LI. IN THE SHADOW OF OUR PALE COMPANION

  Rémann stopped, mouth agape as he wiped the blood and grime of battle from his face with his tattered cape. He and the remaining knights of Aes Sidhe and elven warriors, along with several mages and clerics that survived, slowly walked the desolate streets, taking in the majesty such a spectacle presented, despite the possible threat of enemy attack. He simply could not fathom how a town had been built within a tree; complete with parks, gardens and an artificial sun. More awe inspiringly terrifying whatever force or forces had reduced said town to ruin. Several gaping holes were burned into the sides of the tree, and the ground was gouged and shredded as if a giant child had scribbled upon it with a knife.

  General Swyddog ordered several men to take up positions at the grand spiral staircase that lead to the lower level and directed the Clerics to begin healing the wounded. From their position, the battle outside was lost, separated and reduced to only a few hundred men. The enemy forces had more or less disregarded them, making quick work of the pitifully small Duvachellian cavalry and engaging the Rhodarcian’s and Order knights head on.

  “Master Rémann,” General Swyddog approached, his left eye covered in a bloody cloth, presumed lost, “I wish to regroup with the Lady Alice and Lord Aichlan as quickly as possible, I need you to take command of the rear.”

  “I’m going with you. I was charged by the King to look after her, it is my duty sir.”

  Swyddog sighed and gazed out into the ruins. “Far be it for me to interfere with the execution of one’s orders…I simply cannot risk both of us in what may well be a fool’s errand.” Swyddog slowly shook his head. “And as general, pride will not allow me to stay back whilst other venture forth towards certain doom.”

  “Surely it is not so hopeless as that.” Rémann said weakly, more to convince himself than the General.

  “When, in recent memory, has a force of over twelve-thousand skilled combatants been so easily and thoroughly trounced?”

  Before Rémann could answer, a commotion arose in the town center. The two knights exchanged weary glances as the call for healers went out, and charged into the unknown with the others. As they got closer, it became evident that it was not an attack, but rather a survivor had been found. The panic and worried cries for healer took on a more hopeful tone, as word spread that the Lady Alice had been found.

  They saw her sitting alone in a clearing, surrounded by debris and covered in dust and blood, most of which was her own. Two nuns quickly embraced the light and channeled it healing energy through their staves as a soldier wiped the muck from her face with a damp rag. Several times he leapt back with a startled curse as static electricity leapt off her still body. Her eyes were bright and alive, though eerily, no one appeared to be home.

  “My lady, are you al—”

  Swyddog dropped his sword with a stifled yelp as lightning arced rippled up her body and arced towards his blade. Alice slowly turned towards him, causing Rémann and the general to gasp aloud. Her eyes were a greenish yellow hue akin to peridot, surging with power that swirled and coursed like a river of lightning. She took a deep breath and slowly released, quieting the electrical storm that raged within her.

  “I am fine General, Rémann,”

  She held out her hand and Rémann rushed over to help her to her feet. He felt a small static shock upon taking her hand, and she had the subtle smell of ozone about her, eliciting pleasant memories of summer rainstorms. She paused to look at a pile of ash at her feet, and carefully stepped around it.

  “Aichlan and the others have gone ahead to face Osric, we must reinforce them at once.”

  Swyddog rendered a stiff salute. “As you command my lady. Master Rémann shall act as escort henceforth, and I shall lead a detachment to aid Lord Aichlan.”

  “No,” Alice said flatly, electricity rippling across her torso to arc from her head and glasses. “We shall all go.”

  “If I may be so bold my lady,” Rémann bowed placatingly, “Your bravery and competence has never and shall never be in question; but you are far too important to be lost in senseless conflict.”

  “Senseless?” Several bolts leapt from her body. “This man has unleashed the greatest evils the world has ever known, how is ending his reign of terror even remotely senseless?”

  “I believe what Master Rémann meant to convey,” Swyddog cleared his throat and surreptitiously stepped away from his blade, which had been struck once more, “was that it would be senseless if you were to become injured, or gods forbid, killed in pursuit of a task your lesser could have filled.”

  Alice cut her eyes at the general and aimed a finger that bristled with electricity at his chest. “Now see here—”

  Before she could lay into him, a cry of alarm went up from the entrance, and a company of Rhardacian and Order Knights haughtily forced their way past the meager line. Swyddog groaned and picked up his sword, his face set in a grimace of contempt and animosity that festered from twenty years of bad blood. The Rhodarcian general, clad in blue and gold armor with sculpted abdominals and chest over a blue coat with gold embroidered trim arrogantly strode forward, flanked by a dark-skinned bishop of the order and several knights. A silver haired mercenary stood out in particular, clad in mail and gambeson under a black jerkin black wool cloak, looking more criminal than soldier.

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  “Ransom?!” Alice balled her fists at her side and stamped her foot, sending several tendrils of lightning to dance across the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Ransom shrugged and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Unlike you and yours, these guys actually pay. How’s Fiora? Ran into her a while back, she’s got quite a chip on her shoulder that—”

  “She’s dead.” Alice said flatly. “And so too will you be if you don’t start explaining yourself.”

  The Rhodarcian general stepped forward, offering Alice a patronizing smile, his jaw was too square and nose too pointed, most infuriating were his eyes; duplicitous and burning with a self-righteous zeal. Alice shuddered in anger, sending a current of electricity dancing up from her gut to the top of her head.

  The general was briefly taken aback by the display, tightening his thin lip in an even more forced smile. “I am afraid we’ve no time for reunions, if you could direct us to the Aes Sidehan commander.”

  “You’re looking at her.” Alice spat. “More importantly, who are you?”

  The general sighed, looking the part of one who’s patience with a child had run out. “Apologies miss-“

  “Countess.” Rémann corrected.

  “Right…” The general tipped his hand to her. “I am General Izarius Wolf-mother of Rhodarcian seventh legion. Now if you could kindly direct me to your man in charge…”

  Izarius looked hopefully to Rémann and Swyddog, but neither man gave him an inch. Alice crossed her arms over her chest, a smug grin on her lips.

  “As I said, I am in charge. Now what is it that is so pressing?”

  The bishop patted Izarius on the shoulder and stepped forward. He was dressed in the red and white vestments of The Morning Star, his salt and pepper dreadlocks tied and falling to the middle of his back.

  “I apologize for Izarius’s rudeness Lady Templeton, the Rhodarcians have a certain, attitude when it comes to women in leadership positions.”

  “I’m sorry sir,” Alice cocked her head, unable to shake a nagging feeling of familiarity, “but, do I know you?”

  The bishop laughed genially, though there was no warmth in his delivery. Something about him caused her skin to crawl and his very presence screamed ulterior motives.

   “I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it? I am bishop Leucetius, we traveled briefly together through the Wraith Wood before parting ways in Eefrit.”

  Alice nodded slowly, vaguely recalling him. “Ah, yes, it has been a while.”

  “Quite, quite.” Leucetius nodded as he began to pack a long pipe. “I am afraid the battle does not go well, the dead of your armies and our own have risen and turned sword against us. No doubt it is Osric’s doing.”

  “Can he even do such a thing?” Swyddog breathed in disbelief.

  Leucetius sucked on his pipe as he shook out a match. “Yes, it is quite within his power. In fact, Myself and the Lady Alice have witnessed this very power once before.”

  Alice nodded as she chewed on her thumbnail. “If that is the case, then—”

  Leucetius shrugged. “We’re fucked.”

  Izarius cleared his throat and shot the bishop a disapproving glare. “All the more reason we must put an end to Osric at once, before we are overrun by our own honorable dead.”

  Alice leaned to the side to get a rough count of his troops. “Is this all that is left?”

  “No, there is fighting in the lower level, a sizable portion of our forces have managed a hasty barricade of the main gate, this is our last ditch so to speak.”

  “Ah, shit…” Rémann muttered.

  “Indeed.” Izarius conceded.

  “My lady,” Swyddog placed his fist to his chest and bowed at the waist, “if you will permit me to lead our forces to Lord Aichlan.”

  Izarius scoffed. “Your forces are half dead sir.”

  “I don’t recall saying a gods damned thing to you, Rhodarcian.”

  “Enough!” A bolt of lightning struck at Alice’s feet, causing Izariaus to leap back with a startled curse. “Bishop Leucetius, have you any healers among you? Ours are nearly spent.”

  Leucetius nodded as he slowly puffed out several clouds of smoke. “That I do.”

  “Good.” Alice turned her sparking gaze back to Izarius. “General Swyddog, myself and our mages shall accompany a detachment of Order Knights shall reinforce our companions already engaged with Osric on the upper levels. The rest of the men shall find or construct a fortifiable position here.”

  Leucetius heartily clasped Izarius on the shoulder and subtly pulled him back before he could retort. “Excellent plan my lady. However, I would like to take the general here and a few men to scout out a better position for what very well may be our final stand.”

  Alice nodded slowly, unable to shake a nagging suspicion she had of the Bishop. “Very well, Rémann shall accompany.”

  “No, no. You and your knights should take the time to heal and catch a breather. You’ve all been embroiled in this nightmare far longer than we have after all.”

  “All the same…”

  “We only plan to scout out the level above, and to see if there are survivor’s or anything else of use in the cities upon the branches.”

  Alice looked to Swyddog for guidance, who subtly nodded. “Very well, Bishop, we shall make use of this opportunity to regroup.”

  Leucetius clapped his hands together and a genuine smile passed his lips. “Excellent! Come Ransom.”

  Leucetius briskly led Izarius away, followed closely by two knights of The order.

  Ransom tipped his hand to Alice as he slinked past. “Good to see you again.”

  Alice rolled her eyes and turned her back to him in disgust.

  Rémann watched them leave with a strange sense of foreboding. “Do you trust them?”

  “Of course not. General,”

  Swyddog stood erect. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Oversee the healing, make sure our mage’s are taken care of first, we head out as soon as they are able.”

  Swyddog bowed. “At once my lady.”