Chapter Two - The Return

Chapter Two - The Return

They hurried back through the ruins to their waiting horses, left to graze on the new spring grass at the edge of the road.  

Lise was sure she heard a peal of ghostly laughter, and when she looked at Oliver with big eyes, he nodded, “I hear it too,” he said.

” So it’s true, the ruins are haunted,” she whispered, reaching her horse and swinging on.

Oliver bit his lip and turned back to the ruins. “Maybe so.” He swung up on his horse and turned quickly, “Let’s get out of here before the sun sets. It is a cursed place.”

They rode hard, kicking their horses into a gallop until they were well away.  

It was well into the night before they stopped and led their horses off the road into a sheltered spot. Years before, bandits would have been a worry, but her father had expanded the Eastmere paladin knights until they were a considerable army, and they patrolled the kingdom, keeping the king’s roads and backwoods safe for all.

Together, she and Oliver gathered firewood, and then she filed her hand with fire, letting it pour out like liquid onto the wood. It was a favorite trick of hers.

Oliver sat back, took out his water skin, drank deeply, and passed it to her.

She took a sip and was surprised to find it was spirits. She grinned and took a good mouthful, feeling the burn slide down her throat and into her stomach. It warmed her after the cool night air.

“What book did you manage to get a hold of?” Oliver asked, cocking one eyebrow at her. She looked at his strong chin and intelligent blue eyes. If she was being honest with herself, she loved this man. They were about the same age, and once he had joined her father’s new order of knights in Eastmere, they had trained together. She considered him a good friend, but over the years, her feelings had turned stronger. 

He was old school, raised by the Temple, and had never taken a wife. Some old timers were like that, still clinging to the old ways. Many of the younger knights married, but he had not. 

Lise pulled the book out of her saddle bag, squinting in the firelight “Ancient Black Magic,” She said, flipping open the book. The script was nearly impossible to read, written in an ancient version of the language.

“Can I have a look?” Oliver asked, holding out his hand. She passed it to him, and their fingers touched. Yes, there it was, the spark that had always existed between them.  

His blue eyes stared at her, taking her in before he begrudgingly turned to the book he now held in his hand. He opened it to the title page and then shook his head. “It looks interesting, but I don’t remember this one. I guess the Master never gave it to me to study from. We will have to ask your father if he remembers it or if he can make any sense of that gibberish.”

He handed the book back to her, and their hands touched again. Finally, she cleared her throat and opened her mouth.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, turning away from her. 

“Oliver . . . “She hated how she said his name like she was pleading for his attention.

“I’m going to bed now,” He said, shutting her down. He stood up suddenly and grabbed his bed roll. He laid it out on the other side of the fire from her, and she brushed away a tear. That interaction was enough. She knew he felt it too. But he had shut her down, just like he always had.

***

The morning was misty, and Oliver was up before her, messing with the fire. The smell of kaffa tea, the rich red brew from the highlands, hit her nose, and she sat up, stretching. Her chest plate and sword belt were within hand’s reach, and she quickly put her equipment on, adjusted the leather straps, and then threw her cloak over her shoulders.

“I made some tea and salt pork,” Oliver said, and she sat down, picking up her portion of the simple meal with her fingers and sipping the tea out of the small wooden cup.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting back on her heels and looking at him. His hair was tousled from a night’s sleep, and he still had not put on his chest piece. He ran his hand through his hair and looked out to the east at the rising sun. The day was a bright blue, and robins tweeted in the trees nearby.  

“It will be a good day to ride. We should be home by evening.” He commended, squinting his eyes and looking down the trail. He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin, then his eyes turned to her. “Take that book to your father first thing.”

“I will,” she promised. Oliver stood, buckled on his chest piece, and put on his sword belt while she drained the last of the tea from her cup. She then wiped out the small fry pan with some clean grass. Shoving it inside Oliver’s bag, she handed it to him, and he took it without a word.

They rode back to the castle that day, not speaking much, lost in their own thoughts. It was a pleasant day to ride, the temperature was mild, and the sun was bright. Finally, the walls of Eastmere castle appeared, and as always, Lise was happy to see her home.  

They passed the old quarry, which had been built by the old regent as a slave camp. Ironically, it now produced the finest marble in the world.

The city had grown over the years and was now twice the size it had been just two decades ago. Five-story buildings crowded the streets, the finer ones covered with the stone harvested just a short distance away, the poorer ones made of brick and covered with white plaster.  

A poor shanty area had grown. Not everything in Eastmere was beautiful, and the dark alleys were avoided by all except well-armed paladins at night.

But today, the buildings gleamed white, and the streets were reasonably safe, patrolled by the king’s paladins. The road was busy with wagons traveling to town for the Market Day.  

Which meant the town square was packed with visitors, the bright stalls filled with goods from far-off places. The Merchant Guild was in town, and their stalls held the most exotic goods from Cheshire and the lands to the east, which had been explored and settled.  

Now, the Kingdom of Eastmere and Duvall stretched hundreds of miles through new lands, and her brother had recently funded a massive project which would expand the King’s Road all the way to the Eastern Sea.

Her father and brother had also expanded Eastmere castle. It had been slowly improved over the years. The center keep enlarged and new stables and barracks were added for the influx of paladins they trained. Blue flags snapped in the breeze, and two knights stood at the gate.

“Princess Lise. The Knight Commander wants to see you. He’s in the king’s study.” The one on the right addressed her, snapping to attention. 

She nodded; it was to be expected. Leaving without permission would probably get her on wall duty for a few weeks, but it was worth it. They passed through the graceful stone arch, before heading straight to the stables to leave their horses.

***

The two parted at the stables, and she headed towards the keep with the book. Stepping inside the cool stone keep, she hurried to her brother’s study, where she hoped to find her father.

Tapping at the door, her brother bade her to come in. The study of Eastmere castle was a warm and inviting place. Warm wood paneling covered with paintings her Aunt Lara had painted. At one end, a picture of her family hung over the fireplace, and the floor was covered in bright tapestries.

Rory was leaning over the desk, with her father at his side. Her brother wore simple clothes for a King, a pair of fine trousers embroidered down the side and a white shirt, unbuttoned. He always wore his sword, for he had trained as a paladin knight. Rory had even served wall duty before taking his throne at the age of 18.  

He was the spitting image of the young Rordan in the painting, his black hair cut shoulder length and swept back, his blue eyes soft and kind. But Rory had their mother’s smile, and he straightened up and held his hand to her. “Sister, you had father worried, but I knew you could hold your own.”

Rordan, his black hair how scattered with strands of gray, his normally joyful face filled with concern, rocked back on his heels. His fingers moved quickly and firmly, expressing his displeasure in sign language. “Daughter, where were you? You can’t just run off to god who knows where without telling anyone!”

She watched his fingers and thought again how she had learned to judge her father’s moods, not by the tone of his voice, but how sharply they formed the gestures. Twenty years ago, every paladin knight knew sign language because the pendants were such an essential part of the Temple structure. They had to learn it to communicate with them. Now, only the old timers could understand the gestures that made up the former pendant’s language. But her family still knew it. Even her little had picked it up, so they could understand their grandfather.

She shook her head, “I was fine. You didn’t have to send Oliver after me.” She took the book and placed it gently on the edge of the elaborately carved desk.

Her father sucked in his breath and then signed, “I know this book. You went to the Temple?” His hands now were angry, moving in a choppy motion.

“Sister, you went to the Temple by yourself?” Rory laughed, “To find an old book?”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was going. But I remembered you told me the Temple was filled with books, and we only had a portion here. So I thought I might be able to find something interesting, and I did,” Lise said with a shrug.

Rordan ran one of his hands down his waistcoat and looked at her strangely, “The place is haunted. Did you run into . . .” His hands paused in their movements, and a strange look passed over his face, “Anything strange?”

“I did,” she said, telling him the entire story.

When she was done, Rory whistled, “So you ran into the shade of the old Master? I would have run away screaming like a little girl or thrown fireballs at it.”

She giggled, thinking of her brother, usually so elegant and kingly now that he had taken his throne, reverting to the little boy she used to know that liked to play pranks and climb trees.

“This is worrisome to me.” Rordan signed, “Maybe Dean and I should take a company out and check out the ruins. Plus, I’m curious now about the books in the Master’s study. Maybe we should rescue the tomes before they are destroyed forever or fall into the wrong hands.”

“Wrong hands? Who else would want them?” Lise said, cocking her head.

Rory exchanged a look with his father and then pointed to the map, “I suppose I can tell you about this, but keep it between us, please, don’t go spreading it around the barracks. Look at this map,” He leaned over the parchment again.

Lise joined him at the table, “It’s a marvelous map. This is the result of the expedition that just returned?” The map was hand drawn in ink, showing the previously uncharted Eastlands. Mountains, rivers, villages, and forests were all shown in great detail. She touched the paper and then gasped, and as she looked at the map, it came to life, the pictures moved, showing horses on the plains, birds in the sky, and the waves on the eastern coast moving.

“Didn’t Susana Torn do a fabulous job? Her art, infused with her magic, is priceless. She almost didn’t return, but that’s a story for another time.” Rory said.

“Miraculous. And to think, all the country to the east,” Lisa said, her eyes wide.

“It is an untapped resource. And based on our treaty with Duvall, everything north of the Winderstaff River is ours. Little did Frederick know that the river drops far south to the east.”

“So, how does this concern the books in the ruins?” Lise asked, tearing her eyes away from the wonderous map before her.

“Here.” Rordan signed and then touched the map. Far to the east, a mountainous region came to light, and a picture of a monstrous wolf-like beast roared. It startled Lisa, and she jumped back.

“What is that creature?” She said with a shiver.

“It’s a Wang - A mythical wolf-like creature as large as a house with poisonous fangs that would snap you in half in one bite. But more worrisome is that Susana found a community living there of former Temple Knights, who escaped all those decades ago. They have built a fortress here in the mountains. To survive, they married into the local tribes and passed their magic down. They have also tamed the Wangs. Susana had a run-in with a group of them and barely escaped with her life. They are a threat and rule the Eastlands by causing the locals to fear the Wangs,” Rory said.

“So they have magic?” Lise asked, realizing how dangerous a rouge band of ex-temple knights could be.

“Their leader, Gregor, has been sending spies into Eastmere.” Rordan signed. “Gregor was a specialist at the Temple. He could make himself invisible. Now, I fear he’s figured out how to train others. There was a man caught trying to sneak into the castle last week, the knights caught him, but before they could detain them, the man disappeared before their eyes and escaped. I only knew one other man who performed that magic.” Rordan signed.

“What do you say, Father? Are you up to going back to the Temple? I will send a company of men. I want those books.” Rory said.

Rordan looked pensive for a moment, stroking his chin. Then, he looked out the window of the study to the courtyard below. The youngest paladins had just formed up and were practicing simple spells. “I suppose this old paladin could be talked into getting on a horse again and going into the field. But running into Master Simeon’s shade causes me pause.”

“What could go wrong? A company of Paladin knights against a shade of the former Master?” Rory grinned, “I’m sure you can handle anything, father.”

Rordan still looked pensive, looking down at the book. “Do you mind if I take this and look through it, Lise?” He signed.

“Of course not.” Lise shrugged, “But if we return to the Temple, we will need a ladder. The wood stairs fell down.”