Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Read online

  “And Tresten?”

  “Weapons training.”

  “And your own studies with Thave?”

  “Your son learns well, my lord,” the grey elf answered. “He is proficient in mathematics, philosophy, the sciences, and politics. In tactics he shows an exceptionally keen mind.”

  Dain’s father arched an eyebrow at the last, and Dain felt his temper flare in his gut.

  “I have studied hard as you asked, Father, so that I might fulfill my end of our bargain.”

  “You and I will speak of the bargain tonight,” Harren said with a thin scowl. “Fetch your mother and siblings while I speak to Master Thave alone.”

  “Of course, Father.”

  Dain dipped his head and left the two men in the courtyard talking in lowered voices.

  Annoyed after being dismissed by his father so casually, Dain stalked off to find Tresten first. He was the second link now, and he’d been the one to hold the castle’s presence in his father’s absence. It was time his father treated him more like a man and less like a boy, Dain thought. He should be meeting with his father and learning the latest news of the capital and the frontier, not playing errand boy.

  He wouldn’t direct his anger at Thave. It’s hardly his fault. In many ways, the solemn grey elf was closer to him than his father. It was Thave who taught his studies. Thave who patched the wounds he gathered on the practice field. Thave who spent almost every waking moment with him, talking and arguing and always pushing him a bit further, all the while watching with his quiet amber eyes.

  As expected, Dain found Tresten at the weapons yard with Master Kilian, the family’s second tutor.

  “Tresten, Father’s home,” Dain said.

  The younger boy turned his head at Dain’s words, and Master Kilian slapped his shoulder with his wooden practice sword. Tresten fell into the sand, and his long, straw-colored hair spilled over his face like a mask.

  “Focus,” Master Kilian grated. “You must always maintain your focus in a fight.”

  Dain cringed; he’d made the same mistake with Kilian often enough. He knew well the sting of that ancient wooden sword.

  Sweat ran down the three scars that crossed from Kilian’s ear to his nose. The pale tracks stood out like a lightning strike on his weathered face. The old weaponsmaster didn’t offer a hand to his fallen pupil. He held his own sword ready and waited for Tresten to gather himself. Dain had sparred with Kilian thousands of hours, and never in all that time had he offered a hand up.

  Once, he’d asked him why.

  “It’s a hard world out there, and no one—not your father, nor your mother, nor anyone else you can name—can face it for you forever. You’ll have to meet it all yourself,” he’d responded.

  What the old warrior lacked in help he made up for in advice. And like a beloved story returned to again and again, the advice seemed better and better as Dain grew older.

  “Father’s headed to the great hall. Gather Mother and Rylie and Thule and I’ll meet you there.”

  “I still have an hour’s worth of training, and then I have to run to the great ringstone and back,” Tresten whined.

  A mile distant, the tall obelisk ringstone was the outer marker at the edge of the elemental spirit’s influence. The castle spirit could perceive things beyond it—far beyond, all the way to the foot of the mountains, in fact—but was unable to impose its will on the land outside the stone.

  “Go on, boy,” Kilian said. “Your father’s visits home are rare enough. Go and see him.”

  “Thank you, Master,” Tresten said, beaming. In a flash he was on his feet and running to find the rest of the family at the stables.

  Master Kilian lowered his sword tip down to rest it against the practice yard’s coarse sand. He placed both hands on the pommel, and he and Dain watched Tresten race off.

  “He studies hard?” Dain asked.

  Kilian turned his eyes to Dain. “Yes. He doesn’t have the talent for the sword that you do, but he makes up for it in determination.”

  Dain smiled, and then grew solemn. “My brother has a tender heart. I worry for him.”

  “As an older brother should,” Kilian said. “And what about your own weapons training, young Gladstone? Tomorrow is our day together, and I’ve seen you in the yard at the strawmen every morning.”

  Dain looked at the stuffed strawmen. He’d been putting in extra time practicing on the targets for weeks now ahead of his father’s return.

  “I don’t want to enter Paladin training unprepared. Father must approve of my admission. I’ve met my end of our bargain; Thave told him so. He’ll meet his, and I’ll be off to Karelton to train.”

  Dain turned to face the weaponsmaster and Kilian’s brown eyes met his.

  “Your father’s a lord, and no one tells a lord what he must do. Especially a Gladstone lord.”

  “Surely he’ll honor his word.” Dain searched the master’s face for confirmation.

  “Lords have a funny idea of honor. Even the best of them. There are bigger forces at work in the world than you can know.”

  That one Dain had heard before. Usually it was followed with, but sometimes a man alone can make a difference.

  “You too need to see your father. The elemental’s burden weighed heavily on you today, and he can offer help with it.”

  “Were you watching me through the link?”

  Kilian nodded. “Off and on. You did well answering Thave’s questions.”

  “I wish he’d chosen Cousin Carlen or Uncle Hemmer to hold the bond; at least for another year or two. It makes studying difficult.”

  “All the more reason for you to learn it now. It’s easier when you’re younger, like with languages. Ask either of them next time you see them.”

  With that, Kilian flipped his sword over his shoulder and headed to his private quarters at the edge of the practice field.

  “Goodnight, Uncle Kilian,” Dain said.

  “Goodnight, nephew.”

  Dinner was served just after sunset in the great hall. The grand room was lit by a hundred small candlelights and a low fire popped and sputtered in the fireplace.

  Dain tugged against the tightness of his collar. He hated the tailored blue shirt he’d chosen, preferring the loose fit of his usual garb, but his mother had insisted that everyone dress to their finest in honor of Father’s return. Even little Rylie suffered in a puffy red dress. At ten, she scarcely cared for the fancy dresses of a lady, though their mother claimed that would change.

  Before them stretched a feast of stuffed quail on beds of rice, sautéed shrimp from the Great Sea, mutton and beef from the farms near the mountains, crisp loaves of bread with small tubs of golden butter and olive oil for dipping, vegetables of every size, shape, and color, and from the kitchen drifted the tantalizing smell of baking pies.

  Unlike most lords and ladies who sat at opposite ends of the table, Dain’s father and mother sat beside each other. Other nobility had been quietly scandalized at the breach in protocol when the Gladstones had entertained them.

  Out here on the frontier we need our women to fight beside us, not serve as decoration, Dain’s father had once said. Dain supposed the dinner table was no different.

  The frontier, he thought. In his mind he could see the soaring Wolfstaags and the black-eyed trolls that dwelled in them; he could almost feel the giant’s hatred even now. Like Castle Gladstone, no army had ever conquered those razor-tipped peaks.

  “Father, did you see the Emperor in your travels?” Rylie asked.

  “I saw him twice. Once on the plains of Malanar and then again in his palace in Karelton on the way back. The Emperor is a busy man,” Lord Harren said between bites.

  “You were gone a long time, Father,” Tresten added.

 
“Too long. You’re quite a bit taller than the last time I saw you, Tresten, and you, Dain, as well. I barely recognized Thule.” Harren reached for another helping of potatoes and added some asparagus to his plate, sighing in contentment. “We don’t have food this fine at the front.”

  “How goes the fighting, Father?” Dain asked. His mother shot him a dangerous look, but Harren smiled indulgently.

  “Yes, Father, are we winning the war?” Tresten added, leaning forward in his chair. Even Thule, the youngest Gladstone at nine, nodded his interest.

  “Boys, your father is just home. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. Give him a moment,” Lady Rivane said.

  “Boys will be boys. I was the same at their age,” Dain’s father snorted. “The war goes well for the Empire. Mierten will submit before spring if we can win the siege at Thistleton.”

  “What’s the castle like at Thistleton?” Dain asked.

  “Strong.” Harren’s eyes grew cloudy and he reached for his goblet. “It’s not a true castle. The city lies at the base of a pass running through the Cantol Mountains. The source of the Sienta lies somewhere behind it, so they have an endless supply of water, and supplies come from Mierten through the pass. A series of four curtain walls run in great arcs outward from the city into the plains like ripples in a pond.”

  “Has the Emperor breached them?” Dain asked.

  “The first two. Except for the last, they grow progressively higher as they get closer to the city, and their soldiers fight us harder with each assault. We lost over twenty thousand men taking the first two walls.”

  Twenty thousand. Dain marveled at the number. An army of that size must stretch from horizon to horizon. The whole of the highlands had just thirty thousand men at arms, and that to both guard the five hundred miles of border with the trolls and serve in the Emperor’s army. The Empire was vast and the Emperor controlled many thousands of men, but losing so many at a time was beyond imagining. How many more must he command to hold the siege?

  “Dain, when you are finished eating we will retire to my study.” Harren slid his chair back and rose. “Until later, Rivane.” Dain’s mother smiled at her husband and then glanced at Dain, her brows drawing together almost imperceptibly.

  Dain picked up the pace, shoveling food into his mouth. Plate soon clean, he made his way to the library.

  He tried to slow his nervous breathing and to steady the quaking in his hands. Breathe…relax, he told himself. He made a bargain with you, and Father never breaks his word.

  The study was off the main chamber—a large, dusty room full of maps and books, and with plenty of windows for better lighting. Dain had spent many hours reading there with Thave.

  When he entered the study, his father, Thave, and Master Kilian waited there. All three were deep in conversation, gathered around the small hearth, when he joined them.

  “No, Thave, I won’t side against the Emperor. But the man’s a fool, taking on Mierten and the elves,” his father said. “Then after cracking Thistleton and conquering Mierten he wants to try seizing Bymreh, even.”

  “Using Mierten as a foothold?” Kilian shook his head. “Bymreh isn’t powerful in itself, but if we strike, there are a half-dozen other kingdoms who will aid them. Those peninsula rulers are clannish. The Emperor will win, of course, but only after a mighty struggle.”

  “It’s Chalmer. Pelion used to be content to sit inside his borders and have peace with his neighbors, but that snake has convinced him that to become as great as his ancestors he needs to expand,” Harren said.

  “A pity Artur isn’t here to stop him,” Kilian said.

  Harren’s face darkened. “Artur has been dead for a long time now, brother. Leave the dead to rest. He carried the burden long enough, and now it’s up to me,” he said. “I have to convince Pelion to change course.”

  “Pelion is a fool if he thinks he can conquer my people. The Empire will grind itself to dust against us,” Thave said. His words and tone were cool, but the amber in his eyes blazed.

  “I agree that the Empire cannot defeat the elves—never completely, anyway—but I fear that the elves themselves will be destroyed in the conflict,” Harren said.

  Thave looked at Dain’s father. He started to speak, stopped, and then his eyes returned to the fire without comment.

  Harren saw Dain then, who had been standing quietly behind the group of men, unsure of how to announce his presence. “Close the door and join us, son.” He cast a dangerous glance at his companions.

  “Dain, I have called you here to discuss our bargain.” Harren swirled the drink in his glass tumbler. The amber liquid swam up the sides and caught the fire’s light. “I don’t know if the time is right for you to leave.”

  Dain’s mouth fell open. Uncle Kilian had hinted at it, and now he had proof. His father, his honorable father, was breaking his word.

  “You can’t just—” Dain began, but Harren cut him off.

  “Son, there are great forces at work just now. Relations with the grey elves have become…strained. Several settlements near the eastern border have been attacked, and the grey elves are suspected.”

  Thave snorted at this. The tall elf shook his head in disbelief and stared at the lit hearth, the fire there matching the one in his eyes.

  “I believe the Emperor will soon declare war against the grey elves,” Harren continued, ignoring Thave’s reaction. “If that happens it won’t be the army that faces them. They are committed to the siege at Thistleton. Lord Chalmer is asking for a general’s commission. He’ll get it—he’s in favor now—and the Paladin Order will go to war.”

  “I am not afraid to fight.” Dain clenched his fists. How could Father take this from me? All that work and effort, wasted. He’d earned this chance, and now it was being snatched away like he was some spoiled child asking for sweets.

  “This isn’t about being afraid. This isn’t about being willing to fight or to kill. This is about honor, about doing what’s right even though it’s hard. The Order has become greedy and muddied. Chalmer is using it for his own gain. He wants to wage war on behalf of the Light.”

  “It’s never been done,” Kilian interrupted. “The Order has never fought a war. Paladins have fought in armies of course, the Empire’s and others, but the Order itself had never gone to war. It was not intended to be an army. Palatine didn’t form it to conquer lands.”

  “You fight, Father. You lead our people to war, besieging Thistleton on the Emperor’s behalf. What difference is there?”

  Harren regarded him solemnly. “In truth, none,” he said. “But I have a duty to serve the Emperor, and someday you will as well. Pray that it be years from now.”

  “You said the Emperor is a fool. I heard you. If he’s a fool, then why follow him? Why do you fight for him?”

  “I have an obligation to the Karelians. Our ancestors swore oaths to the Empire. But more than that, our ancestors swore an oath to the elemental, and to the land, and to the people we protect here. If I should fall in the siege, I need you to fill that role. You can’t do it if you’re leagues away.”

  “Then you stay and I’ll go. I’ll join the Order and you can stay here and protect the people. I’ll fight in your stead,” Dain said.

  “Are you so eager to slaughter my people?” Thave interrupted. The elf’s eyes betrayed his pain, and Dain felt a stab of embarrassment and doubt. “They are innocent of the crimes they are accused of. They’ve done nothing but offer friendship to the Empire whenever called upon. They’ve been the Empire’s most steadfast ally, and now they will be persecuted for the ambitions of a fool.”

  Thave slung his drink into the fire. The tumbler shattered against the hearth and the flames flared yellow and bright as the alcohol burned.

  “Teacher, no, I…” Dain’s resilience faded. “I ju
st want to serve the Light.”

  “Chalmer doesn’t follow the Light, nephew,” Kilian said. “Most of the Paladins don’t anymore. The Order no longer serves the people, dispensing justice and healing. They don’t protect the borders; we have the watch for that. They don’t even fight in our armies like they did in your grandfather’s time. They serve themselves, and Chalmer asking to become a general proves it. He worships only his own power.”

  “You of all people know why I want this. You served. Uncle Devan served the Order, too.”

  “It is fitting for you to honor your ancestors. But the Brigades I served no longer exist,” Kilian said. “The Order is but a shell of what they once were. They have abandoned honor and the Light.”

  Dain couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Order…corrupt. How could that be? No, this couldn’t be true. They are lying. For whatever reason, they are lying to me. Perhaps just to keep me home. Dain drew himself up straight and faced Harren. I have to know for myself. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.

  “Will you honor our agreement, Father? Or is this your final word?” Dain couldn’t believe his father would renege on their bargain. How often had he spoken of honoring your commitments? His pulse pounded in his temples. “Is all you’ve taught me a lie? Is the word of a Gladstone worth nothing? Will you break your oath and bring dishonor on our family?”

  Dain felt the tremor run though the castle. The giant’s spirit had echoed the rage in his father’s eyes. Harren’s nostrils flared and both Thave and Kilian wore looks of shock. Dain reached down into the link and felt at his father’s turbulent emotions. He seized a fraction of the giant’s power; he couldn’t command much with his father present, but he used its strength to root himself to the stone of the library’s floor. He stood anchored and unshaking. He father could rage and shake the castle as he wanted and Dain would remain secure. His father’s gaze narrowed as he realized what he had just done.