He couldn’t totally hide the complicated feelings he felt toward those knights—both admiration and anger. He looked from their armor down to his own, which was time-worn and dingy, closer to brown than white but still the same shape. The center of the breastplate shone silver, a symbol of his father’s disgrace. He remembered what Moto, the owner of the general store back home, had said—and the shame he’d felt.
What hopes did my father pin on that white armor?
As they loomed larger in his field of view, the surge of emotion swept over him.
“What’s wrong?” Deedlit whispered close to his ear. The concerned tone of her voice soothed his worries.
“Nothing. It’s fine,” Parn turned to her with a gentle expression, then took a deep breath, head held high. He snapped to attention, facing the oncoming knights again.
The five knights came to a stop when they reached Parn. Slayn and Etoh bowed respectfully, and Parn gave a knight’s salute.
“Where did you come from?” one of the knights asked, stepping forward.
“We’re travelers from Alania,” Slayn responded, head still bowed. “We’re trying to escape the war in Kanon.”
“That’s right,” Woodchuck chimed in.
“You escaped from Kanon?” The knight seemed suspicious. “I can’t take you at your word. Excuse me…” He began whispering a prayer.
Slayn was impressed—as a Holy Knight, the man was highly skilled with a sword and could also perform the holy magic of Pharis. Slayn didn’t see it as a threat—any Pharis spell would be harmless.
But Etoh, who’d been standing respectfully beside him, glared sternly at the knight. “Casting holy magic unprovoked? It’s blasphemy to use your holy powers on people who haven’t threatened you in any way. I am Etoh, a priest of Pharos based out of the temple in Allan.”
“I wasn’t aware that one of your party was a Pharis priest. You’re right—I was overly hasty to rely on Pharis…but you’ve resolved our doubts. I apologize for the rudeness. We’ll be on our way…” the knight spurred his horse onward.
“Are you in a hurry because of the carriage that just passed by?” Slayn asked the knight.
“What?” The knight pulled abruptly on his reins, making the horse rear up and whinny in protest.
“We just saw a suspicious-seeming procession go by. Who were they?”
“That is a matter of national security—keep what you saw to yourselves.”
Slayn protested, but the knight ignored him and took off. The group whizzed by like pale lightning, leaving only a billowing dust cloud in their wake.
Parn watched them go. Once they disappeared from view, he turned to Slayn. “What was that?”
“It’s disconcerting,” the wizard said. “The caravan was so strange, and the knights were in such a hurry…”
“Maybe we should follow them,” Parn said.
“It’s not my decision to make—but if you want my opinion, I’d say we shouldn’t get involved.” Slayn kept his reply as emotionless as possible, but he doubted his words would have much effect. Parn would always follow his heart.
“Those knights said it was a matter of national security. If it were about the caravan…” Parn folded his arms, deep in thought.
“Uh oh. Parn’s thinking—and he looks serious,” Ghim grumbled. “We might as well just accept it—we’re gonna be retracing our steps in this heat.” Without another word, he pulled his pack over his shoulder and started walking back the way they came.
“Well, that’s annoying,” Woodchuck said as he followed the dwarf. He turned back to Parn. “What are you waiting for? Even if the rest of us refused, you’d go anyway—right? So don’t waste your time thinking about it.”
“Sounds about right,” Deedlit said, trotting up to Parn and reaching a hand out to him. “Let’s just go. It’s not like you to mull over something this long.”
“What? Lies!” Parn protested, though he grabbed Deedlit’s hand as she passed. “I am a very thoughtful and serious man, I always think things through!”
“Sure you are,” Woodchuck laughed.
“We’d better hurry, or we’ll lose sight of them,” Slayn said, collecting himself. It was going to be a difficult march.
“I wish we had horses, too,” Deedlit commented from her spot at the head of their group. Her long hair flared out behind her, sparkling like a rainbow in the summer sun.
A little ways down the road, Deedlit stopped abruptly and cupped her hands around her pointy ears. “What was that?” she said, voice keen.
“What’s wrong?” Parn asked. He scanned their surroundings, but didn’t see anything amiss.
“Quiet,” Deedlit hushed him. “I can hear something from over there, but your armor’s too loud.”
Parn froze in place, not even daring to breathe. Elves were renowned for their hearing—it was said that they could pick out the faint rustle of a tiny animal stepping on fallen leaves.
“Sounds of combat—screaming, clanging metal. There’s no mistaking it.”
“The Holy Knights are fighting! We have to go!” Parn broke into a run, Deedlit close behind. “They must be fighting the caravan—the Holy Knights may be outnumbered, but I doubt mercenaries can beat them…”
“We don’t know that—let’s just hurry.”
“Right!”
“Don’t fall behind,” Deedlit said with a smirk as she danced out in front of him. She was quick and agile, and—with her light armor—far faster than him.
Parn’s heavy gear weighed him down, and soon Etoh, Slayn, and Woodchuck caught up. Ghim fell behind even further, jogging along on his short legs.
“Warn us first,” Etoh called out breathlessly.
“The Holy Knights are fighting!”
“We should see what’s really happening before jumping in,” gasped Slayn.
Deedlit had to pause for the others to catch up, jogging in place. The sounds of battle were much clearer now that they’d run all that way, and she could just barely make out the shifting shadows of a melee up ahead.
“There,” she muttered to herself and fixed her eyes on the shadows.
At that same moment, red light flared up, and a heartbeat later a resounding boom sounded, loud as an avalanche. Deedlit cried out in pain and dropped to the ground, covering her ears.
“What was that noise? And that red light?!” Parn called out as he sprinted to Deedlit’s side. He placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder but kept his eyes trained on the battle, careful not to miss a thing.
Slayn scowled as he caught up. “That light—I’m almost certain it was a fire spell.”
“Magic? But whose—the warriors guarding the carriage or the Valis Holy Knights?” Deedlit laid her hand unconsciously on Parn’s as she spoke, seeking out Slayn with her eyes.
“I have no idea. But that spell is dangerous. It’s forbidden by the Wizard Academy, and it can only be taught to a Master or the equivalent. I didn’t recognize any of the carriage guards or Holy Knights from the Academy—though I suppose one of them could have transformed their appearance. That said, wizards generally dislike using swords. I don’t know about Wagnard of Marmo, though.”
“Was Wagnard in the carriage, do you think?!” Parn cried.
“But weren’t there two women in the carriage?” Woodchuck said, frowning. “Is Wagnard a woman?”
“Hold on—the battle’s over.” Deedlit stood, still holding onto Parn’s hand. “I can’t hear the sound of combat anymore.”
“What?! Who won?”
“I obviously can’t tell that from sound alone. Hold on, I’ll ask the wind.”
“Wind? You mean Sylph?” Slayn said. “My farsight spell will give us more answers.”
“Wait, why didn’t you use that in the first place?” Woodchuck asked exasperatedly. “Why save it?!”
“Seriously,” agreed Ghim, finally catching up.
“Magic shouldn’t be used indiscriminately,” Slayn said, then he controlled his breathing and slowly began to chant in the ancient language.