Chapter 6 - Solace

As it turned out, Sabrine had been pessimistic in her estimate: It took all of a day for the army to gird itself for war. A large part of this was due, in truth, to the manpower available - The Holy Kingdom, a nation constantly facing a threat from the border, practiced universal conscription. Even those who couldn't fight knew enough to lift and carry.

There was the promise of extra rations, but - in all honesty - I felt they weren't really needed. The prospect of activity, of taking action instead of waiting and dreading what was to come was enough to galvanize all involved. The Hollow Mountain's halls bustled with renewed activity, with hurrying pages and workers bent to their new tasks.

It seemed somehow perverse to have to reload the wagons after having so recently unpacked them, but I suppose that was all part of the inherent contradictions of an army on the move. Anything of use was being stripped, but all the bold activity couldn't hide the truth: It was a pitifully small force, one that might soon be facing five times its number in beastmen.

Where I fit into all this, I wasn't sure. I was no soldier, no leader of men. I had thought, vaguely, that I would be assigned to a work detail, or simply sent wherever the other paladins were going.

But my part in this was just beginning.

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When the strategic chamber exploded into activity, I was the only one left standing there. All my life, I'd been taking orders from a succession of higher-ups. Not having any left me feeling oddly bereft, like an imposter in Gabriel's armor.

-which was why I felt something like relief when Caius's hand settled on my shoulder.

"This way, lad. Best not to get underfoot."

He gestured to the door, and I followed. While he couldn't have been here long, Caius had a surefooted sense of purpose that was somehow reassuring, and I trailed after him like a lost puppy.

"Where are we-" I began, and he merely shook his head. "I've got some friends you should meet, lad. You'll see in a moment."

It was a chamber like any of the others, a slightly out-of-the-way annex that might have been a cellar at some point. There was, for some reason, a strong smell of root vegetables.

"About time," Skander growled, in that guttural almost-bestial rumble. "You're getting slow, Sergeant."

He'd been lounging on one of the stone benches, idly cleaning his nails with a wicked-looking dagger. Still armed with the assorted weapons he'd picked up from the beastmen, Skander looked as savage as ever - I couldn't help but wonder if he only ever had two moods: Dangerously bored and cheerfully murderous. 

Right now, he looked very much the latter, his gristly, scarred face twisted in a truly horrific expression that I realized was a smile.

Skander wasn't alone, either. A quick look around revealed about a score or so men - some young, but mostly the hardest-bitten fighters I'd ever seen - seated in a half-circle around the chamber, all of them looking like something you'd use to scare children. The one exception was a rather well-padded looking man, going to seed; A few years ago, I'd have described him as stout but strong, but it was clear that age (and soft living) had taken its toll.

Of all of them, he was the only one who looked anxious, rather than grimly determined or cross-eyed. Skander jerked a thumb in his direction; "I did some asking around, just like you wanted. Looks like your hunch was right; Kashan here used to work the docks. Seems like the harbormaster was doing some business on the side…"

"We didn't hurt no-one," Kashan said, a little defensively. He stuck two thick fingers in his collar, tugged at it to loosen it. I noticed a truly impressive scar, running down one cheek and all the way down his throat, like someone had tried to fillet him and - just barely - missed.

"Have you seen the anchorage tax? Thievery, it is. Thirty percent - How's a man supposed to make an honest living on that, eh? I had five children to feed-"

"It was six before," Skander supplied, grinning. He seemed to be enjoying this. "Good thing the beastmen got in before the city guard got you, eh? Silver lining to every cloud, and all that-"

Behind him, one of the other men spat. "Dust-smuggler, too. The local stuff's bad enough, but the Eight Families peddle pure poison. I'd spare the hangman the rope, wring his neck for free…"

"All right, enough of that," Caius said. He eyed the smuggler, fixed him with that killer's gaze, and the other man couldn't help but shrink away. "Thing is, Kashan, we need your help. You lend a hand, well, it's all water under the bridge. Get stubborn, and maybe Lady Arisa has a quiet word with Commander Sabrine, yeah? Maybe get her asking a few questions?"

Kashan went pale. "You don't have to threaten me," he said, rather sulkily. "I know what's at stake, all right?"

"What, and skip all the fun?" Caius nudged me with an elbow. "Gentle persuasion, lad. Turns anyone into a patriot, see?"

I nodded, slowly. "So...What's this all about, then?" I asked. "He knows a way in?"

"Got it in one," Caius said, with a smile. "Smart lad." He looked around - "This is Sir Gabriel; You all know about him, how he was in the thick of it. Got us out of a tight spot, right before…"

He mimed a throat-slitting gesture. The murmur that rose was faintly impressed.

"That's why he's coming with us. Gives us the edge we need, see? We run into any trouble, we point him at it, he'll sort it out." He gave me a ringing slip on the shoulder, and coarse but hearty laughter broke out. When it subsided, Caius nodded to Kashan - "Ready to be a good citizen?"

The smuggler sighed. "I'm holding you to that promise," he said, a little grumpy. But he went on, anyway. "It's simple: There's a way into Lyost by boat. Stormwater Gate, we called it - Joins up with the sewers, you see? At low tide, ships would weigh anchor, get close, then send in a skiff loaded down with…"

A small but significant pause.

"-with entirely legitimate goods. Beats waiting at the main gates, you know? It's a public service, really-"

One of the men - He'd been staring holes into Kashan's back - elbowed his companion. "That's one mystery solved," he muttered. "Only took three years and the damn subhumans invading to figure it out."

"...and the tunnel emerges in the basement of a warehouse next to the Great Forks market. After that, it's just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity."

Kashan sounded almost proud of himself, at the neatness of it. Given what I knew of the grey-market trade in the hab-slums, I had to admit: It sounded like a smooth operation. No-one had the time or inclination to track every multi-tonne truck carrying produce or protein squares - Once you were inside the city, the flow of goods was basically invisible.

I wondered how long he'd been doing this. How much whatever syndicate he'd been working with had made from it. A substantial profit, no doubt.

"Right," Caius said, brisk, businesslike. "You all know the score. You know the Legion’s marching on Lyost. In a few days from now, the bastard Cloven are going to see what they've got coming. This is the big one, lads. The one that makes us all heroes."

A round of ironic applause rose from the group. A few chuckles. Caius waited for them to subside, then went on.

"Here's the thing: Commander Sabrine, Four Gods bless her, is going right for the throat on this one. She's the blunt instrument - We're the knife in the guts." He reached into a pocket on his leather armor, producing a yellowed scroll. As it unfurled across the dressed-stone table, I glimpsed a surprisingly well-detailed, if shaky, map of what I presumed was Lyost.

"This here is Lyost. And this-"

A finger jabbed down on the scroll. "...Is Griffin's Gate. Our job, lads, is to make sure it's open when the Legion makes their move."

A pause. A hand rose - One of the younger men, though the claw-marks across one cheek and the gristly stub of an ear told of harsh experience.

"Sir-"

"Call me Sergeant, lad. I'm not an officer - I work for a living." That got a few chuckles.

"-Sergeant Caius, this sounds…" he hesitated, then pressed on. "We've got, what, a dozen men here? There could be thousands of beastmen - How do we hold the gate?" And get out alive, he didn't say, but I knew what he meant.

"A good question. Brother Jozan?"

Jozan was exactly what you'd expect a battle priest to be. He looked like he slept in his scale mail, a white surplice over all that metalwork - the mace at his side, I could tell, was something that had seen serious use.

"By the grace of the Four Gods, we will prevail," he said. "We need only hold the gate until the angels arrive - When the battle is joined, the blasphemers and the subhumans will have far more to worry about than the gate. The full might of the Paladin Order will be brought to bear, and they shall be scattered as straws are scattered by the breath of the God of Wind."

He cast his calm, grey-eyed gaze over the group; "Do not fear. We have right on our side; nothing can withstand the might of the faith."

I could feel a palpable relief circle the room. Faith, I suppose, was all very well...But angels were real, and they were far more reliable. Kashan was frowning, and - a little hesitant - raised his hand. Like he was in a compulsory-education facility, or something.

"Do you even have boats for this?" he asked, frankly. "Because I've yet to see one since the Shrouded Prophet sank the Royal Navy…"

A disturbed murmur greeted his words. Caius winced, lightly - But he recovered with commendable grace. "As it so happens, there's a fishing village south of Lyost," he said. "Used to vacation there with my wife - Quit snickering, Tomas - back in the day. Close to the woods, and all that."

He rubbed his unshaven chin. "If anyone's got boats, they do. Just a matter of borrowing a few. We can sail along the ridge, take shelter at Alabaster Cove until nightfall...Then it's a matter of rowing the rest of the way."

A few groans. "Suffering builds character, boys. Gives your muscles some definition, the ladies will love it. Now, anyone else?"

"Sergeant, I-" This from a heavyset youth, who looked like he'd had to grow up far too quickly. His face was used to smiles, but the hollows around his eyes told a different story entirely. "...I've got family in Lyost," he said. "If there's any chance...If there's a resistance-"

Caius considered this. His expression - at odds with his killer's eyes - softened.

"Aye, lad. I know how it is. The mission's too important...It'd have to wait until after. If we don't get the gate open, a whole lot of people are going to die. But if you'd like to sit this one out, Orso-"

The youth shook his head. "I'm coming along, Sergeant. I'll stick to the plan."

"I know you will, lad. I'm counting on you." He paused - "Yes, Heiter?"

In his half-armor, it was easy to see that Heiter was a squire or apprentice paladin of sorts. He was wiry, dark-eyed, armed with not one but two swords that rode on his hips. "Is the Holy Queen there?" he asked, quietly.

A silence descended, for a moment.

"I doubt it," Caius said. "But...There's always hope. Maybe we'll be lucky, eh? Saving Queen Seraphine Herself...That would be one for the books." His voice sobered. "Put that out of your mind, I say. Right now, Griffin's Gate is all that matters."

He tapped the map again, gesturing for us to gather round.

"Here's the thing. This won't be a fight where some Lord gets to shout orders. This isn't a battlefield. We're going right into the thick of things, and anything might've happened since the city fell. That means decision-making on the ground - If something goes wrong, every one of you needs to know what to do. Stick together, head for the gate, get it open no matter what."

Caius looked up, that serial-killer's gaze sweeping across us all. "We've got a score of men at best. Less, maybe, depending on how many boats there are. Those of you who know the city, trust the plan. Trust your instincts - Don't get killed second-guessing yourself."

He stopped. Drew a deep breath. "Now. By the time we're done tonight, I want this map seared into your eyeballs. Starting with Stormwater Gate, here…"

---------------------

Underground, it's hard to mark the passage of time. Hours passed, definitely, but how many I couldn't say.

Kashan, once he'd got started, turned out to be an invaluable source of information. In fact, I wasn't sure we could get him to shut up. Once it'd been made clear that he was coming along with us, he'd clearly realized that his own survival - the least likely outcome of this whole plan - relied on him being as forthcoming as possible.

In case everything went wrong, the plan called for four teams of five men each. I was with Caius, Brother Jozan, Heiter and Roulle, the one who'd spoken earlier - the other three had heard the stories of what I'd done, in the camps, but only Roulle seemed awed. Heiter had simply nodded in acknowledgement, and Jozan had welcomed me in the name of the Four Gods.

They hadn't asked many questions. I suppose everyone had a story, after all, but they had a lot more to worry about. Caius handed out tissue-thin copies of the map to each of us, as a last-ditch - It was clear he'd copied it by hand, and I wasn't sure how accurate the details were.

"They're guidelines, not a guide," he said. "Roulle, lad...If you know better, don't be afraid to speak up. Kashan will do anything to save his own skin, but pulling this off…"

Caius had looked momentarily grim, his features clouding over. "Stick to the plan," he said, again. "I'll make sure you all get to go home, you have my word."

I believed him.

The last arrival was a surprise. Without fanfare, Throne Gazer - that faintly piscine-looking man from before - had simply turned up. He'd regarded us all with his bulging eyes, for a moment; Then, he'd said, "I wish to accompany you, Sergeant Caius."

Caius's eyebrows had risen. "You're always welcome, but...Doesn't the Commander need you in the vanguard?"

Ran had shaken his head, brushing his concerns away with those webbed fingers. "My people thrive in water, Sergeant. The dry death is the worst death of all." His green-tinged skin glistened faintly in the light, as if to punctuate his words. "Besides...So much rests on this. I will do all I can to ensure the gate is taken."

At last, Caius had grinned. "You're in for a treat, lads. The beastmen won't even know what hit them. That, I can tell you."

The mood had lightened considerably after that. Food had been brought up; Wicker breadbaskets with salty flatbreads and round loaves dotted with crumbled walnuts. Even better had been the communal stew that went with it, a hot brown broth thick with chunks of root vegetable and fatty gobs of mutton. Somehow, somehow, I'd managed to avoid spilling anything on my armor - It was so good, I realized I was looking around for more, once I'd emptied my bowl.

In a gesture that meant far more than words, Roulle had seen me looking, torn his loaf into two and handed half to me.

At some point, Caius had uncapped a flask and passed it around; "To victory," he'd said, grinning as if at some private joke. It was some truly noxious herbal concoction, spiced to the point it was cloying. I tasted licorice, cinnamon after a single sip - found it a muddle of mostly-unpalatable flavors - then passed it on. Jozan sniffed it, tried it, and broke into a coughing fit.

"What - is this we're drinking?" he said, peering at the flask as if it'd stung him.

"My wife's homebrew," Caius said, proudly. "Grain alcohol, with a secret mix of herbs and spices-" Jozan had shuddered, handed it over to Heiter, who'd taken a pull and quietly commented that it was 'smooth'.

And I thought: But I didn't even…

Then I considered why, and said nothing.

---------------------

And then, at last, we were done. When, exactly, I wasn't sure...Only that the impromptu council had ended, and - after an admonishment to meet up tomorrow - we were left to our own devices.

I was exhausted, worn-out. Not physically so, but trying to remember all of it had been like a pummeling, made worse by how I knew actual lives rode on this. The plan, so achingly logical when Caius had laid it out, seemed like a mad fantasy: Twenty-one men against an entire city of beastmen.

I had been in this world for all of two days. Would this simply be the way things were, now?

Yet, curiously, I felt little to no fear. After all that had happened, it was like something had burnt out in me, that the terror and dread I should've felt was no longer there. Intellectually, I knew that there would be death, mutilation and killing where we were going - right into the teeth of things - and yet…

The halls were strangely empty, as I made my way along the stone corridors. I could hear the murmur of a commotion somewhere close, distant echoes like from someone else's war...But, try as I might, I never quite figured out where they were.

It occurred to me, at some point, that the room I'd been given must have been the equivalent of a noble's quarters: Jozan had mentioned that they were sleeping eight to a chamber, and Roulle had asked if he could bring his bedroll along. Compared to that, my sleeping quarters seemed like an incredible luxury.

As I'd expected, it was dark. A lantern - On second glance, it didn't contain oil, but a fragment of a softly-glowing stone - illuminated the chamber, just enough light to see the darkness by. The stand was right where it'd been, before; I shed my armor, my hands moving with alien familiarity, then hung my sword-belt in place.

The cold, clear water in the stone basin made my skin goosepimple, as I washed the dust of the day away. It'd been forever since I'd seen water this clean; At the hab, we could only afford three freshwater showers each week. Salt water was cheaper, but it came untreated, with an itching, stinking aftermath.

Someone had laid out a razor, and a fresh linen shift. Once I'd slipped into it, I crossed over to the pallet bed, reaching out to pull the blanket back-

My questing fingers encountered something soft. I heard a faint gasp, and recoiled.

A soft yawn purred from Arisa Adoniera's lips, as she stirred. She was still in her full regalia, the blue-and-white cassock of the Holy Kingdom; It looked like she'd lain down, just for a moment, and dozed off. There was a momentary unguarded vulnerability as she woke, her pale skin dappled by the soft light, before those big brown eyes settled on me.

"Oh," she said. "You're late."

---------------------

I stood there, momentarily frozen. There was a lot I could've said, but I settled on the first thing that came to mind:

"What," I began. It came out a croak - I cleared my throat, tried again. "Why are you here?"

She sat up. Pushed fingers through her silky hair, brushing the strands back from those elegant, sharply intelligent features. There was something languidly graceful about her, something poised, as she canted her head to regard me. 

"I was waiting for you, Sir Gabriel," Arisa said, sweetly. "Oh, don't look like that - I don't bite, you know."

To anyone else, that might've been reassuring.

"Why were you waiting fo-"

Arisa didn't roll her eyes, but it was a close thing. Instead, she made a sound like *tt*, and flicked her wrist. Something glittered, as it spun through the air towards me - Instinctively, I caught it, looked down…

A gold coin. Memory stirred; It was one of mine. The unmarked, flat gold discs I'd found in Gabriel's pouches.

"Just satisfying my curiosity," she said. She eyed me. "Pure gold. Now, why would anyone be carrying something like that? In such quantities, too." Arisa canted her head to the side, a whimsical lilt to her voice. "Were you looking to purchase a manor, Sir Gabriel?"

I stared at her, for a long, long moment. What do you say to something like that?

"Gabriel," I said, at last. "Just...call me Gabriel."

"Very well," she said. Then, speculatively - "You remain an enigma, Gabriel. On the eve of battle, with everything at stake...You can see why that interests me."

I sank into the chair, looking at the bed. "I told you, I don't work for this...Dhalan."

Surprisingly, Arisa nodded. "Oh, I believe you. The Holy King, too - I think you left quite the impression on him." A smile crept across her face. "And...I've never heard of an Executioner knocking himself unconscious while trying to heal someone. A member of their clade would have let me bleed out."

She cupped her chin, in slim fingers - "You realize, though...That only creates more questions. Your armor and sword - They're more heavily enchanted than anything I've ever seen. More than my honored sister's sword. More than the Holy Queen's crown, in fact. This…"

Like magic, she made a heavy gold ring appear in her hand. I didn't need to look - I knew it was mine.

"-is a Ring of Providence. Such things are common for wizards, but for divine casters? They're exceptionally rare."

My eyes met hers. "And expensive, I presume?" I said.

Arisa sniffed. "You should know," she said, tartly. "I've never seen one before."

Her slim fingers rolled the ring in her palm, as if oddly reluctant to release it. Perfect white teeth worked against her lower lip, her brow ever-so-slightly furrowed. I had the sense she was putting together the pieces of a puzzle again, only that some were missing.

"Keep it," I said. "It's yours."

For the first time, surprise flitted across Arisa's elegant features. She rocked back on her heels, her eyes going wide - Her gaze skimmed across my face, searching for the angle, for the shadow of deceit…

And, at last, she said - "You're serious." There was an incredulous lilt to her voice. "You're just going to...give it to me?"

I sighed. Beneath me, the chair creaked. "We're on the same side," I said. "If you can get some use out of it, you should have it." Could paladins use magic? I wasn't sure. Some rebel impulse cried out for me to ask her, but I forced it down.

Arisa stared down at the ring, for a long, long moment. That smile again, her eyes narrowing minutely, like a sliver of moonlight emerging from behind the clouds.

I didn't like the look of that smile.

"Oh?" she said. Leaning forward, ever-so-slightly. Her head canted to the side, a lilt to her voice. "Shouldn't you be offering to put it on me?"

It'd have been coquettish, if it wasn't so sly, so acidly sweet. A challenge, almost.

I eyed her, wondering what new game this was. Then - carefully, as if handling an unexploded bomb - I reached out. Took hold of her wrist, firmly but gently, as I plucked the ring from her palm.

Arisa inhaled sharply, but didn't pull away. Weighing the heavy gold ring in my hand, I paused - just an instant's hesitation - and slipped it onto her ring-finger. I could have sworn it was larger before (some trick of the light, maybe), but it fit as if made for her.

Then - and only then - she snatched her hand away, as if I'd scalded her. That light hiss purred from her lips, high color in her cheeks; "It was a jest," she said, spearing me with a half-embarrassed, half-disbelieving look. "You didn't actually have to-"

Arisa's voice trailed off. Her dark bangs swayed against her cheeks, that flush spreading beneath her skin. "I see tact is lacking from your education, too," she said - Holding her hand up, seemingly admiring the ring's dull gleam. "Do you know what it…" she shook her head. Patted the bed, next to her.

"Come here," she said. Never mind how she said it, it was an order. I rose, padding across the narrow distance, seating myself on the pallet. Sitting rigidly upright, as if I'd been called at attention. 

A quietly impatient sigh purred from Arisa's lips, and she gestured for me to come closer.

When I stopped, she was looking down at her right hand. Staring at the ring, abstractedly, brow furrowed in contemplation.

"-They hacked it off, you know," she said. Softly.

I thought - What? Then - Oh.

Arisa touched her free hand to her right shoulder, then her leg. "When the Great Wall fell...I thought I was dead. Here - and here - were shattered. The pain...You can't imagine it. The subhumans dug me out, and they-"

She stopped. Her shoulders shuddered.

"You know they're afraid of fire? But they use it anyway. In two days, I was feverish - I could...smell them going bad. So one of them took a cleaver and-"

The silence that followed was as profound as a rifle shot.

"I remember...Something, howling in the dark. I remember them laughing."

Her lip curled. "They needed me alive for the sacrifice, you see. Needed the meat unspoilt. When they took their torches to the stumps...I must have passed out. They were already too late, then; the poison was already in my blood. I could feel it spreading…"

An uneven, shuddering breath. "When Sabrine took me out of there...I wasn't sure I wanted to live like that. I just - She'd come so far to save me, I couldn't let her watch me die, and…"

Those cunning, alert eyes had gone wide, soft with moisture. Arisa bit her lip so hard, it was a wonder it didn't draw blood. Her hands, fingers knotted together on her lap, were white-knuckled from the effort of not trembling.

And I realized, right then, how exquisitely lonely she must have been. To have something like this bottled up within her, something she could tell no-one, not even her sister. Sabrine, a warrior born, would never have understood. Burdening her with something like this would have done nothing good.

Something - a tiny, malicious voice - whispered that of course she would confide in me. It was that handsome, perfect symmetrical face she saw, lovingly crafted for maximum appeal. That body, like a young Greek god's. The power that had restored her limbs, wiped the poison from her blood in a single stroke.

Slowly, carefully, I raised an arm. Slipped it around her shoulder, drew Arisa a little closer. I felt the soft rise and fall of her chest, the tension within her ratcheting higher at the warm contact, then subtly unwinding.

How long we stayed like that, I don't know. Only that I knew enough to avert my eyes, as her shoulders shook, her breath rasping in her lungs.

I don't think Arisa would have wanted me to watch her cry.

---------------------

Later, when she had subsided:

"-I suppose you must think I'm a fool," she said. Low, almost to herself.

I shook my head. Realized she couldn't see it, and instead said: "No."

"No? I still know nothing about you, Sir Gabriel of Arcadia. You've kept your secrets well. And...you've seen my weakness." Arisa sniffed, once. "Some interrogation."

I thought about that. About all that had come before, and all that would follow. There was so much I could have asked her, or told her. The urge to unburden myself knotted in my chest, like a fist.

Instead, I merely said: "Have you slept?"

A pause. "No. Not since…"

I could see why.

I shifted my weight, carefully. Then - slowly, so slowly she could have stopped me at any point - I eased Arisa's head down to my lap. In the wan light, I caught a glimpse of her face, those eyes red and puffy from the effort of not weeping.

Her hand settled on my knee, as she steadied herself. Her eyes widened, and I heard a sharp intake of breath. 

"You're-" she began, a catch to her voice. 

"It's fine," I said, remembering how she'd been before. That unyielding, steely strength of will. I wondered, faintly, what it took to sustain that, to present that strength for all the days of one's life. "-Rest."

It took a while. A while, for the stiffness to drain from her limbs. Longer still, for her eyes to close. But eventually, all the same, she did. I looked down at her slumbering features, at the way sleep relaxed the hard angles of her gaze, that incisive intelligence that cut one to the quick. 

Asleep, Arisa looked almost innocent. Vulnerably so.

It should have made me feel deeply protective. Aroused some instinct within me. But, at that moment, all I felt was a kind of distant sadness, a pang that might have been grief.

I waited. Waited for her breathing to ease, waited until she began to snore, lightly. And I said - softly, so softly it was almost to myself:

"My name is…"

The words caught in my throat.

Gabriel, I thought. Gabriel of Arcadia.

That was who I was, now.

Wasn't I?

I stared into the dark for a long, long time, waiting for an answer, but none came.

Next: Sword and Flame