Ch 14: For Love Of The Departed

We learn more of Captain Hale, whose history is entwined with Prince Cohagen, his involvement with Aya and feud with Wizard Connor.

    Aya’s bare feet slapped against the cold cobblestone floor, worn

smooth by centuries of use. She turned her head and squealed when

she glimpsed her pursuer, who scowled at her from beneath his

wickedly furrowed brow.
 
   “Aya, don’t make me chase you!”
 
   Aya entered her warm, lushly carpeted room, and started to close

the door, but large hands smacked against the hard wood, quickly

overpowering her. She relinquished the door, causing her pursuer to

stumble in, while she turned and ran into an opposite room, giggling

all the way.

    Her living quarters were large, by far bigger than his. A fire

blazed, producing shadows that leapt about, seemingly sharing in

Aya’s merriment as they danced upon the lavishly decorated walls.

He absently thought his place could use a woman’s touch. Smokeless

incense burned with a slumberous perfume, no doubt an

aphrodisiac; she meant to seduce him, and he couldn't help his

enticement.

    Aya waited on the opposite side of her spacious bed, somewhat

hunched and ready to run. She watched his tensing muscles and

scrutinizing gaze, "Don’t even think it, Hale!"
 
   Hale jumped onto the bed and leapt off in a single bound, landing

beside the cowering Aya. He whipped the downy quilt from her bed

then shrouded her in its tapestry of colors, and she yelped as

darkness overcame her. Strong arms wrapped around her, and she

suddenly felt weightless as he tossed her onto the bed with a lofty

bounce, laughing breathily the whole time, scattering silken sheets

and white pillows in the process. She wiggled free of the blanket and

propped herself on one shoulder, then pulled him close. “Caught me

again,” she enticed with her sparkling violet eyes, looking coyly from

beneath batting eyelashes, then kissed him passionately.

    “I truly do love you,” Hale told her ardently, speaking words as

true to heart as his vow to service his lord and country.

    “I know you do,” she said with the big smile that captivated him

so. Another long, passionate kiss ensued, and he climbed into the

blanket with her, never to leave her room.


    He awoke groggily, knowing instantly he was somewhere he didn’t

belong. He looked the surrounding area over, but everything was

blurry, unfamiliar. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he searched

again, and had to squint against the glare entering a window

opposite the bed, from the sun shining on the snow covered rooftops

of Torahn to luminous effect.

    Something stirred next to him, and he looked over to the sleeping

form of a woman. With a glimpse of her placidly beautiful face, Hale

was filled with a sensation of warmth, and he suddenly felt as though

he did belong, and here he could spend his eternity. Were this his

reward in heaven, then he would gladly die today.

    He watched the woman he loved sleep peacefully, an image of

serenity beside the clashing colors of his restless soul. She had

become the only enduring aspect of his life, everything else seemed

to come and go, to merely exist in the world; except his friendship

with Cohagen.

    Hale wished to linger in the warm comfort of Aya’s bed forever,

but he knew he must depart. His comrade in arms, his blood

brother, was in peril, and it was his sworn duty to defend the Crown,

so he would fight by his friend’s side. Not that the Great Paladin

couldn’t take care of himself, but Hale had little trouble envisioning

that dark-eyed Magi, Christian, betraying his friend.

    Cohagen was a skilled swordsman, yet Hale had always been

better, ever since they’d come of age and apprenticed under the

tutelage of the man whom both considered father: Dorian Jidoor.

Hale was raised in the castle proper since he was orphaned at six, his

mother’s death during the birth of his stillborn brother, and his

father, who worked in the subterranean furnaces, died during the

forging of the Paladin’s armor. He knew little of him, whose

intermittent presence made slight impact on Hale’s life the short

time he was alive. Yet, Dorian Jidoor was a powerful influence,

whom he looked up to after Queen Leticia had heard of the boy’s

plight and took him in as her own. It was her giving spirit and

motherly deeds that instilled within him a sense of faith in the Light.

He could still hear her consoling words, telling him how brave his

father was, and what his sacrifice meant to the Crown. He could

almost feel the warmth of her presence, with his little arms wrapped

around her waist, her fingers playfully tousling his hair as she led him

away from his father’s funeral. Her son of roughly the same age

bore no grudge against the orphan, even after she’d passed away

from her long battle with the wasting disease, which tore at the

heart of their family as they watched her long struggle, with doctors

and healers of every sort raising hopes then dashing them. The

power of magic, the knowledge of science, and the faith in prayer

couldn’t keep her in this world, yet they were consoled with the

belief that she walked the Path of Light in the solace of the Love of

the Departed. Hale knew it to be true, since her kind heart and

nurturing affections saved his young soul from a dark fate, so he

lifted a prayer into the sky every night in Queen Leticia’s name,

certain her spirit was amongst the eternal stars, illuminating the

darkness with her shining Light.

    This tragedy actually served to bring the boys closer together,

their youthful sorrow bonding them until they became inseparable.

But, it was their training that made them brothers. Even though

Cohagen had a year-long head-start, Hale was eager to impress upon

his new idol, and quickly surpassed his lackadaisical young Prince with

his effort and discipline, making marks with squire and knight alike,

until his King would have to take notice. Instead of becoming petty

or jealous, Cohagen intensified his training in what would become a

wholesome sibling rivalry for his father’s affections and praise. Even

though they would walk different paths, their bond of brotherhood

only grew stronger as they faced and surmounted every obstacle in

their way. Yet, as boys grow into young men, responsibilities change,

and adult expectations are imposed upon those chosen to dedicate

their lives to the service of the Light. Hale would squire for the King

himself, since he and Cohagen were taught the Ways of the Paladin,

but the Prince was indispensable to secure the mantle of the Paladin

in the Jidooran bloodline, essentially making Hale the expendable

youth. But, he confronted the dangers of squiredom and served the

Great Paladin with a confident zeal, while the Prince trained to one

day inherit his Birthright. He knew this bothered Cohagen, being

confined within the castle while he gallivanted across the Northern

Tier with his father, and a wedge came between them as they grew

apart. The Prince almost felt that Hale was closer to the King than

he, secretly envying their time together, and the intimate bond that

a squire shares with his liege from years of faithful and dedicated

service. To many, Cohagen seemed a sequestered child-Prince, while

Hale was lauded with praise as aide to the Champion of the North,

and as an example of what every young man should strive to be. But,

the spirited days of youth are quick to come to an end, as they do,

and Hale had to groom an apprentice for his squireship, before he

became a Templar in training for the future Great Paladin. It was

then that the two men would butt heads, with the wedge between

them removed, there was nothing to restrain the enmity that

festered while their sibling rivalry had become contentious. But, they

resolved their issues in the ways of young men full of spirits and fire,

with fists and fury, followed by more spirits. It would be in the

unmentionable trials they’d face together in the years to come, in

service of Lord and Light, that helped them put the brash days of

their youth behind, forging an unbreakable bond.

    These thoughts still reverberated in his mind as he slipped quietly

from bed, sure not to disturb his sleeping love. Again, Hale revered

his beautiful Aya, watching her silent slumber, awed by the welling

compassion and feeling of Life she inspired within him. Their

fifteen-year age difference was somewhat awkward in the presence

of others, but there wasn’t another woman like her in the whole of

Canaan, and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with

her.

    He suddenly found himself thinking of the young Magi, of sharing

in his plight if harm befell his Aya, as he quietly retrieved the clean

attire thoughtfully left by her. Could he have waited for justice to

take its often tortuous course, even with the lawlessness that

permeates the Southland? He did not condone Christian’s actions, but

he empathized with the desolate sense of hopelessness behind his act

of desperation. He wrestled with his emotions as he donned the basic

wear of woodsmen: a winterized, forest-hued tunic and trousers,

with sturdily made travel boots, and a utility belt complete with

knife, compass, and an assortment of field items. Then, he strapped

on the light armor of his uniform, which protected his vulnerables

with a dual-layer of soft, flexible leather over a tough, studded

padding of various density, wrapped in a crosshatched weave of a

strong, hempen fiber, difficult to pierce with the sharpest tip or cut

with the keenest edge. He threw on a dark, waterproofed overcloak

to conceal his station from prying eyes.

    Storming purposefully into the torch-lit hall, he practically ran into

the man he was searching for, and they confronted each other with

their reputed acrimony. A tall, bony-faced older man with piercing

blue eyes boldly confronted the Captain, his limp, white hair draping

his shoulders in cloudy waves, spilling over the richly embroidered

shoulders of his blue robes. He almost always wore them, to signify

his position as not only a wizard, but royal consul and Magi Arbiter.

    “Greetings, Hale,” his evanescent voice breezed faintly.

    “Connor,” he acknowledged gruffly.

    “You follow the Prince, do you not?”

    “Stay outta my mind, wizard, or else!”

    “Never,” Connor conceded, not in the least surprised by the

accusation. “I fail to comprehend your fear of magic-”

    This openly angered Hale, “I ain’t afraid of anything! I just don’t

trust it!” he spat.

    “How could you think in such a way, considering all that I’ve

taught you of its wonders?”

    “After the horrors I’ve seen of it, my childhood fascination has

been perverted into resentment.”

    “Ever since Galador… What happened in the Palace Rotund, when

the Prince faced Rabra?”

    With the merest mention of that day it all came back in a rush,

memories flashing in his mind with no sense of time, and he fought a

shudder. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” The anger returned to his

eyes, “I tire of this argument, so if you have anything to say, let it

be said, and leave me be!”

    The wizard let out a sad sigh, “Princess Jeannia left the palace

late last night in pursuit of the Prince.”

    “Into the Forest? Alone?”

    “The Princess is capable beyond her years, Captain.”

    “She shoulda gone with him in the first place,” he grumbled, “it

was foolhardy to rush off into the unknown with that cursed Magi!”

    Connor disregarded the Captain’s tone, “I believe there is little to

fear from Christian, and Prince Cohagen did as he thought best at

the time. There was the threat of ambush to think about.”

    “Well, I smell more rats, still lurking in the walls, like Chauser

Argyre or that assemblywoman’s assistant. Agents of Galador and

the Dark Lord are out there, lying in wait, using their foul sorceries

to spy on our minds, trying to pluck state secrets from the very air!”

He gave the old wizard a critical glare, like a spark in the fumes of

their long feud over magic.

    Connor refused to repudiate Hale’s intolerance, wholly convinced

that he’d be a sympathizer of the Inquisition were it not forbidden

by the Crown. As a Magi Arbiter, Connor was privy to more

information about Psyops counter intelligence than most. These

individuals spent their time fabricating lives, wearing identities like

attire to be stripped and changed at a moments convenience, which

often meant the difference between life and death. Their secret art

was practiced by an elite few, who were as good as dead to those

left behind when they gave up their previous lives to join psychic

operations. These men and women were dedicated patriots, willing

to make the ultimate sacrifice in defense of lord and country. With

magic as a guise, they could infiltrate the enemy and gain secrets,

do reconnaissance, or take military action. With all this in mind,

Connor didn’t know which to fear more: agents of Galador or The

Dark Lord? Each had their own sinister intent, but in the end it

seemed like one superseded the other, with its threat of Darkness

looming over the whole of Canaan.

    “Returning to the topic at hand,” Connor asserted imperiously,

“The Princess left specific instructions for you to follow, using the

Erinn Pass, and to root out any ambush that may have been lying in

wait.”

    “I’ll see what I can do.”

    “At your discretion, of course. Good Journey,” Connor gave him a

nod and took his leave, his robes rustling quietly against the

cobblestone floor.

    Hale continued to his place, to gear up for the trip and prepare

his soldier’s armor. He would have to be ready for anything.

Author's Note

Was looking to give this character depth and emotion, hoping to get the reader to empathize with him considering his auspicious beginnings in the Prologue.