turned away.
Daniel shifted in his seat. Beside him sat two more of his men, all three having slept on the floor of the farmer’s home. Compared to either the boat or the wild, it felt like the softest of beds.
“Never knew oatmeal could taste so fine,” said Gregory.
“We may have to stay longer,” Jon agreed.
Pushing aside his half-full bowl, Daniel stood. The others fell silent.
“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the couple. “I have business to discuss, so please, take no offense at my light appetite. The meal was fine, and it is a shame my stomach’s not set to enjoy it.”
“Want us to come with?” Gregory asked.
“Stay. Rest. I’ll talk with the paladins.”
The two soldiers shrugged and continued eating.
Daniel shivered as he stepped outside. Pulling his cloak tighter about him, he trudged toward Hangfield’s home. Daniel had never met the man, but his name had been on the formal request for aid. That, and when he’d spoken with the paladin Darius upon their arrival, he’d been told to meet them there come the morning.
“You get some rest before we discuss this further,” the blue-eyed paladin had told him. Daniel tried to oblige, but his dreams had been full of yellow eyes, and he’d woken multiple times covered with sweat. For all the battles he’d seen, it’d been years since he’d bloodied his blade, and even longer since he’d expected to lose. The feeling was far from welcome.
Damn old age, he thought. What he’d give to have his youthful feeling of invincibility back, if only for a little while.
A pretty lass waited by the door, and she curtseyed to him as he approached.
“Welcome,” she said, and he could tell she was trying her best to hide her nervousness.
“Tell me you weren’t waiting out here in the chill just for me,” he said.
Her gaze fluttered to the ground.
“I was,” she said. “Father wishes his guests to feel welcome.”
Daniel drew his sword, and her eyes widened. Flipping it about, he stabbed it into the dirt and kneeled before her.
“It is I who should bow to a beauty like you,” he said, smiling. “And I who should be waiting in the cold for a greeting. Please gift me with your name.”
It warmed his heart to see her giddy and breathless. She was on the cusp of womanhood, and maybe, just maybe, she would remember the honor shown to her and expect similar from the simple men of the village. She reminded him of his own daughter, who he’d lost to the bloody cough so many years before. The girl had the same green eyes. His heart panged at the remembrance.
“Jessie,” she said.
“Please, Jessie, escort an old man inside.”
She took his offered hand.
“You’re hardly old,” she insisted. “The hair on your head is not all gray.”
“But there is gray in it,” Daniel said, opening the door. “And all it takes is a single faded hair to make a man realize how far his youth has fled.”
Jessie didn’t know what to say, so she quietly led him to the dining room, where both paladins sat, a heavyset man with them.
“Jeremy Hangfield?” he asked as Jessie released his arm.
“I am,” said Jeremy. “I trust my daughter was polite in greeting you?”
“Polite as she might be standing motionless in the autumn air.” He gestured to a chair. “May I sit?”
Jeremy nodded, ignoring the rebuff. Daniel pulled the chair closer and made a show of sitting down. All the while, he scanned the three men, exaggerating his movements and grunts to buy time. Jeremy had noble blood in him, that was obvious, but he’d been tempered by the farmland and distance from the capital. Having his daughter wait in greeting was just a foolish attempt at replicating distant customs, at pretending to a wealth he didn’t really have. He may be the wealthiest man in the village, but compared to the true lords of Mordan, he was insignificant. His house was huge, though, he’d give him that.
The two paladins intrigued him. The one for Ashhur sat to his left, his red hair carefully cut, his beard trimmed. He wore no armor, but he kept his weapon at his side, and a pendant of the golden mountain hung from his neck. The man looked worn, about as bad as Daniel felt. On the right was Karak’s paladin, a handsome man whom he’d met the night before. His blue eyes seemed subdued in the daylight. When they’d first met in starlight, Darius’s gaze had sparkled as if infused with sapphires. He also lacked armor, but his greatsword leaned against his chair, his right hand gripping the handle. Compared to the other paladin, he looked a picture of health.
“I suppose introductions are in order,” said Daniel.
“I believe you’ve already met Darius,” Jeremy said after dismissing his daughter. He gestured to the other paladin. “And this is Jerico, our guest from the Citadel. Both have done well in protecting our village, but given the threat looming before us, we felt it best to contact you.”
“Well, I’m Daniel Coldmine,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. “I must admit, I first thought your letter a hoax. Wolf-men gathering near the Wedge’s border, and even worse, brave enough to cross the river? Preposterous. And to have paladins of both gods unable to stop them, and even more shocking, working together to do so? Now I’ve heard some tales in my days, gentlemen, but that one nearly got your letter burned.”
“We live in strange times,” Darius said, chuckling. Jerico remained quiet, and he looked as if his mind were far away.
“Even so, Sir Godley and I decided if it were true, things had to be bad indeed. Well, they are, and far beyond it. The wolf-men are scouting the river. They were waiting for us. Waiting! That takes a patience and cunning they normally lack. Whoever leads them is not to be dismissed lightly. They assaulted our boats from the water, killed half my men before we could reach safety. The question we all need to answer is, what does it all mean?”
“Wolf-men have always been territorial,” Jeremy said. He drank from his glass, then realized his manners. “A drink, my friend?”
“Strongest you have, Jeremy. I had a long night.”
The room fell quiet while Jeremy retrieved him a mug. Daniel scratched at his chin and watched the paladins. Jerico never once met his gaze. Darius seemed bothered by this, and Daniel caught several worried glances directed Jerico’s way. So bizarre. The dark paladin was actually upset. Them working together wasn’t some diplomatic necessity. They appeared to be friends.
“Strongest ale in the cellar,” Jeremy said, sitting back down. Daniel accepted the wooden mug and took a heavy swig. It burned going down, and he loved it. For the first time all morning, he felt himself coming around.
“Thank Ashhur for that. Karak too,” he said, winking.
Neither paladin rose to the bait. Damn, they were calm ones, weren’t they?
“This isn’t territorial,” Jerico said suddenly. He looked around, and he had the air of one pulling out of a dream. “They were scouting us with those first attacks. When we crossed the Gihon, they baited us, then attacked from both sides. And now they watch the river, doing all they can to prevent reinforcements. Jeremy, when is the next shipment coming from Bluewater?”
“Their boat should arrive early tomorrow, if not tonight,” said Jeremy. “Why?”
“It won’t arrive,” Darius said, realizing what Jerico was thinking. “The wolf-men will assault it like they did the troops from Blood Tower. They’re treating us like an animal separated from its herd.”
Daniel frowned. It felt like a bit of a leap, but still…
“Not entirely sure I buy this,” he said.
“They’ve found us weak,” Darius said, shaking his head. “And now they’ll do whatever they can to starve us, deny us safety in numbers. When will the pack descend upon Durham? And in how great a number?”
“Lot of assumptions here,” Jeremy insisted. “We’ve killed plenty of them. That alone should prove we are no easy prey.”
Daniel thought of the viciousness the wolf-men had displayed in attacking their boat. They hadn’t cared about their losses or the disadvantages they faced because of the water. No, they’d fought and died to ensure they didn’t reach the village. Still, they’d failed, which meant they weren’t invincible. Daniel felt pride swell in his chest knowing they’d given as good as they’d gotten, if not better, and that was without armor or solid footing.
