“Eri-berry, how long are you going to stand there?” Jax didn’t even turn, he threw a second pair of trousers over his arm to consider.
“Do you actually have eyes in the back of your head?” Erion asked from where he leaned against the post supporting the lean-to that kept the supplies moderately dry. Well, nothing was ever really dry in the jungle.
“Why do you think I wear my hair in a bun? It helps hide them so people don’t freak out even more when they see me,” Jax quipped.
“You are pretty terrifying,” Erion jestingly agreed.
There was a long pause and Jax finally gave his brother-in-arms his attention. The wind rustled the canvas walls of the structure, sending dust swirling between them.
“Who is she?”
Ah, now there was the question, did Jax answer honestly? Even if he lied, he knew Erion would have his rightful suspicions. Elecia’s voice echoed in Jax’s head, speaking in time to the note she had sent along with her list of supplies. Supplies that were now being sent. Supplies that Jax hoped would make it in time to save the life of a man Jax considered to be his mentor, role model, and brother.
“Serien Leral, just a soldier.” The Windwalker was hunted and Jax had to defer to the highest ranking nobility on this. And, as much as Erion’s Le’Dan blood would protest, that was Elecia Ci’Dan.
“Oh? Just a soldier, huh? And I’m the Lord of the West.” Erion rolled his eyes. “You don’t think I can tell when someone is lying?”
Jax knew Eron’s question was asked to both the Windwalker and himself. Vhalla Yarl didn’t make a very convincing Westerner with her brown eyes and Cyven accent.
“I saw Elecia’s writing on those notes.”
Jax’s hand plastered over his pocket, making sure that he hadn’t accidently left the explanation of who Serien Leral really was in the Camp Palace.
“The girl carries Elecia’s word on Aldrik, but not the Emperor’s. She comes alone. She asks for you directly. Not Zerian who was left foremost in charge.” Erion could be as relentless as a hound on blood. “Brother, you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“You know I can’t.”
Erion threw up his arms in frustration at Jax’s insistence. “Says who? Clearly not the Emperor or Baldair as we’ve not had a letter from either in well over a week.”
They’d arrived at the line Erion would always toe against. The point where he could no longer understand nor tolerate what was the daily truth of Jax’s existence. Baldair did a well enough job of crafting the illusion of freedom. But, that was all it was, an illusion.
“Until I have orders from one of them, I must oblige the closest nobility to the crown.”
“You’re so impossible.” Erion pushed away from the post he’d been leaning against, starting back for camp.
Jax dropped the clothes he’d been holding, grabbing the swordsman’s wrist. Erion stopped.
“You know the truth.” Erion’s expression gave Jax all the affirmation he needed. “You know who she is. You know why she’s here. You know why I can’t tell you. Just from the information you’ve pieced together, from the Emperor’s and Aldrik’s descriptions. You know.”
His fellow Westerner gave a small nod.
“So, help me protect her.”
DANIEL
“Danny.” The toe of a boot nudged his shoulder. “Danny, you have the next watch.”
Daniel rolled over, pulling himself from a hazy sleep. Raylynn stood over him, haggard. Her long blonde hair was plated in a braid that it was determined to fall out of. It was a hard march when they had resorted to the Golden Guard leading all the watches. But there had been too many mistakes and those mistakes had led to death. And if there was one thing Baldair didn’t tolerate, it was his men needlessly dying.
He stood and stretched. Raylynn was eager to leave his side the moment that she saw he was up. The other woman wasted no time in finding her place curled against Baldair. If Daniel didn’t know them so well, he would’ve assumed there was something more than a casual understanding between the two.
The rope bridge creaked softly as he traversed it between the tree hut the Golden Guard had bedded down in and the next closest structure. Deserted Northern towns like this would make excellent safe havens if their enemy didn’t come as often from the trees as they did from the ground. So even though their legion had pulled up or burned all ladders, they still needed patrol.
A familiar Southerner rounded the corner of the building he was headed toward, starting on the rope bridge from the other direction. Daniel raised his hand in greeting and Craig did the same.
“Took over for Raylynn?” His friend asked when he was close enough to whisper. Daniel nodded in affirmation and Craig continued, “I think she swindled you out of some time.”
“It wouldn’t shock me if she did.” Daniel surveyed the hazy forest around them. In the early morning it was almost peaceful. But he knew better. Peace was an illusion crafted by war when it was courting death.
Raylynn was a good soldier. No, she was a protégé of weaponry. It was small wonder that Baldair appreciated the woman on a multitude of levels. But her natural aptitude with killing tools made her lazy and she was the first to be missing from patrols or drills.
“You don’t seem too upset.” Craig had lingered long enough that Daniel knew his friend had something more to be said, so he shrugged and waited for him to say it. “Are you still thinking about the dopple’s death?”
Daniel sighed, there wasn’t any point in denying it. “She didn’t need to die.”
“Neither did Sam, or Jon, or Celeste.” Craig clasped a palm over Daniel’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Good people die needlessly; it’s not like you to linger.”
Daniel nodded half-heartedly.
“You saw her, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“In the dopple, you saw Vhalla Yarl.” Craig’s hand slipped from Daniel’s person.
“I worry about her.” It wasn’t a secret fact, especially not to Craig, so it was surprising how difficult it was to say aloud. “If our doppelganger died then who knows what’s happened to her.”
“If there’s one woman I don’t think you need to worry about, it’s Vhalla Yarl, the girl can take care of herself.” Craig threw an arm around Daniel’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging shake. It was a lighthearted motion that contrasted starkly with his shift in verbal tone. “Plus, she has someone worrying enough for her already.”
“I’ve told you it’s not – “
“Oh come on.” Craig rolled his eyes. “The feelings are not like that for her, but they are for you, and you’re going to get yourself in trouble with this one.”
“I’d never make it something she didn’t want it to be herself,” Daniel said defensively. If Erion and Jax began warning him as much as the rest of the Golden Guard did about Vhalla he was in for a long winter. How could he be expected to sort out his feelings for anyone ever again if his romantic life was being decided by committee?
“Are you sure you haven’t already?” Craig held up his hands defensively at Daniel’s look. “I mean on your end.”
“I have rounds to do,” Daniel muttered.
“Brother.” Craig stopped him. “The girl is surrounded by fire. You’re setting yourself up to get burned.”
BALDAIR
“Erion, Jax.” Baldair clasped the forearms of each of the men in turn. They were two of the most competent leaders and skilled fighters the world had ever known, but nothing put a bigger smile on Baldair’s facet than to return to the front and see his brothers well.
The prince held out the reins of his mount to Raylynn who stared at them incredulously. “What do you want me to do with them?”
“I’d like to hear their reports; will you take my horse with yours?” Baldair flashed the woman a dazzling smile. She simply snorted in reply, blissfully unaffected by his charms. It only made Baldair want to work harder to get a rise
out of her.
“I’m not your errand girl.”
“Maybe I just enjoy seeing you walk away?” Baldair cooed.
With a sigh that carried the hint of a laugh Raylynn snatched the reins. She started behind Craig and Daniel for the makeshift stables and horse ties.
“I’ll make it up to you Ray!” he called.
“We’ll see.” The girl didn’t even turn to wave him off.
Baldair stared in appreciation of his female guard. She was a dagger coated in honey. Tempting to the eye, but would cut the tongue for taking just one lick. If he had been the settling type, he would’ve long since made her his bride. Luckily, Raylynn felt much the same as he on that front.
“Good to see things between you and Raylynn are as inappropriate as ever,” Erion drawled, summoning back Baldair’s attention.
“Would you expect anything less?” he chuckled and threw his arm around Erion’s shoulders. The Westener was sturdier than he looked and didn’t stumble at Baldair’s weight. The prince appreciated being around people who he didn’t have to hold back his strength with. “So! Have you two ended the war for me as I ordered while I was gone?”
“Progress, yes, but not yet victory,” Erion squirmed free.
“Well, what have you been doing then?”
“Clearly not enough, Erion has been utterly useless.” The other Western man adjusted the high bun on his head as he spoke. “Not that it’s a surprise.”
Erion rolled his eyes, not taking the slightest offense. “The only surprise is that Jax finally found someone to dictate his reports to so that they’re actually legible for the other majors. That’s really been the source of half the progress.”
“And who did you have to threaten or bribe to help you with that?” Jax’s antics never failed to amuse Baldair and this promised to be an interesting story.
“The mystery woman from the forest,” Erion answered before Jax could speak.
“Mystery woman from the forest?” Baldair had a little voice that lived in his gut and told him when things weren’t quite right. Generally speaking, so long as he listened to that voice, he stayed alive. The look Jax had about him made that little voice start screaming.
“We need to speak,” Jax confirmed Baldair’s suspicion.
Baldair waited a long moment. “Well?”
“Alone.” Jax’s dark eyes looked at Erion pointedly.
“Jax, I cannot think of one thing that you could have to tell me that you cannot tell your brother in arms.” Baldair was ever eager to nip any possibilities of rifts between his men. If they didn’t see each other as family, they wouldn’t fight alongside each other giving it all they had.
Jax leaned forward and rested his palm on Baldair’s shoulder. He leaned in close, nearly cheek to cheek. After a long pause, he spoke, “Does the name Serien Leral, mean anything to you?”
Baldair struggled to make sense of the question. “Serien Leral?” he repeated back to Jax. “Why do you know that name?”
“She’s here.”
“Has my father arrived?” Baldair looked around quickly like he was still a boy, caught with his hand in the sweets tin. His father wouldn’t say anything for Baldair’s lack of pomp upon arrival, but there was always that quiet disapproval reserved only for him.
“Not yet,” Erion soothed his concerns, but not his confusion.
“Then how is Serien Leral here?” The illogical stared Baldair in the face, but he still couldn’t make sense of it. “I need to see her. Take me to her.”
Jax nodded and led the way to the camp palace. Baldair could hardly believe the makeshift structure was still standing. He remembered when they all took bets on how long it had before the main hall collapsed in on itself. Apparently, they had all lost.
Erion broke away in the main hall, letting Jax and Baldair continue alone. Baldair vowed to sort things out with Erion once he knew exactly what was going on. Jax opened the door to Aldrik’s room.
And, sure enough, there she was.
Baldair would recognize that mess of hair anywhere, even if it was still partly darkened by dye. Vhalla Yarl groaned softly, rousing from sleep.
“Well, I can’t recall the last time I caught a woman in my brother’s bed.” Baldair’s relief escaped in the form of laughter. He was genuinely happy to see the woman. What had once been a strange creature that he could poke at for amusement and Aldrik’s annoyance, had evolved right before his eyes.
“Baldair,” Vhalla’s voice was as thin as air itself and she stared at him as though he were a specter.
“I hardly expected to find you here,” he chuckled. “I imagine it’s quite the story.”
Baldair expected there to be some whirlwind tale of how her and Aldrik were finally standing against the Emperor to defend their love. It was foolish of them, but it wasn’t as though Baldair had ever really understood the inner mechanisms of his brother’s mind. Vhalla’s face fell and threatened to pull his along with it into the darkness of her eyes.
“You didn’t tell him?” she asked Jax sharply.
“The second I told him you were here he asked to come see you,” Jax explained.
Pure terror filled her eyes as she looked at Baldair once more.
“What?” Baldair looked between his two companions, perfectly ready for one of them to talk sense.
“I tried to save him.” Her voice cracked, but she quickly recovered in a way Baldair didn’t think she could’ve done had it been just a few months earlier. “I tried, and I failed.”
“Mother, woman, you’re scaring me.” Baldair sat on the edge of the bed and it creaked in protest at his weight. He took her hands in his. Baldair knew the power of touch. It grounded people, it reminded them they were not alone, it prompted trust. Whenever he could, Baldair touched people to forge those bonds. “What are you talking about?”
“Aldrik’s dying.”
TIM
No matter how careful, there was always something left behind. An indent of grass, a scrap of parchment forgotten, a broken tree limb, or shrubs stomped by horses. There was no way for an army of any size to move through the jungle without leaving a trace in some way.
Tim glanced over her shoulder at the clearing behind them as they finally made their way forward. It seemed like it had been years since they had last moved. Years steeped in death and tension and paranoia and enough uncertainty to make her head hurt before she even first laid eyes on the hazy twilight of dawn that filtered through the jungle trees to the ground below.
It was certainly apparent where they had made their camp, now that the tents were removed. The shrubs the army had used to camouflage their temporary homes were cast aside, left to rot like bodies on the mossy jungle floor. If it weren’t for the cape around her shoulders she would’ve been up on the roosts that were now fodder for the jungle, or the enemy, to reclaim.
But, it didn’t matter now. Now they moved with the force of the Empire Solaris. Their ranks were fat with soldiers from Soricium and there would be no way some ragtag Northern clan would be foolish enough to attack so many. Black Legion Firebearers fearlessly led the way, burning through the brush without a care for leaving an obvious trail. Tim watched them with appreciative eyes. Eyes that had never really paid them much heed prior.
She clenched her fist in her gauntlet and wondered, not for the first time, what it was like to feel magic. The village elders had bemoaned the existence of magic for as long as Tim could remember. They had bemoaned it for the Knights and fools it brought through Mosant in hunt of the crystal caverns. But, she’d found herself developing a fascination for it after the sandstorm – after she’d first truly seen the might of the Windwalker.
Tim focused on their northern headway, trying to put the questions from her mind. She’d only ever really spoken to one sorcerer in her life. But, Tim knew the crown prince wouldn’t be answering her questions ever again.
No one had told her much of anything. It seemed that when
the real Windwalker had returned in the fight at the Pass Tim’s service was immediately up and no one cared any longer what she did. Tim had wanted that for weeks, but now she wasn’t certain any longer. There was a new craving for a world she had only been able to glimpse into.
Her eyes shifted to Elecia Ci’Dan. Tim could ask her… they’d met a few times in Prince Aldrik’s tent. But the Lady Ci’Dan was about as cuddly as a pinecone and as warm as fresh-fallen snow. Even if Tim could rouse the courage, Elecia spent all her time tending to the comatose prince. There would be no way Tim could get a single question in.
ERION
Baldair was tipsy.
Which, was rather impressive when one considered the sheer size of the man. Erion knew the Golden Prince’s tolerance as well as his own and knew just the right mix of spirits to get Baldair to the place he wanted him to be. Tonight, that place was just enough to loosen his tongue, but not enough to impede his performance. The prince looked like he could use a tumble in the sheets and Erion knew better than to get in the way of that.
It wasn’t that he relished in getting his sovereign inebriated. But, alas, sometimes it was necessary and this was one of those times. He blamed the young woman who had been Jax’s shadow for days on end. The same young woman who had just turned Daniel into a simpering puppy. The same young woman who had Baldair running to her the moment he arrived in Soricium. Yes, that young woman, the one he was nearly certain was the Windwalker and yet no one would confirm nor deny.
It was so irksome.
“Brother.” Erion let a little slur slip into the word, giving the impression that he was equally sauced. “You’re not yourself this night. Usually your return is more joyous. Tell me what’s heavy on your brow.”
“But I am joyous.” Baldair tapped Erion’s mug with his, taking another sip. “For I have returned to find that you and Jax have yet to burn down the place.”
“Burning is more Jax’s fashion.” Much to the lament of his own family, Erion mused. Erion should have been born a Firebearer to continue the Le’Dan line.