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A PALADIN'S WAR
CHAPTER NINE
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Sealed in Blood
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Under a cloudless morning sky decorated only by the occasional hawk wheeling high in the air, the Dwarven army marched, the Sorral Plain stretching away to the north and west, and the Emerin Forest looming darkly in the south, the vast wood home to as many myths and fables as there were trees. Riding alongside Noah near the head of the long column of mounted soldiers, Elaina stared off to her left wistfully, smiling sadly as she recalled the long years she'd spent there, alone most of the time. It had all been worth it, though.
Moving an army this size through a dense wood was arduous at best, painful at worst, so Burin had moved the force out onto the plain as soon as possible, making the rest of the journey longer as the crow flew, but much faster. There was little danger in travelling in the open; no force existed that could challenge ninety thousand
drengr,
at least in this part of the world.
Unless the Heralds decide to empty their cities and come south,
she thought sourly. The idea was unlikely; the Heralds had taken Ironshire but lost the town soon after to darkspawn. Routed, the Heralds had fled north, to Maralon or even further, to their fortified cities called the Dawnguard, which occupied a large section of the northern coast of Ekistair. Either way, Ironshire needed to be taken back.
Of a size with Vesovar, the retaking of Ironshire was likely to be bloody. She absently fingered the leather-wrapped haft of Shatter where it lay strapped across the front of her saddle as she remembered that night not so long ago, fighting in the dark and the rain, protecting a defenceless Noah against waves of monsters.
And I'd do it again,
she thought grimly.
Though I hope I don't need to. I'd like to live a little longer, yet.
"And what has turned your thoughts so dark on such a bright day?" Noah enquired, taking his slate-grey eyes off the landscape for a moment to regard her. Tall and slender and dressed in leathers and furs, with bushy red hair and a matching beard, he gave the appearance of a wild man from the Edincairn, though it was just an appearance.
Elaina gave him a brief but genuine smile. "Darkspawn, war, Heralds of Dawn. Any one alone would be enough, my love, but all are weighing heavy on me, this morning."
"I see," Noah replied. He studied her for a moment. "Are you not glad we will be with your friend, soon? Henley?"
She
was
glad for that. To see Henley again in the flesh would be a ray of sunshine penetrating an otherwise stormy sky. Thinking of storms added another worry to her growing pile; there hadn't been a wild, unpredicted storm for two weeks, now, when for the past several months they had been more regular. Why had they stopped? She should be pleased for it, but something told her the reason for the quiet weather was not a good one. "I am," she answered Noah. "Truly. It will be grand to be together again. You will like him, I think."
"I look forward to meeting him," Noah said, glancing behind him to check on his sister, who rode a short way back. Pale and pretty, with a light smattering of freckles that matched her deep red hair, Edda Stoneman was staring at her rotund horse's mane - though not really seeing it - while doing breathing exercises.
Elaina smiled when she noticed. Edda was a quick learner, and the death of her sister and parents had ignited a fire in her, a deep desire to grow strong. She would make a great Paladin, if Elaina could keep her from letting that fire consume her. So far, she seemed to be balancing her training and her grieving well, though Elaina was watching her carefully for any signs of emotional struggle.
Thinking of Edda's family made Elaina think of her own. A mother, father, and brother whose faces she had not seen for over thirty years. She'd turned Vesovar upside-down searching for them after the battle, but to no avail. Maybe they'd moved from the city already and were living somewhere else, or maybe their bodies were still there somewhere, missed by her searching. She hoped they were well, wherever they were, though a small part of her was relieved she had not found them, alive or dead.
She still remembered the look in their eyes on the day she'd left. Her mother and father, staring at her as if they'd never seen her before. Her little brother, Edmund, his wide-eyed gaze full of fear, as if his sister had become a monster right in front of him, or perhaps had been a monster all along.
Sadness welled in her, but it was an old ache, a far cry from the terrible, raw pain she had endured as a young woman of eighteen.
"You are thinking about them again," Noah observed accurately, sparing her a compassionate glance.
She sighed. Not many people knew about her family. Henley did, and Aran, of course. Noah had pulled it from her after watching her comb Vesovar for three days with no explanation. "I just thought if I found them," she began, "I would at least get some closure. The not knowing is almost as bad as finding them dead would have been." She winced as soon as she said that; Noah's family were in very fresh graves, and he was still reconciling his own grief. "I am sorry," she said quickly. "I did not think."
He only smiled at her, though. "Nothing to be sorry for," he told her graciously. "I know you meant no hurt." After a moment he added, "But you are wrong in what you said. Anything is better than finding them dead, my heart."
He was right, of course. He knew better than most. Her
meldin
fell silent for a time after that, and she gave him some space. Wanting to do something useful - and to get away from her troubled thoughts - she fell back a bit to ride alongside a young man who was very lucky to be here at all.
Deven Blake rode alone in a small pocket left for him by the surrounding soldiers, all of whom considered him to be the enemy. They were under orders from Burin to leave the young Herald - former Herald, now - alone, but that didn't stop them from casting menacing stares in his direction.
Barely twenty years old, plain-faced young Deven had been buried in rubble and an hour or two from death when she'd found him in Vesovar. A few days in Dwarven care had seen him on the path to recovery - it had taken some convincing to make the Dwarves tend a sworn enemy - and now all that remained of his injuries was a bandage around his temples and a slight limp. He rode hunched in his saddle, however, as if he expected a knife or arrow to find him any moment, though in reality he was safe enough; the
drengr
would not disobey Burin's orders. He appeared lost in his thoughts, his dark eyes pensive. Elaina knew all about that, these days.
"Are you well, Deven?" she enquired gently as Willow fell into step beside the roan gelding that had been found for him. He looked up briefly and nodded, then hurriedly averted his eyes, his cheeks colouring. Elaina grinned despite her sombre mood; seeing a young man's reaction to her face added a little brightness to the morning. He had given her the same yesterday, and the day before that.
"Well enough, miss - uh... madam." He stumbled over what to call her.
"Elaina will do," she told him kindly.
Another brief glance, though this time he held her eyes for a second. "Elaina," he repeated, then withdrew again, uncertain of himself.
"Are you being treated well? If there are any problems, please tell me, and I will resolve the matter." Five days she had been coming to him, to make sure he was well, and the Dwarves weren't making his life miserable, but each day he had chosen to remain quiet. She could have aligned with him, but something told her not to use her abilities with him, just yet.
Deven winced as if she'd just hit him, which didn't make sense. She was just trying to show the boy some kindness, something he'd no doubt been in short supply of. "What is it?" she asked. "Have I said something wrong?" She got a shock when his head came up, his eyes blazing.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he demanded. This was the first real life she'd seen in him since she'd found him in Vesovar. "You know what I am!" Some of the nearby Dwarves shifted in their saddles. A few hands strayed toward weapons, but Elaina held out a hand to stall them. There was no danger, here.
"What you
were
," she corrected firmly, but Deven scoffed. Despite his sudden incensed attitude, it was nice to see some spirit from the lad.
"You don't understand!" he said angrily. "It is not so easy as you think."
Elaina frowned. "What isn't?"
He appeared ready to say more, but then just shook his head in resignation. "Never mind." He withdrew again, shutting her out.
"Deven," she said softly, leaning close to him. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was listening. "I'm trying to help you. Is there a way you can help me to understand?"
His lips curled in the beginnings of a grimace, or maybe a snarl, but then a tear escaped the corner of his eye. "They'll find me," he said in barely more than a whisper. "They will. And they'll punish me before they execute me in public. That's what they do to traitors."
Elaina finally understood why he'd been so silent. "And the more you speak with me, the worse it gets for you." She didn't need his nod to know the truth. "Did you believe in them, Deven? The Heralds?" The poor lad looked like he was about to be sick.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "My beliefs make no difference."
"That's what they want you to think," Elaina countered gently. "And if you're so afraid of them that you never question, never leave, they get exactly what they want."
"All it takes is one, Elaina. One spy, one pair of eyes to see me with you and I'm done."
Elaina nodded. "I agree. Which is why I'm going to protect you."
The younger man's shoulders shook with mirthless, silent laughter. "It won't make a difference," he said flatly. "They have... ways... of killing even people like you."
