have any of us encountered a paladin’s shield becoming his beacon of faith over his weapon. I hope you study it closely to learn its reasons, its limits.”
Jerico set the shield down by the tree.
“It’s a big hunk of metal that glows. I think I understand it well enough.”
Pallos shook his head.
“You should show more reverence to the gifts of Ashhur. The people here study the way you speak, the way you act. You are an example to them, and if you show such callousness toward the miracles of our god, then you will instill them with the same.”
Jerico felt his neck flush.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Come now, I am no teacher, and you no wet-nosed pupil. You are a good man, and I expect greatness out of you. I would not have sent you here if I did not. There are a hundred villages, all needing to hear the word of our god. But Ashhur expects something special from you. I only pray you are prepared for it.”
Pallos stood, and he brushed the dirt from his armor.
“I must be going,” he said. “There are others who must learn of Mornida’s death.”
Before he could go, Jerico stopped him.
“Wait,” he said. “You see, I…”
“What is it?” Pallos asked.
“I’ve been having dreams,” he said. “The same one, really, and it comes with greater frequency.”
The old paladin tilted his head. “Well, tell me, and perhaps I can interpret.”
“I see the Citadel. The lower walls are cracking, and then the surrounding field bursts with fire. It’s raining, but instead of water, bones fall. I hear a sound, like the roar of a beast, and then I awake.”
Pallos looked troubled by what he heard.
“Perhaps you dreamt of Mornida’s death,” he said. “It is always a troublesome time when our leader falls.”
“Are you sure?”
Pallos gestured to the distance. On the other side of the square, Darius was gathering men and women for another sermon.
“Perhaps it is Ashhur warning you of his presence. The Citadel is strong as ever. But to be in the company of a dark paladin…you must expect some of his shadow to fall upon you. Stay safe, Jerico. I hope to see you on my return.”
Jerico watched him go as Darius’s speech grew louder and filled with fire. He listened for a little while, then went back to the field. More than anything, he wanted the monotony so he might think over what he’d heard, as well as calm the turmoil growing in his breast. It was only an hour later that he realized he’d not once mentioned the wolf-men that had attacked their village.
5
Leaving tower Bronze, Daniel felt an immense sense of relief. Their boat drifted along the center of the river, slow and deep enough they could relax and let the Gihon carry them. Daniel sat in the back, dipping his fingertips in the cold water to keep awake. Not that he needed the help. An argument with someone as stubborn as Sir Lars was easily enough to get him worked up and ready to hit something.
“Unsupplied as I am, you want me to patrol twenty miles south to help protect some…simpletons stupid enough to go into the Wedge?” Lars had asked. He was shorter than Daniel, but still outweighed him by plenty. They’d bickered in his study, him wearing a family breastplate that enhanced his rotund physique.
“At least those simpletons aren’t afraid of what they face,” Daniel had shot back. Lars had flustered red, and he’d tugged at his long blond mustache while trying to find words to say. During many battles with bandits in the south, as well as the initial skirmishes with the elves, Lars had earned a reputation as a cautious leader. To those with enough alcohol to loosen their tongues, he was a coward, and that cowardice had eventually landed him his position in tower Bronze.
“Sir Godley might be a sour, quiet sod,” said one of his men as they drifted along, “but I’d take him any day over that fat weasel Lars.”
There were twenty of them, and they all shared a chuckle. The jest was in good nature, but Daniel knew he couldn’t let the man get away without reprimand.
“If you’ve got the energy to waggle your tongue, you can grab some oars and do a bit of rowing, Jon,” he said. “I’d hate you to end up as fat as Sir Lars.”
More laughs, but they got the point. Jon took to rowing, knowing he’d have to be a fool to try and escape the rather lax punishment. The oars dipped in and out of the water, the sound rhythmic, relaxing. Trees lined either side of them, growing tall with their roots crawling down into the river. Worn stone surrounded both sides, soft rock and dirt half the height of a man. The sun set, the moon rose, but so flat was the river they continued along, two men at the front using poles and lanterns to make sure they had no surprises.
“How far?” asked Jon, a man who had refused to give his last name upon enlistment. Daniel figured him a former bandit or thief, but whatever the crime, he was willing to let it be forgotten so long as he served faithfully, which he did.
“You mean until we’re there, or until you stop rowing?” Daniel asked.
“Either’s good.”
“We should be arriving soon. Keep your eyes peeled for a wooden dock. They should have one, from what I gathered before we left. They rely on a lot of supplies coming up and down the river, given how they’re in the middle of nowhere. And put your oars down, Jon.”
The man did, and he stretched his back while letting out a pleased grunt.
“Getting shallow,” said one of the men with the poles up front. “Might consider pulling off lest we hit something.”
“Rather sleep with a roof over my head,” Daniel said. “Keep your eyes open and your lanterns west. And hand me one of them, will you?”
Several others joined the search, their shifting rocking the boat enough that Daniel lost the grip of his lantern. It fell to his left, hit the boat, and then rolled off the side. His fingers seemed an inch away the whole while it fell to the water.
“Shit,” he muttered, peering off the side. As his eyes lifted, he saw a yellow pair meet his own, then vanish.
“Gregory,” he called out, keeping his voice calm.
“Yes, sir?” asked Gregory. He was a young man, but he was strong, and more importantly, had a keen mind. Both Daniel and Robert had wondered how Marcus had erred in letting such a man end up at their towers.
“Look east,” he said. “Keep it quiet, and don’t make it obvious.”
“What am I looking for?” asked Gregory. He put his hands on his back and acted as if he were stretching. The boat continued drifting, many of the men still shining lanterns and searching for the dock, or at the least, distant signs of the village.
“If they’re there, you’ll know.”
Gregory swore. His hand ran through his brown hair, and then it fell to his side, where his sword should have been. It was not. All their gear was stowed in three chests placed equidistant from each other along the center of the boat.
“Eyes watching us,” Gregory said.
“How many?”
Daniel leaned his chin in his hand and stared east as if he were bored. Yellow eyes peered at them, and they had a hungry look that sent shivers up his spine.
“At least six pairs. Maybe more. They’re wolves, aren’t they?”
One of the men near them heard and glanced back, worry crossing his face.
“Wolves, sir?” he asked.
