By the Sword Page 15

  “I wonder where she is now,” said Tanel.

  “I ponder the same thing several times every day,” said the general.

  Tanel took in their serene surroundings. Fog seeped over the forest floor. He remembered when Talya would come to visit Cardamon with her mother during the summers when they were children. Tanel had lived in the cabin next to theirs. He, Hanten, and Talya would go into the forest at that time of night to catch fireflies or glow worms. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Fallen twigs snapped to their left. Tanel exchanged a suspicious look with the general. They walked cautiously in the direction that the sound had come from.

  Edandir unsheathed his sword.

  A horse snorted. Someone had been watching them.

  Tanel clenched an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to his back.

  A horse and its hooded rider emerged from the shadows.

  “Halt!” shouted Edandir.

  Slender, gloved hands lowered the hood. Shimmering tears fell silently down a young maiden’s pale face. It was clear by her smeared black makeup that she had been crying for a while. She was very beautiful.

  Edandir sheathed his sword.

  “Are you from Malinor, young lady?” he asked.

  “I – I don’t even know what I’m doing here, but I just know that I can’t stay there any longer. I apologize for trespassing. I will be on my way.”

  “But where will you go?” asked Tanel.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What is your name, child?” General Edandir asked.

  “Chrissa.”

  “Tanel, go warm up a pot of chowder for her. Please, come back to our camp and rest, at least for the night.”

  The girl appeared hesitant, but then she gracefully got down from her ebony mare. She tied its reins to one of the willow trees and then followed them back to the camp.

  Tanel busied himself boiling some leftover soup over the last fire in the camp. When it was ready, he carried a bowl of it over to her.

  She was sitting on a log with her shoulders slouched.

  Tanel approached her and slowly handed her the bowl.

  “Thank you,” she smiled.

  He sat on the other end of the log.

  “Would you like me to sit with you, or would you rather be alone?” he asked.

  “Stay, please,” she said.

  Tanel couldn’t help but stare at the striking beauty from Malinor as she daintily ate her meal. Her smooth skin appeared alabaster against the dark gown that she wore. He admired her strength to leave the place and wondered what had happened to her that would make her want to do so.

  When Chrissa was finished, she set her bowl down and looked at him.

  “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

  “It’s the least we could do.”

  “No. I wouldn’t say that. I am your enemy.”

  “You aren’t anymore.”

  A round of laughter came from the other side of the camp. Tasar, Atalsa, and a few other knights approached them. As usual, Tasar was bragging about how many knights he had beaten during training. Tanel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was easy to be a champion when Tasar only chose the smallest or lesser skilled opponents.

  The group stopped talking when they noticed the winsome newcomer.

  “This is Chrissa. She will be staying with us tonight,” said Tanel.

  They nodded to her and then went over to the campfire, continuing their banter.

  “So, are you also a brave sword fighter?” she asked.

  “I’m an archer.”

  “An archer?”

  The maiden raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. Tanel knew what Malinorians thought of archers on a battlefield.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but my father—”

  She stopped mid-sentence and exhaled loudly. She wiped a tear that had slipped down her face.

  Tanel wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t very good at that sort of thing. Chrissa undoubtedly had a very dark past.

  He swallowed.

  “You are very brave, and I want you to know that you have made the right decision.”

  The raven-haired girl looked up at him with glistening eyes.

  “I ran away because my father was going to force me to marry someone that I loathed.”

  “Marry?” Tanel echoed. “But you’re just a girl!”

  Her piercing blue eyes glared at him as she crossed her arms. He had offended her.

  “In Malinor, I am considered a woman. Most girls are already married by the time they are my age.”

  “I’m sorry. Things are very different here. No one is forced to marry.”

  She relaxed and nodded.

  “I did not want to be married at all, let alone to that man.”

  “You are safe here now.”

  Chrissa looked at him intently.

  Tanel could hardly fathom the mere idea of forcing a lady to marry anyone, let alone a man that she despised. It gave him yet another reason to want to conquer the barbaric Malinorian Empire.

  *****

  Jalarn paced back and forth in the library. His mind swam with the conflicting thoughts.

  The door swung open. Jalarn looked up in annoyance.

  Aterun. Again.

  The warlock glared at him.

  Jalarn knew exactly what the man was going to say.

  “I told you to kill that wench,” said Aterun.

  “And I told you that she is not your concern.”

  “Yes, she is, because it concerns you.”

  “Remember who it is you are talking to!”

  “M’lord, you forgot to meet me tonight to finish the spell. You were with her. Are you not aware that Malinor goes to war tomorrow?”

  Jalarn restrained himself from throttling the man. He had the nerve to comment on his decisions? Who did the sack of bones think he was?

  “Just look at you!” shouted Aterun. “You are leading the world’s largest empire into battle at dawn and you barely know which end is up. That girl is a curse.”

  “Shut up!”

  Jalarn walked over to Aterun and pushed him. The elderly man stumbled backward.

  “General, you were the one that threatened me to teach you all of the spells. You wanted to cast an enchantment that will punish Malinor’s traitors.”

  “We can still finish it tonight.”

  “Don’t be careless. It’s that female. She’s already poisoning your mind. You defend her like she is the most important thing in your life. So, is she?”

  Jalarn was grateful for the darkness hiding his flaming face.

  “Don’t be crazy.”

  Aterun was just a senile old man. He could not deny that Talya was intriguing. But the most important thing to Jalarn was the empire. Besides, he knew that she was not trying to stab him in the back. There was something about her that he knew he could trust – something that he had never seen in all of Malinor.

  “I want you to go now. I will meet you shortly so we can finish the spell,” said Jalarn.

  “So you can sit here and ponder your feelings for a while?”

  “If you are implying that I have emotion, warlock, I will strike you dead where you stand.”

  I might just kill you anyway.

  Aterun scowled before turning to leave. He was nearly at the door, but he stopped when his shrewd eyes caught a glimpse of Talya’s scroll. He shifted over to Jalarn’s desk and picked it up.

  “What in the realm is this?”

  “Aterun, I do not answer to you. When I need you, I will summon you. Now, get out of here before you get what you deserve.”

  The warlock dropped it like a red-hot iron before hobbling out of the library.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ittonifer couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was the war and the vast empire that would be his to rule afterward. He sat up, lighting a candle. The floor beneath his feet murmured for a
moment. The gold utensils on his plate tinkled.

  He stared at his table. Everything on it was trembling.

  Either this is a tremor, or Aterun is up to something.

  Ittonifer put his red cape on and picked up his torch, walking briskly down the hall and to the bolted door that led to the warlock’s lair.

  He rushed down the stairs and over to the dark cavern where the old magician was sure to be.

  As Ittonifer entered the cave, the reflection of his torch’s flame danced off of Jalarn’s armor. Aterun was standing in front of the pool staring at Ittonifer.

  “My lord,” they both said.

  “And what are you two up to?” asked Ittonifer.

  “You will be most pleased,” said Jalarn.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  Aterun rubbed his hands together.

  “We had first planned to cast a spell on all of the traitors of Malinor, but the process takes much too long. We felt that our energy was put to best use by focusing on one man first. The man that we hate the most.”

  Ittonifer nodded. He liked the sound of what he was hearing.

  “We have cast a spell on Sanctus’ general,” said Aterun.

  “Edandir. He is the worst traitor of them all. Will it kill him?” asked Ittonifer.

  “No, not immediately, but we are working on a modification. Aterun has been experimenting with deviations of more minor spells and some of them have worked,” said Jalarn.

  Aterun smirked.

  “Tell me more,” said Ittonifer.

  *****

  Jalarn returned to his room much later that night. He and Aterun had finished the enchantment over Edandir, but the modification that would make it fatal would take Aterun another day or more several more hours.

  His comfortable bed looked so inviting, but Talya’s scroll needed to be burned. Jalarn reached over to pick it up, and his elbow hit a container of ink. The small bottle tipped over. He cursed and set it straight, but as he did so, his hand hit the scroll and it rolled off the desk.

  Jalarn bent to retrieve it. It had unraveled. It was several feet long, and it had the most elegant handwriting that he had ever seen. Someone had taken great care to pen the words of their God.

  Beautiful, but rubbish.

  As he began to roll it back up, the black ink of one sentence turned the color of crimson. Jalarn rubbed his eyes, certain that he had strained them too much. The writing was still blood red.

  He read the scarlet-hued words.

  For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son…

  Jalarn nearly jumped back at the words.

  Son?

  “Burn it, Jalarn!”

  Jalarn fought the voice inside his head, reading the rest.

  … that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

  Jalarn wondered if Talya would explain the meaning of that to him exactly. What did this everlasting life entail?

  At any moment, Ittonifer would request to speak with him about the spell over Edandir. Jalarn did have an army to lead, but something deep within him was screaming to know the meaning of those words before he could do that.

  Jalarn felt a looming presence surrounding him. It was his lord. The devil. He was not pleased. Still, Jalarn’s desire to have his question answered outweighed his fear of the devil’s wrath. That sentence was like nothing he had ever read before. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to find out what fueled the God followers to be so defiant of the empire?

  “I’m only trying to find out why she believes what she does,” Jalarn said. “Then I will set her straight.”

  *****

  Ittonifer admired the vast legions of soldiers from the comfort of his balcony once again. Jalarn and the commanders were training them well. The time was almost upon him to rightfully take his last enemy and assume full control of the continent.

  He sensed that Aterun was coming up behind him and turned around.

  The warlock had become annoyingly bold at approaching him unannounced, but he knew why. The old stump believed that he had more power than anyone in the empire. Aterun’s only purpose was to do the dirty work for Ittonifer. He would find that out one day soon.

  “What do you want, Aterun?”

  “I have come to inform you that your nephew has been neglecting his studies and has resorted to moping around the castle for the last two days.”

  Ittonifer frowned.

  Jalarn had not moped around anywhere since he had been a scraggly boy in need of bread. The lad wanted nothing more than to become a powerful magician and warrior.

  “Was he not with you tonight in the lair casting a spell on General Edandir?”

  “Yes. After much prodding from me. He did it to make up for his failure with the giants. Magic was the last thing on his mind before I all but dragged him to the cavern.”

  Why would Jalarn be neglecting his evening lessons, of all things? He had been obsessed with magic just a few days ago.

  “My nephew had better be prepared to explain, but first I have a task to complete.”

  *****

  Talya awakened to an echoing screech. The door down the hall had opened. It seemed like it had been ages since Jalarn had left. She had fallen asleep praying for him.

  Talya sat up as a tall, masculine figure holding a lantern came to the barred door. It was not Jalarn.

  Talya squinted, trying to make out the man’s face. He was much older, with long black hair. His angry black eyes and wicked scowl made Talya almost wonder if it was the devil himself.

  Her heart pounded against her ribcage.

  “Who are you?” asked Talya.

  “You’ve met my nephew.”

  “Ittonifer.”

  He nodded.

  A shiver ran down Talya’s spine and arms as she stared at the living legend. She’d only seen him that one time in the arena. But he’d had on his battle helmet. Here, in person, he seemed even more powerful.

  Ittonifer moved to the side as a guard unlocked the door and brought a bowl of steaming soup into the cell. He set it down and left.

  Talya eyed it suspiciously. She was famished, but she didn’t want to take it.

  Ittonifer stared at her with a knowing grin.

  “If I wanted you to be dead, you would not be breathing right now,” he said.

  He had a point. Talya was starving, and the soup’s aroma was intoxicating. She suddenly felt dizzy as she slowly crawled over to take a sip from the bowl. It had been too long since she had eaten.

  Ittonifer kicked the bowl to the side. Some of the soup splattered on her face. Talya winced as she wiped off the hot liquid with her sleeve.

  “You will eat when you agree to listen to reason,” he said.

  “Then I will never eat again!”

  “The prince has been watching you, Talya,” said Ittonifer, “and so have I.”

  She stiffened.

  Devilish magic!

  “You and Jalarn are equally matched with the sword. You met him in the forest and then spared his life. The prince willed it to be so.”

  “That is a lie.”

  “Silence! I would kill you where you sit if it were up to me, sword maiden. I know your backstabbing father all too well. Luckily for you, the prince has very special plans for your role here in Malinor. You are a fool if you throw away this opportunity. Many of my warriors would give anything to be in your position right now.”

  Her stomach knotted at the idea of the countless other souls sitting where she sat at the mercy of Ittonifer. She was not going to submit to him. Which meant that pain was soon to follow. She knew that much about the man.

  “I won’t listen to this any longer,” said Talya.

  “Very well. Maybe after some… persuasion… you will change your mind.”

  Talya didn’t like the sound of that. Her eyes widened as two soldiers walked into her cell. One carried a box and the other carried a pail of water.

  Talya instinctively stood and
held out her sword. She was so weak that one of them easily kicked her legs out from under her. She dropped her sword as she landed on her behind. One of the guards retrieved the weapon and gave it to Ittonifer. The other one grabbed her by the shoulders and dunked her head into the ice-cold water.

  Talya screamed into the frigid liquid as her body trembled from the chilling jolt. She kicked at the soldier that held her, but he held her firmly in place until she thought that her lungs would burst. He yanked her out and she coughed, gasping for air.

  “All of this ends if you will just turn away from your God, Talya,” said Ittonifer.

  “Never!” she cried.

  The soldier submerged her head again.

  Oh Lord, I am going to die.

  *****

  In the ethereal beauty of the night, General Edandir stood atop a rocky hill that overlooked a great freshwater lake. Nothing energized him more than nature’s beautiful scenery. They had marched for yet another day. Tomorrow, they would attack the Malinorian Empire. He never slept very well the night before a battle, and this battle was the most important one of his life.

  Uittan had left yesterday without even an encouraging word regarding Talya. Edandir knew that worrying about her would not help her. Then again, neither would staying up all night.

  I always thought that I would get wiser with age.

  Shaking his head, Edandir turned to walk back toward the camp.

  “Halt!” shouted a voice.

  It echoed through the crisp evening air like a whiplash.

  General Edandir spun around with his sword already in his hand. He faced a masked Malinorian guard that stood only a few paces away.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Edandir.

  “You have something that belongs to me.”

  “There is nothing here that belongs to you.”

  “I was betrothed to Ittonifer’s daughter, but the wench took off on me. I know she’s with you. If you give her back to me, I’ll leave you in peace.”

  “You mean Chrissa?”

  “Yes.”

  That frail, raven-haired girl was Ittonifer’s daughter? His heart broke for her all the more. She must have been through unspeakable pain being the child of that man.

  Edandir pointed his sword at the dog, his heart racing with anger. The brute of a man had to be at least thirteen years Chrissa’s senior. No wonder the girl had run away.