Rennard
“Allow me to present my son and heir, Alton,” Lord D’Yer said.
The captain raised an eyebrow and glanced at Estral. “All good, I hope?”
“Very much so,” Alton replied. “I appreciate the service you rendered the Lady Fiori in the north, as she is very dear to me.” In fact, she had spoken often and with warmth about “Miles.”
“It was truly a privilege.”
Rennard, Alton knew, had led the honor guard that escorted Estral and the body of her father from the north to Selium.
He had then stayed on to assist with funeral arrangements and, apparently, to provide emotional support, before returning to normal duty.
Alton should have been the one to be there for her.
Karigan had even sent him a letter asking him to attend the funeral, but orders were orders and he remained at the wall. His parents had gone in his stead.
“What brings you?” he asked.
“The captain has orders to take command at the wall,” his father said.
“I’ve stopped by to inform His Grace as a courtesy,” Ren nard said. “I’ve brought two hundred of the River Unit with me to supplement the force already in place.”
Normally, Alton would be pleased by the addition of more troops, and he was, but he couldn’t help but have misgivings about Rennard himself. Or, was he just jealous?
“Lady Fiori has referred to you as ‘lieutenant’ when she has spoken of you,” Alton said. “It would seem congratulations are in order on your promotion.”
“I thank you. I was promoted a month ago, but I’ve a good deal of experience.”
“And the confidence of General Washburn,” Lord D’Yer added, “who has personally vouched for him and assigned him to the wall.” He handed Alton a sheaf of papers with ribbons dangling from official seals.
A quick glance revealed that these were Rennard’s orders, signed by the general, and sealed by the army’s top command.
“I do not go in blindly,” Rennard said, “for I have studied the wall, read your reports, and spoken with many who have been assigned there.”
“It is not the same as being there,” Alton replied.
“No, I expect it is not. I hope I will benefit from your extensive experience and guidance. My understanding is that, though I am to command the troops there, I will report to you.”
Alton looked the man over again. His bearing exuded confidence as he stood there sure and straight in his crisp, clean uniform, his hands clasped behind his back. Alton was certain females, and maybe some males, found him appealing to look upon.
A quick glance to Estral revealed her barely suppressed amusement. He narrowed his eyes. She was amused by his reaction to Rennard.
“Will you be staying in Woodhaven?” he asked the captain.
“Only for the night. His Grace has generously offered us space in the militia’s barracks.”
He was going to stay with his soldiers? Now that impressed Alton. Most officers would jump at the chance to stay in the lord’s house, and he knew his father would have offered a guest suite to him.
“If you will excuse me,” Rennard said, “I must see that my people get settled.” He bowed. “My lords, my lady.” And with that, he was off with a pair of aides on his heels.
“He appears very capable,” Lord D’Yer said, admiration in his eyes, a look Alton had never received from his father.
“We’ll see,” Alton muttered. He fantasized about Rennard pissing his pants the first time he saw an anteshey or a dark Eletian.
Estral took his arm. “Come now,” she said. “You promised me hot-spiced cider.”
He allowed her to pull him away, but as they rested in the kitchen and drank the refreshment, he quickly faded into weariness from the effort of climbing the hill, and she found a servant to help her get him to his bed chamber. It was humiliating to feel so weak.
As he rested, a dream came to him. He stood upon the hill at night, but as he gazed at the view, there was darkness where he should have seen the lights of Woodhaven.
Just stars in the sky and him. But no, he was not alone.
Someone sat on the bench, and in the dream, it was not overgrown and covered in moss.
When he approached, he discovered it was Beryl Spencer who sat there, attired in her Green Rider uniform.
She gazed ahead as though unaware of him, the glint of stars in her eyes.
There was a familiarity to the scene, as though it had happened before, or perhaps it was simply a memory from earlier in the day trickling into his dream.
It all washed away when he awoke sometime later.
“Damn these dreams.” He rubbed crust out of his eyes.
It turned out he had just enough time to dress for supper and escort Estral to the dining hall.
“Did you rest well?” she asked.
Despite the dreaming, he felt refreshed. A week ago, even a few days ago, he would have had to stay abed all night and well into the next day after an excursion up that hill. He really was getting better.
“Very well,” he answered her. “I feel more like my old self than I have in a long time.” That was an exaggeration, perhaps, but his quick recovery from the hike made him ebullient.
However, his good spirits diminished somewhat when he discovered Captain Rennard would not be dining with his soldiers. He sat at the head table with Lord and Lady D’Yer. As a guest, he was placed to the right hand of Alton’s father. Estral sat between him and Alton.
Alton felt left out of the conversation as Rennard and Estral caught up and laughed at incidents to which he lacked the requisite nuances. Then Lord D’Yer asked the captain about the Battle of the Lone Forest.
“I understand you were there,” Lord D’Yer said.
“I was indeed,” Rennard replied. “I was with the king’s cohort as we made our surprise attack on Second Empire.
Many uncanny things happened that night, and I admit my fear was great, but I’d a token from Lady Estral to keep me safe.
” He smiled at her, and she beamed back at him.
Alton glared at his plate, no longer hungry, his good mood turning sour.
She had given him a token? That was what lovers did.
But Rennard said, “After all was said and done, and we were on the road to Selium, I returned the token, her minstrel brooch, when she made clear her heart belonged to Lord Alton. The gesture had done what it needed to at the time, and that’s what was important.
It gave me courage as I set off into battle, not knowing if I would survive the night. ”
Alton’s anger turned to ashes. What she had done for a young soldier going into battle had been a kindness, a generosity of the heart. He reached over and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
Mollified, he listened to Rennard’s description of the battle, the horror of demons attacking, the king’s valor, and the surrender of the enemy. He told of rumors of the god of death arriving upon the scene astride his great black stallion, Salvistar.
“One or two claim they glimpsed Westrion and his steed,” Rennard continued, “but it was a confusing night, and the haze of battle can muddle a soldier’s mind. Was he there? I cannot say, but there were certainly enough souls present for him to collect.”
A strange expression had fallen over Estral’s face as Rennard spoke.
“What is it?” Alton whispered, but she just shook her head. Did she think she, too, had seen the god of death? That would be a disconcerting and frightening sight.
After the formal dinner concluded, Rennard asked to speak with Alton in more detail about the encampment at the wall, so the two retired to a seating area near the fire with goblets of mulled wine.
The arms of Clan D’Yer, a sword crossed by a hammer on a field of gold, and bordered by a crenelated stone wall, hung above the hearth.
When Estral excused herself to work on her book, Alton saw how Rennard’s gaze followed her as she walked across the hall.
“I am envious you’ve her devotion,” the captain said.
Alton smiled. “She puts up with me, but she is the Golden Guardian, and her first duty is to the people of Selium.”
“I do not think she considers you a duty.” Rennard chuckled. “In any case, we all have our duty and roles to perform. At the wall, I know you are in charge.”
“I am but a Green Rider.”
“Hardly. You are the one everyone looks to for answers and direction. I do not want to step on any toes when I arrive, so perhaps you can tell me more about the command arrangements there, and anything that is of especial importance to you.”
Alton told him what he could of the forces at the wall, and who answered to whom, and the personalities of those involved, including those of the tower mages and gryphons.
“This Rider Littlepage,” Rennard said, “who is currently in charge. What is her rank?”
“Green Rider,” Alton replied.
Rennard looked aghast. “I have the utmost respect for the king’s messengers, but you left a commoner of no rank in charge?”
Indignation arose in Alton. “Do not mistake being a Green Rider as being without rank. By that measure, she and I are at the same level. Only because I am the heir to Lord D’Yer do I command some authority.
Rider Littlepage has been at the wall almost as long as I have, and more consistently than anyone besides myself.
She is able to enter the towers to speak with the mages.
She has intimate knowledge of some of the creatures that inhabit Blackveil.
You could say she is my lieutenant, if you like, and she will be an asset to you as you find your footing there. ”
Rennard nodded his acceptance. “I meant no offense to Rider Littlepage. What should I expect from Blackveil?”
They spoke at length about the creatures that had made their way over the breach, and what the Blackveil expedition had encountered a year and a half ago.
“Some creatures may appear wholesome,” Alton said, “such as the hummingbirds, but they are most decidedly not.”
Rennard, who had fought demons in the Lone Forest, looked unsettled as he listened to the description of dark Eletians. Good, Alton thought. None of this was to be taken lightly.
“They can come through the towers to our side of the wall?”
Alton nodded. “When the wall was created, only certain people were permitted passage through them—the tower mages, wall keepers, Green Riders, and Eletians.”
“And because these dark Eletians were originally ordinary Eletians, they can pass through, too?”
“A thousand years as Sleepers in Blackveil have corrupted them,” Alton replied. “Never forget how utterly dangerous they are.” He patted his midsection where one had stabbed him.
“I hear your warning and shall heed it, “ Rennard said. He leaned in closer and said in a low voice, “I understand this is not the only warning you have spoken, but you have not mentioned the other this night.”
There was the prickling on the back of Alton’s neck once more, and a brief impression from his dream earlier, of Beryl sitting on the bench. When he realized he was rubbing the back of his neck, he stopped.
“It is said,” Rennard continued, “that you sent a warning to the king about dragons. Are there dragons in Blackveil? I thought they were just legend.”
“I—I don’t know. I was badly injured at the time, probably babbling nonsense.” Even as he said it, he knew it to be wrong. “I don’t know why I gave that warning. I am told I had just come back from death.”
Rennard nodded sagely. “And in the passage from beyond the veil, much can be seen and known. Or so says my sister who is a monk.” He grinned.
“It may be that we find out, eh? I once thought gryphons and Eletians just the stuff of stories for children, but have been proven wrong. It is a time of wonders with legends walking the Earth once more.”
Dragons will come, had been Alton’s message in his delirium. He hoped it didn’t mean real dragons. They’d have their hands full with just what lay beyond the D’Yer Wall.
· · ·
Later that night, Estral found him in his chamber packing his saddlebags. Her voice had deserted her once more, and she scribbled on her slate and showed it to him.
Going somewhere? she asked.
“I’m riding to the wall with Rennard tomorrow. It was time I returned to duty.” He gazed at his green shortcoat before he folded it and stuffed it into his bag. “It’s been far too long since I wore green.”
Estral did not look pleased, and there was mad tapping and the squeak of chalk as she wrote. Still healing. You barely made it up the hill today.
“I did make it, though,” he replied, “and I recovered from it rather well.”
She wiped the slate clean with a rag and wrote, After a lengthy nap!!!
He noted the emphatic punctuation of her sentence. “Look, I won’t exert myself.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I will exert myself as little as feasible,” he amended. “Someone needs to be in communication with the wall guardians, and I seem to be that person. Too much time has already passed.”
She sighed, and wrote, I understand, but you’ll undo your rest.
“I’ve already spoken to Mender Forrest and he approves of me going.” Grudgingly, that was, but Alton didn’t share that part with Estral. “He’s sending all kinds of medicines and instructions for Leese, whom I am instructed to obey.”
Fine, she wrote. I’ll make sure you do.
“Wait, what? You can’t go, it’s too—” She gave him such a withering glare that he dared not conclude the sentence. “I mean,” he said, treading carefully lest she decide to knock him upside the head with the slate, “I thought you were going to Sacor City.”
I AM FIORI.
He knew when he had lost. “Indeed, you are, Golden Guardian.” He bowed. The Golden Guardian could wander wherever she willed, and he had no say in the matter. “I only mean that I worry about your safety because I love you.”
They stood there gazing at one another for a few moments.
Finally, he said, “I recommend, my lady, that you get moving and start packing. We leave at dawn.”
A look of triumph crossed her face and she dashed from the room.
Alton sat in an armchair, suddenly wearied. He couldn’t keep her away from the wall, but he’d do all he could to protect her, even if it killed him. Again.