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Letters from the Heart, Act IV
The next several months saw Celesta and Matteo’s marriage fall apart. Although he never admitted it, she suspected that it had something to do with her increasing devoutness to Rail, her patron dragon god. She was half dragon, of course, and her devotion to her god was only natural. She also suspected that it was also due to an affair that he was having.
What did she do so wrong that her once happy marriage would fall apart like this? Was it even a happy marriage to begin with? Somehow, Celesta thought that it never was. So, it came as no surprise to her when he upped and left one day. It still hurt, though. The one you thought would could make everything right and the world sine again turns into an ugly monster who used you for his devices.
He should’ve come to her sooner…
She remembered a conversation she had with Lucien once when they had actually been able to find a private moment together. She had asked him why he had even bothered telling her at all about how he felt. His response had been that if he hadn’t he would have regretted it for the rest of his life.
Maybe that was what this was all about: no regrets. Although she felt she could have done without the disappointment of Matteo, it had been a learning experience. A very valuable one at that.
She busied herself as she readied for her weekly devotional at the temple. She had a feeling that something, whether for good or ill, was going to happen tonight. She could feel it. The air fairly sang with tension and expectation. Something very interesting was going to happen tonight. She just knew it.
***
“Sir, reports are coming in from the west. The Blood Paladin is on the move.”
Lucien paused in what he was doing and looked over his shoulder. “Number? Size?” He tuned fully and pulled his black hair back with a leather strap. He patted himself down to be sure that he had everything and walked out of the make-shift tent that was serving as the head of their base of operations.
“It looks like a scouting party.”
“Did you confirm if it was?”
“No.”
“Go do that and report back.”
The man nodded and hurried off.
Lucien watched him leave and sighed. The long months here had turned into years. Two very long years of combating the self-proclaimed Blood Paladin named Salris and his fanatical horde. What was this man’s plan? Assuming, f course, if Salris was male. What did he hope to achieve with all of this massacre? Al l of his followers killed themselves as soon as they realized that they were to be captured. There was no way they could get information that way. There had to be some other means to gain an insight into what this crazed maniac was thinking.
He paused as the same man returned and gave his report. A scouting party. Probably to look for their location or find the next village to raze to the ground. “Follow them,” he ordered. He didn’t watch this time as the man left.
Lucien cursed well under his breath as he strode through camp. Salris’ elusiveness was frustrating. If they could figure out a motive this tiny campaign would have been much easier.
He stopped dead in his tracks. A motive. Religious fanatics. They were always spouting something about the oncoming of a new world. They were ‘cleansing’ the area for the arrival of that new world, which he was sure included Omnicron. There was no way they could take the fight directly to the leader. They would have to figure out a way to get a hold of one of those zealots somehow.
As much as he didn’t particularly like magic, Lucien finally admitted that there was need of it now. For the first time, he wished he was a paladin. He immediately retracted that wish as he thought of all the demands and expectations that were placed on them. No. He was quite happy with being the king’s herald. It was better than moping about and feeling sorry for himself. At least he was doing something with his life.
He shook his head and dismissed that train of thought. No use dwelling on it now. He needed magic users to catch his quarry and keep them from killing themselves. To win this, they needed an idea of what the Blood Paladin was up to.
***
His attempts at finding the rebel group had failed, much to his ire. He was surrounded by loyal, dedicated followers but not a single one of them had an ounce of intelligence to think on their own. He supposed that it was just what he deserved for creating an army to carry out his will and not taking the time to groom someone to help him. No matter. He would just have to take care of things himself. Such as that knight, who was quickly becoming a worse thorn in his side than ever.
He had tolerated the knight’s petty rebellion, figuring that the spirit that drove them would die quickly. He had been sorely wrong. Whoever this knight was knew how to rally people to him. Or was it just their hatred of him that banded them together and drove them onward?
He couldn’t understand why they hated him so or why they were so terrified of him. He only wanted to create a new world for them where none suffered and their new god, Omnicron, would preside over them. Right now, he was merely paving the way for their lord god. All of the infidels had to either be converted or eradicated.
He glowered as he thought of the knight again. He was the one that had to be taken care of. That damned knight! Everywhere he went he heard whispers and rumors of the Dark Herald. They spoke of him in hushed, awed tones. They should only speak of him, Salris the Blood Paladin, that way! This knight was no saint! The herald was no better than he! How dare his subjects speak of another with such reverence!
He took in a calming breath and exhaled slowly. There was no point in becoming angry over something so trivial. He would be able to prove himself the better of the two and lead his people to glory. All things come with time and he felt that the knight’s time was coming to an end. There was only one way to settle this.
He stood from his seat and strode out of the hall. He called for his attendants and he was pleased to note that they hastened to his side quickly, ready to do his bidding. He gave them each directions and they scurried off.
He smiled to himself in grim satisfaction. If all of his troops could not handle a small rebellion led by a single knight then he would just have to take care of the problem himself. He would not return until he had that knight’s head in his hands.
***
Morning exercises always cleared his head. The smooth, careful movements that forced him to concentrate completely on the way he was moving. Was he holding his sword right? Was his footwork correct? Was he leaving himself open for a possible attack? Was he in a precarious position to be overtaken in combat?
He tried to remember everything that he had been taught: to move loosely and fluidly, like water. Circular movements. Use the weight of the weapon to your advantage. Used the sword only to kill. Avoid killing your opponent at all costs. Blade Dancers are meant to defend, not to kill.
Even though he was a knight in the service of the king, he was still a Blade Dancer. He would uphold all of the traditions demanded of him as such first and foremost. It was a part of who he was. Being a knight was merely something that had happened as a result of being employed by the king.
Oh, if only Guenwhyvar could see him now. She would probably shake her head and say something about her little brother rushing off into battle.
That thought gave him pause. They had recently learned that everyone in Salris’ army was delusional and convinced that the new world that Salris was bringing would purge the planet of all infidels to pave the way for Omnicron, God of Death, Destruction, and Disease. Since the so-called ‘rebellion’ was blocking his way, Salris was bent upon finding them and destroying their base of operations. If he went out to confront Salris himself he could avoid the camp being found and at the same time force Salris to meet him on his own terms. Salris would be going into the battle blind.
He knew that Salris was coming for him. All of the zealots that they had been able to capture had said as much and that the paladin hated him with a passion. He was the cause of this ‘rebellion’ and if Salris took him out then the resistance would crumble. Simple, direct and to the point.
Lucien gathered up all of his things and headed back to the camp. He looked about him as he walked to his tent. So many people banded together for a single cause. It would be a massacre if any trained soldiers attacked. He made up his mind. He would go out and meet Salris face to face. There was no need to involve all of these people.
He entered his tent and quickly changed. No armor. He wanted this to end quickly. He donned on his uniform: all black with a subtle hint of gray, the coat of arms of the von Nightscapes emblazoned across the front of it in black thread. He strapped a long sword to his back and looped his two daggers through the sword belt. He made sure that he had extras tucked away on his person before packing a travel bag with a week’s worth of items and food.
He swung his back over his left shoulder and began to leave.
“Sir! Sir!”
Lucien turned to see his second in command come running up to him. She was a comely girl with a sharp wit and learned fast. She saw things that Lucien sometimes overlooked and she was good with a sword. Catarina was her name.
“What is it?” He demanded.
His tone made Catarina pause. She recovered quickly and asked, “Where are you going?”
Lucien shook his head. “I am placing you in charge during my absence. There is something I need to do. I should not be gone long.” When he saw the hesitations in her eyes he asked, “Can you lead these people for me?”
Catarina nodded. “Of course, sir.”
“Good. I am trusting you to keep them safe.” He studied Catarina for a moment and recognized something in her eyes. When she flushed and looked away from him, Lucien turned on his heel and walked away. The last thing he needed was getting involved in another disaster like before. He came here on the king’s business alone. Nothing more. Right?
He swore under his breath. He had been able to forger about her until now. He frowned heavily and nearly growled, wiling the thoughts of Celesta away. He had a job to do and he would be damned if he didn’t accomplish his tasked. Celesta be damned!
Credits
Images were taken from Community Webshots, brushes from Void Brushes. Layout is copyrighted by Radical Dreamers Designs and may not be altered or redistributed unless herein otherwise indicated. Please do not remove the link below or alter our url in the html coding. Enjoy!
Site © G. A. Mehan-Molina-:- All characters and related material belong to their respective owners. All rights reserved.-:-Poem © Wende Hignite -:- Lyrics to "Some Enchanted Evening" by Jay and the Americans
Letters from the Heart © 2004 -
Layout by Yanagi for Radical Dreamers Designs
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