Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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General Creed heard the horn of the advancing golden riders, just as they started to come into view up over a small hill, all the waiting for the forcefield to drop, just waiting for helplessly to act reminded him all too similarly to the Fairlawn campaign. But now this would be different. There would be a time to act. The moment he had both longed for and dreaded for as what seemed like countless lifetimes was about to occur. He would meet the enemy in fullscale battle.
Gabriel Foy was mounted up next to him, the enigmatic man the first to join him of the group he knew was starting out towards the Caladrayad mountain range road. When Creed noted what appeared to be uncertainty in his expression, he decided to address him.

“Sounding the advance for the golden riders,” the General said.

“Yes,” Foy said, nodding. “The advance on Fairlawn has begun.”

General Creed said nothing, just shook his head a bit as he knew Foy’s reputation of being strange, and exchanged a little glance with the outriders with him, Darvin Nash and Ferris Lang, but the confused exchange did not last long as the sound of hooves were followed by Constable Thean and Relican Avery, each on their way to them with horses in tow – Relic carrying two. When they reached them, both men, nodded at them and then almost instanteously the main doors opened up behind them and Cleo, Isabelle, Malcolm and Jace came out.

The view when the doors opened on the spectacle outside was the most ferocious thing they had ever seen. Blazing comets, airships engaged trying to protect the areas where the stones that kept the forcefield up were held. It was blazing, beautiful, airships against airships, hideous winged creatures. It was a storm of absolute chaos and ferocity on a scale that was simply indescribable. The kind of spectacle of which the essence lie more in feeling than sight.
For a moment, when it was seen through that feint blue aura of the forcefield, the four of them just stood and stared.

“I, uh … don’t suppose any of that is an illusion,” Malcolm said to Jace.

“No,” Jace said, staring.

Malcolm sighed and looked over to Cleo who looked at him when he looked at her. And now Isabelle was moving on as well, looking away from all of the frightening chaos, and when she did, whether to distract herself from that danger or the thoughts of it, she recognized the look in Cleo’s eyes immediately, having been there so many times herself, and so she simply grabbed Jace’s arm and started guiding him over to the horses, who for the first few steps was still staring, in shock still. And despite everything, despite the situation, she found herself smiling at the expressions on Malcolm and Cleo’s faces as they walked back to the horses.

She obviously didn’t know what to say, but Malcolm didn’t hesitate. He already knew exactly what he wanted to do and say, and when her mouth opened a little he was quick to interrupt.

“Hold on a second,” he said. “I don’t have a whole lot of time here and I wanna get this all out.” He reached into his pocket, keeping what he withdrew concealed in his closed fist, as with his other hand he gently grabbed her wrist and brought it up close to their eye level as her green eyes were locked onto his. He opened her hand to where they were both holding the object, but still Cleo seemed focused on him most of all. “I need you to know that you saved my life last night. If it wasn’t for you, I would have gone back into a place where I never would have recovered. Ruined everything I’ve worked so hard to rebuild in my life. For so long I was too nervous or insecure or depressed or whatever, and I used this as a crutch a shortcut. But with you, I don’t need it. You’ve always given me more strength. You’re what I need.”

At this, she sighed and grabbed the front of the strap running across his chest that secured his quiver to his back, and taking the pouch from Malcolm’s hand she pulled him towards her with the same motion and kissed him, perfectly silhouetted in the massive arched entrance to the castle.

“You better get your ass back here, Senior Bowman Hawkins.”
“I will,” he said with a smile and then he turned and ran back, and as he took his one step back away it also completed the transfer of the feverlew pouch into her hand, smiling at him, she bit her lower lip and looked away slightly.

For a second she looked down at the pouch of feverlew when Malcolm turned his back and started walking back to the horses, and when she glanced up she saw Foy was staring at her and when their eyes met, he gave her a half nod. The exchange ended when Malcolm climbed up into the saddle next to Foy and he looked over at him. As Malcolm was situating himself, getting himself ready to ride, he glanced over to Foy and while he said nothing he glanced down and saw the coil of rope attached to his saddle, Foy said nothing but he patted it, and Malcolm smiled before turning to his other side when Jace spoke to him.

“Sure we can’t give ya a few more minutes, chief?” Jace said, earning him an elbow from Isabelle.
“There ya go again,” Darvin said. “Always getting the sexy assignments.”
“Well, this is one you can have if you want,” Jace said.
Relic glanced up behind him to the window of Hazel’s room, but then turned back, as he had been talking about something, as were Creed and Darvin and Ferris. Then suddenly the sapphire pendant Creed had began to glow, the one dangling from Malcolm’s arm did the same, but there was no reason to hit it as Creed answered his.
“General Creed,” he said.
“This is Will, General. The forcefield is about to be lowered, prepare the team to go out. “Copy,” Creed said, and as the sapphire faded, he hit it again. “All archers prepare for the shield to be lowered.” (The sapphires know who you wanna talk to because they’re tied to your essence. You are what make them work.)
Far back behind them the attacks from the airships were screaming into the city into the forcefields, but so far often missing the mark as to the superior flying and skill of the pilots of the airships, which were mostly crude, overwhelming the Sindell Air Force to get shots with almost no regard to their own personal welfare.
Now the nervous tension of the earlier exchanges were all fading and it was all seriousness and nervousness between everyone about to break across that impossibly hellish plain and over a mile that felt as thought it could have a thousand. There was silence. Complete silence until Malcolm finally spoke, obviously nervous.
“Do me a favor and don’t leave me behind or lose me by doing all your outridery stuff. I can ride but not like you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jace said. “We’re all making it.”
The waiting, the apprehension the suspense was almost totally unbearable as they all just waited and time seemed to be suspended, filled only with the thunder of nervous hearts in ears sweaty palms. To where the chaos and the danger became desirable to this. It was taking a little long than any of them had expected, or maybe it was just their nerves that were making them feel that way, and then there was Jace. He had slipped into that singular focus again. He didn’t look calm or loose, but he didn’t look scared or concerned. Though none of them could know it, he was thinking about something Artemus had said to him. “I promise you, it will certainly mean your death.” And he wondered for a second if he was remembering what Artemus said or if he was being reminded by the man himself as that is what it was like when he heard Thean’s night that night in Fairlawn.
While none of them noticed, Will’s airship now came up through the hangar roof and was heading straight for the forcefield over head. None of the riders paid attention, they had other things on their mind, but when the airship zoomed straight overhead towards the forcefield, Creed looked straight up at it all the way until the last second when it looked like it might hit and then the forcefield was down.
At the moment the forcefield went down, a shower of arrows that were enough to blot out light were fired up in all directions, almost as impressive as the other chaos shot up in all directions, taking down winged creatures in giant heaps. The riders all took off like a dart feeling acid in their veins in that split second of surreal moment when something highly anticipated arrives and your brain tries to catch up to the fact that it is finally here and that you’re doing it. They rode straight and true, like lightning, past the outer defenses. All fixed on nothing but the mountain pass leading into Caladrayad. Luckily, the golden riders were far in other directions and nowhere near where they were riding. Most of the enemy Sun Downer airships were leaving them alone, and then one that had not yet reached the city started shooting down at them shooting a giant stretch leading up to them all the way until the point where at the last minute it exploded as Will dipped down for a minute and then went back up to continue with the unseen, life saving work he was doing up there for them.
Finally, they got into a small opening and through two large boulders marking the way on either side and got off, Relic, Jace, and Isabelle leaping from their saddles before their horses were even at a complete stop, going back and covering the area to see if they were being followed or what the situation was. In the middle of them, Malcolm was standing straight up an arrow in his bow. Behind them, looking back too but still in their saddles was Foy and Thean.
Nothing was following them which was what the strategic move was meant to determine, but there was shock and awe with what they saw. From this distance they could get a different and far more frightening perspective as the city looked so much more alone and vulnerable from here. With all of the airships swarming all around overhead and the winged creatures. It looked like a snow globle protected by a light bluish tint, and every now and then you’d see a glint of yellow of fire as one of the attacks from the Sun Downer airships connected.
Malcolm slowly began to lower his bow in shock, this sight even more shocking than when he first walked out of the castle.
“Whatever we’re about to do,” he said, thinking of Cleo. As they were all thinking about people they left behind and cared about in that city. “I hope to hell it works.”
At that moment the sapphire hanging from his arm started to glow, and while he was still stunned, Foy walked up and touched it.
“Good luck. No one seems to be pursuing you. As soon as you get further into the mountains the sapphires won’t work. Good luck.”
“Thanks for everything. Good luck to you, too,” Jace said.
The sapphire went out.
“We’ll have to leave the horses here,” Foy said.
They all got off and left the horses there.
And now they were ready and started deeper into the Caladrayad mountains. They were all like obsidian volcanic rock.
“Keep your eyes open,” Jace said. “I don’t think there will be anything out here for a bit, but stay alert.”
And they continued on. They walked for what felt like endless miles. Mostly in silence, all of them in their own thoughts, tortured, worried about what they would find if anything. Worried about what lay ahead. Foy was unreadable as was Thean.
They walked until it began to get dark.

***

​Clive’s first notice that the golden riders had reached ten miles in was an abrupt halt to the steady stream of marching goldenarmored riders streaming down the Fairlawn Thoroughfare from where he spied at his spot near a tree. To look left was to see that metal river stretch as far as the eye could see into the Woods before wrapping around the bend. Same thing with the progression going out all the way to the plain.
Immediately, as previously ordered, all of the hidden whistlers in the trees commenced their attack as well as all of his sentries launching focused and lightning fast attacks in a stragegic way to cause the most panic and confusion to the enemy. That was on this side. As it got farther into the woods, about ten miles down the road, he could not know what was happening, but by the fact that the advance halted, he thought they were finding their own way to do the job.
Clive had stood for a few moments, just watching the plain, to see what the rest of the host, the rest of that column that was not yet able to enter the woods when the advance halted would do. When he saw that they were just halted, not moving in, perhaps waiting orders or a status update. There was supposed to be no resistance, and now that there was some, how big was it, what other intelligence did they have that was false? It was confusions, exactly what Clive was hoping for and the column beyond the road before entering the wood, did an about face and started marching back at the sound of a series of horns, rendering no aid to their comrades as ordered.
It was a great sight, and immediately after, Clive himself joined into the fight. Which was furious. At first the attacks were condensed and focused, designed to make the small force in the woods seem as large as possible, and it worked at first, but then the golden riders were running fearlessly into the woods and attacking, even as some were cut down by the dozens in places before the whistlers moved on. When the sentries engaged with their long sharp spears it was not for long, attacking, before retreating and using the woods they were more familiar with than anyone else in the world.
By the time Clive threw in his spear to the cause, he was running down the hill, breathing hard, having the blade clang off one’s helmet doing no damage, then he pivoted and thrusted to kill him, in the place where he and his men were told the armor is weak by what Isabelle Talabray and what the outriders learned about them on their mission. He fell down to the side. It was a melee, almost impossible to tell the difference between friend and foe, especially in the now fading daylight that was snuffed out even more by the canopy of the trees. All around there were screams and yells and the sound of whistling arrows, and clanging metal of weapons. But it was having the desired effect. They were confused, and what’s more, they were losing, not in a good position to defend, and the road was paved with golden rider bodies. To the point where some were even retreating, running to get away, know it was an unwinnable situation. Most had taken to using only their short swords, not crossbows as it was near impossible to aim at anything. But they were efficiently trained, backing up to each other and standing their ground.
But Clive could see they were paying a heavy cost, and his own arms felt like rubber, his legs ached as the sweat and the dirt caked everything around him. Along with bruises and scrapes. The battle had been intense. And with the one golden rider he had smashed his knee with a gauntleted kick and the knee went the wrong way. He fell, about to be killed when Adrian came seemingly out of nowhere and killed not only that one but engaged with three.”
“I’d wager we better be gett’in off the road l.t.,” he said, and helped him up the hill, but it was very difficult and every step was agony, he thought this must be the tallest hill in all of Veil’driel. Finally, they reached the top, and doing his best to ignore the pain, preparing to fire arrows with his longbow. He was no whistler, but adept nonetheless, and he could still fight at a distance and vowed he would for as long as he could or until he could regain some semblance of strength. He imagined some of the others were doing the same thing. Adrian, too, was winded, and who could have blamed him. He looked beat up, breathing heavy. He had been heroic.
“There’s more than a few of’em and …,” he speech skipped. “And no mistake.”
“There are,” Clive said, his own voice sounding strange to him, and he realized only then how dry his throat and mouth was as he said the words. “Are you alright?”
“Ah, fine, fine. Need a moment is all. Think’in it might be right time for that fire arrow.”
“Well, take it while you can. We can’t stay in one place for very long. They look like they’re retreating, we might have them on the run.” He looked out watching some of the golden riders fleeing back to the plain and out of the woods. Going from excitement to dread in a fraction of a second. As he hoped it would cause the enemy pause with what happened to their golden riders in the woods, it did not, and now he saw they were falling back at the sound of those horns only because the entire golden rider force was completely spread out and approaching, fresh troops, fresh legs and arms wielding their weapons. It seemed they had either known it was only a small resistance force, or were gambling, and now they were going to simply overrun them with numbers. “More right then you know,” he said, fumbling quickly for the materials to light the arrow, and he fired it, and waited for the sound of the bell, as this was a preordained spot that they had tested and known could be seen from the sentry house. He fired another and there was still no bell. The act of actually fighting and being into it fueling his confidence, there was something about actually being in a situation than thinking about it that was easier he thought. And while he was disheartened and honestly afraid at the developments he saw coming toward them, he held it together. “Might have to do it ourselves,” he said. “Light the fires, hope to delay them and regroup.” He sighed. “For the final stand,” he said.
When he didn’t immediately hear anything he turned behind him.
“What do you think, you up for it?” he asked.
But he saw no movement in Adrian Pierce. He was propped back against a tree, his head tilted just slightly to the side, staring at nothing. He was dead. One of the short sword golden rider attacks having dug deep into his back, and he had bled to death while Clive was coming to his realization. But there was no time to contemplate this yet. He had to ring the bell of the Sentry House. He had to have the fires be set and have the widescale retreat. Most would get back out to the plain, using the woods for cover. If that bell was rung, they had a chance. If not, they would all end up like Adrian, they would all fight to the death.
Bending down in front of Adrian, he closed his eyes, hung his head and then gritted his teeth, feeling desperate and panicky, but then he looked up, realizing he was on the hill where Jace Dabriel made his daring run on the reagent wagon in spite of certain death. Now he would do the same and he clenched his teeth, preparing for the pain that was going to come. His knee was severely injured, and it had taken all he had to reach the top of the hill where he was going to start firing arrows. Now, after closing Adrian’s eyes, he stood up and started running to the sentry house, started running and didn’t care, seeing stars in his eyes with every step but he blocked it out living in a place outside pain pushing him to point of near insanity and he finally got there, rising up like his own personal victory, it was almost spiritual when he saw it.
There were dead sentrymen lying all around, whistlers as well, one hanging out of a tree, but no golden riders. They were not concentrated anywhere anymore it was complete chaos and he pushed open the short black gate as if it were made of solid stone and it almost flung off the hinges, he took a step, fell, got up and rang the bell. Rang it as hard as he could as loud as he could for what felt like far longer than it could have ever been. He was ringing out his success, he was ringing out hope, and he was ringing out, too, his location to any enemy that was in the woods, which was a lot.
He limped into the Sentry House, stepping over the bodies of some of his friends. There had been fighting here, but it was gone now, making a beeline straight for the giant log book and picked up the writing utensil that was right near it. Scribbling, his hand shaking with the pain in his knee sending shockwaves with each subtle movement, hoping that when the flames came, the stone sentry house would protect the book, and he thought it would, remembering when he was in training one of his instructors telling him the whole reason they were made out of stone was particularly because it would be invulnerable to fire which was a very real threat in the wooded locations. Just one of the many facts and test questions he had spent so long memorizing, now so unimportant. For now he knew what it truly was to lead, to fight, and those tests, that studying all seemed so silly now. Then again, Sentries were meant to patrol the woods and do duties related to it, not oppose strange foreign armies from the other side of the world.
Finished writing, he limped to the exit of the sentry house, not thinking or planning beyond his next agonizing step. When he got out there, he saw twenty or thirty of the golden riders standing in front of the sentry house at the road, still, they didn’t attack him as they appeared more confused than anything else to see him. Clive paid them next to no mind, looking instead to the giant Veil’driel flag that had fallen during the fighting here. His first instinct was to pick it up but as soon as he bent a little, his knee gave out completely and he corkscrewed down into a sitting position. Then he reached for the flag, holding it straight up with all of his might, closed his eyes, and tilted his forehead against the staff so that it angled back over him, and though he didn’t see it, fires were sparking up all around deep in the woods around him, orange sparks that quickly spread with the oil as the whistlers and his sentinels used the woods to retreat back to the plains, using too the cover of darkness, every now and then you would see their silhouette or a shadow briefly highlighted by the spreading flames, all the while the golden riders surrounding closed in.
Inside the sentry house, the log book exposed the page, (get exact from Outriders) “Sentinels of Fairlawn ordered retreat. Recommend Adrian Pierce for Medal of Merit. Fought to death. Clive Barringer, Captain, 305th Sentinel Brigade, Commanding. Then wind picked up and blew, turning the page back.

***

​As they walked through the obsidian black rock, Malcolm glanced over to Foy as he slipped on his leather archer glove, he seemed to be expecting trouble as soon as they came along the obsidian leviathan cave, exactly like the one in Bryce Valley, only this one, of the volcanic glass obsidian showed almost no signs of decay or crumbling as the other did.
​“You look nervous,” he said. “Can’t say I saw you look like that. Not even when it got to its worse in Bryce Valley.”
​Indeed, Gabriel did look nervous and he was looking all around at the black shiny rock.
​Called Grotto that because it opens up into a beautiful greenery grotto after these small cavern routes
“The druids that once inhabited this entire continent, the ones that normal people are all descended from. They used Caladrayad Grotto for a very specific purpose, boy. As a necropolis. The druids buried their dead here for years. There’s a lot of spirits here, things older than time and space.”
Now they came up to an obsidian leviathan as they rounded the bend. It looked scarier in the wake of that information.
“Look familiar?” he asked.
Both Jace and Malcolm were staring up at it, and not knowing who he was talking to answered with a simultaneous. “Yes.” Then they glanced at each other and walked inside.
When they were inside, there were similar markings and things related to the Tunnels of Armageddon, and some twists and turns as well as sun light pouring in. Every noise suspicious, everything scary as the party went on. The longer they went on, however, the more they depended on following the light. And as they got deeper they saw things put there by Sindell Air Force. Signs and things and equipment that clashed the very ancient with the very modern as the Sindell Air Force was using this place, and in truth, the looks of that modern stuff was encouraging to take the edge off the scariness. Then they were still walking and they looked over and Jace saw the leviathan with the same colored gemstone eyes as was in the alcove he had had his final confronation with Artemus in. He knew then that he was here.
Jace felt it too as they continued on. Whatever he had sensed in Tunnels of Armageddon as he walked towards the final confrontation with Artemus, while he couldn’t put his finger on it, that same power was here as well.
“Gabriel,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s gemstones I saw Artemus go in. He’s here.”
“Okay.”
“He was hiding under Sindell’s nose this entire time.”
“But if it’s that easy to see, out in the open, how is it possible that some people from here in Sindell haven’t discovered it? Haven’t just walked through it an ended up in the tunnels below Lornda Manor?”
And on their journies a huge grotto opened up and it was filled with emeralds. The energy that harnishes the power of the airships. After what happened in Bryce Valley, its power was degraded by Jaden with the help of Will’s father to drastically limit the range of them, hating how they were betrayed.”
“Emerald Grotto,” Foy said. “But these caverns, the particular ones below Lornda Manor are one way. You can only get here from that side, and part of the reason is that very reason. They’d be too easily discovered. Only a few very rare ones are two way. That one at Bryce Valley among them. They’re all over the world, but the only map of them all is in the mind of the Illuminate and the Illumanar Captain of the golden riders.”
They continued walking and they exited out into an open grotto that was of breataking beauty. Beyond that the black obsidian went on, but in the middle was an abandon and derelict Air Force outpost. It looked abandon with no activity. Jace saw a sort of barrier, like looking down through rippling water. Then he turned back to the party.
“So should we go through it?”
The party looked at each other, confused.
“Through what?” Isabelle asked, confused.
Malcolm looked confused as well.
Thean and Foy exchanged a glance.
“You see something, don’t you?” Foy asked.
“You don’t?” he asked Thean. Then he turned slightly to Foy. “Not even you?”
“Your powers of perception and metaphysical is surpassing even ours,” he said. “Only you can see things like this. Both illusory natural barriers in this world and those put up artificially. You and Jaden.”
Jace poked his head through the barrier and saw all the activity of the Caladrayad Air Base. Nothing taking off or landing but there was a ton of activity. Golden riders watching the posts where if he went back there was nothing, etc. Then he came back. And when he did so, he wondered if, before he could see thorugh the illusion like this, if the servants of Lornda Manor had been standing around watching him and Cedwyn explore the mansion and talk in the library.
“Alright,” Jace said, and then he looked to Malcolm. “We do this the way we’ve done every other attack since I’ve got here. I walk up to them and we all split up and you surprise them.”
“Well, there’s just me,” Malcolm said. “I don’t have my team.”
“I know, so make your shot count.”
“You know these caverns as well as you know Bryce Valley?” Jace said, asking Foy.
“Yes,” Foy said.
“Well, let Foy lead you up and around and inside this illusion shield. It looks like the whole thing overlooks the base, so you won’t even have to get inside. Just shoot. And I’d prefer if you don’t wait so long this time,” he joked.
Now Malcolm went and looked forward, and he saw it all for himself, even though he couldn’t see the barrier it self he saw when it popped open like how Lucas had seen the edge of Fairlawn Woods. Jace was the one to pull away the watery looking barrier and when he did, it was like realtiy itself was opened up to reveal another carbon copy reality.
So okay, this is how we do it, and the party spread up coming from all different angles. And Isabelle and Jace looked at each other, proving here and now that they could do their job and not have their feelings cloud it and thus disprove once and for all that edict. But it was like their insides were being twisted and cracked within, but they said it all with a bare glance to each other.
Now Jace walked up to the base alone. And again the doors opened. Again a golden rider road towards him. All standard procedure. Again he played the odds. What could they be? Only this time there was no reason to play the odds.

The golden rider road up.

He glanced and up and around.

The Greywall was closed, and with it the southern roads of Agaron, up until recently some of the busiest trade routes in the world, had fallen into widespread disuse, leading ultimately, to formal closure by the King. Although the decree of closure did not prohibit travel upon them, this was a technicality. Without the protection of the Agaron Guard or Timberland Sentinels, and without the road maintenance of the Royal Highway Commission, the common voyager or merchant would be exposing themselves to great risk. With the gateway to Joran now shut, they had literally become dangerous roads to nowhere.
The ancient road lamps lining the last stretch of pathway to Greywall Tower, swayed dark and dormant in the cold of the fading daylight; a far cry from when their comforting glow had welcomed visitors from all walks of life to a popular tourist attraction. In the passing year, all that had changed, and although the transition was a gradual one, the Greywall had seemingly returned to its archaic distinction of an unpleasant and isolated place, overnight. It was as if the Jaronese Empire had risen from its Imperial grave to once again threaten the Kingdom, and the Agaron people were much less interested in living the past than they were visiting it over the safe span of centuries.
The Central Rampart of the massive structure came into view like a stone sunrise, rising over the dark trees as the assassin, Raven Lale, made his way over the Cedwick Hills. Here, the dirt road transitioned to cobblestone and two guards, as expected, were waiting for him underneath an enormous granite arch.
​“Who goes there? State your business, traveler!” one of them bellowed, his halberd tilting forward in an awkward frenzy as he attempted to assume a defensive stance. These were some of the finest troops in the world, culled from the elite force known simply as the “King’s Vanguard”. They were not, however, immune to the shock of seeing this unexpected visitor emerge from the shadows.
The other guard’s weapon was held in a similar position. He said nothing, but his eyes issued all of the appropriate warnings.
​“Your stores of brandy and tobacco,” Raven said plainly, raising his hands to the collar of his heavy, black cloak. “Heard a rumor that the famous Greywall is the best stocked spot in the Kingdom.”
​There was a long pause, and the guards glanced at each other briefly before turning back to the stranger.
​“You’re serious?” the talkative one asked.
​Raven let the question hang in the frosty dusk, apparently pleased in some way that his obvious joke had not been perceived. When his amusement had reached its peak, he moved on, rolling his eyes as he bounced a bit in place to keep warm.
​“No I’m not serious, you crazy bastards!” he said, almost shouting. His words were loud with laughter. “I’m here to see your Captain, Khayn Ahara.”
​Neither guard appeared to share Raven’s mirth.
​“It is not a common occurrence to receive visitors these days,” the second guard at last chimed in. “Why are you alone and where is your horse?”​
Raven reached within his cloak, and the action heightened the tension for a moment until he produced a parchment and not a weapon.
“You’ve had a visit from the House of Vigrath, the way I hear it,” Raven said. “I’m here to investigate at the request of his Majesty, King Arkelais the Third.”
​The larger guard, the one who had spoken first, snatched the letter from Raven’s hand, his brow rising in recognition as he read it over.
“How do we know you didn’t kill our messenger and intercept this?” he asked, inexplicably turning it over to inspect the other side.
Raven sighed.
​“You’re a good Guard, friend, but you wouldn’t be much of a detective,” he said, balling one of his hands into a fist to blow a warm breath through his fingers. He motioned to the parchment with an upward nod.
“That symbol in the lower left-hand corner is the official Seal of the Crown. It can only be applied by the King himself to indicate his hand has touched the correspondence.”
As both men studied the seal, the assassin went on.
“Now I suppose you could forge such a thing, if you knew how, which I don’t, and if you were willing to risk life imprisonment, which I’m not.”
The Guards were almost to the point of ignoring Raven’s presence entirely, searching in vain for any irrefutable proof of his claim. They could afford to focus on the document, for as the assassin could see along the ramparts beyond the archway, several silhouettes armed with crossbows were backing them up. Raven nearly groaned at this. Not in fear, but in the realization that they still did not trust him, and he would have to continue to stand in the cold until they did.
“Look,” Raven said, impatience creeping into his tone. “Your messenger will return two days from now.”
The Guards looked up at this with a start.
“Although I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me wait that long.”
The statement was true enough, but it was a stupid one to make. The assassin was not taking these elite guards seriously enough and he knew it. Now they were sure to be even more suspicious, if anything.
“You’re claiming to have beaten him back? Impossible!”
Their frustration was making a deadly transition to alarm.
“I don’t like this,” his partner agreed, and with that, the two men had had enough of this shady character. The more subdued of the two now took the lead, turning back towards the main wall to yell: “Friedrich!”
“Go ahead!” one of the armed silhouettes shouted back.
“Summon Marshal Tove to the Gate!”
Without another word, the silhouette disappeared.
Though he kept his exterior unchanged, the assassin’s mind was hard at work. One of his objectives this evening was coming to him, and it was a nice development. Well worth the inconvenience caused by the guards’ distrust.
“I hope the Marshal knows you, for your sake, sir.”
​Raven did not respond to the threat, giving no indication that he had even heard it as he surveyed the dark trees around them.
Beyond the Greywall, from deep within the woods bordering the Republic of Joran, a crow’s squawk echoed off the Tower.
​“Oooooh,” Raven said with a slow smile, focusing his gray stare on the guards. “Scary.”

***

“Did you get his name?” First Marshal Damien Tove asked the crossbowman.
“No, sir,” the soldier answered. “I was told only to summon you to the Gate.”
Friedrich Litney was a dependable veteran, and so his response came as a surprise.
“You did not find that information important?” he pressed.
“I should have thought to ask, Marshal. No excuse,” Friedrich said, his posture stiffening in front of the hallowed figure.
A thin smile curved upon the lips of the aged and legendary man, hoping that his fragile nerves had not betrayed his false confidence. He knew the man who awaited him at the Rune Arch. He had been expecting him, and he could feel the perspiration already oozing from his palms.
“No excuse necessary,” he assured the troop.
The Marshal was no longer wearing his armor, having completed his rounds to collect status reports from the rampart sentinels, but the bracers on his wrists had not yet been removed. Before he took his first steps down the wide hallways, he unclasped the leather straps holding them in place. When he finished, he laid them down on the foyer table beside him.
“Well then,” he said. “Let us greet this nameless guest of ours, shall we?”
Friedrich nodded, matching the Marshal’s stride to the Main Gate.
“Yes, sir.”

***

Back outside, Raven was waiting patiently with the two guards, and by the time there was movement from within the courtyard, it felt like years had passed since “Friedrich” had left on his errand.
The two men of the King’s Vanguard executed a crisp facing movement towards each other, their halberds straightened at their side. The sun had completely disappeared, and only the torchlight, flickering from emplacements flanking the arch, highlighted the Marshal’s breath as he approached.
“Raven?” the man asked, his familiar voice as deep and authoritative as ever. Even in a moment of seemed astonishment, he appeared in complete control of the situation.
“Marshal,” Raven acknowledged, studying the man’s body language like a book. He was trying too hard to act surprised.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?”
The guard answered for him.
“Captain Ahara’s correspondence, First Marshal,” he reported, holding up the parchment with a rigid arm while keeping the rest of his body still.
The Marshal took the parchment, looked over it for a second and then looked past the paper at Raven. “And how is King Arkelais these days?” he asked.
Raven shrugged.
“Busy,” he answered. “And tired.”
Marshal Tove nodded and then glanced briefly back to the guard that had handed him the parchment.
“Good work, lads,” he said, clearing his throat as if to help ground himself back in the moment; back from wherever his drifting thoughts had taken him. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Yes, sir, Marshal,” the first guard said, his boots grinding against the cobblestone as he turned back to face the road. His partner did the same.
Together, the men of the Vanguard listened as long as they could, until the conversation between the Marshal and the newcomer faded into the distance of the courtyard. When they had finally disappeared from sight, past the elegant fountain and through the main entrance of the Greywall’s central tower, the guards’ posture relaxed. Just slightly.
“He could never have beaten Kelsey back from the capital,” the one who had first stopped Raven said. “He’s the fastest messenger in the Vanguard.”
The other looked over.
“In the Kingdom,” he corrected, understanding his partner’s point.
Quiet fell on them for a moment, each left to their private thoughts and the sound of the wind.
“I mean, the guy didn’t even have a horse.”
The guards were looking away from the road and at each other again.
“Who do you think he is?”
“No way to tell.”
“Well, regardless of what’s happening,” the second guard began, talking in a tone that sought closure to the evening’s events. “I hope tonight’s developments are over.”
Once more there was silence, and the evening chill seemed to bite just a little bit deeper.

Now he looked around and he saw there were no airships but there were winged creatures.

Jace found himself wondering if this is where the Winged Creatures stayed the whole time and who created them.

“Yes, it is,” Artemus said, walking out of the darkness. “And who created them? Well, the druids themselves, of course. They once dwelled all over the continent, the original tears, before hiding themselves, wishing only to be left alone, practicing in private to let Ciridian progress the way it wanted to.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the story,” Jace said.

“Good,” Artemus said.

Jace watched him approach.

“You don’t seem surprised I can read your mind.”

“No,” Jace said. “I remember what you said about that in the Communion Vault and I just remember.”

“Do you remember what else I told you. On our last meeting?”

“Yeah. That the next time you saw me I would be your enemy. That if I followed you into your enemy’s camp, which is this, I would be dead.”

“That was before you saved my daughter’s life,” he said.
“Yeah.”

“Well, then. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, we got the report that there might be some golden riders up here,” he said.

He looked around, and all around them thousands, rows and rows back and all around them. There was a moment and quiet.

“Seen any?”

Chapter Eighteen  (E) Chapter Eighteen #2190683 by Dan Hiestand