Chapter 9: Shining Armor

Frankie

The church bell rang during breakfast.

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth.

Nobody else did.

Rosella kept moving between tables. Benny kept polishing a glass. Two farmers near the window continued arguing about whether a mule counted as livestock if nobody could prove who owned it. Then the bell rang again.

This time everybody stopped.

Mara looked toward the window. Her face changed.

“What?”

She stood.

“The church.”

“Yeah. I figured that part out.”

The bell rang a third time. The slow, heavy note trembled through the table. Mara was still staring toward the street.

“Nobody rings that bell.”

“Somebody clearly does.”

Benny set down the glass. He wasn’t smiling anymore. That interested me. The church had been empty since yesterday. Empty was generous. The death priests had been using it for whatever unpleasant things death priests did when nobody sensible was watching. Part of the roof was already missing, two walls were cracked, and their magic needed repairs. That was why they’d come looking for Brannik. After what happened at his forge, the survivors had apparently decided to find another congregation.

I’d considered turning it into storage.

Apparently somebody had beaten me to it.

Shopkeepers and farmers hurried past the windows alongside women carrying children. Even the old men who usually spent their mornings drinking watered beer and complaining about their knees were heading for the church. I stood.

“Come on.”

Mara followed. Benny called after me.

“You may want your gun.”

I stopped. Looked at him. Then went back for the Thompson.

I liked Benny.

The church stood near the eastern edge of town. I’d seen it before. Hard not to. Even ruined, its tall windows and bell tower rose above most of the town. A crack ran down the hanging bell. The front had once been carved with saints or gods or whatever people here called them. Most of the faces had been chiseled away. Someone had painted black skulls over the doors.

Today the skulls were gone.

No whitewash over them or anything. White smoke curled from the carvings as if the stone itself had burned them out. I slowed.

“That’s new.”

Mara didn’t answer. People packed the square. Nobody cheered. Nobody shouted. They just stared. At the church steps stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in scratched silver plate and a blue cloak torn near the bottom. His armor shone like light was drawn to it, even in the creases where no servant’s rag would’ve reached. He carried a sword at his hip and a shield over one shoulder.

His hair was dark with gray starting at the temples, and there was a scar running from his left cheek to his jaw. He looked less like a storybook prince and more like the guy storybook princes sent when negotiations failed. I sighed. A couple days ago, which somehow felt considerably longer, I’d warned Azrath that if you squeezed people hard enough, eventually some asshole in shining armor showed up.

Apparently I had summoned one.

The man raised one hand.

“People of Vhalmere.”

So that was what the town was called. Useful.

“This sanctuary is restored.”

A murmur moved through the crowd. Mara crossed herself.

“What’s going on?”

“The corruption is gone.”

“What corruption?”

“The necromantic corruption.”

“Right. That.”

The armored man continued.

“For seven years this house has been profaned by servants of the Undying.”

Seven years. Good to know.

“Today it belongs to the gods again.”

An old woman started crying. Quietly.

That bothered me more than cheering would’ve.

The armored man stepped down one stair.

“Those who seek sanctuary may enter.”

People looked at one another. Nobody moved. The man noticed too. His brow furrowed. He’d probably expected a stampede.

Instead, half the town looked toward me.

Wonderful.

His eyes followed theirs to the black iron seal hanging from my coat. He recognized the badge.

“You.”

I glanced behind me. Nobody there.

“Me?”

“You bear the Undying’s seal.”

“Yeah, I manage the racket here.”

The crowd parted as I walked forward. Mara came with me. That was becoming normal. I stopped about fifteen feet from the steps. Up close, I could see more scars, dents in the armor, and old blood worked into the leather straps near his gauntlets. This guy had been doing this awhile.

“Name?” I asked.

His expression tightened.

“Sir Aldric Valehart, sworn sword of the Radiant Covenant.”

That was too many words.

“Al.”

“No.”

“All right, Aldric.”

“Sir Aldric.”

“We’ll see.”

A few people laughed. He didn’t. That was fine. Mercer usually didn’t either. Aldric looked at the Thompson. Then the Colt. Then me.

“You are Francesco Moretti.”

“Frankie.”

“I have heard several versions.”

“Frankie is the one I like best.”

Elias stood near the front of the crowd. He looked extremely interested in that statement. I pointed at him.

“And don’t believe what they say about me. Especially that kid.”

The kid looked away. Aldric’s eyes returned to the seal.

“You govern this territory for Azrath the Undying.”

“At the moment.”

“You collect his tribute. Enforce his rule.” He sounded like he was checking charges against a name.

“That’s the job.”

His face hardened.

“Then surrender the seal.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Remove it.”

I looked down at the badge. Then back at him.

“No.”

“I will not ask twice.”

“That’s good. Saves time.”

The crowd went very quiet. Mara moved slightly closer. Aldric stepped down from the church.

“You stand in service to a creature that murders the innocent, binds the dead, corrupts holy places, and feeds upon the suffering of the living.”

“Yeah, he’s got issues.”

Several people made noises that might’ve been laughs and might’ve been choking. Aldric stared at me.

“You find this amusing?”

“No.”

That stopped him. I adjusted my jacket.

“But you walked into my town, started talking about rebellion, and now you’re ordering me to hand over my badge.”

“Your town?”

“There are people here finally getting enough to eat. Shops reopening. Animals coming back. Guys working again.”

“Under a lich.”

“Didn’t say the arrangement was perfect.”

“It is slavery.”

“No. Slavery is slavery. Taxes are taxes. We got both around here. I’m working on it.”

His jaw moved. That one irritated him. Good.

“You cannot reform evil by making it efficient.”

“Maybe not.”

I pointed toward the crowd.

“But I can keep these people alive while you figure out your next speech.”

Aldric looked past me at the open market stalls. For a second I thought he might ask about them. Then his jaw set again.

“I have come to end Azrath’s dominion.”

He looked over the crowd.

“I will call upon every able soul here willing to stand against him.”

“And that’s where we got a problem.”

“I expected as much.”

“See? We’re communicating.”

I reached toward the Colt. Aldric’s hand settled on the hilt of his sword.

“Do not.”

I stopped. That word. That tone. I stared at him.

“You know, I had another guy always saying that.”

Aldric frowned.

“Was he wise?”

“Annoying.”

I drew. Aldric moved. So did the skeletons behind me. I’d brought two.

Apparently that was optimistic.

The first skeleton crossed six feet before Aldric drew his sword.

White light exploded.

It left a blue streak across my sight. The blade passed through the skeleton’s chest. For half a second the bones glowed, then burst into dust that rolled across the stones. I stared. The second skeleton swung an axe. Aldric turned. The sword flashed again. Its skull shattered. The body fell. The hands stayed where they fell. None of the bones tried to pull themselves back together. I looked at Mara.

“That usually happen?”

“Paladin.”

Still didn’t answer anything. Aldric turned toward me. I fired. The shot caught him below the shoulder. He staggered. Good. Armor wasn’t magic. Then he put one hand over the wound. Light spread beneath his fingers. The blood stopped. The hole closed. I lowered the gun slightly.

“Oh, come on.”

Aldric charged. I fired again. He caught the bullet on his shield in a burst of sparks.

That seemed unfair.

He slammed into me. I went backward. Not far. I kept my feet. Progress. I holstered the Colt and went for the brass knuckles. Aldric came in high. I ducked. His gauntlet caught my shoulder instead of my face. I stepped inside his reach and drove the brass into his ribs.

CLANG.

My hand went numb.

“Right.”

Armor. I hit the gap under his arm. Better. He grunted. I went low. Same trick I’d used on Shiiruk. Boot straight between the legs.

CLANG.

I froze. Aldric looked down. I looked down. Plate.

“Finally,” I said. “Somebody thought ahead.”

He hit me.

Everything became sky.

I landed on my back. The crowd gasped. I rolled as the sword came down. Stone cracked beside my head. He was using the flat. That registered somewhere. Didn’t have time to think about it. Kicking his knee got me nowhere, so I grabbed his cloak and pulled. That worked. He stumbled. I got up and hit him in the jaw, then the throat. His head moved. His body didn’t. He punched me in the stomach.

My breakfast reconsidered its future.

I folded. His knee caught my chest. Something cracked. I went down again. Couldn’t breathe. Aldric stepped back. “Yield.”

I managed to get one knee under me.

“Not really my thing.”

I stood. He sighed. That was insulting. I swung. He caught my wrist and twisted until the brass knuckles hit the ground. Then his shoulder hit my chest. Then the street hit everything else. For a few seconds I wasn’t sure what order those things happened in. I tasted blood. My left arm wouldn’t work. Aldric’s sword touched my throat. In the silent square, I tried to remember the last man who’d beaten me like that. Not Shiiruk. Not Kilkenny’s guards.

Not even Azrath, because whatever he’d done with magic hadn’t exactly been a fight. This had been a fight, and I’d lost it fair.

I hated that.

“Enough,” Aldric said.

I looked up at him.

“You gonna do it?”

His brow furrowed.

“Do what?”

“Finish it.”

He recoiled a little, as if the question disgusted him. He sheathed the sword.

“No.”

I stared. He knelt beside me.

“What’re you doing?”

“Healing you.”

“Don’t.”

Light filled his hand. Warmth went through my chest. I felt the broken rib pull itself back where it belonged. My shoulder stopped screaming. The cut inside my mouth closed. I sat up. Aldric rose. I touched my ribs. Nothing. I looked at him.

“You beat me up and then fix me?”

“You opposed me.”

“Yeah.”

“You are not condemned to death for being wrong.”

That was a deeply inconvenient sentence.

Mara pushed through the crowd. She dropped beside me.

“Frankie.”

“I’m fine.”

“You were not fine.”

“Got better.”

She checked my face, my shoulder, then my chest where Aldric had hit me. Her fingers were shaking. Aldric noticed. He looked at her.

“Does he compel your service?”

Mara stopped. I opened my mouth.

“No.”

Both of us looked at her. She stood.

“No,” she repeated.

Aldric studied her.

“You may speak freely.”

“I am.”

I started to say something. Aldric held up one finger.

“I did not ask you.”

I shut my mouth. Mara could answer for herself. Her eyes flicked toward me. Something very close to amusement appeared despite everything.

Wonderful.

The paladin was encouraging her.

Aldric turned back toward the church.

“The sanctuary is open.”

He climbed the steps. People moved aside. Before entering, he looked back at me.

“I will organize resistance.”

There it was. I pushed myself to my feet.

“You do that, we’re gonna have another conversation.”

“I expect we will.”

Then he walked inside. Mara looked at me.

“Are you going after him?”

I looked at the church doorway. At the old carvings. At the people gathered around it.

“No.”

She waited. I didn’t explain. A few townspeople entered. Then a few more. An old couple. A mother carrying a baby. Two men with bandaged arms. Nobody ran. Nobody shouted revolution. Most stayed outside. Good. Then Elias moved. I saw him before he reached the steps.

“Elias.”

He stopped and looked back at me. There was guilt on his face. Which somehow made it worse.

“I’m only going to listen.”

“Sure.”

“He fought the lich’s armies before.”

“I gathered.”

“He says they can be defeated.”

“I also gathered that.”

Elias hesitated. Then he went inside. I watched him disappear. Mara stood beside me.

“You are angry.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m irritated.”

“Because he defeated you?”

“No.”

That wasn’t entirely true. We started walking back toward Frankie’s. Halfway across the square Mara stopped me.

“What?”

“You could have died.”

“Didn’t.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

I looked at her. A few days ago, she would’ve apologized for breathing too loudly. Now she was glaring at me in the middle of the street.

I liked this version better.

“I knew what I was doing.”

“You kicked a man wearing plate armor.”

“Didn’t know about that part.”

“You shot him.”

“That usually works.”

“He healed himself.”

“Yeah. Cheating.”

Mara folded her arms.

“He spared you.”

I looked back at the church. People were still entering. Not many. Enough.

“Yeah.”

That was the worst part.

I’d been in this world less than a week. I’d fought a lich, several orcs, a crooked governor, a death priest, and enough traps to make me suspicious of trees. Nobody had beaten me fair. Then some son of a bitch dressed like a cathedral walked into my town, kicked my ass, fixed the damage, and moved into a church. Worse, I was starting to think he might be a decent guy.

This was going to be a problem.