Garrick's mind drifted as he rode. He tried to make sense of all he had seen and felt that afternoon. His hands still tingled where he had clutched Nephrita's bare arms. In that brief moment, a glaring light had filled his vision and he felt as if he could look past the land where he stood to the realm of the gods. Power radiated out from her beyond anything he had ever felt. Yet, it seemed scattered, wild, and untamed, and now he understood. Her full power had not yet returned to her. Most of her strength lied in her hold over the krolmins and most of her safety lied in the wards she had cast about herself. Even still, her protective barrier was not absolute. When she was sufficiently distracted, it could not defend her, as it had failed when Niabi's spell struck Nephrita directly. Also, it seemed Nephrita controlled who she allowed within that ward, as she had done with Garrick.
Though she had pushed him away when she regained her balance, Garrick still wondered why she had been as gentle as she had with him. Eager was perhaps the wrong word, but she had still been willing to fall into his arms, and had not seemed to regret doing so. He could see for himself the events that had lead to her resurrection, but memories and feelings were two different things. He still needed to know more about her. For despite what she'd said, maybe she could yet be swayed from her wrath, or at least distracted enough to be stopped. He searched the memories she had given him, looking for something he could use against her.
The most surprising fact to him was that Nephrita had once been human.
He watched through her own eyes as Nephrita, a humble Seer of the fledgling order of Light in a simpler time over a thousand years ago, stumbled upon the power of magic in the world quite inadvertently. She cultivated the power she found and it blossomed like a flower within her, as beautiful and delicate as her own fair visage. She was hailed and revered as a prophet, whose touch could heal all illnesses and tender voice could quell all anxiety. She gave generously to the people who honored her, blessing the land wherever she passed.
Yet her power grew too strong for the gods' liking, or at least for the malakhs that came to take it away from her. She was forsaken by the very beings to which she had pledged her life, and when she returned to her temple, she was cast out by the people she had loved, once she could no longer cure them of their woes instantly. Years passed as she wandered the land a haggard woman, punished for trying to help people and condemned to a life of hunger, hardship, and loneliness. Whenever she found a shred of the power she once had, malakhs would come to take it away. Desperate for companionship, she created a new people to love her, creatures of the night that had become her only refuge, with pale skin and black wings, tails, and hair. But in her despair, the krolmins became angry creatures who attacked humans to protect her.
Civil wars wracked the land, illnesses she could no longer cure plagued the people who had once adored her, and her beloved krolmins could not be swayed from their bloodthirsty attacks. Driven to madness from the events that had shaped her life, she sought out the power she had once more and caused violent storms to rage across all the land in an attempt to cleanse it, or to give humans and krolmins alike something to fight besides each other. Garrick saw little reasoning in this part of her memory and much of the near century that followed was a blur. She was too desperate to help when there was little that she could do, and the pain of her mistreatment and the suffering of all the land poured out into floods and droughts that rocked the world for many decades to come.
Most of the blights of the Dark Age, Garrick then learned, were not Nephrita's doing. It was an unfortunate period of time compounded by her swath of despairing destruction. She was blamed for it all in the eyes of malakhs, however, and when the gods finally caught hold of her, she was imprisoned for all time.
Never had a dark thought sullied her lovely mind, and even as her storms dashed ships into splinters, ripped apart forests, caused three generations of famine, and swept away villages, she grieved for the pain she had inflicted upon the land. But for over one thousand very lucid years, her despair turned to rage, and guilt to blame. She had been trapped in a formless void, able to see, touch, hear, and feel nothing. Left alone with only her thoughts to accompany her for dozens of lifetimes, her anger at the way she had been treated only grew. She came to hate the gods and all creatures below them for ruining her. She hated humans for their greed, that they would take as much as their hands could grasp from her and threw her away when she could give them no more. Even her beloved krolmins had seemed to her to have forsaken her. Immeasurable time passed and slowly she went mad. After being detached for so long from everything that she had once held dear, she had lost all ability to care about anything else and her mind filled with a blind devotion to revenge.
But, Garrick wondered, if there truly was no dissuading her from her path, then why did she give him her memories? Why had it seemed so important to her to show him the humble and honest person she had once been? Did there still remain some desire within her, some spark of hope that she would be remembered and adored the way she once was?
Or does she just want me to pity her and lower my defenses?
The sun crawled westward across the sky as Garrick rode down the road, meeting no travelers and little obstacle. Brenadier ran hard and seemed never to tire, even when his gleaming coat was lathered in foam. Garrick still slowed the destrier to a walk for rest frequently, though he was anxious to reach Windermere. The closer he came, the greater the urgency seemed. Nephrita was there, healers that could look at Damian were there, mages that he could consult were there, and there he could send warning of the dark goddess all across Faneria. Time was of the essence, for the longer Nephrita remained free, the more powerful she became.
The afternoon had grown late when Garrick finally sighted the duke's city between the hills ahead. He resisted an urge to push Brenadier harder when he saw wisps of smoke rising from within the town.
At the top of the last hill overlooking Windermere, a lone figure stood, hands on hips and gazing down at the town. It didn't take Garrick long to recognize the robe exposing alabaster shoulders, with open sleeves hanging down to cover only her lower arms.
Garrick reined in Brenadier as he came up beside Nephrita. She didn't react to his approach, but he saw a grin on her face. All the uncertain, enraged, and wild demeanor she had shown a few hours earlier had passed, leaving only the beautiful, calm goddess he had seen prior to that meeting.
He looked down at the town below. The true danger stood beside him, and in a flash he could put his spear or knife to her. Nothing he could do would be fast enough. Only cunning would win this battle.
"You came quickly," Nephrita remarked, seeming pleased.
"I was nearby," Garrick replied casually. She turned to face him, no hint of malice or evil in her violet eyes, only amusement. Her eyes then turned to Brenadier.
"He's a lovely mount," she commented. The destrier obviously stiffened when she reached her hand out to him. A dark light glinted in his eyes, but like Garrick, he didn't fight. She laid a slender hand on the stallion's nose and stroked it. "I used to have a horse like him." Garrick saw a vision of a pearly white gelding bearing a younger, light-hearted Nephrita.
"Starchaser," he stated. Nephrita turned her smile back to the knight. He gazed at her steadily. "Rather inviting of you to give me your memories." She shrugged as her hand ran down Brenadier's face and neck.
"You're the first one I've told," she responded, as if it answered his questions. Pausing, she fixed him with a deep gaze as she stood beside his legs.
"You really want to know what I feel?" she asked. Light and swift, she bounded up beneath his near arm onto the saddle before him. Her face and eyes were inches away from his and her body pressed up against him in the small space between his body and Brenadier's neck. His arms nearly wrapped around her as she sat before him, his hands holding the reins just past her waist, but he wouldn't give her the pleasure of squirming.
"Then let's ride," she continued. Grasping his hand, she tossed the reins. With a loud whicker, Brenadier began galloping toward the town again, bearing both Garrick and Nephrita. Garrick gripped the horse's flanks tightly with his legs, not willing to lean forward against Nephrita.
The dark goddess murmured pleasurably as she leaned back into Garrick, her head resting on his shoulder between his gorget and spaulder. His heart raced in a mixture of anger, fear, and unwanted desire, but he forced calmness into his muscles. He was glad at that moment for his armour to separate her from him and for once wished that he wore a helmet. She smelled of roses and jasmine and her cool skin was as soft as silk against him. As her cheek brushed up against his neck, the radiating warmth he had felt early that afternoon swam through his body. This time, the sensation flowed through him much longer than it had before. Masses of vibrant colours glowed in his vision, and throughout the land before him, he could see patches of iridescent light swimming about the earth. When they passed by a misty cloud of glowing light, he felt the energy pulsing through him grow stronger. The magic of the land itself formed before him. It was an intoxicating and euphoric feeling, and he couldn't entirely repress a soft moan in response.
Nephrita's breath ran warm over his ears. Despite the wind whistling past and the flow of magic filling his awareness, he heard her words clearly.
"I can give you much, dear knight," she whispered. With great effort, Garrick pushed away from the caress of the goddess' vision and focused on speaking.
"Why would you give me anything?" he asked.
"To share it," she answered. It was hardly a justifiable reason coming from someone concerned only with revenge. Yet, she had given him her memories without, it seemed, any prior thought of it, so the prospect didn't seem altogether strange.
"And why would I want anything from you?" he wondered. His voice was soft. Still haunted with a myriad of colors and a rush of energy, he could manage little more.
"Maybe you can use it to stop me," she stated.
"You wouldn't allow that," he replied. Nephrita murmured, amused.
"True," she agreed. "But perhaps I can be persuaded to stop in exchange for something... else." Her lips brushed against his ear with her last word. Garrick couldn't stop his teeth from clenching as an entirely different sensation rippled through his body, one he had felt several times in adulthood. Still he kept his eyes fixed ahead.
"Join me and I'll reward you handsomely," she continued. "And I just might spare your fair land." Garrick's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't force himself to say no. Earning her trust was his surest chance of catching her off-guard.
Before he had responded, she sat upright, gazing at him. The pools of light faded from his view and the waves of power ebbed. He looked at her for the first time since she had mounted Brenadier uninvited, trying to keep his expression blank.
"Consider it," she finished and snapped her fingers. Her body faded from view until only Brenadier lay before him. Garrick pulled the destrier to a stop.
Glancing ahead, he saw dark shapes rise from the buildings and streets of Windermere, now only a few minutes' ride away. The sky clouded with swarming figures. The krolmins were leaving. He paused, panting, as the last remnants of energy and color washed over his body. Now that it was gone, he found himself longing for that sensation again. It tickled at the edge of his awareness, running teasing fingers over his flesh.
Brenadier snorted and pawed the ground. With a light flick of the reins, the horse galloped on towards the duke's city.
A faint smile marked Garrick's face. He had learned something this afternoon. Nephrita knew what it took to manipulate people, but after one thousand years of solitude, she wasn't very good at it. Despite her confidence and allure, Garrick had heard fear in her voice. The encounter with Damian had shaken her and she was afraid that she would be stopped. She wanted to use him, that much was true. She would gain his approval and ease up her attacks in exchange, biding her time until her full power had returned to her and she would once more become unstoppable. And she would push him, just a little over time, until he could hardly object when she would unleash her full wrath.
But she had made it all too obvious in the way she spoke that she needed him to protect her until that time. It was an improvised plan, and her attempt at pity by giving him her memories was clever, yet she simply didn't have the control that was needed to convince him that she truly only desired him. If she feared for her own safety, then she might not be as difficult to defeat as he had believed.
Hope was difficult to cling to when Garrick rode into Windermere, however. The krolmins that had survived were gone and the battle had ended. The town was bathed in the golden light of evening and the glow of fires not yet extinguished. Dead bodies lay scattered down the road and others who had suffered less injury hobbled along nearby.
Garrick frowned uneasily. The krolmins had to have at least been moving towards the town before Nephrita came near it, if they hadn't already been attacking by the time she arrived. Though Nephrita still held little power herself, her hold over the krolmins was strong, and their attacks were hurting humans and themselves alike. He thought of Orok'Ti as he glanced at the scattered bodies of krolmins lying in the cobblestone street, many of them riddled with arrows.
Dismounting, he began walking down the street, examining the bodies he passed for any sign of life. Where he found one still living, he called to guards and townspeople for assistance, then walked on aimlessly. Now that he had reached Windermere, he wasn't certain where to go first.
A dead soldier sprawled on the street a few blocks into the town. Garrick glanced at him briefly, then turned to look again. The colors of the soldier's surcoat weren't those of Alden. Curiously, he approached the body. A crude, broken spear impaled the man through the stomach. He had collapsed on his side, clutching the shaft of the lance in pain.
Kneeling before the soldier, Garrick turned the body onto its back. He started with a gasp. The device on the soldier's surcoat was the same griffin and swords that marked Brenadier's saddle. He was from Hesperia. Garrick's eyes widened in horror. There was only one reason why a common soldier from Hesperia would be in Windermere when they hadn't been expecting any attack.
"Bren!" he yelled out and began running down the street. Brenadier galloped up alongside him. Without slowing his pace, Garrick jumped onto the horse's back and lashed the reins, heading for the castle. Fear and worry filled his mind as the destrier thundered down the battered streets.
The duke of Hesperia was here.
The sun had set and darkness began to enshroud the land when Damian and Domino sighted Windermere. Oil lamps and braziers lit the town below, though the light seemed meager compared to what Damian recalled of the duke's city. The castle loomed large and dark in the distance, pinpricks of firelight dotted over its walls.
Damian urged Hope into a canter at the sight. She had begun to worry that they wouldn't reach the city that day, though she wouldn't have traded her hours with Domino for anything in the world. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him. In the growing darkness, she saw him smile in return. It was a forced smile, but genuine. Her heart swelled at the sight.
They slowed to a walk when the dirt road suddenly became paved with cobblestones. No signs of battle were immediately obvious, but this was not the town she had visited with her father so many times. Few people still wandered the streets and most of the houses and buildings were dark. In the deepening night, she could see that some buildings looked blacker than others.
"Excuse me," she called out to a man walking down the street with a sack of flour slung over his back. The man glanced up to her at her call. Riding over to him, she realized that the sack he held was too lumpy to contain flour. Her throat constricted.
"Did a knight come through here earlier?" she asked. "An Agaesi." The man nodded slowly.
"Yes," he answered. Turning, he gazed down the long street ahead. "Saw him around here this afternoon, then he up and took off, straight for the castle. Never seen a horse run so fast." Damian blinked, glancing down the street. Far on the other side of town, only a few shadowy towers of the castle reached up over the houses crowding her view.
"Thank you," she replied idly. Without another word, the man began walking on. Damian sent a curious glance to Domino, but he only shook his head. She wondered why Garrick had traveled so quickly to the castle, and if she should follow after him. The castle at Windermere was no fortress, but the hour was growing late. If krolmins had attacked, they were even less likely to be admitted inside. Yet, she supposed she could at least inquire about Garrick.
With a shrug to Domino, she set Hope at a trot towards the castle. Even if they couldn't enter the castle, they could lodge at an inn close to it. Few people greeted them as they rode through the town. It was a dark and dismal place they had found.
Closing her eyes, Damian tried to reach out for Nephrita the way she had when she faced the dark goddess on the road. Since that encounter, she had felt different. She still could find no magic within her, but she could feel it all around her, faintly, like currents of wind. She felt like she was immersed in softly rolling waves, yet the sensation wasn't dizzy or disorienting. It was as if the waves carried her on their path, making her feet feel light and her head clear. And since she and Domino began riding toward the town, a small beacon of energy had tugged at her heart from a distance.
She could feel the beacon now, but it remained distant, beyond the town, and it moved erratically. It was too far to cling to or pursue this night. A swell of energy rushed through her body as she touched Nephrita. If nothing else, at least she could find the goddess, and up close, prevent her from disappearing.
Opening her eyes, Damian found herself nearing the castle gates. Her heart raced. She had never been inside a castle, though she knew this one to be small and plain. The outer walls reached up only a few stories off the ground and no moat or hill surrounded it. Alden was a duchy ruled by farming and much of the castle and the duke's purpose was to regulate and maintain its business. The castle was not meant to stand against a large attack, let alone one of this caliber.
The iron portcullis yawned halfway open, guards standing to either side of the entrance. As they approached, Damian could see people trickling in and out of the castle grounds, watched by the gate guards. Within, she found workers loading broken stones from the castle into horse-drawn carts and others lining up carts of fresh stones.
When Damian and Domino neared the entrance, the gate guards marched in front of them and blocked the way. Their armour rattled in unison as they held their pikes before them, warning but not threatening.
"Who are you and what business do you have at the castle?" one of the guards demanded. Damian glanced uneasily at the guards as she reined in Hope.
"I'm looking for a knight who I was told came this way," she answered. "An Agaesi. Sir Garrick Magni." The guard who had addressed her nodded. Straightening, he lifted his pike and stepped aside, the other guards following suit. Damian blinked, startled by their quick acquiescence.
"Go on," the same guard stated, gesturing her within the castle walls. Curiously, Damian rode underneath the gates and into the courtyard, followed by Domino.
People scrambled about the courtyard. Bakers, butchers, and chefs carted food and game in around the side of the castle, healers crouched over injured soldiers and servants, carpenters discussed fees and work with a castle steward, and everywhere, knights and soldiers questioned those running about. Damian dismounted just inside the castle walls and slowly lead Hope through the courtyard. A limestone fountain stood in the center of the courtyard, the top of its sculpture broken and shattered pieces laying on the stone path around it. Bushes once arranged artfully through the yard now looked trampled and burned. Broken swords and lances and spent arrows littered the ground.
Damian glanced around cautiously as she moved toward the castle, but no one seemed to notice her or Domino. Everyone around her seemed to be hard at work, even though darkness covered the land and stars speckled the sky above. She felt out of place in this dwelling of lords and ladies. It made her feel small, dirty, insignificant, and very uncomfortable.
As she moved around the broken fountain, she found an armoured guard sitting on its edge.
"Excuse me," she asked quietly. The soldier glanced at her. His eyes swept her form with an expression of disbelief and wariness.
"Yes?" he asked. Damian's heart raced with the guard's tone and gaze.
"I'm looking for Sir Garrick Magni," she answered. "Do you know where he is?" The guard's expression softened as he nodded forward.
"He went into the castle," the guard informed her. "I'm told he's expecting you." Damian nodded, sighing in relief inwardly.
"Thank you," she finished and lead Hope onward.
The guards at the castle doors conducted themselves much like the guards at the gates, waving people inside with little discussion and concerned mostly that the passage wasn't blocked by unnecessary delays. Glancing off to the side, Damian found the ramparts of the outer wall thick with more soldiers. She supposed that the attack had happened several hours ago now and the guards pacing the outer wall and castle towers remained vigilant for any sign of krolmins.
Some of the door guards fixed their attention on Damian and Domino as they ascended the wide stone stairs leading into the castle. One of the guards sent her a curious gaze.
"What business do you have at the castle?" he asked.
"I'm looking for Sir Garrick Magni," Damian answered awkwardly. She felt odd repeating the same words so frequently, even if spoken to different audiences. The immense front hall of the castle beyond the heavy, iron-banded doors caught her gaze. The pink granite floor reflected the warm light of torches and hearths running down toward a large stone staircase at the end of the hall. Halfway up to the high second floor, the stairs split off in either direction from a wide landing adorned with candelabras mounted on tall poles. Enormous tapestries hung down the hall between the hearths and columns supporting the towering ceiling, concealing much of the second story balcony which wrapped fully around the hall.
"Your name?" the guard asked, drawing Damian's attention back to him.
"Damian Sires," she responded. Gesturing towards Domino, she added carefully, "This is my companion, Domino." The guard nodded in approval, as if he had been expecting her answer.
"Sir Magni has been awaiting your arrival," he stated. "We'll stable your horses. Go on inside." Before Damian took two steps, the guard held a hand out before her with a small noise. "Without your arms." Damian hesitated, gazing at the guard and then back at Domino. When she glanced at the other guards, something propped up against the wall beside the door caught her eyes. Garrick's familiar spear leaned against the corner, the copper dragon breathing its silvery blade into the ground, unspoiled. Beside it lay Garrick's sheathed dagger, ivory hilt carved into a dragon.
Damian relinquished her own dagger and Domino his sword to the guards and they stepped beyond the open doors. Inside, the castle was quieter than the courtyard, but the entry hall still bustled with life. Damian stood straight and breathed calmly, even though her heart pounded. Straight ahead, in the center of the second story balcony, large doors lead into the duke's throne room. Where His Grace stood now she had no idea. She could come across the Duke of Alden at any time.
After many more repeated questions and a long journey through great halls, Damian and Domino found themselves approaching a set of double doors flanked by guards down a corridor on the second floor of the castle.
"What business do you have with the duchess of Hesperia?" one of the guards demanded of her. Her eyes widened, shocked.
"Duchess?" she stuttered. "No, I'm looking for Sir Garrick Magni." With a quick glance to his companion, the guard nodded and opened the door.
"Sir Magni has been expecting you," the guard answered. Glancing at Domino, he added, "Only you." Damian looked over her shoulder at Domino nervously. The mercenary simply nodded. Cautiously, Damian turned and stepped inside.
The room she entered was enormous, larger than the common room of any inn she had seen. A hearth as large as a dinner table stood against the wall to her left, surrounded by tapestries the size of throw rugs. The far wall seemed to be lined entirely in glass windows, though all the curtains were drawn. A table, a desk, some richly upholstered chairs, and a large plush rug lay before her. On the right half of the room there sat a wide canopy bed surrounded by wardrobes, chests, and a full-length mirror. Servants attending the fire and cleaning up bustled through the room and healers swarmed around the bed.
Damian slowly approached the bed, the center of the activity in the room. The canopy's sheer lavender curtains were pulled back, though the bed rose so high off the ground that Damian couldn't make out the figure beneath the plush comforter. As she approached, a young man no older perhaps than her raised his head from where he sat on one side of the bed, near the pillow. He was a strikingly handsome man with wide green eyes. Dusty blonde hair tumbled in soft curls over his shoulders. He was dressed in a dark green doublet, the breast inlaid with golden designs and the sleeves slashed with deep violet. Damian swallowed hard at the sight of his elegant clothing and struggled to turn her gaze away from his face. Between the healers leaning over the bedside opposite the wealthy young man, she could see Garrick's familiar blue armour and grey clothes. He didn't look away from the bed as she approached.
When she neared the bed, Damian glanced at its occupant. A middle-aged woman lay beneath the blankets, apparently sleeping. The side of her face was marked with a series of ugly wounds. Wiry auburn hair peppered with grey fell elegantly around her face down past the high collar of the silver gown she wore. Most of her body was hidden beneath the comforter, but her arms lay on top of it. Garrick's hand grasped hers.
Damian clutched the endpost of the bed on Garrick's side, her heart pounding. Still he didn't acknowledge her. He gazed unflinching at the woman lying before him as he sat on a stool beside the bed. He looked exhausted, as if he had aged years since Damian had last seen him a few hours ago. The sight shocked her.
"Garrick?" she asked softly. She wasn't certain her words even traveled over the murmur of the servants and healers hovering about. The knight sighed and looked in her direction, though he didn't meet her eyes.
"I'm glad you came," he answered. His voice was flat. Damian's eyebrows rose at his defeated tone. Garrick stood and glanced to the young man sitting on the other side of the bed, though she could tell the knight didn't meet his eyes, either.
"Damian Sires," he introduced. The young man nodded and stood. "This is Lord Cedryck McCoran, the future Duke of Hesperia." Damian curtseyed shakily, unprepared to meet such a high-classed noble.
"Well met, Miss Sires," Lord McCoran stated politely with a bow. Damian only curtseyed again, feeling her face flush. Her gaze returned to Garrick, who now stared once more at the woman, the Lady, on the bed.
"And this is the Duchess Camilla McCoran," Garrick added. He continued to grasp her unmoving hand gently. Damian glanced curiously at Garrick's intense, worried, and hurt gaze lingering on the duchess.
"My lady mother."