“This account follows the Arkaenic calendar: twenty-six moons of fourteen days (364 days). Two holy days stand outside the moons: Reflection at Year’s Turn (every year) and Midyear Reflection (every fourth year), aligning the moon’s year to the sun’s and ensuring each new year begins on the same named day. (Please note — I am a linguist, not an astronomer!).”
From ‘A Londoner in Stormhaven’ by Khalid Johnstone.
A Council of War
It is afternoon on the 14th day of Ra, one moon after the Battle of Dagger Point and the Raid on Stonekey.
Farjika Pendragon
“There are three cities in Narshadow, Stonekey in the west and Vamlodar and Sanctuary in the east. The Adzar Empire claims ownership of the whole of Narshadow but has held only Stonekey for the twenty-five years since the Second Nar War.”
Farjika Pendragon pointed to the westernmost city marked on the map fixed to a stone wall in the Council Chamber of Vamlodar Keep.
“Vamlodar and Sanctuary are held by the Nar Alliance. They are Manakai cities and the population of Narshadow is mainly Manakai, but since the last war against the Empire, the Elvakai, Dwarakai, and Orakai in the Nar Mountains have pledged to protect the Narshadow Manakai and together with the Rangers, led by the Elvakai Hadrin Winterwise, they have done so.”
Farjika looked directly at the man — Elvakai — dressed in grey and blue leather and cloth clothing that reflected grey hair and blue eyes. “You have done so.” Her gaze and words addressed not only Winterwise, the battle leader of the Nar Alliance, but each of the leaders at the great wooden round table. They were also for Thrain Ironheart, the Dwarakai King; for Gore Bloodaxe, Chieftain of the Orakai; for the Manakai leadership of Vamlodar and Sanctuary; for the Nine Paladins she had brought with her from Stormhaven and the Twelve who had come to Narshadow in the months before, obeying not her call but that of their own souls. They were in memory of the dozen more Paladins and other warriors who had died in grim battle protecting the folk of Narshadow. The Pendragon exchanged a glance of mutual respect with Paladin Sagramore, the grizzled old warrior who had been recognised as the chief of the Paladins in Narshadow before her arrival. Then she continued:
“The greater part of the population live in small hamlets, villages, and farms surrounded by farms and forest in eastern Narshadow. Western Narshadow is a region of stony hill land stretching between the Kir Mountains to the south and the Nar Mountains to the north. The Adzar Empire does not want the land for its farms; it wants the land for its strategic position — to build bases from which to invade the Nar Mountains, to control the River T’Ever at its source.”
Turning from the map, Farjika Pendragon looked at the gathering of war leaders sitting at the great round table and the junior officers, including her Paladins, standing behind them.
Tharin Saelig — Mayor of Sanctuary
Tharin Saelig, an old man, balding and grey-bearded, stepped into Farjika’s pause. His voice trembled with passion.
“Half a year ago — more, fifteen moons ago — the Adzar swept out of Stonekey, taking all the farms and villages in the Vale. Killing women, children. The men — farmers, herders, artisans — could not stand against them. Those who could sought shelter within the walls of Vamlodar and Sanctuary.”
Saelig was Mayor of Sanctuary but now he was speaking for Narshadow.
“The two cities would have fallen, but our Dwarakai and Orakai friends, led by Thrain Ironheart and Gore Bloodaxe, drove them back.”
The mayor nodded gratitude to Thrain and Gore sitting on the other side of the massive table.
Thrain Ironheart — King of the Nar Dwarakai
Gore Bloodaxe, his muscled green arms folded, nodded back but said nothing. Thrain, seeing the old man close to tears, picked up the story. The one-eyed Dwarakai King, almost as broad as he was tall, began.
“It was Hadrin who called us. And we came — fast. Breaking the sieges on the cities before they had settled in. The best Orakai warriors, the Blood Guard, stood toe to toe against demon-possessed Adzar warriors while Dwarakai crossbowmen shot volley after volley of ironwood quarrels into their ranks, penetrating the armour of legionnaires and slowing the demon-possessed so that Blood Guard axes could take their heads.”
At this point Gore Bloodaxe, son of Grak Bloodaxe and leader of the Orakai Blood Guard, stood. Gore towered over everyone else at the table — all except his two Orakai Blood Guard behind it. It was unusual for the Orakai leader to wish to speak, and Thrain deferred to him.
Gore Bloodaxe — Orakai Chief
“It was not only Orakai who took heads when we relieved Vamlodar.”
His voice was strong and reverberated across the room.
“Our sister stood beside us.”
Gore looked down at the young red-haired Manakai woman sitting beside him, dressed in a red leather tunic and black leggings. Raksha Redmist had, in fifteen moons (cycles of fourteen days), written her legend as the greatest warrior of the conflict. Raksha did not look up. She did not wish to strain her neck and regretted that Gore had chosen to stand.
“Raksha Redmist, Demon Bearer, demon slayer, took more demon-possessed heads than any Orakai. Raksha the blood-drenched drew the Possessed to her like iron scraps to lodestone. Her swords cut through tendons, crippling her foes long enough for her or us to take their heads.”
Raksha Redmist — Demon Bearer
Raksha stood now, placing a white hand on Gore’s green arm and gesturing for him to sit.
Inside her mind a demon whispered that it was unfair that she should get all the credit. ‘Killum’, her name for the demon, whined that it was he who was responsible for her supernatural strength. Raksha ignored him and began:
“And so we held the demon-possessed and the legions back for almost half a year,” the young woman began. “Hadrin’s tactics worked to delay the legions while Dwarakai builders constructed fortifications around the two cities. The Rangers and the Blood Guard bought time for the fortifications to be completed — and for the cavalry to arrive.” Raksha paused and looked at Gore Bloodaxe, who could barely contain a grin.
Hadrin Winterwise
Hadrin stood now and took up the story. Grey-haired, grey-bearded, and dressed in grey and blue cloths and leathers, only his long ears marked him as Elvakai. “But while we built our fortification,” he began, “the Empire built theirs also on the hills west of Vamlodar — on Dagger Point. They learned to shield themselves and set up supply lines and waypoints that stretched a thousand kilometres from Stonekey to Dagger Point. They learned not to depend on the brute power of possessed warriors, not to run after rangers. They learned to respect the Narshadow Resistance.”
Hadrin Winterwise was one of the rare Elvakai who fought in this war. Of his two hundred or so Rangers, barely twenty were Elvakai. Although the Elvakai were party to the ‘Trade not Raid’ pact made twenty-five years before, they had different leaders now — leaders who knew that their mountain kingdom of Elcantor was unassailable and did not wish to waste centuries-long Elvakai lives in the wars of ‘Peripherals’. Hadrin didn’t care for the word, nor did he care for the opinion of those Elvakai who alleged that he had picked up the habit of aging from the Manakai woman he had bonded with long ago.
“We had intelligence that the Imperial army would attack in force on the last day of Brigid. They still had near one hundred Demonised Warriors. These creatures are hard to kill — almost impossible unless you take their heads. Their bodies heal any hurt if still connected to their heads.”
Raksha Redmist
Raksha interjected. “But demon warriors fight not only with muscle and steel, not only with physical force but also psychic force. They would have overwhelmed us, would have broken through the fortifications, if it were not for the Orakai cavalry. More than a hundred Orakai warriors — the Blood Legion — mounted on great Kaigor lizards, Bloodclaws.” Raksha paused and looked again directly at Gore. “Everything is ‘blood something’ with your people, isn’t it?” she said, as though her recital had just revealed this to her. Gore Bloodaxe laughed loudly and in a moment everyone in the hall was laughing with him.
“Blood is sacred to all the Orakai tribes,” said Gore, after the laughter subsided. “It binds us to each other and to all life, sister.”
Raksha continued:
“Your hundred riders crashed into the Possessed as they swept down from Dagger Point in the west toward Vamlodar — riders near twice the size of Manakai men on beasts near twice the size of horses and near twice the speed. They broke the charge of the Possessed and terrified the Imperials.”
“They terrified us!” exclaimed Allannia Umera, a female Elvakai ranger, an archer. Around the great hall, Manakai, Elvakai, and Dwarakai nodded and looked at each other. The Orakai among them seemed to be suppressing grins. These Bloodclaws were a hitherto unknown factor that could change the balance of power in Nar and Narshadow forever.
The Demon Bearer coughed to reclaim the attention of the room. “With the enemy’s momentum broken, we threw everything at them from the east, out of the gates of Vamlodar — Sag’s, I mean Ser Sagramore’s — Paladins led the charge with their newly trained Narshadow Militia and King Thrain’s Dwarakai warriors behind them.”
Raksha looked at Sagramore. Hadrin had commented before on her tendency to be too familiar at the wrong time. She had come to know the old Paladin chief and liked him. Still, he had lost twelve comrades on that day. Half the contingent of Paladins who had left the gates of Vamlodar that day did not return through those gates again as living men.
Ser Sagramore
“Eleven men and one woman,” Sagramore said. “Twelve Paladins. Gone to the Lands of Light and Spirit.
“But we, one score and four, were not the only Paladins fighting on that day. Without the Pendragon and her ‘air cavalry’ taking out the sorcerers at Stonekey, all of our efforts — our sacrifices — would have been for nothing. Thanks to Galen Soham, the Seer of Narshadow, we were warned that the Empire’s sorcerers at Stonekey were planning to raise devils directly from hell against us.
“Even as we stood against the demon-possessed at Dagger Point, the Pendragon stood directly against a darkness that had come to consume our world. But we might not have known about that battle except for her youngest Paladin.”
Ser Sagramore nodded towards the young man standing with other Paladins across the chamber.
Abdul Hakim
Even a moon — fourteen days — after, the events of that night were still fresh in Abdul Hakim’s memory.
Former dockhand, gang member, and secret informer to Farjika Pendragon, he was now a Paladin, Drakai-Rider, and Drakai-Friend. But Abdul was not comfortable with being now thought of as an informer on the Pendragon.
All of the group, who were now being called ‘Farjika’s Raiders’, had agreed that it was their duty to tell the story of that night — of what they had seen and what she had done. And they had also agreed that it was Abdul Hakim who was the best storyteller, so it had fallen to him to relate the story that would begin her legend.
Raid on Stonekey
By the time of the raid on Stonekey, Abdul and his companions had been flying on Drakai-back for seven days. They had flown from Stormhaven to Sanctuary in three days, with stops to relieve themselves during the days and to sleep during the nights.
Sanctuary (Revelata, 9th Brigid)
On the fourth day, ten Paladins clambered off their mounts onto the grassy fields surrounding Sanctuary. They had been guided to this particular spot by guardsmen — both Manakai and Dwarakai — with red flags visible from the air. The walled city was now surrounded by visible earthworks and hidden pits to impede the passage of the enemy Imperial armies should they attack again.
Abdul, standing in waist-high grass, watched the ten Drakai, like great aerial stingrays, rise vertically into the sky. Aranya, one of the three female Paladins in the group besides Farjika herself, had told him that it was not the motion of their wings that powered Drakai flight but rather their ability to use the planet’s ‘lines of force’. Though curious, he had not questioned this at the time — in his mind filing ‘lines of force’ under the category ‘magic’.
The Paladins took a day to rest in Sanctuary, to be briefed on the next leg of their mission, and to pick up some equipment — notably hooked ropes and short swords that Thorne said were for ‘close work’ rather than battlefields. Abdul Hakim felt out of his depth; he was a dockhand, not a warrior. Yes, he could fight — you had to when you were part of the gangs of Stormhaven — but streetfighters are not the same as trained warriors. Why had he been called in the Dream? Not just called but commanded to present himself to the Pendragon with a specific sequence of words in a language that he did not understand but that was etched forever into his mind.
“Not all Paladins start out as warriors,” Aranya had said. “What makes us Paladins is our utter dedication to the Seven Vows and our utter fearlessness.” Then, noticing Abdul’s quizzical look, she laughed. “Well, the fearlessness sometimes comes a bit later. We say that utter faithfulness is utter fearlessness.”
Abdul had noticed that Aranya watched out for him. He would see her looking to make sure he was okay. None of the other Paladins were unkind, but they all seemed wrapped up in what they were doing. Aranya seemed more aware and caring. Nor did Abdul Hakim fail to notice that Aranya was beautiful.
It seemed that Abdul’s own glances at Aranya did not go unnoticed. In the evening at Sanctuary’s castle, as they sat together to eat, Paladin Veronia remarked that Ulf Pendragon had said that Paladins need not be celibate, but there were five types of women and men that they should not think of lying with. The first was a woman or man who was unwilling, the second a woman or man who was vowed to another, the third a woman or man young enough to be your daughter or son, the fourth a woman or man old enough to be your mother or father, and the fifth a woman or man who was your sister or brother in blood or in battle. Abdul, understanding her point, nodded and thanked Veronia for the story.
Farjika did not eat with the other Paladins. Except when she was briefing them on the mission, she spent her time with the Mayor of Sanctuary, Tharin Saelig, and another elderly man, Galen Soham, who had been introduced as a local shaman.
In the morning, rested after a night’s sleep in proper beds, the ten Paladins were again on Drakai-back, flying over seemingly endless expanses of grassland and wetland towards Vamlodar, about five hundred kilometres northeast of Sanctuary. Two days later, in the early evening, they arrived at a city prepared for war. Even more than Sanctuary, Vamlodar was a city with her shields up. Situated between forest to its south and east and north and west, most of its defences faced the hills to the west where the Empire’s army had been steadily growing. Their watchfires could be seen on Dagger Point, the highest of a line of hills; it pointed directly at Vamlodar. The mind of a great strategist was not required to realise that an attack was imminent.
Vamlodar (Silentia, 12th Brigid)
Vamlodar was under the command of alliance battle leaders, the Elvakai ranger Hadrin Winterwise and the Dwarakai King, Thrain Ironheart. In Vamlodar, Farjika consulted with Hadrin and Thrain while her group rested for a few hours before the long flight west to Stonekey.
From the other end of the Great Hall, Abdul Hakim watched her with concern. Farjika Pendragon did not stop to rest when the others did. He had once thought her invulnerable and immortal, but now, six days after they had left Stormhaven, the lines on her face seemed to have deepened.
“She’ll be okay. She’s the Pendragon,” said Makonnen, laying a strong hand on his shoulder. Makonnen had the same dark skin as Farjika, and Abdul had thought that he was Durdessan as she was, but the tall Paladin had explained that contrary to common assumption in Stormhaven not all dark-skinned people were Durdessan, and that his people called themselves Aithiopian. “The Pendragon knows how to take care of herself,” he continued. “But the castle wardens have prepared baths for us.” He sniffed the air pointedly. “And we need them.”
Stonekey (Occultum, 14th Brigid)
Before dawn of the last day of Brigid a line of ten Drakai approached the fortified city of Stonekey. It was a military town in which all occupations served the occupation of war. At the far edge of the Empire, the city was maintained by exploiting local people through forced labour and exporting them as slaves.
Farjika Pendragon led the line of Paladins on Drakai-back. Tonight the great moon Miranda had waned to a bright sliver in the sky that would not give warning of their approach. She knew exactly where she was going, where her targets were. R’yokkan, the lead Drakai on which Farjika rode, glided swiftly over the city walls and banked towards the castle, towards one of its four towers — the one that the supernatural seeing of the shaman Galen Soham had identified for her. As R’yokkan swooped low over the roof of the tower, the Pendragon slid off. Her feet barely touched the ground before she rolled with the momentum and was then back on her feet, scanning for guards. There were none to be seen. There were guards on the city walls, but no one was expecting an attack from the air. Behind Farjika, the other Paladins performed similar dismounts. They had been briefed and had practiced. But practice had not prepared all for the actuality. Makonnen twisted an ankle. Painful, but he would not complain.
They knew what to do. Farjika gave the signal and Paladins Sigurd and Thorne, physically the strongest, hooked ropes between the tower crenellations and unhesitatingly started to descend them. At nearly the same moment their leather-gloved fists punched through thick glass panels in leaded frames and then, with the preternatural strength that Paladins can call in times of need, they ripped the frames from the walls and entered the chamber on the tower’s top floor, where five sorcerers sat at the five points of a pentacle drawn on the floor. Five more sorcerers, dressed in night-black robes, stood behind them.
The five seated on the floor were in a trance and did not move. Those standing guard were startled and began to conjure fireballs, but after coming through the windows, Sigurd and Thorne crouched low for Ysora and Veronia to come through onto their backs and spring at the sorcerers, killing them instantly. In seconds the standing sorcerers were dead and the Paladins — all except Orland, Aranya, and Abdul Hakim, whom Farjika had ordered to stay on the roof — were in the room, executing the still-entranced seated sorcerers.
But now, the circle broken, something dark and cold stood in the centre of the pentagram and reached dark tentacles beyond it. As the dark and cold filled the room, Farjika called her light, uttering the words:
“Hānā neʾzal b-ʾurḥā,
Hānā neʾzal b-shrārā,
Hānā neʾzal b-nuhrā.”
“This one will follow the Way.
This one will follow the Truth.
This one will follow the Light.”
She spoke in Aramaic and in the Common Tongue. Light radiated from her.
Before the others could pick up the chant to strengthen the Pendragon’s Light, the chamber doors burst open. Guards had heard the commotion in the room and the noise of the metal window frame that had crashed to the ground.
The Paladins were lightly armoured in leather. The guards, clad in steel, pressed in from the hallway.
As swords flashed, Amrit was wounded and fell back. The others — Makonnen, Sigurd, Ysora, Veronia, and Thorne — also retreated from the entrance into the chamber, which became filled with the noise of steel against steel.
Ignoring the fighting, Farjika continued to push her light against a darkness that gibbered terror in a thousand languages. But her light became like an island in the darkness now filling the room and wrapping itself around Paladins and guards alike.
The fighting paused. The Paladins suddenly felt as if they were being pulled from their bodies. Guards screamed, dropping their swords.
Farjika stepped into the centre of the darkness, whispering, “Take me instead.” Night-black tendrils swirled like a whirlwind around her light and then the dark was consumed by the light it sought to extinguish.
Now a crash from above was heard. Orland, Aranya, and Abdul Hakim had also heard the commotion and had broken through the trapdoor from the roof. But there was no one to fight; the guards were trembling with terror on the floor. The Paladins had fared better and were standing, looking at their commander with awe as the light faded around her.
Farjika ordered them to the roof and followed to call the Drakai.
One by one Drakai descended and, one by one, despite wounds, the Paladins mounted them and flew off into the night. Orland was the last to mount before Farjika. As she moved to mount R’yokkan, the lead Drakai, she saw two guards come up through the broken trapdoor. They did not draw their swords. One knelt and said, softly, “Thank you, Paladin.” Farjika bowed slowly and then turned to pull herself onto the hovering Drakai.
R’yokkan rose to join her fellows circling in the sky, and then they were off — a dark line of Drakai on their way back to Vamlodar.
Pendragon’s Return
Vamlodar Castle. Late afternoon on the 14th day of Ra, one moon after the Battle of Dagger Point and the Raid on Stonekey.
Tharin Saelig rose from his seat. He was Mayor of Sanctuary but perhaps the most respected of the leaders of Narshadow. Old and usually hesitant in speech, he spoke firmly now. He was speaking for Narshadow and with the consent of the whole council. Looking directly at Farjika, he began.
“One hundred years ago, Ulf Pendragon set out from this city, Vamlodar, to begin his long march along the T’Ever River to the City of Stormhaven. It is said that where Ulf travelled, freedom bloomed. He established a Commonwealth of justice in Arten where there had been oppression. But here, in Narshadow, we have lived not only in the shadow of the mountains but in the shadow of war and of the Empire’s oppression. Now a Pendragon has returned, not on foot but by air. We believe that Pendragon should stay so that freedom might bloom in Narshadow also. Will the Pendragon lead us as Protector of Narshadow?”
Farjika had been standing with head bowed as the Mayor spoke. Now she raised her head and looked directly at the old man and then around the room, and again directly at him. The first verse of Ulf’s Vows crossed her mind:
“I walk with heart humble, neither above nor below,
In thought and in action, may Humility show.”
And then the last:
“From toil and from duty, I shall never take rest,
For in constant endeavor, my soul shines its best.”
Placing a hand on the great round table, she simply said, “Yes.”