Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

Jace approached the Squires, one sleeve of his cloak cut short and ragged. Somehow he'd managed to light his pipe, however. He didn't seem to be in any pain. In fact, he blew a smoke ring and smiled. "Glad to see you Squires made it out of that trap. We had feared we might have to tunnel around it, which would have delayed our journey to Blombalk even more. By the way, my young friends, you didn't happen to see an arm lying around, did you?"

"Got it right here, Uncle Jace." Aldreya returned the cloth bundle to him. "I hope there is still time for the Healers to reattach it."

Jace chuckled. "It's Uncle Jace again, I see. Well, that pleases me greatly. And I'm also pleased that you've returned my arm." He winked. "It comes in handy in a pinch." He patted her on the head. "My favorite Squire."

Aldreya smiled. "Just attending to my duties."

Vannas sniffed the air disdainfully. "What is that appalling smell?"

"Appalling smell?" said Jace, blowing another smoke ring. "This is good leaf, oh prince. Not Birlote quality, but still worthy. I found it below in some supplies. I'm sure the villagers won't mind."

In response, Vannas covered his nose.

"Anyway," said Jace, "I better go see if I can get my arm stitched back on." He walked away whistling, carrying his severed limb over his shoulder.

"Weird," said Jerret, shaking his head. "Just too weird."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Saranna, shuddering.

"Uncle Jace is a sorcerer," said Aldreya, as if that explained everything.

"He's not your uncle," said Vannas.

"She can call him whatever she likes," said Lothrin. "That's her business."

"I hope they can save his arm," said Lannon.

"I hope he finds some better quality pipe leaf," Vannas grumbled. He held his stomach as if he might vomit.

The Knights quickly repaired doors and window shutters, distributed supplies, and started fires in wood stoves. It took the rest of the day to get the town organized again, during which the only conversation involved helping the villagers. One of the tasks included preparing the dead for burial, as a third of the townsfolk had been slain in the Goblin attack or had died later from injuries. Taris ordered ten Knights, including two Healers, to remain behind and continue to help the townsfolk. He also sent a message to Dremlock by means of an Elder Hawk to send aid to the village and to warn of the latest Goblin incident.

As the Divine Knights prepared for departure, Saranna approached Taris and said, "I would like to stay and help these villagers, if Dremlock will release me from my contract. I realize I won't receive my second payment, but I'm fine with that. These villagers need a Ranger."

"On the contrary," said Taris, "you will be paid in full. We regret losing you, Saranna, but I agree that these villagers need you. In helping them, you have earned your pay." He handed her a pouch bulging with silver coins.

She smiled and bowed. "Thank you, Tower Master."

The Squires bid her farewell.

Saranna and Lothrin stood gazing at each other for a moment, and then Lothrin said, "I wish I could stay and help you."

She nodded. "I would welcome the help of a fine Ranger like you. But you've got your duties as a Squire and a member of the Divine Shield."

"I know," he said. "Until we meet again…"

"Until then," said Saranna, smiling.

Jace's arm had been successfully reattached, and he demonstrated this fact for everyone by wiggling his fingers to cheers and applause. "It's a bit stiff," he said, "but that shouldn't last long. I'll be back to fighting form soon enough."

After that, the Knights saddled up and resumed the journey to Blombalk Fortress, now several hours behind the Blood Legion in the race.

When they stopped to make camp for the evening, the weather was bitterly cold. A few bright stars burned in the heavens, in between some massive bone-white clouds. The snow was frozen into a crust. They were on a wide hilltop surrounded by a few huge oaks with ice hanging from their branches. An ancient stone tower stood nearby, rising up above some treetops. Soon the hill was covered in Knightly tents, and then everyone took refuge inside to warm themselves (except for some shivering guards who were charged with watching the camp).

The Squires took turns warming their tent's interior with sorcery (except for Lannon, of course, who still couldn't manage to enchant a blade). Galvia was awake, alert, and heavily bandaged. She lay atop a quilt, and her mood was sullen-almost sad. The Squires tried in vain to cheer her up.

"What's bothering you so much?" Jerret asked. He was seated on the floor with his broadsword across his lap. He seemed to have taken quite a liking to Galvia, perhaps because of her skills as a warrior.

"It's nothing," Galvia said, but her eyes told a different tale. Part of her dark-grey hair had come unbraided, but she made no effort to fix it. Her broad face looked pained, but from wounds to the spirit more than the body. The other Squires knew that Galvia, being a stout and resilient Dwarf, probably had little concern for her physical injuries. She was suffering on a deeper level.

"I don't believe you," said Jerret. "You don't seem like yourself at all. I know it was a rough injury, but that can't be what's troubling you."

"Very well," said Galvia, with a heavy sigh and a bitter expression. "I can't believe I let those Wolves corner me. That was so foolish, and it put everyone at risk. It was as if I forgot all my training-and I mean all of it. Prior to the battle, I thought I knew exactly what to do. Then when things got chaotic, I lost focus."

"It could have happened to any of us," Jerret reassured her. "No amount of training can prepare you completely for real combat. But you survived, and you gained valuable experience."

"What if I'm not meant for battle?" said Galvia. "Some people are born to be warriors, and some can never live like that. Maybe I chose the wrong way of life."

"I highly doubt that," said Jerret. "You have some powerful skills, and besides, you're a Grey Dwarf. What Olrog doesn't have a natural affinity for combat?"

"There are many Olrogs," said Galvia, "who do not make good warriors. Some went to Dremlock to become Knights-and failed."

"You'll be fine," said Lannon. "As Jerret said, you're a very talented Squire." He rummaged around in his pack and found some delicious cake he'd been saving. He longed to eat it, but instead he offered it to Galvia.

Galvia shook her head. "Not hungry."

With a shrug, Lannon raised the piece of cake for a bite, when Jerret snatched it from him and crammed it in his mouth. Lannon glared at him.

"Thanks," Jerret mumbled, his mouth full of cake.

"Maybe I don't belong on this Divine Shield," said Galvia, sighing. "Yes, I think it was a mistake to include me. I should request to be removed."

"Nonsense," said Aldreya, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. "We're glad to have you with us, Galvia. The Knights chose you for a good reason. They gave you a great honor in adding you to the Divine Shield."

"That was my first real battle," said Galvia, pulling her hand away from Aldreya's. Her eyes looked haunted. "I expected far better of myself. I guess I wasn't as well trained as I thought, in spite of all the promotions I've received and the belief that I would soon become a Knight."

"May I fix your hair?" said Aldreya. "The braids have come undone."

Galvia nodded.

"You're pondering it too much," said Lothrin, who'd been reading a book by the lantern light. "If you keep dwelling on it, you will let it destroy your confidence." He held up the book. "This is the story of Molth Bloodbow, a Birlote warrior who lost his confidence after a battle and ended up becoming a merchant. Anyway, I'm halfway through the book, and he has come to hate himself for his decision. I'm sure he is headed for a miserable end, full of regrets. You don't want to end up like Molth Bloodbow, do you?"