The Cavalier (59 page)

“Fulren, sir.”

“Fulren, find third lance Lathrin and inform him that Prince Baylin is missing. Have him search the nearby area.”

The man’s face reflected his shock at the grim news, but his posture straightened as the importance of the mission infused him with new energy.

“Yes, sir! Right away!” The warrior sprinted away, searching the ranks for Lathrin.

Graggis grabbed Dagrinal hard on the arm. “Dagrinal, if he is captured…” Graggis did not finish the statement. “We must get him back. There is no telling what they will do to him.”

“I know, my friend, I know.”

Just then two horses galloped toward them. It was Jonas and Taleen. Jonas was tired but Taleen had healed him completely. Even the hole in his armor was gone. They were both covered in blood, luckily only a small amount of it was their own.

“Why are they retreating?” asked Jonas.

Both men gazed at the horse with open admiration.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad to see it happening,” Graggis replied. “Well met, Jonas. It is good to see you so well.”

“And you, Graggis. This is Taleen, cavalier to Bandris.” Taleen nodded her head in greeting.

“Taleen, I shall thank Bandris for your sword,” Dagrinal said smoothly, quickly redirecting his gaze to Jonas. “Jonas, the prince has not been found, and his weapon was lying among the dead.”

Jonas sat back in his saddle at the distressing news. Prince Baylin had done a lot for him and he respected the man immensely. The news made him sick, the thought of what the enemy might do to him if he were captured caused his stomach to churn with anxiety. He clenched his teeth in anger.

“Then let us withhold the pleasantries and find him.”

The large tent of the king had been set up in a lightly forested glen far enough from the battlefield to be secure, but close enough that the progress of the battle could be relayed quickly to the king and other commanders whose job was more logistical than physical. The king’s tent was made up of heavy red cloth held up by long straight pine trees. It stood out from the rest of the encampment and it was surrounded by the king’s personal guard. Four burly soldiers holding halberds stood before the entrance. They moved aside quickly as they saw Dagrinal, Graggis, and the two cavaliers move briskly toward them.

The spacious tent was empty except for a huge table in the middle surrounded by ten heavy wood chairs, and the king’s sleeping furs that were stacked up in the corner on a large mattress of goose feathers. King Gavinsteal sat on the edge of his bed while a priest of Ulren removed the bandage on his head. The king’s wound had disappeared, the priest obviously having done his job. The king looked up as they approached.

“My King, how are you feeling?” asked Dagrinal with concern.

“I am fine, just a nasty gash and a bad headache, nothing serious,” the king said as his gaze moved to Taleen and Jonas. He smiled broadly. “Jonas, it is you. My men told me that two cavaliers had arrived killing the Banthra and the Naz-reen priests. That is good news! I am very glad to see you.”

“Likewise, King Gavinsteal, I’m glad you are well. Are you in need of any healing?”

The king glanced at the old priest by his side. “No, Hondris here has taken care of me. The gash is no longer and my head is now beginning to clear, but I thank you nonetheless. Hondris, this is Jonas, and by the looks of it he is a cavalier to Shyann.” The king’s last words were stated as a question.

“I am, my Lord, sanctioned by Annure and Shyann herself. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hondris, priest of Ulren.”

“The pleasure is mine, young cavalier,” replied the old man as he turned to face Jonas.

“When we have more time I would like to hear what has happened with you. But right now we have a war to win,” the king said as he stood up from his bed.

“Very good, sir. Lord, this is Taleen, cavalier to Helikon. She has come to help where she may.”

The king slowly approached Taleen and extended his hand. “Thank you, Taleen. Helikon? Are you from the west, beyond the Tundrens?” the king asked, shaking her hand warmly.

“I am, King Gavinsteel. I am from Osrigard. Helikon sent me here to help Jonas.”

“Very good, your presence gives me hope. Thank you for being here,” he said sincerely.

“Thank Helikon,” replied Taleen, releasing the king’s grip.

King Gavinsteel smiled broadly at the beautiful warrior. “I will do that,” he said, sitting down in a large wood chair and looking around for his son. “Where is Baylin, where is my son?”

Dagrinal looked down at the ground momentarily before returning his gaze to his king. He felt to blame for not staying closer to the prince during the battle and he had a hard time looking his king in the eye. The king spent his life reading men, and he could see the pain and sorrow in Dagrinal’s eyes before he even said anything.

“My Lord, we found Prince Baylin’s axe among the dead,” Dagrinal said, reaching behind him as Graggis handed him the prince’s axe. Dagrinal held the axe before him as the king stood up slowly, his eyes wide with shock.

“Did you find his body?” asked the king, his voice shaking slightly.

“We did not, my Lord. He may have been captured,” answered Dagrinal.

The king stood up straighter at the news that is son might be alive. He walked briskly forward and took his son’s axe from Dagrinal’s grasp. “Then he must be alive. We must find him! Send out a messenger now, I will pay whatever price they demand.”

“Very well, my Lord,” replied Dagrinal as he glanced at Graggis. Graggis nodded his head and walked from the room to find a messenger.

The king sat back down and tried to push the grave news away and focus on the task at hand. He laid his son’s axe on the table and looked at it momentarily before he spoke. “How did we fare, Dagrinal?”

“We did well, my King, considering. Jonas killed the Banthra which helped us greatly. It is even possible that the army will not continue to fight without the Banthra and the Naz-reen priests.”

“And if they do? How many men have we lost?”

“The numbers are still coming in, but I believe we’ve lost more than a third of our infantry and at least an equal amount of our cavalry.”

The king shook his head sadly and sighed deeply, the pain of those losses sitting heavy on the tired monarch. “What of the enemy?”

“I do not know. Most of our scouts have not returned. The ones that did reported that a large army still rests beyond the hills past the Lindsor Bridge. I would imagine that most of the orcs and ogres that are still alive will not fight without the Banthra there to force them. There are still a few hill giants, but who knows who controls them. We cannot be sure of anything at this point.”

“Sir, if I may interrupt?” asked Jonas.

The tired king looked at Jonas. “Go ahead, Jonas. You’ve earned the right to be rid of formality in my tent. What is it?”

“Sir, we have brought someone with us who may be able to help.”

Just as Jonas spoke, Graggis returned through the tent flaps followed by Kiln. Though Kiln was covered with blood but he walked with no sign of injury.

“My Lord, I have sent out your messenger. And I have found someone that wants to see you,” Graggis said, bowing his head.

King Gavinsteal stood, nodded his thanks to Graggis, but kept his wide eyes fixed on Kiln, who stood facing the monarch, his own face struggling to mask a maelstrom of emotions.
 

Jonas shifted his feet uneasily, not sure how this meeting would go.

King Gavinsteal walked over to Kiln, and placing his hand on his shoulder, he forced a smile from his tired and sad face. “My friend, it has been far too long,” he said slowly. “I did not think I would ever see you again.”

Kiln subtly nodded his head, giving the king a slight smile. “Uthrayne, it is good to see you as well. I have grown bored in the mountains and I have sulked long enough,” he said sofly. “It is time I put my grievances aside and return to the world of the living. I thank you for your letter, and your words.”

The warriors around the duo looked about uneasily, uncomfortable at witnessing such a personal encounter.

“I wronged you, my friend and I have carried this guilt for over twenty years. There has been only one action in my life that I have regretted, and it was what I did to our friendship.”

Kiln nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Women have a way of making fools of men, my Lord,” replied Kiln, putting emphasis on the words,
my Lord
.

The king tried to force a smile, but the strain of the recent news regarding his son hindered his effort, and Kiln knew that something was wrong.

“What is it, Uthrayne?” he asked with concern.

“My friend, my son Baylin is lost, probably captured by the enemy. I need you Kiln, now more than ever.”

The king walked over to the large table and spread some maps out on it. Just then Prince Nelstrom strode into the tent wearing his typical black clothing and burnished black steel chest plate. His long dark cape billowed behind him as he moved quickly to the table. “Father, I heard you had been injured. It is good to see you are well,” he said as he quickly surveyed the room. His eyes swept past Jonas but returned briefly, recognizing him easily.

“I see that we have guests. Jonas, how good to see you. You look like a cavalier. Are my eyes betraying me?”

“No, they are not,” Jonas said curtly.

“When did you arrive?”

“Just today. This is Taleen, cavalier to Helikon,” Jonas replied smoothly. Jonas could still feel something about this man that he did not like. He couldn’t place it but his spine tingled slightly whenever he was around.

Prince Nelstrom nodded his head toward Taleen and smiled. “I did not know that cavaliers were so beautiful.”

Taleen kept her face a blank mask and simply nodded her head in greeting. From anyone else those words would have been a compliment, but even though Taleen did not know Prince Nelstrom, the words he spoke sounded like the hiss of a snake to her. She clearly felt that his words were condescending and she made no effort to mask those feelings.

The room was uncomfortably silent for a few seconds before the king spoke. “My son, this is Kiln, who I think needs no introduction. He arrived today with Jonas.” Prince Nelstrom crossed over to Kiln and reached out, shaking his hand in the warrior’s grip. As the two shook hands the Prince’s master swordsman mark could clearly be seen on his right hand.

“I have heard much about you. You are a legend,” the young prince said. “I would be honored if you would cross blades with me when time permits.”

Kiln glanced down at his son’s hand, although the only people that knew that Prince Nelstrom was of Kiln’s loins were the king, Jonas, Dagrinal, and Graggis, basically everyone that was standing in the room. Kiln smiled, his eyes sparkling at the prospect of a challenge as he noticed Prince Nelstrom’s master swordsman’s mark. “It would be a pleasure. I’d love to see if that mark has been well earned.”

“I can assure you that it has.”

“Where have you been?” asked the king.

“I was fighting with the right flank, Father,” replied the prince.

Dagrinal glanced at Graggis skeptically, but no one saw the brief exchange. They both knew that the prince had not taken part in any of the fighting. The young man was a skilled swordsman, but fighting in the dirt and mud, next to common soldiers, was beneath him. Everyone knew it, but no one said a word.

“My son, Baylin is missing, we believe him to be captured,” the king announced, sitting down heavily to look at the maps.

Prince Nelstrom sat down next to him. “Are you sure, Father?” he asked with concern.

“No, but we did not find his body. I have sent out a messenger to Lord Moredin to barter for his return.”

“That is good. We will get him back if he is indeed taken, I have no doubt,” replied the prince, his tone rather unconvincing.

The king looked at his youngest son for a few moments before shifting his gaze to Kiln. “We have much to prepare for. Kiln, you are needed now. Volnos, my high commander was slain today. It is a great loss to us. Would you offer your services to Finarth in its time of need? No oath need be taken.”

“I will,” replied Kiln evenly.

Suddenly a man in long robes hurried through the king’s entrance. It was Alerion, the king’s wizard. He looked haggard and his brow was covered with sweat. He carried a wooden staff ending in a blue stone held firmly on the end with silver wire.
 
“My Lord,” he said as he walked toward the king. “I am sorry to barge in on you like this but I have urgent news.”
 

The warriors shifted away from the table to make room for Alerion.

“No need to apologize, Alerion. Here, take some water first.” The king offered, pouring the wizard a glass of water from a ceramic jug on the table. “Now, what is it that brings you to my tent in such haste?”

“My Lord, I have dire news. I have learned positively that Malbeck has been resurrected. But that is not the most troubling news as it was already suspected.” Alerion stopped to take another sip of water. “Malbeck’s energy has been floating in limbo for over a thousand years. Your ancestor killed his physical body only.”