Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

“Did you desire her?” Valyrie asked.

Laedron tried to swallow the massive lump in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Plainly, did you want her?”

“I… well, I…” He had seen that look in another woman’s eyes. It matched a gaze his mother had given him before, and it always resulted in silence and stuttering until Laedron finally came clean with the truth. “I did have an attraction, but it could not have been. Though she appeared young, she was far older than I was. Though I felt a physical attraction, I would never have pursued anything with her.”

“Had she been younger, would you have considered it?”

Laedron shook his head. “Why speculate on things that do not matter?”

“I only ask to understand you better.”

“Very well,” Laedron said, sighing. “If she’d been younger, I still wouldn’t have tried for her hand.”

“Why?”

“For starters, we were too different, and knowing that she was Uxidin, our life together would have been riddled with confusion and hardships. Uxidin are immortal, Val; I would have grown old and died while she would have remained young and beautiful forever. A long, cruel torture for both of us. Now, will you tell me why you ask?”

“I worry.”

“What about?”

“I’ve grown close to you, but strange things are happening to you. My book tells of strange rituals, and it’s unsettling.”

“What does your question have to do with that though?”

“Jurgen’s spell restored your body-made you perfect, in fact-and you’ve not been able to sleep at all. What if the spell has done more than that?”

“Plainly, Val,” Laedron said. “Tell me what truly concerns you.”

“Just what you said. If his spell has made you immortal, then what concern would you have for me? How could we be together if you had to watch me grow old?”

“Nonsense. Your book never said I would live forever.”

“Not all things are written in books,” she said, a tear dripping from her eye. “I feel like everything and everyone I care about will be snatched away. Just like the story of Azura and Tristan, a forbidden love that was never to be, a love destroyed by immortality and that awful torment of which you spoke.”

“It won’t happen like that.”

“How can you be so sure? You said it yourself. One of us ages; the other does not. A cruel torture?”

Laedron grabbed her by the shoulders. “We need not get ahead of ourselves. No need to worry yourself over questions to which we do not have the answers.” His words apparently having little effect, she continued to sob until he said, “We’ll find a way.”

“What do you mean?” She wiped her face with her sleeve.

He thought about what Marac had said, especially the part about knowing for sure if it would work with a woman before committing to anything permanent. Looking into her face, Laedron saw the woman he loved. The fire behind her eyes gave him a glimpse of the fighting they would do in the years to come, but he didn’t care because when he held her close, he knew that the tears flowing down her cheeks would wash away his mistakes. He knew that, regardless of what happened, he wanted to be near her for the rest of his days, as long or as short as they might be. Laedron resolved that he would always give it his all.

“Whatever may come, we shall find a way to get through it. This is no different.”

She reached for him. He took her in a tight embrace and didn’t let go until morning.

After another night without sleep, Laedron roused Valyrie from her slumber, and they joined the others in the common room.

“Good news,” Jurgen said.

“Yes?”

“The consuls have come to the conclusion that we have been too harsh on our Shimmering Dawn chapter.” Jurgen opened a scroll and read aloud, “Be it known to all that the Order of the Knights of the Shimmering Dawn, having shown bravery, courage, and loyalty to our prosperity and safety, shall be reinstated to the highest place of honor. Be it further recorded that the Heraldan chapter of the order shall henceforth enjoy the status of Most Holy, and it and its membership shall forevermore be protected by this declaration.”

“That sounds good, I suppose,” Brice said, then turned to Laedron. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Marac rolled his eyes, and Laedron chuckled and said, “Yes, that’s a very good thing. It means Master Piers and your friend Caleb will be well taken care of in our absence.”

Piers could hardly contain his excitement. “Thank you, Vicar Jurgen. You’re very kind to have pressed them on our behalf.”

“It was the only proper thing to do after the way you and yours have been treated,” Jurgen replied, offering his hand. “Besides, I wasn’t forced to press them too harshly. They are well aware of your good deeds and your dedication. One other thing.” Jurgen glanced around at the common hall. “Beyond the status, possession of the Shimmering Dawn citadel is restored to your keeping, Master Piers.”

“The citadel, too? Oh, this is wondrous news. I shall gather my men, and we’ll be off as quick as a flash.” Piers jogged toward the hall, then stopped and turned. “As for this place, the church may keep it. Make it a place of charity and community, for the betterment of the people.”

Jurgen smiled as Piers left. “I’m thankful for you, Sorcerer.”

“Thankful for me?” Laedron asked. “I’ve accomplished little compared to you.”

“Without you, I would have abandoned this land to the iron grip of the Drakars. The war would have lasted years, and the theocracy would likely have been destroyed completely. You and your friends instilled in me the will to do what is right. For that, and for you, I am thankful.”

What a strange position I find myself in , Laedron thought. I have helped to save the same church that not long ago would have seen me dead.

“You’re welcome,” Laedron said, giving Jurgen a grin.

Jurgen approached the door. “Ready yourselves for the morrow, my friends. We shall revel in your triumph and honor you. Oh, and one other thing.” Jurgen tossed a small leather sack, and Laedron caught it. “Visit a tailor and tell him you need something to wear for the ceremony. Keep the difference for whatever else you may need.” Then, he left.

Piers returned with a crate in his arms and a pack on his back. “Care to come with us?”

Laedron nodded. “Of course. Let us get our things.”

* * *

Piers led Caleb and his men through the streets, and Laedron had never seen him in a more pleasant mood. Every street corner they passed seemed to instill more confidence in Piers until they arrived at a massive stone structure topped by a silver metallic dome.

“This is it,” Piers said. “Our old headquarters, our headquarters once again at long last.”

Along the exterior, carvings of the mark of the Order of the Shimmering Dawn were prominently displayed. Two huge oaken doors stood at the entrance, and they had been left standing open. Entering the great hall, Laedron passed a number of militia soldiers. Beyond the troops, he noticed exquisitely vibrant tapestries, which matched the thick runner laid along the center of the floor. He tried to recall if even the Westmarch keep, the primary headquarters of the order, could match the splendor of the place.

“They left it intact. No, they even made a few repairs,” Piers said, glancing around. He set down his crate and pointed. “Remember the crack at the top of that column? It’s gone.”

Caleb nodded. “Seems they’ve fixed the holes in the dome, too. Not a beam of light coming through.”