Two men rode through muddy streets under the watchful gaze of the locals.
“I don’t like the way they’re staring at me,” the one on the left muttered.
“You shouldn’t have worn your armor,” Conley replied to his traveling companion. His own armor and weapons, and his black priest robes, were stashed away on their shared pack mule.
“I’m not riding into barbarian territory without armor!” Sir Osbert retorted, a little too loudly. A nearby townswoman, taking a break from beating a rug outside her cottage, overheard him. She scowled and turned her back, refusing to look their way.
Lone Rock, a small town eighty miles north of Larso, wasn’t truly barbarian territory. After the North Border War, one of the clans had settled down there, taking land for themselves rather than raiding it. The town and surrounding ranches had lost much of their population during the war, and the people had grudgingly accepted their new neighbors out of necessity more than anything else. That acceptance had become more genuine when the freeholders—as the former barbarians called themselves—took on the role of defending the area from clans raiding out of the Carved Basin or from farther north.
“It makes you look like a knight,” Conley said. “They seem to have long memories here.”
“Let’s just find your friend and get out of here,” Osbert said, then raised his voice. “Hey, you!” he called out to a group of workers hauling casks. “Where’s the temple of Pallisur?”
They ignored him, but the next man didn’t. “Temple is outside of town,” the fellow said in his heavy accent. “West, past those trees. Priest is already gone, though.”
“Gone?” Conley asked. “Do you mean Priest Delvin? Where did he go?”
“Yes, Delvin. Joined army.”
Osbert furrowed his brow. “Why would he do that?”
The man shrugged. “Why not? Is your army. Are up near Ashwood now.” He strode away, evidently done answering questions.
According to the map, Ashwood was ten miles northwest. What was the army doing so far outside Larso’s borders? Had Rusol launched attacks at others besides Corec?
And how had they gotten there without leaving behind any sign? Conley and Osbert had taken the same route the army would have used, except for skirting around Northtower to avoid the demon-controlled troops. They hadn’t seen any indication of a large force passing through.
From the look on Osbert’s face, it was clear he felt the same confusion. “So we came all this way for nothing?”
“Let’s head to Ashwood,” Conley said. “If we can just talk to Delvin, he’ll help.” Rusol’s soldiers wouldn’t have a reason to prevent the other priest from leaving, but did any of the officers know the truth? “We should stop at the temple first. There might be someone there who knows more.”
“Fine,” Osbert said, “but we’d better not get stuck riding to the other end of the kingdom after all this.”
Delvin wasn’t their only lead, but he was the only one Conley knew personally. The next best choice was a man Sir Loris had encountered two decades earlier, and who’d lived in Westport at the time … if Loris’s memory was accurate.
Priests with the blessing of banishment were rare, but the lectors back in seminary had suggested Delvin was strong enough to fight a demonic curse. That had to be similar to a compulsion spell, Conley figured.
Even as one of Pallisur’s own priests, it had been strange to discuss the details of divine magic with unblessed members of the Order after the battle at Hilltop Village. The dislike of magic had deep roots within the Church.
Osbert hated it more than most, but that hate had made him the first to offer himself up as a bodyguard when Conley volunteered to go on this journey. While the two of them had been on different sides during the battle, they’d faced the dragon together, and that counted for something. Conley had accepted the offer before Sir Loris could foist someone else on him instead.
For now they needed more information, so they headed for the temple. The building wasn’t fancy—more of a wooden lodge than a temple—but it was larger than Conley had expected. Much larger than his own little temple back at Warden’s Keep. It seemed Pallisur did actually have some followers here.
It had become common practice in the Church to assign blessed priests to serve rural locations, away from the cities, but this had to be one of the most remote assignments of all. Conley had trained with the understanding that he’d return home to the free lands afterward, but Delvin was Larsonian born and bred, and had begun his career in Telfort before being transferred to minister to the barbarians. Conley had privately wondered whether the change was punishment for some transgression, but perhaps the position was needed after all.
Osbert tried the door, which was locked, then peered through the nearest window. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Delvin’s been here for years now—he must have helpers. Maybe a student. Let’s check around back to see if he’s got separate living quarters.”
A new voice spoke up from behind them. “He does, and he wonders why you’re asking. Turn around and keep your hands off your weapons.”
They spun around to find a man in black priest robes, flanked by two soldiers wearing padded gambesons and holding loaded crossbows.
“Delvin!” Conley said. “We were looking for you.”
Delvin squinted. “Conley? Is that you? Since when have you been able to grow a beard?” He motioned to his companions to point their crossbows down. “He’s from the free lands, not Larso.”
“Someone in town said you’d joined the army,” Conley told him.
“So I have,” Delvin agreed. He indicated his companions. “I’m showing our scouts the area before we come any farther south. The people here are my flock, such as they are, and I don’t want any problems.”
“Come south?”
Delvin cocked his head to the side for a moment, then chuckled. “Ahh, I see. You thought I meant Larso’s army. No, my friend. I’m with the Army of the Order.”
“The what?”
“It’s a long story, but it turns out that most of the Carved Basin is beholden to our Lord Pallisur. I take it you didn’t receive the Vision of the Herald? It was a few years back, but I don’t think it spread much farther south than here.”
“I’ve never had any sort of vision.”
“To be brief, Pallisur chose a herald to spread his word. A bit odd, her being a woman and all, but she served the local ruler in Blue Vale—Leonis—until he died, and now his people follow her. I can tell you all about that later. For now, what brings you so far from home?”
Conley did his best to explain the demonic compulsion at Fort Northtower without accusing Rusol.
“That’s quite the tale,” Delvin said. “And as it happens, I know just who can help.”
#
For a brief moment, Conley thought Ephrenia was Ariadne. The two women had similar builds and brown hair, similar pointed ears, but most obvious of all, Ephrenia’s armor was made of the same reflective metal as Ariadne’s, and was nearly identical in style.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He got his surprise under control as Delvin made introductions. The other person in the command tent, General Calum, appeared to be one of Ariadne’s people as well, though he didn’t wear the armor. The rumor in Hilltop Village was that Ariadne was seaborn, though to Conley’s knowledge, she’d never made that claim herself. He’d been under the impression she was from somewhere in Cordaea, but why would two Cordaeans be leading an army of the Order in Aravor? The coincidence made him wary.
“Sir, my Lady, these two say there’s demonic magic in Northtower,” Delvin was saying. “They’ve come to ask for our aid.”
Ephrenia raised an eyebrow. “Demonic magic?” she asked.
Osbert nodded. “Compulsion, some people called it. It made them do things against their will. We’ve heard testimony from the knights and priests who were freed, and they all said the same thing—it was King Rusol that did it. He’s a mage and a false king. The knights of Hightower intend to force the Church to renounce him.”
Conley grimaced. After all his care in not mentioning Rusol’s role in front of anyone else, Osbert had come right out and said it. How would the others react? Were they loyal to Larso, or to the Order?
General Calum laughed, though there was no humor in his tone when he spoke. “Well, Ephrenia, you wanted to reunite the Order. It seems we’ve just been given a way in.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “though I’m curious about a few things, Sir Osbert.” She drew closer and tapped his cuirass. “To start with, where did you manage to obtain High Guard infantry armor?”
Osbert wrinkled his brow. “This?” he asked. “It came from Corec Tarwen—payment for helping to slay the dragon that was attacking the free lands.”
Ephrenia and the general shared a glance. “Corec Tarwen?” Calum said. “And he got the armor from … ?”
“I don’t know,” Osbert said. “But—”
Conley nudged him before he could mention Ariadne. Not that Conley owed Corec any loyalty—the man certainly hadn’t shown much toward him—but Ariadne wasn’t Corec, and Conley still wasn’t certain where Ephrenia’s loyalties lay.
“He got it from Cordaea,” Conley said. “He and his allies went looking for some old city. Tir-something.”
“Tir Yadar?” Ephrenia asked. She’d clasped her hands together, seemingly casually, but her knuckles were white from pressure.
“That sounds right,” Conley said.
“I wasn’t aware there was anything left there worth salvaging,” she said. “I should have looked around more carefully.”
So she was from Cordaea, or had at least been there at some point.
“Let’s focus on more important questions,” General Calum said. “How did you learn about the demonic compulsion? And if the victims have already been freed, why do you need our help?”
“King Rusol sent an invasion force into the free lands,” Osbert said. “Corec Tarwen’s lands now, I guess. Some of the knights who came with us were from Northtower. We didn’t realize anything was wrong with them at first, but Tarwen has a priestess who was able to get rid of the dark magic. We called off the battle after the Northtower men told us what happened to them. They say the rest of the fortress is under the same spell.”
Osbert’s description of the battle was a generous reimagining of the events. If the Order hadn’t surrendered, they’d have been slaughtered. Conley had been glad to get away from the place before Corec asked for volunteers to bury the mercenaries’ burned bodies.
“That’s the war Rusol’s been fighting in the south,” Ephrenia murmured to Calum, then turned back to Conley. “Tarwen is the mercenary lord we’ve been hearing about? He sent you here?”
“I don’t think he’s a mercenary,” Conley said. “And he didn’t send us.”
“Tarwen’s a mage himself,” Osbert said. “He was kicked out of the Order because of it. He can’t go back to Larso, and he won’t let his priestess go to Northtower without him, so we came instead. Conley said Priest Delvin could help.”
“That’s what the lectors told us back when we were in training,” Conley added. “That Delvin could banish demonic curses.”
Delvin shrugged. “I’ve never had the opportunity to try, but there are other priests here more capable than I. Between us, we should certainly make the attempt.”
“Is it too late to prevent the Order from proclaiming Rusol a false king?” General Calum asked. “He won’t step down quietly, and you’re going to start a war before we’re ready. There are better ways to remove him from the throne, if that’s what you’re after.”
“The knights would have reached Hightower two weeks ago,” Osbert said. “I don’t know if they’ll issue the proclamation themselves or contact Telfort first.”
Calum nodded. “Then we’ll need to move quickly.”
“Six days to get the army to Northtower,” Ephrenia said. “Eight if we encounter any resistance at the border. But if what we’ve heard is true, perhaps we needn’t wait for the army. Priest Delvin and Leonis’s men can do what’s needed to free Northtower from the demonic compulsion, and then we’ll join them there after.”
Calum nodded. “And we can send messengers south to Hightower—we should at least attempt to coordinate a campaign with the rest of the Order. Priest Conley, Sir Osbert, you’ll remain here in case we have further questions. After we’ve taken Northtower, perhaps you can arrange an introduction with Corec Tarwen. I’d very much like to speak with him.”
With a sinking feeling, Conley realized that Ephrenia’s army had already been preparing to invade Larso—and they’d intended to do so despite not being aware of the demonic magic or Rusol’s part in it. Conley shared a glance with Osbert. What had they gotten themselves into?
#
The memorial still retained the same shape as the original cairn, but workers had filled the gaps between stones with mortar and smoothed out the rougher edges, turning it into a more fitting tribute for the three men who’d died facing the dragon.
A bronze plaque was inset into the mortar, listing their names and the date of their death. Corec had ordered the plaque from Four Roads months ago, but this was the first time he’d seen it in person.
Someone cleared their throat behind him. “Mr. Tarwen, your man Tammerly is here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Edders,” Corec said, turning to face him.
Edders was the acting mayor of the tiny village, having been the first to settle there after finding the cairn and realizing its significance. He’d built an inn on the spot, naming the place Dragon’s Fall to attract customers. With a good location twenty miles north of the keep, he was already seeing regular business from trading caravans and other travelers.
He was also one of the few settlers who took Corec at his word when he insisted he wasn’t a lord.
“I hope you like the work,” Edders said, gesturing to the memorial. “I supervised it myself.”
“It’s quite an improvement over what we had before,” Corec said. The men deserved something more, but he couldn’t think of what that would be. What they really deserved was to be alive, and that wasn’t going to happen. “You said Carn is here?”
“Yes, out at the road.”
“Then let’s go take a look and see what he thinks.”
They found Branth’s former assistant poking a stick into a deep puddle of mud and water to measure the depth. He was accompanied by two of Corec’s armsmen. A small group of settlers to the west had expressed their displeasure at a visit from the tax collector, though it had just been to inform them they wouldn’t owe anything for another year. Corec suspected the men might be deserters from Rusol’s mercenaries, so he’d assigned bodyguards to Tammerly and the surveyors while they got familiar with the more remote settlements.
Carn frowned at the eight inches of mud on the stick.
“How bad is it?” Corec asked him.
“We can raise the road, but it won’t be cheap,” the man replied. “How far did they say it goes? I haven’t been up this way since the rains started.”
“Another three miles,” Edders said.
Carn blew out his breath. “We don’t have that sort of coin in the budget for this year—not with the number of soldiers we’re paying. Unless Lady Ellerie will work on it?”
“Ellerie doesn’t have time to shape three miles of road,” Corec said. “And if she did, I have other things for her to work on.”
Corec’s soldiers had outgrown their barracks in the keep even before the battle, and he’d added another squad since. For now, they’d set up a secondary barracks just south of the hill. Corec couldn’t help thinking it would make more sense to start any additional building work at the new townsite he and Sarette had found, but that would require more time and money than he had at the moment.
Carn nodded. “Then I’d suggest doing what the Matagoran officials at the keep always did,” he said. “Lay more gravel on the road, and dig out drainage ditches along either side. It has to be redone every year, but it’s cheaper in the short term.”
Edders cleared his throat. “I can find men, but the money … ” he said, trailing off. He wanted the road repaired for the good of his own business, but he understood the importance of the trading caravans well enough to know that the project was the responsibility of the local authorities.
“We’ll send workers, and pay them,” Corec said. With the harvest done for the year, Shavala’s foraging crews were out of work. Most had begun building log cabins or fixing up old cottages for themselves, or picking out plots of land to try their hands at farming, but some were still looking for any extra employment they could find.
“I’d appreciate that,” Edders said.
“I think that’s everything we need to do here,” Corec said to Carn. “Are you coming with me?”
“For a bit, yes,” the man replied. “There are some folks you should meet, and you won’t find them if you stick to the road.”
“Let’s head out, then,” Corec said. “I’d like to cover another ten miles today.”
He’d spent three of the past four weeks visiting the new villages springing up around the area, focusing on the south first since he was less familiar with that region. Now he was heading north, not planning to go as far as Four Roads but just to the edge of the lands he’d claimed. The settlements there expected him to provide some sort of leadership, and he wasn’t sure how he could do that without getting to know the people he was supposed to be leading.
He’d started to get a vision for what the future might hold, but it all depended on Rusol’s next move. There was only a limited amount of time before the man learned of his defeat and responded to it—whatever that response might be.
If all went to plan, the knights would distract him from any further attempts at invading the free lands. By law, when news of Rusol’s crimes got out, the Church should depose him, removing him from his main base of power.
But even if the Order followed through, Corec couldn’t shake the feeling that his feud with Rusol wasn’t over yet.