Silver Blades: Plate Male

Twelve

Calin Bessik.

"Please, Perinor, you must see that your movement has been defeated," I said, a silent prayer for a peaceful solution continuing without cessation in my heart. "I can feel darkness washing off you in waves. The cure I have brought from Circepal can help you—and all the infected—but only if you turn from violence!"

"You were always a fool, Bessik," Perinor hissed. "The Gift of Sethos is only the spearhead of Dragoskala's doom. The city stands all but defenseless. Even now, a flotilla of soldiers is landing to the north, and will march in on the Ska Road by dawn. The suns will rise on a new power in Dollif and its people will bow henceforth before Migar and the Scarlet Brotherhood!"

"Fortunately, you are mistaken," Sir Yadinal said almost casually, the arrow held steady near his cheek as he spoke. "Human forces could never avoid High Lady Glandessa's tireless watch. We spotted your Migarians as they attempted the crossing over Paeton County to the Morning River. While I escorted Superior Bessik here, the High Lady's forces began systematically culling their numbers. If anyone marches on the city now, it would be my lady with reinforcements.

The tilwenic knight spoke truly. He had overtaken me on the Smokewood Road with news of the invasion attempt. Together we discovered the dire plight of the city itself and drove our weary mounts directly to the palace to lend aid. It was a small vanity to assume the two of us could make a difference, but with the holy cure I brought from Circepal and Sir Yadinal's legendary archery, it was not impossible.

"A diversion!" Perinor shouted, teeth clacking together in barely contained rage. "My allies crossed the border farther north, near the narrows of Schilberg. They will come nowhere near Paeton." King Roggarth jerked onto his toes to avoid the traitorous priest's dangerous gestures.

"Believe what you like," the tilwen knight continued, "Say the word and I shall end this, father. The king is in no danger."

"Do it, good Sir Yadinal," the king said bravely, "my life is unimportant so long as my heir and my city are safe."

"Your heir..." Perinor crooned with a toothy grin. "The queen was only too happy to have a ranking member of the clergy look in on your son in his nursery on such a troubled night."

"No!" the king cried.

"It is fortunate I did, too, for I was able to call her attention to a vicious wound that had escaped his nursemaid's notice! Even now, he is receiving aid from your hospitals for an odd bite that won't heal..."

"One preserve!" I prayed.

"My son!" the king gasped, "kill this wretch!" He shoved away from Perinor, but the former priest held him fast, pulling the king further in front of himself and grinning cruelly out from behind the monarch's salted, wavy hair. It was an impossible shot from twenty paces.

"No!" I cried, as the arrow left Sir Yadinal's bow.

The tilwenic knight did not hesitate.

His arrow flew like a ray, piercing his target's eye. The king pulled free as Perinor fell, but not before the falling sword dragged a thin red line across his throat.

"Secure the king!" Toldek's resonant voice boomed, spurring the stunned company into motion.

I dashed forward, the glow of God's healing power already flowing through me, filling me with his euphoric sense of love and warmth. The wizards followed close behind and held King Roggarth steady as I laid hands on his wound.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," the king protested, waving us away. "A scratch as the blade pulled away from my skin. There are many casualties here who need your healing, Father Bessik, and you must see to my son!"