Chapter 3 - Arrivals

Edmund woke to a dark blue sky, a subtle golden glow just breaking over the horizon with the hues of Roland's Gem, a padparadscha sapphire set into the pommel of their founder's holy sword. The memory of his dreams faded quickly, as dreams are apt to do, and soon he was left only with the impression of an unfamiliar metal disc or coin rotating slowly in the sunlight.

He did not ponder long and turned his gaze toward the remains of the fire and the approaching form of his travelling-companion. Katya stood over him with a tin mug of bitter-smelling tea, returning the favour he had given her the previous night.

He extended a still-gloved hand from beneath the furs and took the drink, glad of the shelter from the wind despite the lack of sensation in his fingers. He saw now why frostbite was the first injury the order taught them to recognise, since he was sure it was also the most common even in the days when the fortress had seen battle.

“Once you are up,” Katya said, “I can strike the shelter and we can get moving. The sooner we get going, the sooner we reach the lesser fort and a real fire. Just think, Edmund; hot food...”

The thought certainly appealed to Edmund as he dragged himself up and onto the cart, bringing as many of the furs with him as he could carry with one hand. He knew he needed to urinate, but the idea of exposing even so small a part of himself to the cold stayed his bladder. They would be inside and warm soon enough, so he told himself, and then he could eliminate comfortably.

“You could just piss on the fire...” Katya called to him.

For a moment, he simply stared in shock. It was not so much her use of coarse language as the way she seemed to read his mind.

“I grew up in a fortress surrounded by men,” the paladin explained, “so I don't think it's too surprising. Besides, that's what I had to do once I was sure you were asleep. At least you can do it without removing your trousers.”

Edmund could not help but laugh, seeing all of the illusions he had managed to hold shattered by a single morning out in the wilderness with her. As he approached the fire-pit, he saw that it was little more than embers now, but still warm enough that he thought he would risk exposing himself to the mountain air.

Katya turned with feigned exasperation and Edmund set to untying, untucking and unbuttoning the myriad layers of protection from the cold, finally relieving himself noisily into the glowing coals. As he finished, he looked up to find Katya watching him with amusement. Her eyes met his, but he felt certain that they had been directed lower a moment ago.

“So that is what all the fuss is about?” she said as he rushed to recover his modesty.

“I thought you were taking down the shelter!”

“I was, but I finished before you did, it seems.” she said, indicating the neat pile of rods and folded canvas.

“You could have warned me that you were turning around.”

Katya shrugged and started loading the supplies onto the wagon, her smile never leaving her face. In the end, Edmund realised that his indignation was more at his wounded pride than true harm. He walked to the cart and sat down on the bench to finish his tea.

“It's usually bigger.” he said defensively.

“So I hear.”

“It is just the cold...”

He turned to see Katya piling snow onto the remains of the fire, then she stepped up and sat beside Edmund on the bench, taking his gloved hands in hers. He looked into her eyes and saw a certain disappointment mixed with contrition in her expression.

“Edmund, you needn't make apologise. I was wrong.”

With that, they set out. Nothing more could be added, not without seeming crass or inappropriate, and so they passed the time in silent contemplation. Within the hour, it seemed that life was returning to the world and the world beside the path soon showed more grasses than snow. The temperature also rose steadily as both the sun's rise and their descent of the mountain continued.

Finally, Katya broke their silence.

“It isn't fair, in all honesty.” she said without turning.

“What isn't fair?”

“Your failure. I am far from perfect, as I managed to prove this morning with my shameful actions and by mocking you afterwards, but I am a paladin and you are not.”

“I am not sure that it makes any sense to question the past.” Edmund said after a moment's thought, “None may know the mind of a god, they say. In fact, it was only last night that you were ready to kill me for doubting that there was a higher purpose to it all.”

“That's not what I mean; I trust that you are alive for a reason, even that you failed for a reason, but I find it unfair that you are forced to suffer for a reason that none of us can see.”

Edmund considered her words, knowing that she was right and yet not feeling her sense of injustice even as the victim of those events. He did not know how to frame his feelings, mixed as they were, but he felt some measure of relief this morning that he could not explain. He realised that some part of him was relieved that he had not become a paladin that night.

“Hail, friends.” came a call from further along the path where a pair of cloaked men stood warily.

“Greetings of the dawn to you both.” Katya called in response.

Edmund saw a slight relaxing of the two figures' wariness at the reply. By their armour, they were paladins, knights from the Order of Morning. They were far enough that he could not pin names to their voices, but it seemed that they recognised Katya's voice and they moved to open the doors of the Order's small fort.

Glancing at the doors, Edmund realised that the fort would be little defence from a larger force and could not hope to hold the pass from invaders, but a small supply of Eastern Rockets lay beside each watch-fire and would provide an early warning to the fortress higher up the mountain. These strange devices, paper tubes filled with arcane powders and strapped to a wooden spike, could be launched into the air at a moment's notice and would explode high above the earth in a star-burst visible for many miles in all directions.

A simple wooden palisade surrounded the collection of huddled barracks and a dining-hall. The fort was never meant for a permanent garrison, but knights from the fortress would be assigned here for a month at a time to watch the pass. Nobody expected an attack, peace had reigned in the region for so long now, but the fort was manned as a matter of course and tradition. Besides this, many reasoned that the fort and its ability to warn the fortress above of danger might be a contributing factor in this lasting peace. At the very least, it provided a way-station for travellersw to and from the main fortress.

Edmund watched with a mixture of regret and excitement as knights saw to their morning sword-practice at his left, wondering if he might be healed enough to join them for their afternoon exercises before setting out for the monastery. Even if he were too weak to spar, surely he would be allowed to practice forms with the paladins before they left. But then again, he reflected, he would forgo even that for the sake of a warm bath and one more hot meal.

“Sera Katya, Squire Edmund.” said a groom, smiling as he guided the mules toward the small stables downwind of the main buildings, “I heard that you might be coming this way soon.”

“We had hoped to arrive last night,” Katya told him, “but we found the sun was setting while we were still two hour's journey from the fort.”

“That would be about right,” the groom agreed, “this fort's about a day's ride from the main fortress for a horse, but the Order obviously weren't thinking about mules. Steady and reliable they might be, but it would often be faster to walk.”

Katya continued to exchange pleasantries with the groom as they unloaded the packs and arranged for servants to take them to the guest rooms. Edmund was simply relieved to be spared the work; while at first he had been irritated to be excluded from the conversation, he soon realised that climbing down from the wooden bench was taking all of his attention.

He moved like an old man, tentatively stretching stiffened limbs as he sought one step and then another. Where Katya had simply leapt to the straw-covered earth, Edmund was not confident enough to try the same and eased himself to the floor in his own time. He hoped this was not a start of a relapse into his earlier frailty, but found to his relief that simply walking brought the strength back to his legs.

“Squire Edmund,” the groom said as Katya left the stable, “I have heard some strange tales regarding the two of you. They say that she brought you back from the dead.”

“Yes,” Edmund told him, “I do not know why she brought me back, but she did.”

“I had always heard that a paladin could bring the dead back to life, but I thought they were simply legends.”

Edmund shrugged, “A paladin is simply a conduit for the Lord of Morning, or so they say. Sera Katya would tell you that he healed me, she just provided the means.”

“Oh, I see.” the groom replied, “Why do the paladins seem so upset about it then? It sounds like the Lord of Morning wanted you to live, so why did they send the two of you away? Why did they not appoint you a paladin?”

For a moment, Edmund felt the sting of jealousy and suspicion in his breast; why indeed, when he had been saved by the Lord of Morning himself? Who were the Order to deny him his rightful status? A sense of righteous anger started to bubble forth.

“They say,” continued the groom, “those who would know such things, that dark shadows are abroad in that fortress of theirs. I had heard that they poison young squires who might threaten the inner circle's control. When a squire appears who might return the order to its holy aims, when such a squire rises to take the tests, they slip a mortal poison into the ritual wine.”

“No... They wouldn't...” Edmund said, though the groom's words made sense to his troubled mind.

“Really?” the groom asked, “And what grave sin or failing did the Lord of Morning reject you for? Why did he let you die when other less worthy squires were raised to the Order?”

“My pride...” Edmund said, but he said it without faith.

“Oh yes, of course. I suppose it is a terrible flaw to accept your skill and courage, a mortal sin to believe that you might be worthy...”

Edmund felt the conflict in his mind. He had been raised in the Order since childhood, trained by great men. Everything he had been taught suggested that this mere servant was wrong, mistaken, but he felt a thread of truth to it. Perhaps it was not the order which was corrupt, but merely its leaders. Yes, he though, that would fit. He had never trusted the inner circle, plotting in secret and leaving the lower ranks of the Order to enact their dark desires.

Something seemed to be wrong though, there was a lie or a mistake in his thinking. He knew that the facts made sense, but he could not bring himself to believe.

“Answer me this,” the groom continued, obviously seeing his indecision, “why would the Lord of Morning give you back your life if it was his will that you die in the rite of initiation?”

At that, Edmund felt his faith fall apart. That was the question that had been tormenting him since he woke in the hospital. Why would the Lord of Morning let him die, only to bring him back when Katya asked it of him? Was he such a fickle god to abandon his squires to their fate one moment and then raise them in the next?

“And how would a worm like you know so much about the inner workings of the Order?” came the challenge from the doorway of the stable.

The voice was unfamiliar to Edmund, but he saw a look of shock cross the groom's face, only to be replaced by utter hatred. At once, Edmund felt a darkness in his mind receding; it had come upon him so slowly that he had not noticed, but Edmund realised that he had been freed from a foul magic.

He turned to see the newcomer, expecting a paladin, but was surprised by the figure in the doorway. The stranger was dressed in silks and wool, holding a narrow blade where the order favoured heavier swords and armour. He seemed to have dressed with more romanticism than practicality; tight breeches tucked into long riding boots, a black cloak lined with crimson fell over a loose white shirt and a leather waistcoat completed the outfit.

“Hunter...” spat the groom.

“Worm...” replied the figure with a broad smile.

The groom made a lunge for Edmund, drawing a knife from his belt, but the squire easily deflected the blow and struck him across the jaw with his other hand. Weak though he was, Edmund's training served him well enough against his opponent now that he had lost the advantage of surprise.

Off balance and caught between two foes, the groom seemed to know he was beaten. Turning his knife, he thrust it deep into his chest and died quickly with a mocking smile on his lips.

“Healer!” Edmund called, by the stranger shook his head.

“He's dead. And even a paladin wouldn't be able to bring back a willing suicide.”

“What?” Edmund asked, shocked at the man's calm.

“The spirit must be free and willing to return.”

“So there is no way to question him?”

“Not without resorting to necromancy, which I doubt the Order would approve of.”

“Damn him!” Edmund spat, “He almost had me convinced.”

“It is worse than that, he almost had you under his will.”

“Sorcery?”

“I am afraid so.”

Edmund slumped against the wall, exhausted by his efforts and drained by the realisation that he had almost fallen prey to mind control. Even when he heard footsteps racing across the cobbles outside, it seemed that they came from much farther away. The world was fading fast.

“Drink this.” the stranger told him, pushing a flask into his hands.

Edmund took the flask in both hands and took a long pull on it, gulping down the proffered liquid. He felt it burn his mouth and chest, exploding outwards in a wave of nausea and vapours that left him on his knees, struggling to breathe through a bout of violent coughing.

The dimness receded from his mind, replaced by a dizziness and a vague sense of calm, as the flask was pulled from his fingers.

“You do not want to spill this.”

“What did you give him?” Katya's voice asked threateningly.

“Lodinic vodka.” the stranger told her calmly.

“But...”

“The corpse belongs to a former sorcerer, who had been trying to enchant his mind.”

“What?”

“It is okay, he is dead now.”

“But... Vodka?”

“Why not? After an experience like that, I know I'd need a drink...”

Edmund pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself against the cart. Katya stood, filled with righteous fury and brandishing her sword at the stranger. Behind them, two paladins knelt over the corpse of the groom with expressions of concern on their faces.

“Who are you, hunter.” Edmund asked.

“I am... Hunter, Captain John Hunter.” the stranger responded.

Immediately, Edmund found himself standing straighter and Katya stared with open eyes as her indignation fought with her sense of duty. Finally, her training won and she snapped to a semblance of attention. Hunter only laughed at this much to the distaste of the paladins in the room.

“I am sorry, but you misunderstand me.” he explained, “I am Captain Hunter of the city watch in Lodin, not a captain of the Order. Tyche's sweet backside, they'd never let a man like me into the Order of Morning.”

Katya covered her embarrassment with a scowl, easily the equal of the disapproval of every other paladin's face. It was almost enough to make Edmund laugh, though he restrained himself for the sake of his friend. After more than a decade and a half trying to become one of these dour knights, knowing only honour and discipline, it was strange to meet an outsider to this world.

“Come,” Hunter said to the young squire, “take my hand and let's find you some food to help you straighten your head out.”

“Not a bad idea.” admitted Katya, pulling Edmund's arm across her shoulders.

As they crossed the courtyard, the cold air blew away much of the haziness in Edmund's mind, but his fatigue was quickly catching up with him. He found himself leaning more and more on Katya's shoulder, but she refused to utter a word of complaint or to ask for Hunter's help.

Breakfast was being served as they reached the dining hall, bread and bacon with wild mushrooms. They were lucky to catch the changing of the watch, they realised; paladins returning from the palisade and patrols of the local area, a number of the latter bringing in the mushrooms, were sitting down to eat and so the food was still hot when it was served to them.

Edmund realised as he ate that they sat in a clear space within the hall, though whether they were being shunned for the events of the previous week or simply for sitting with Hunter, he could not say.

“Drink this and eat something; you will feel better.” Hunter remarked as he poured a cup of water for Edmund.

Though she looked at it suspiciously, Katya stopped short of checking Edmund's water before he started drinking. He could tell that she did not trust the stranger, but he could not say that it was wholly deserved and decided to say as much.

“Katya. Be kind... Hunter here saved me from a sorcerer. His timing was perfect, or else I would be no better than Fallen right now.”

“Perfect timing?” she asked, mockingly.

“Yes, if he had not been there to fight off the evil mage...”

“Fight? Did he fight? I thought those wounds looked self-inflicted”

“Well, he didn't actually fight...” Edmund admitted, “But he was ready to...”

Katya rolled her eyes at Edmund's defences, but said no more. Edmund noticed that Hunter was feigning interest in events across the hall, pointedly paying no attention to their bickering, and likewise dropped the discussion.

“I must say,” Hunter said at last, “that you are a curious specimen, young man.”

“In what way?” Edmund asked.

“I had heard that you were near death not a week ago, poisoned by the holy wine of the Order, and still barely strong enough to travel.”

“You heard the truth, though it pains me to say as much.”

“Yes,” Hunter said pensively, “but I also saw you hold off a most insidious enchantment with nothing but faith and your own strength of will.”

“Barely... You said he almost had me...”

“Perhaps, but you held up better than most even without considering your recent trials.”

“Thank-you.” Edmund said, pleased by the stranger's words.

“More than that, you held off an armed assailant with your bare hands and even managed to score a solid blow upon him.”

“Is there a point to your flattery?” Katya interjected.

“Yes,” he shot back, “I was wondering how the city watch might suit a former squire of the Order.”

“The city watch?” she replied with a mocking tone “What a noble brotherhood you would bring him into!”

Hunter threw up his hands in submission, “I was simply suggesting that a paladin's life is not the only way to oppose evil.”

“I thank you for your concern,” Edmund told him before Katya could say anything more, “but you saw yourself why I cannot take up your offer.”

“The dark cultists and evil magic-users? I understand, though I must confess that they have infested Lodin. That was why I was able to recognise the groom this morning; he had disappeared from a holding cell in the city, but I never thought he would be so bold as to travel so close to the Order of Morning.

“I would suggest that the Order might want to be more careful with their servants; a true paladin might be better equipped to shrug off a spell of mind-control, but no amount of faith will save you from a knife as you sleep.”

“I am sure the Order will thank you for your suggestion.” Katya told him.

“Perhaps,” the older man told her, “but not for the news I bring to the Lord-Commander.”

“News?” Edmund asked, working again to forestall Katya's inevitable retort.

“Lodin has always been a city of intrigue and cults, but something darker is rising. You saw for yourself, some of the cultists have started to display true power; Worm was just a low-level seller of curses and hexes this time last year, peddling charms to the gullible and each one of them as ineffectual as the next.

“Today, he turned up in a fort full of paladins with enough knowledge of magic to turn the mind of even a fully-trained squire of the Order of Morning. Imagine what it means if one of Lodin's cults has found a patron, a dark power to answer their prayers. If they ever got themselves organised, we could be looking at another War of Dusk within the year.”

Edmund at in shocked silence. He wanted to disbelieve, but he had felt the strength of Worm's enchantments when Captain Hunter had broken the cultist's concentration and they had fallen away.