***
Lady Orla Farvous sat on a slab of stone adjacent to a half collapsed wall with her armour laid out on the grass before her. One of Jaan’s sons was balanced on the wall, his bare legs swinging in the morning sun. Orla was oiling the joins in her armour and working polish into the grooves. She was recounting a tale to the boy and Hunor paused out of view to listen.
“So it was with a heavy heart that Sir Kel-Tor returned from battle with the mountain giants atop his griffon. His three comrades, the very first Knights of the Air, had all fallen beneath the deadly clubs of the giants. Clubs that were as long as trees, shod with steel spikes as broad as your arm.
“Yet in his despair there was the sense that history was in his grasp. The delay to the giants’ advances had been essential. For at the vital moment, as the king of the giants—Echriz Skullsplitter—smashed the walls of Coonor as if they were but glass, the Netreptans arrived. Echriz had grown over-confident, smug in the knowledge that the magic of the Air-mages, an order then in its infancy, could not harm him. Yet as the sky grew dark with hordes of bird men, his mocking countenance faded and the arrows fell like a hard rain on the king, his giant brethren and their lapdog trolls.”
“Have you fought a mountain giant, m’lady, atop your griffon?” the boy asked.
“I have, several years ago now. They’re awesome creatures, young man. Think of a troll, now they are a good ten feet tall. Quadruple that and you’ve an idea of what you are looking at,” Orla said.
The boy paused. “Quadruple, m’lady?”
Orla laughed. “Four times, master Hinfer, four times. Think of one sheep then, well, stand three more on top of it.”
Hinfer nodded, chewing some salted beef, and then his eyes widened. “So that’ll be like two of father’s cottages piled atop each other? How can you fight that, m’lady?”
Orla eased back on the slab, the sun illuminating her face and grey hair. “With speed, courage, armour and sharp steel in your hand.”
Hunor descended the grass bank with a forced stroll, trying to imply he hadn’t been skulking within earshot.
“And a ton of griffon beneath you so you can reach his boulder of a head!”
Orla stiffened, looking embarrassed at her relaxed demeanour with the farm boy.
“And we appear to be lacking in those. What value a grounded Knight of the Air?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some use for you, Lady Orla. Run along, Hinfer, I think your mother was after you. Something about lambing.”
Hinfer scurried from the wall.
“And don’t go and hide in those caves, little mate,” Hunor said. Hinfer pulled a face and scampered away.
Hunor watched him go then sat beside Orla.
“Are you recruiting to the knighthood from the farmlands of Thetoria now, m’lady?”
Orla smiled thinly. “The boy has a deep curiosity and he has clearly heard all the tales of Thetorian legend a dozen times over, though as I understand they tend to revolve around drinking, duels and winning the day by being roguish.”
“They’re my favourites,” Hunor said. He nodded at the pauldron that Orla was oiling. “Is the armour magnate?”
Orla ran her fingers over the contours and etchings on the shoulder guard.
“Your entrepreneur’s eye is correct, Hunor. An alloy of steel, magnate and coke.”
Hunor picked up a cuisse and tossed it in the air. It felt as light as his own hardened leather armour. “You use the magnate for the lightness then, not for the magical binding?”
She shook her head. “Some of the upper ranks, first and second lances have wards and enchantments on their armour, but generally it is saved for weapons.”
“Like Emelia’s sword?” Hunor gestured at the weapon resting against the mossy wall.
“Emelia’s sword? I think you conveniently forget you stole it from the vault of my uncle Talis. Your own usage of it was a necessity in the skirmish with the demon, but I certainly don’t plan for the girl to reclaim it.”
“She’s not in particular need of it as of now.”
Orla’s irritation faded slightly. “How is she? I assume Jem is with her at present?”
“Where else? She’s hanging on despite the wound but she’s running a fever that would make an Incandian jealous. We can’t tarry here too long no matter how grim she seems. We’ll need to ride up through the hills and into the Silver Mountains west of Evik’s Pass to find Mek-ik-Ten.”
“And Jem feels certain that finding this Mek-ik-Ten is the only hope for Emelia’s festering wound?”
Hunor looked over at her. The knight’s manner had changed subtly. “Jem and I have great regard for him—he pulled us through some… crazy times. Jem seeks him for his counsel as well as his healing skills.”
“You mean counsel with regards the blue crystal?”
“Amongst other things. Jem means to keep the crystal for the time being. I assume you realise that?”
Orla’s jaw muscles flickered in annoyance. “Indeed I do. You know my own feelings are that we should return the stone to its owner back in Coonor. Where better to secure it than the impregnable walls of the Citadel of Air?”
“If it’s at all like the Keep then it’s hardly secure—not when a two bit thief like me can steal it. No, I can’t see Jem giving it away so easily. Anyway you owe us for saving your proud behind. That’s in the code of honour or something isn’t it?”
Orla flushed and Hunor thought perhaps he had gone too far.
“That much is true,” Orla said. “It is my eternal regret that my bravado cost my men their lives and in many ways I dread the return to Coonor and the task of informing their families of their loss.”
If she knew one of them was still alive tucked away in the baron’s dungeon she’d be dragging us back there, Hunor thought with an unfamiliar sense of guilt.
“I am also sure you can see why Coonor is the last place we’ll be heading irrespective of the choices you make,” Hunor said. “Whatever good word you may or may not put in for us, Jem and I are looking at spending the rest of our days breaking rocks in the Cloudtip quarries and Emelia will be dragged back into either servitude or prison.”
“I’m… ah… not certain what would happen, Hunor. The whole situation is not as clear cut as I once thought.”
“As you say, m’lady. I’ll go start sorting the packs out. Can you manage the horses or can you only handle griffons?”
Orla glared her reply and with a wink Hunor left the knight to don her armour.