent snorted. “Not a chance. He wanted it because it was rumoured to be sparkly, or worth a kingdom – the usual pure greed. At least I won’t have to put up with him at court anymore now.”

“There won’t be any repercussions?” Ceniro asked anxiously. “That seems rather odd.”

“Nope,” Pent replied. “Firstly, once they even discover he’s dead, if ever, he was the aggressor and was interfering with me rather than the other way around. And if it goes to the courts, which I think it won’t, I can easily convince King Mordred that the study of the jewel is far more important than having it locked away as a bauble in some idiot’s keep. I would bet my best spellbook, too, that it would have left his possession within a month. I wonder how long he would have lived even if he had found it first.”

Ceniro shivered. Pent looked over at him and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. Blier was a weak coward and the court knew it. I’m not and they know it too.”

“Well, I’m glad of that. Will others come?”

“Oh, they’ll come, all right, like moths to a candle. We’ll take them as they come and, Ceniro, let me worry about the political snarls. You just keep doing what you’ve been doing and I’ll let you know beforehand if you need to do it differently. Today was impressive. We defeated all the enemies, took no losses, and you made it look easy.”

Ceniro smiled and shrugged, embarrassed. “The farseer helped a lot.”

“I wish I could make battles look easy. The only reason I’m the Mage General is because I’m one of the greatest sages in Etruria and I’m younger and more active. The others are all deep in libraries in Aquleia.” Pent’s face showed just how much he would love to share that fate. “I don’t have your tactical mind, Ceniro. I know how and when to attack as myself, but others across a battlefield – that’s something else.”

“Have you ever fought in a pitched battle, Pent?”

“Ehhh, not as such, no. I was fairly good at the military academy when I did my stint there, but it was a little different. More emphasis on units and less on individuals.”

“I see.”

There was a bit of silence, awkward for Ceniro and cheerful for Pent, until George came with the pack-horse and reported that they were ready to continue travelling.

Pent nodded and pointed directly south. “Let’s aim for the village beyond that mountain, shall we?”

 

 

The little boy jumped between the girl and the youth towering over them. “Get away from her, Lorad! Stop bothering her!”

The older boy, almost a man, Lorad, with short-cropped purple hair and purple eyes, took a step towards the small boy with blonde hair and defiant grey eyes. “And what are you going to do about it? I just wanna talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, don’t you, Cecilia? I’ll make you leave her alone, I will! It’s my duty as General Douglas’s squire!”

“Duty,” sneered Lorad. “Is that all you’re ever on about, squirt? Sticking your nose in other people’s business, more like. I’ll teach you.”

He took a swing at the boy, who ducked and jumped on him. The green-haired girl shrank back against the wall of the castle hallway.

The scuffle was pretty quiet; neither of the boys bothered to cry out in pain or surprise, and there was just the sound of panting and grunting and scraping feet.

Then Lorad got the upper hand with his greater weight and began hitting the blonde boy in the head viciously. The girl cried out in fear, but a tall figure stepped up behind her and patted her shoulder before wading into the quarrel.

“Lorad! Percival! Stop that this instant!”

Lorad got off the smaller boy sulkily, putting on a shamed face when he saw who was chastising him. It was Rhost, the young knight under Douglas. Percival got up more slowly, glaring at Lorad. He had a split lip and an eye rapidly blackening. Lorad had not gotten off scot-free, either – he put a hand to his side and winced at the bruises he felt there.

But he curled his lip at the squire. “Well, squirt, ‘honour satisfied’ yet?”

“What is this all about?” Rhost demanded angrily, grabbing the collars of both combatants in case they decided to attack each other again.

“E-excuse me, sir…” the girl spoke up timidly, “th-they were fighting about me… I asked Lorad to stop following me, sir, and – and then Percival… jumped in to help me…”

“Has Lorad been bothering you?”

“Y-yes… he follows me everywhere…”

“The brat follows her too!” Lorad cried indignantly. Percival’s hackles rose, and it was only the hand on his collar that prevented him from diving on the other again.

Rhost took a firmer grip on both of them. “Look here, you two, you’re both old enough – especially you, Lorad – to know better than to fight in the hallways. That’s for the sparring grounds. And Lorad, I’m ashamed of you, bothering General Douglas’s charge and then brawling with a squire over it in a vastly unfair fight. You could have seriously injured him! You should remember you’re a soldier of Aquleia, and son of Lord Jonathan!”

Lorad grew sulky again and stalked off, to the final parting call from Rhost of “Don’t ever do that again!”

“Now come with me,” Rhost said to the two children. “We must tell General Douglas of this.” Percival looked away dejectedly.

Douglas looked up with interest from reading as the three entered his chambers. “Well, well, what is this? Percival with a black eye, Cecilia looking frightened out of her wits, and Rhost, you look particularly grim. What’s happened?” As he spoke, he left the chair behind his desk and moved to an armchair by the fire, gesturing for Cecilia to come close to him. When she stood beside his chair he put his hand on hers comfortingly. She looked up at him trustingly.

In quick words, Rhost told what he knew. “Lorad was following Cecilia again, and this time she asked him to leave her alone. He refused and Percival sprang to her aid, though he was getting the worst of it when I happened upon them. I scolded Lorad, but he won’t listen to me, of course.”

“I see,” Douglas said. “Is that true, Percival? What have you to say for yourself?”

Percival had been staring defiantly through his good eye. “Yes, sir, it is true. I couldn’t stand the thought of him bothering a girl I knew – and a girl under your protection, sir. He wasn’t behaving as a true knight should, or even a false knight. Not like a knight at all.”

Douglas smiled. Percival’s language was far too elaborate and proper for a ten-year-old, but it came from the training of his noble parents. “Well spoken, my boy. You did the right thing. I would have done the same in your place, though perhaps with a bit more restraint. It is not right to lose one’s temper, either.”

Percival brightened, standing straighter. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

“May I heal him now, uncle?” Cecilia asked. That was her pet name for him. “I’m getting better.”

“Certainly, child,” Douglas replied. Cecilia ran to find her pupil’s staff and returned with it from her chambers quickly. She raised it over her bowed head, concentrating, and slowly the jewel that topped it began to glow blue. A blue glow slowly began to radiate from the squire, and his black eye faded and his lip mended.

Cecilia lowered her staff, a little out of breath but looking very pleased. “Do you feel better, Percy?”

The boy touched his face. “Yes, it feels much better. Thank you, Cecilia.”

“What shall I do about Lorad?” Rhost asked.

Douglas sighed. “That boy is getting to be a nuisance. I shall speak to his officer about this. I’m afraid you can do nothing at the moment. Thank you for interfering today. I wouldn’t want my best squire to be put out of action so young.”

“I should at least try to remain near Cecilia if I can,” Rhost said. “Not intrusively, but maybe I can take more breaks from reports and walk around a little.”

“That would be a good idea,” Douglas told him. “Make it happen.” He rose, giving his protégés all a pat on the shoulder. “I need to return to work; need to follow up on what the king asked me after I told him about the jewel affair this morning, need to find out what things will happen after Blier catches up with Pent. Thank you for coming to talk to me, all of you. I will see you at dinner!”

“See you at dinner, sir!” they replied, as they left, Percival at an exuberant run, Cecilia skipping behind him. Rhost was last out, striding along with a twinkle in his eye as he watched the two children. As he left the room, he glanced left and right, then smiled as if with relief and was gone down the hallway.

Douglas watched his knight, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. Then he shook it away and bent his head to his reading, smiling.

 

Lesil turned from staring haughtily out the window in a distant castle, bored, to face the darkly cloaked man. “What is it you want? I’ve already been to visit Wrigley. Louise is alone, as you said – unless you count the scholarly purple-haired shrimp who lives in the house with her.”

The cloaked man straightened a little. “Lord Lesil, I don’t have to put up with such language. What I want is merely… to give you what you desire, as a way of obtaining for myself what I desire. Surely you guessed that.”

Lesil cocked his head to one side. “What are you suggesting?”

There might have been a smile within the hood facing him. “All I ask is that you wait on your plans until I give the word. I know of your plans, and they are good ones-“

“How is it you know of my plans?”

“I know many things, my Lord Lesil, and you should go ahead with your plans – but it will be more profitable to me – and therefore, both of us – if you wait until the time is right for me.”

Lesil frowned, thinking it over. “How will I know when your right time is?”

“Aldash will tell you. Be warned – he is half in the pocket of Arcard, and is not to be fully trusted with secrets. I even have to pay out some of his underlings – that boy Lorad is a particular nuisance, though he could prove useful someday.”

Lesil continued frowning, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I’ll take the secrecy under advisement. …Thank you, Lord Eshan.”

 

Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?          Chapter 4: Sly Tongues Aplenty

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 jewelled 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 duelling 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 slice 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.”

Chapter 1: A Lord’s Quest     Chapter 3: Twisted Paths

Vol. 1: The Tactician and the Heiress: Chapter 10: The Distant Plains      Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?

Rekka no Ken: Vol. 2: The Tactician and the Jewel

Chapter 1: A Lord’s Quest

Ceniro shifted nervously in the cushioned wooden seat. He was waiting with six or seven other men and one woman in the antechamber to a lord’s study, waiting to have an interview with the lord to see if he could gain another temporary position as a tactician. The other people waiting were all much older than he was by a matter of decades, and all were richly dressed. And the place itself – it was furnished with dark, rich furniture in this wing, and footmen had escorted each applicant to the chamber and escorted those who had completed their interview to another room – or to the door, if they didn’t meet the lord’s preferences. The young tactician felt completely out of place and wished he could shrink to invisibility.

“I don’t believe it!” cried a familiar voice from down the hall. “Is that you?”

Ceniro kept his gaze down humbly, uncertain the call was for him, until a light hand fell on his shoulder, and then he looked up, startled. “Erk?!” His voice sounded much too loud in the silent room, and he jumped self-consciously.

“What brings you here, my friend? Oh, well, the job, of course. How have you been?”

“Well enough; went sightseeing to Aquleia already and now running short on money, as always, and that’s why I’m applying for the job. How was your trip through Ostia?”

Erk, the violet-haired young mage – he was barely fifteen – frowned. “Like you, well enough. Serra was a bit more bearable, at first, anyway. The journey back was good, and now I’m well into my studies again. It’s amazing it’s only been three and a half months since we parted! Milady made me take another break so I came out here to see how it was going. I’m very happy to see you here. I’ve spoken highly of you at dinner since I’ve returned. Hopefully my master remembers your name.”

Ceniro smiled. “Why is that?”

“Well, Lord Pent is worse than I am when it comes to studying magic. When he’s focussing, even when he takes a break to eat, it’s difficult for non-magic things to catch his attention. It tries milady’s patience, but she and I are used to it now. He’s very nice, though. You’ll like him.”

“I’m glad. Thanks for the talk, Erk.”

“I hope you get the post, Ceniro. We’ll talk more later, in any case. Good luck!”

Erk bowed and left, leaving Ceniro a little more cheered. He had not known who Erk’s teacher was, and was now eagerly awaiting his meeting with him, even though the atmosphere emanating from the nobles was now a more pronounced disapproval. ‘What are you doing here, you scruffy little whippersnapper?’ their grave frowns seemed to say. Ceniro’s imagination gave them collectively the voice of one of the elders of his home village, the one always sighing about the youth of today and their foolish reckless wickedness. ‘You can’t possibly compete with the likes of us. Go back to your carpenter father and stop shaming the halls of Castle Wrigley!’

And then it was his turn, last of all, and with a slightly dry throat and clammy palms, he entered the study while one of the footmen held the door for him.

The lord behind the desk, the famed Lord Pent, Count Reglay, Mage General of Etruria, with long silver hair bound back in a loose ponytail and piercing grey eyes, looked up briefly from a large list on his desk. His desk was catastrophically covered with papers and parchments and books of all kinds, and Ceniro felt somehow set at ease.

Pent, having glanced up briefly, came back abruptly for another look. “So young,” he said softly, smiling. “How old are you…?”

“I’m nineteen years old, my lord. My name is Ceniro. I’m a tactician from Lycia.”

Pent sat back, indicating that Ceniro should sit in the comfortable chair in front of the desk. “Where in Lycia?”

“I was born in Araphen, but I’ve lived in Santaruz most of my life. I trained as a tactician under Lord Garlant, in Ostia. This summer I escorted the new Lady Lyndis from Sacae to Caelin to meet her grandfather and stop her grand-uncle from usurping the Marquess’ throne.”

“So you’re the one that Erk has been singing about,” Pent said, raising his eyebrows. “I heard about that, not just from Erk. It sounds like quite an adventure.”

“It was, sir,” replied Ceniro, shades of reminiscent enthusiasm buried in his non-committal reply.

“So,” said Pent, leaning forward and checking his list, then throwing it aside and picking up another piece of parchment, “you’d like to be my tactician for the next two or three weeks, or however long this job takes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I just want to know a few more things and then we’ll see who gets the job, eh? First off, who would you say would be in charge?”

Ceniro nodded. “You, sir.” Pent’s eyes snapped back up. “I’m only the battle strategist. I would take care of everything to do with fighting and defence, but you are the one with the objective, sir. If I believe you are doing something to endanger the mission, I will tell you so, but there is frankly not much I can do to stop you even if I wanted to.” He shrugged comfortably.

“Well said,” Pent told him. “Next, how is your discretion?”

Ceniro thought. “I know I can be discreet, both in terms of information and in directing a group to move quietly through hostile territory. I’m afraid I can’t think of any examples I can give you off the top of my head, sir.”

“What kinds of terrain are you familiar with?”

“Well, for directing troops, mostly open plains and hills, sir, as well as the land around Ostia. In my personal experience… I’ve travelled extensively; I’ve walked all over Lycia and most of Etruria, and I was just getting around to Sacae and Bern when I met Ly- Lady Lyndis and took up her quest. After this, I’m planning to go to Ilia to see the mountains and the pegasus knights, and then after that… well, the rest of the continent.”

“You like travelling,” Pent observed, somewhat drily.

“I love travelling,” Ceniro corrected him. “The world is a very beautiful place and I’d like to see all of it before I die.”

“Good answer.” Pent leaned back again, fiddling with a quill pen. “Why do you want this job?”

“To be frank, sir, I’m running low on gold and I could really use a new pair of boots.” Pent smiled. “Other than that, your quest sounds like the kind that I most like – going out into the world to seek something. I’m personally not keen on castle-bound posts; they may have excellent pay and tenure, but they’re rather boring unless I’m working for a warmongering lord and I don’t want to do that. Or the neighbour of a warmongering lord, but I think they’re all too circumspect these days for that, sir.”

Pent snorted a laugh. “Amusing observation.” Ceniro flinched inside, hoping he hadn’t offended the count. “Nothing to do with Erk?”

Ceniro relaxed again. “No, sir. He didn’t tell me your name.”

Pent tossed the pen aside and made a steeple of his fingers, looking intently at Ceniro. “Last question – which, incidentally, you have partly already answered. Would it be possible to convince you to drop the formality, at least on occasion?”

Ceniro, blindsided, blinked a few times. “I-I suppose so. I would be honoured, really.”

Pent waved that aside. “Honoured? I’m only another man, and, honestly, it makes your job so much easier if you can feel comfortable around me, a count and a Sage. I noted that you called Lyndis ‘Lyn’.”

Ceniro’s cheeks flushed. “Well, I met her before she learned that she was the granddaughter of Lord Hausen, so I got into the habit of…”

Pent smiled and stood. “Well, I’ve decided. The others are all serious, pompous bores who have secret ambitions or who think I’m a loony scholar or think that because they’re older than me they don’t have to listen to me. It’s refreshing to talk to you. You’re hired.”

Ceniro stood as well, slightly flustered. “I- Thank you, L- uhhh, Pent.”

Pent laughed and reached out to shake his hand warmly. “I’m only surprised there weren’t more young up-and-comings. Erk tells me you’re something of a genius, the equal of those other lords, so it’s probably best that they didn’t come to be disappointed.”

Ceniro smiled.

Pent strode around the desk, calling for someone named Jerome. “Well, best send the others home politely. I’ll tell them I’ll contact the lucky one later tonight; that should sidestep any ruffled feathers. And of course, you must have dinner with Louise and Erk and me, so I will be contacting you later tonight! Everything will work out well, for this stage, at least.”

A footman entered the study, and Pent told him what to say to the other strategists. “While this young man is a friend of Erk’s as well, so put him up in a room, would you? Thanks, Jerome.”

“As milord wishes,” said Jerome, bowing and giving Ceniro a quick smile before disappearing.

“I’ll show you to the garden now,” said Pent,” where we’ll most likely find my wife and Erk, and our other guest at this moment.”

Ceniro soon found out that Castle Wrigley – which was really a glorified old manor house – was large, yet comfortable, and full of beautiful rooms but not many people. Besides Pent and his wife Louise, there lived in the house Erk, three footmen, the steward, seven maidservants, two gardeners, one cook, and a groom, and they were all familiar and friendly with each other. Others lived on the surrounding estate and village, and other people sometimes passed in and out, according to Erk, but on the whole it was a quiet, pleasant, retiring life the Count of Reglay seemed to lead. And of course he spent most of it on his studies of magic. Ceniro could only stare with his mouth hanging open for five minutes at the size of Pent’s main library the first time it was shown to him. He had never imagined that one person could own so many books. It rivalled the Ostian library. And then, Pent had various studies and laboratories scattered around the hall, a couple underground. Outside the manor was a huge garden filled at this time with vast quantities of flowers, pink, white, yellow, and then there was green ivy everywhere. Further back was a little orchard with an archery range so that Lady Louise could practice her archery, and small plots of vegetables nearby that.

Ceniro could see that compared to most nobles, Pent and Louise were absurd, even ridiculous, the beautiful and rich hall with gold and marble and velvet notwithstanding, but he liked and admired them as no other ‘aristocrats’, save Lyn and perhaps Elbert and Eliwood.

The other guest turned out to be a lovely young woman with hair the rich red colour of a rose and eyes green as rose leaves. She wore green velvet and white lace, and a white feather tucked behind her ear. Her name was Priscilla, and she was quiet and gentle.

“Lady Priscilla is staying with us for a time before returning to other friends in her homeland in Lycia,” Louise said. Louise herself was a stunningly beautiful woman dressed in plum velvet with golden hair, gentle grey eyes with violet lights, and a natural elegance to her carriage and movements. She made a good pair with Pent’s strong, firm self-assurance, and they were dearly devoted to each other.

“Now,” said Pent, after a couple hours had passed, “I think it’s time to get down to business for a short while. You know I’m planning to be gone on this expedition for three weeks, hopefully less. But I never told you where we were going, or what for.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “We’ll be heading to the mountains between Etruria and Lycia, where there is a mystical jewel hidden somewhere probably in a cave-temple. This jewel is written about in several very ancient tomes I’ve been reading recently.”

“He’s going to study it and see if those tomes are correct, fill in the gaps, fix errors, probably write his own book,” Erk put in.

“Exactly right. I expect the jewel to be heavily guarded, mostly by traps, but better safe than sorry, eh? That’s why I need you – and the others – rather than just going myself. Speaking of which, let’s go meet Castle Wrigley’s knights and decide who is coming, shall we?” Pent said, rising and smiling.

They, they being Pent, Louise, Erk, Priscilla, and Ceniro, went out to the front of the manor and turned right towards Pent’s barracks, the east wing of the castle. Lining up as the count strode towards them were four men in uniforms and armour, two white with yellow trim, one in white with navy trim, and one in black with red trim. There was also a pegasus knight with teal green hair, a white short dress, and very long blue boots.

“This is George, my captain,” said Pent, gesturing towards a tall, lean man with dark hair and a nine o’ clock shadow. “He’s a crack archer, and nearly as good as Louise.” Louise giggled and swatted Pent’s arm as George bowed, smiling.

“This is Cavven, his pupil, who’s training in swords and lances right now. He aspires to become a cavalier.” Cavven was an awkward, gangling boy with black hair and eyes, with promise of great muscle mass. “He’s a quick lad.”

“This is Yens, the second in command. He mainly uses the lance.” Yens was the one in white and navy armour, and looked very solid. His helmet prevented Ceniro from seeing much of his features.

“Last of my guards is Caddie. He’s an excellent axe man, very driven, very focussed.” Caddie was the guard in red and black clothing, with cropped brown hair and a cleft in his chin.

“And this is Lady Fiora, a pegasus knight from Ilia, whom I hired just yesterday as reinforcement.”

“Everyone, this is our new tactician, Ceniro. He’ll be selecting four of you to come with me tomorrow, and one of you to stay behind and guard the house with the regular soldiers.”

Ceniro looked down the line, and they all gazed steadily back at him. “Could I see you four spar, please?”

“Certainly,” George responded, tossing out wooden weapons and pairing the men up with a couple of quick barks.

“They’re all very strong, as you say,” Ceniro said a few minutes later. Cavven was lightening fast, but his attacks were reckless and wild. Caddie was spare of movement until his opponent left an opening, at which point he drove mercilessly. Yens would advance and retreat, pressing his enemy and then recouping his strength in an unpredictable pattern. George was dogged, working with steady strength at wearing down his partner. “I think… we will definitely need George and Caddie. Fio- Lady Fiora, too, to give us some extra flexibility and the potential to rescue injured companions. Of the other two… Well, mountains are usually bandit territory, so I think we’ll need Caddie’s axe more than Yens’ lance.” He glanced back at Pent, uncomfortable with making judgements of total strangers. Very strong total strangers.

“That sounds fine,” Pent said, gesturing to the men to take a break. “Yens, you’ll remain behind and assist Louise and Bran – my steward,” he added in an aside to Ceniro. “If there is an emergency, all the remaining forces are at your disposal and discretion. I will be in touch, so feel free to discuss any problems with me when I’m available.”

Yens nodded, flashing a white grin inside his helmet. “Sounds good, Lord Pent. You can count on me.”

“George, Cavven, Caddie, Lady Fiora, I will need you tomorrow at first light. See you later, gentlemen!”

“Lord Pent,” spoke up Priscilla, “I would like to come too. You have only yourself to heal the injured, but if I came, I could certainly help and let you attend to more important matters.”

“Absolutely not,” Pent said, shaking his silver head until his ponytail whipped back and forth. “You’re to make it back to Ostia without incident, and this certainly counts as incident whether it is very dangerous or only mildly dangerous.”

“Please, milord. I’m not afraid, and I trust Sir- I mean, Ceniro. He had healers and other non-combatants in his last journey, persons who could have simply left and continued upon their much less-dangerous journeys at any time. I have a horse. I can keep out of the way.”

“I can watch over her,” said the pegasus knight unexpectedly. “I assume we’ll be double bunking in tents, and if she shares a tent with me it will be perfectly fine, and as we both ride horses – albeit mine has wings – I can easily keep an eye on her from the air and warn her of danger which she can then escape.”

Pent looked out of the corner of his eye at his tactician. “Do you think this a good idea?”

Ceniro thought with a hand resting on his cheek. “I don’t think she will be a burden and it would certainly be helpful to have another healing staff.”

The lord dropped his pretend-hunted look. “Well, I can see you’re all arrayed against me, even you, Louise, so I’ll give in. I still think this is utterly foolish, but who am I to deny extra help? Erk, are you coming too?”

“No, master. I have much to do.” Erk waved a medium-sized book entitled “General Compositional Theory of Anima Magic, Volume Three”.

“Louise?”

“You know what I would do, Lord Pent, but I shall bow to your wishes this time. That representative I must meet with next week can’t be delayed, anyway.”

Pent put an arm around his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad. Next time, I promise, you can come with me and continue fulfilling your vow. This time I’m just happy to keep you out of danger over such a silly thing – though it change the world.”

After dinner in the ‘informal’ dining room (which was still an elegant room, only much smaller than the ‘formal’ dining room), there was an impromptu concert with several of the servants and Priscilla participating. Neither Pent nor Louise played – she, no talent; he, no time – but they were both lovers of music and well educated in it.

And at last, though still relatively early in the evening, Ceniro was shown to a room small compared to the rest of the house but much larger than he had ever been used to, even in Caelin. It had a cozy feeling, and the bed was incredibly soft and soothing. The young tactician fell asleep the second after he fell into it.

The next morning, they indeed set out at first light. Lord Pent kissed Lady Louise goodbye in the gate to his castle, and set off with a firm stride, Ceniro walking close at his side. Next came the knight Fiora, and Priscilla, and last came the three Reglay soldiers, with the packhorse. They would buy fresh supplies while they could and save the horse some trouble until they got into the mountains.

They had walked steadily for some hours, with a short break for lunch, when Fiora caught sight of stealthy movement by the side of the road. They had not even left the Reglay lands.

“Louise, is that you?” Pent called to the bushes. “Come out, now.”

Silence fell, with crickets chirping in the warm autumn air. Pent glanced at Ceniro with the slightest hint of a confused frown, and Ceniro nodded sharply to the soldiers who took a firmer grip on their weapons and drew closer to Priscilla and the two in front.

They waited for perhaps five minutes, but nothing more moved.

“Well, we can’t wait forever to find out what that was. Perhaps it was nothing to worry about,” said Ceniro at last. “We should move on.”

And just as Cavven stepped forward, an arrow whizzed across the road in front of him. He stopped short with a brief cry of surprise as George lunged forward and grabbed him.

“Spread out!” Ceniro cried. “Fiora, Priscilla, get into the trees to the left where you’re harder to hit now! George, Cavven, go with them! Pent, Caddie, into the right!”

“Split up?” Pent asked, diving through the shallow ditch at the side of the road.

“That warning arrow might be a decoy,” Ceniro responded. “If it isn’t, Fiora will be safer. If it is, those three, with Priscilla backing them up, will be able to take care of themselves, especially if it’s what I think it is.”

An axeman leapt out in front of them, pulling back for a wild swing at Ceniro. Caddie was quicker, and Ceniro turned away fast, feeling his stomach flip-flop. He hadn’t seen death since he left Caelin and already he had forgotten his stoicism against its horror.

“Bandits in Reglay,” Pent hissed in disgust. “I thought I had sent them packing eight years ago.”

“What’s it like over there?” Ceniro called to the other group as Pent sent a golden lightening bolt down on the original archer with a flick of his wrist.

“Not good!” came George’s voice. “Crude lancemen!”

“Cavven, cross to our side. Caddie, go help them out. Look out, Pent!” The count looked up in time to see and duck another axe flying through the air. Then out of nowhere, Cavven’s skinny body came crashing through the bushes and his slim sword cut through the thug who had thrown the axe.

“Good job, Cav,” Pent told the boy, dusting himself off and sending sudden shards of ice at an archer in a tree. Cavven grinned and threw himself at another man with an axe.

This one struck his head with the flat of his axe, and Cavven was sent flying into a tree. Ceniro was instantly at his side. The boy was unconscious but otherwise unhurt.

“You’re Pent?” the big axeman grunted.

“And you would be?” the count responded cordially.

“Name’s not important. What’s important is that you’re surrounded, with most of your group away yonder and one boy out cold and the other armed with a little stick.”

“I’m more than a match for all of you,” Pent said, smiling as if truly amused.

The brigand cocked an eye at the sun. “Well, if you think so, man. I’m to tell you to abandon your quest for that gem, awright? You do that, and we don’t hurt anyone else.”

“What makes you think that even with all your provisions I would do such a thing as that?”

The brigand’s grin turned ugly. “Then we cut down your boys behind your back, and whether you go down or not right away, you’ll go down eventually. Lord Pent.”

Ceniro suddenly swung his staff in a desperate move to counter the haft of the axe heading in his direction. He countered it with enough strength that he saved himself from getting bisected, but he couldn’t hold it back for long and there was another on its way and another heading for Cavven –

There was a bright flash of light, and the man aiming at Cavven dropped back, smoking and sparking.

“I don’t think so,” Pent replied to the enemy leader with deadly quiet. The bandit with his axe locked with Ceniro’s staff dropped back, rubbing his eyes, and the one swinging his axe at him missed and fell on him bodily, knocking him heavily and half-blinded to the ground on top of Cavven’s body.

Then ice began to creep up the legs of the three thugs, and formed a sheath on their weapons until they dropped them, cursing. The air was shimmering around Pent, as Ceniro’s eyes cleared.

Suddenly an arrow struck one thug, a lance skewered another, and an axe took care of the third. A blue healing glow surrounded the recovering Cavven as Ceniro scrambled up to coordinate the final movements.

Caddie and Fiora quickly took care of the remaining underlings while Cavven jumped up, ready to face the enemy again. Priscilla and her mare hovered, looking every which way to avoid being targeted and ready to help if necessary. Pent cast his lightening spell again, but the bandit leader was faster than he looked and managed to dodge. George managed to strike him in the arm, and then Cavven sprang on him when he was distracted.

As they cleaned their weapons – or, in Pent’s case, dusted himself off again – Ceniro looked at the bandit leader. “Strange. He doesn’t look like anyone of particular intelligence… just a brute. How is it that he knew?”

Pent looked troubled. “I don’t know. I only told a few people that I was setting out at all, and fewer what I was looking for. I think I will have to get in touch with some of them. I trust them all, but one of them may have clues as to how this got out. Also that I was setting off so early. But we should keep moving.”

“Yes, we should be out of Reglay by noon tomorrow,” Ceniro agreed.

At camp that night, while the other set up three tents – one for Pent and Ceniro, one for the women, and one for the soldiers – Pent got out a peculiar little staff.

“It’s safer than using pigeons, anyway,” he said to his tactician. “I’ll contact home first.”

A wavering cloud appeared in the air above the staff’s head, and moments later, Erk’s face appeared in it. “Lord Pent! How has your day been?”

“Peculiar,” Pent replied. “We have already been ambushed once by common brigands who knew of the quest and its objective. But that is not important; I’m going to contact Douglas later about that and see if he can help unravel that mystery. We have really just walked all day and are now setting up camp. How are you all?” Ceniro could hear George telling Cavven not to charge in so hastily; next time he might get more than a knock on the head.

Erk chased his dark frown away with a small smile. “We are all fine, thank you. Lady Louise practiced archery as usual, and then did some reading and embroidery. I read Chapter Twelve several times, and I believe I have the main concepts down well. I also received a letter from that little girl I met in Aquleia, Cecilia. She says General Douglas, coincidentally, has taken her under his care and sponsored her for preliminary training in magical and conventional healing. She’s very excited about that, though she has also met someone at court who frightens her. She says she has told General Douglas’s two other pupils, so she has no real worries about that. Other than that, it’s been a quiet day as usual as well. Would you like to speak with Lady Louise now?”

Pent smiled. “Please.”

A few minutes later, after conversing privately with his wife, Pent dispelled the staff and recast the enchantment.

This time, a man with a brown beard and purple robes appeared. “Pent! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“An unfortunate circumstance sadly, Douglas. I set out today, and mid-afternoon we were ambushed by common brigands who knew of the quest and its objective. I can’t do much from here, and neither can Louise from Castle Wrigley, and Erk is no good at that sort of thing; not that either my wife or I is much better! I want you to see if you can find out who leaked that information, who could have hired those bandits, who else knows about my journey, that sort of thing.”

The general reached up to stroke his beard. “Strange… It’s not like the court usually pays much attention to the majority of your doings not directly connected to them, despite your being the Mage General.”

“I know. So who could have perked up their ears this time?”

“How much did you tell the tacticians you interviewed, and those mercenaries? Oh, by the way, who is your tactician?”

Pent reached out and dragged Ceniro to stand beside him. “Here he is; Ceniro of Lycia. He’s young, I know, but Erk knows him, and apparently he orchestrated the success of that whole Caelin affair earlier this summer. He did well in the short battle today, and I think he’ll turn out very well. As for the others, I think I told them nothing. The announcements just said I was looking for a tactician and soldiers for a journey about three weeks long.”

Douglas frowned some more. “I shall look into this, Pent. I suspect this may be more serious even than it looks, just by the nature of your journey. Pleased to meet you, Sir Ceniro.”

He bowed; Ceniro hastily followed suit, and the cloud vanished.

Pent looked around and nodded at his tactician. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Right,” Ceniro replied. “Caddie, you have first watch; Fiora, you have second. Good night, everyone.”

Vol. 1: The Tactician and the Heiress: Chapter 10: The Distant Plains     Chapter 2: Prize or Artefact?