The Azure Rider

Author's note: Hi, this is the third installment in a multi part story series, and would not make much sense unless you have read the previous two parts. Thank you for reading. Be sure to leave your feedback!

***

The next day, Agatha found herself cornered by Cecelia and Helena when she paid a visit to the Harem to deliver the barren potion for some of the women. Clearly, some of the chambermaids had seen her when she had entered the Azure Tower with Orion, and this time Agatha was not sure she could deflect the attention towards Lyla. Cecelia and Helena, two fresh faced women who were generally sought after for their youth and beauty were also amongst the worst rumor mongers this side of the Castle, and Agatha was not at all pleased to be accosted by them. She barely escaped by cooking up a bare faced lie about the Dragon Rider's impotence and stated that her visits to the Azure Tower were meant to relieve him of his shameful affliction. Her revelation was met by gasps and clucks of sympathy, but no one questioned her hastily spun story as this explanation lined up with the Rider's suspicious lack of lovers over the years.

Over the next few days, Agatha increasingly began to find herself in the company of Sir Blaxton as he accompanied her in her horse riding lessons. The riding lessons had been ordained by Orion himself, to bring his camp physician up to the degree of fitness and tenacity that was expected of the rest of the soldiers. However, Sir Blaxton took it upon himself to gallantly chaperone her on most of these trainings, and though Agatha remembered liking him at first glance, she soon began to tire of the young knight's perpetually arduous effervescence. She was reticent enough to not let her impatience show, and gratefully recognized that his chivalry would come extremely useful once they marched towards Remadra and she would need to be shielded from unwelcome attention from the rest of the men. As much as she hated Sir Alexander on principle, she had come to recognize that there had been some truth to his premonition.

She spent the remainder of her days flitting between her infirmary duties and trying to pen a letter to Siegel that would explain what Orion had done to her. But as much as she tried, she could find no way to truthfully declare that the Dragon Rider had taken her against her will, because she found herself thinking about him at an indecorously high frequency. Every time she visited the stables to pick up her horse for the riding lessons, she found herself discreetly watching out for a swish of his brown cloak. But he was nowhere to be seen, and if Sir Blaxton were to be believed, he was stretching himself thin overseeing the arrangements for the imminent departure to Hills of Remadra. She heard no more about their plans to visit the Forgers. Discarded balls of parchment began to pile up around the little work desk in Agatha's cramped bedchamber and she was still nowhere close to explaining herself to Siegel.

After about a week of this, a grim-faced Orion knocked on the door of her tiny bedchamber and entered before Agatha could ask him to. Agatha backed away into a corner upon seeing him, her throat dry and her heart beating a reggaeton in her chest. Orion seemed to tower in her tiny room and for a moment, Agatha was rendered motionless, whether from intimidation or anticipation she could not tell.

"How's your riding lessons coming along?" Orion asked, perching himself at the edge of her desk, which creaked pitifully under his weight.

Agatha swallowed to alleviate the strange sensation in her dry throat and said, "good, Sir Blaxton has been accompanying me."

A ghost of a smile seemed to light his features for a moment, but it was gone before Agatha could blink. She found herself wanting to see him smile again, even if it was at her expense. "Good, we will set out for Remadra in another week and we shall pass the Forger's mountains on our way, and you are going to go in there and help them find ways to fight this plague. You can still do it, correct?"

Agatha nodded fervently, shamelessly seeking his approbation.

Orion considered her with a slight crease between his eyebrows. "Do you have trousers?"

"I have a pair of breeches," Agatha nodded, "I have been using it for my riding lessons."

"Fine. I want you to wear men's clothing at all times once we are out of the castle gates. I shall arrange for someone to send you trousers and shirts in your size. Riding boots too. And I want you to start practicing running, build up on your endurance as well as speed. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes."

"There are a few things I wish to discuss with you and I need your ... candor."

"What do you want to know?" Agatha asked suspiciously.

"I will assign a band of my most trusted, loyal men to keep you safe at all times. They will be responsible for hauling wounded soldiers back from the battle lines into the camp hospital, and you will spend the next week training them on basic nursing so that they can double up as your helping hands in the camp hospital. Rest assured, even if they witness you performing magic, they will not breathe a word of it to anyone else. However, these are men who have been trained to fight all their lives and I am not sure how much help they will be to you with respect to nursing, even with training. Do you have anyone that you trust enough to take with you to assist you on physician duties?"

Agatha considered him quietly for a few moments, and Orion could see her make the connection in her expressive eyes.

"I do not know of any witch or wizard who specializes in potions and human physiology," Agatha said flatly. "It is not considered as a glamorous specialization in any case. But I would like to have Lyla assist me. She is no witch, but she has experience in infirmary duties, she helped me here before Lord Mannering ... took her."

"Can she be trusted?" Orion asked.

"Yes," Agatha answered quietly. "I have saved her life on multiple occasions."

"In that case, I shall arrange for her to be retrieved from the whorehouse by tomorrow," Orion nodded, then added, "her last name?"

"Lyla Hartelle. I think she goes by the trade name Veronica."

Orion nodded. "Take her with you for horse riding and running when she arrives. She'll have to wear men's clothes too."

"I am sure she will not have a problem."

"Fine ... can you do the Haze?"

Agatha stiffened. The Haze was an ancient piece of magic that could be cast only by the most dextrous witch or wizard. When implemented properly, it acted as a shield that modified the memories of any non-magical human or mage who happened to witness magic. It was frequently used by Siegel to protect his identity from the rest of the mages in the Academy, and though Agatha had spent a better part of her life trying to muster it, she had never been able to accomplish the Haze. She had recently given up on trying, accepting that she simply did not possess the degree of magical abilities required to cast a Haze. Instead, she had redoubled her efforts to control her magic so that she could live out the natural span of her life without being caught.

"No," Agatha replied, her shoulders slumping forward a little in her admission. Not being able to do that particular piece of magic was a source of profound personal shame and distress to her. "Could Penelope do it?"

"Yes," Orion answered, absently rubbing a palm over his stubbled jaw.

Agatha felt a surge of jealousy. Orion seemed to sense her anguish.

"Do not worry, in that case you shall simply have to be a bit more careful. Do not use any magic that you cannot pass off as the actions of an ordinary mage in front of a conscious soldier. Do not use magic outside the tent for the camp hospital. The men who have been assigned for your protection will not betray your secret."

Orion rose from his perch and said, "follow me. I want to introduce you to your men."

Agatha jogged after him down the cavernous hallway of the Castle Keep and out into the practice arena by the Armory. It was midday and soldiers were practicing sparring in the arena. Agatha watched them, fascinated by their lithe movements, her steps slowing a little. A thought occurred to her.

"Orion," she asked in a low voice, though there was no one close enough to overhear their conversation. "How did Penelope get caught if she could perform the Haze?"

Orion did not answer. He led her through a set of raised iron portcullis into a small cobbled courtyard by the side of the Armory, where ten soldiers waited patiently in a perfect formation. They raised their visors in perfect synchrony as a salute to their General.

"At ease," Orion commanded, leading Agatha towards them with a firm grip on her wrist. "Men, allow me to introduce our camp physician, Agatha Hartelle. She will be joined shortly by her assistant, Lyla Hartelle. Your duties are to protect their person at all costs, carry wounded soldiers back to the camp infirmary from the battle lines and help them out in nursing, in that order of priority. You shall ride with them at all times and camp by their tents so you may stay vigilant of their security. Miss Hartelle will instruct you on basic infirmary duties so that you may assist her later on. Are we clear?"

The soldiers struck their spears on the cobbled courtyard and said in unison, "Yes, General."

Agatha cleared her throat nervously and asked, "What are your names?"

One by one, they bowed to her and introduced themselves. Beyond the terrifying visor and the mail, they seemed to be ordinary soldiers, with swarthy, weather beaten faces and rugged, lithe forms. They seemed to hold her in the same reverence they extended towards Orion. Agatha conversed with them for a while, asking about their nursing experience and arranged for them to meet her at the infirmary the following morning.

Orion accompanied her back to her chamber at the Keep. For a few moments Agatha waited with bated breath, trembling with anticipation that Orion would order her to disrobe. But he exchanged a few pedestrian niceties with her, kissed the back of her hand and left, sparing her no more than a professional interest. Agatha watched his retreating back, inundated with acute confusion at his abrupt change in outlook, and though she would never admit to herself, with a desperate, torrid, longing.

***

Orion headed to the Grandmeister Eustace's chambers shortly after his visit to Agatha. He did not want to fixate over her a moment longer than absolutely necessary, and he had an hour before his meeting with the vampire councilmember Vladimir Evanoff, and a visit to Eustace Brickenden promised a welcome respite from the nagging guilt that had been tormenting Orion for the past week.

He found Eustace lying on his bed with his eyes closed, his upper body propped up by a stack of pillows. Not wishing to barge in on his meditation, Orion waited in an armchair by the foot of his bed.

"I'm beginning to think that you don't have anything better to do," Eustace said, his eyes still closed.

"What can I say, I miss your impudence," Orion grinned.

Eustace opened his eyes and smiled slightly. "How is the Rider?"

"I am doing reasonably well, given the circumstances."

"I was asking about the other Rider. You're clearly doing too well for a man of hundred and seventy."

"She's not a Rider yet, but yes, she's doing well." Orion murmured somberly, frustrated with Eustace that he had to bring the conversation back to someone he was desperately trying to avert.

"Why can't I meet her?" Eustace frowned, squinting at him through milky cataract-filmed eyes.

"I have told you, you can't be trusted to keep quiet about it."

"At least tell me who she is."

"No."

"Alright, describe her to me. Is she beautiful?"

There was a pause.

"Yes."

"You are useless, Orion," Eustace snapped, raising his head from the pillows. "Are you going to hand her over to Vandan?"

Orion looked away from the frail man on the four poster bed and hardened his jaw. "Yes. It is the only way to stop the war."

"You have to do what is needed," Eustace said, then collapsed into the pillows with a coughing fit. When he removed his hand from his lips, Orion noticed that they were stained with blood.

"If you will not go to Meister Erwan, you could try summoning his apprentice. She is very good at healing spells."

Eustace raised his milky eyes at Orion, not daring to talk in case the cough came back with a vengeance. Orion answered the question in Eustace's eyes. "Yes, she's one of you."

He waited patiently while Eustace drank water from a tumbler on the nightstand. "Can she-" Eustace began in a raspy voice, then descended into another coughing fit. Orion waited for it to subside, then said, "No, she cannot do the Haze. Her name's Agatha Hartelle. I'll ask your nurse to fetch her on my way out."

Orion sat beside Eustace, immersed in the thoughts that he had been desperately trying to avoid. Vandan was currently under the rule of the Olbrecht family. King Andebert Olbrecht was old and frail, and nearing the end of his natural life. His firstborn and the heir to the throne Prince Fredenand Olbrecht was a miserable excuse of a human, with every conceivable cruelty packed into his repertoire, which he often liked to unleash on unsuspecting lesser nobles, squires and knights for some imagined or trivial transgressions. His first wife had died recently from an unknown affliction at a tender age of twenty three; rumours were that she had taken her life by jumping from the top of a tower, unable to tolerate her husband's cruelty anymore. Prince Fredenand Olbrecht was looking for a second wife, and the Thistle Princess, once handed over to the Vandan royalty, would naturally be his first choice. Additionally, given Agatha's unearthly beauty, Orion was convinced of her fate beyond a shadow of doubt.

Orion rubbed his temple, trying to accept the outcome of a battle long lost, telling himself that it was merely a difficult decision but one that needed to be taken, one that was worth the lives of the people living in the Disputed Corridor - which was a vast stretch of densely populated arable land between Vandan and Lohenstraad - the primary reason behind the Great War. He had vowed to stay away from Agatha the moment the plan had formed in his mind, telling himself that his personal interest in an asset only served to complicate the cruel fate he was sentencing her to. He had nearly broken his promise when he paid her a visit earlier today, blinded by an insuppressible lust when her breasts rose and fell with her erratic breaths, when she bit her full lips subconsciously and twirled a lock of her hair in her finger, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed at the sight of him. Orion wondered at the effect Agatha had on him, then decided that it was not worth obsessing over. Not when he would be giving her up anyway.

Orion took his leave from Eustace, paused by his retainer's chamber to inform him about the Meister's decision to summon Agatha, and walked back to his tower, where he bypassed his bedchamber and climbed to the top, where Ice resided. He was presently curled up in his alcove, taking a midday nap. He opened his eyes and regarded Orion as he walked over.

'You are supposed to be working.' Orion could hear a rumble of laughter in his head alongside Ice's snide comment. Being bonded to Ice allowed his Dragon to connect clairvoyantly with him, which was their only means of communication, at least from Ice's direction.

"I can't stand to be in another meeting with that vampire," Orion said verbally, finally letting some disgust seep into his voice. Vladimir was a twisted snake, one they should have never colluded with while signing the treaty. He did not know if all vampires were like their council representative, but he was not interested enough to investigate.

'We both know that your anger is misdirected, Orion.'

"None of this would have happened if you did not impregnate an Imperial Dragon," Orion said, still not ready to listen to reason. Then, as a sequence of vivid imagery of Dragon mating floated up through the bond, Orion recoiled and said, "Ice. Too much information."

'What can I say? She was very beautiful,' Ice said dreamily, not the least bit apologetic. 'But you are angry at yourself.'

'Are you up for a flight?' Orion thought, disregarding Ice's foray into the dark thoughts he found no solace in.

Ice rose from his seated posture and offered his saddle up towards Orion. Orion ascended on the back of his Dragon and hastily patted the back of his neck.

'To the cave?' Ice asked.

"Yes please," Orion said out loud, strapping his riding boots into the leather binds that hung beside the saddle. As Ice rose high up into the air, Orion took a deep inhalation and allowed the monsters in his mind to fall away behind him. Ice hummed in approval and sent out a single tendril of thought:

'I chose you because you could always take the decisions that no one else was willing to, Orion.'

***

Lyla arrived the next day, bewilderment written across her frail face at the sudden change in her predicament. When Agatha explained everything to her about the new position she was going to hold, her first concern was whether she was going to be paid. Agatha laughed and assured her that yes, she would be, more than the brothel ever paid her. Agatha kept Lyla in her bedchamber, tending to the bruises on her person and performing a quick Purging spell to rid her of the diseases that now riddled her body, afflictions of the trade that she had picked up during the last few months. There was not much she could do to heal the scars that were left on her mind, except hope that with time, they would dissipate.

Lyla refused to talk about her days with Lord Mannering and Agatha did not press her, instead keeping her busy with horse riding, running and infirmary duties. Their clothes arrived soon and Lyla accepted them without complaint. Sir Blaxton's near constant effervescence seemed to cheer her up more effectively than anything, and not for the first time, Agatha was grateful for the young knight's presence. Before the week was over, the dark circles under Lyla's eyes were all but gone, and Agatha found her throwing the occasional tentative smile at Sir Blaxton and some of the friendlier men in their personal guard.

They set out on a dreary, overcast day, in the high spirits that is often seen at the beginning of a journey. Agatha and Lyla were each given their own horses, the same ones they had used for their riding lessons. Agatha had never known the name of her horse, and when she asked the squire who handed the reins over to her, he gave her a perplexed look and moved on to the next horse. Agatha decided to name the brown stallion Alfred, Lyla laughed at the name, her sweet voice ringing out like crystal in the wind and decided that her white mare should be called Miss Pennypiper.

"That is even more ridiculous," Agatha said firmly as they rode alongside each other. Sir Blaxton, who had overheard the conversation, rode up so that he was beside them and said that he thought it was a nice name. They laughed and prattled about horse names for the better part of the hour.

The procession marched through hamlets and towns, forests and fields, across rivers and along dried riverbeds. Ice followed them overhead, flying in and out of the clouds, joining them only when they set camp in the evenings. Two days into the journey, Agatha began to appreciate why Orion had insisted that they wear men's clothing at all times, whenever she plowed through the dense undergrowth, looking for firewood after they set camp, or when she guided Alfred by his reins through a gushing stream. (Alfred was deathly afraid of water.)

On the second day of their journey, the Forgers Mountain loomed up on the horizon, partially obscured by mist. As they rode on, the snow capped peaks came to greater relief. Agatha and Lyla wrapped their cloaks tightly to protect themselves from the chilly air, and at night, Agatha lit a magical fire in a little mason jar and slipped it under the blankets between her and Lyla so that their toes did not freeze.