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D. A. 587, Novimbir 10

Following the advice of Keldirias, I am heading southeast toward an ancient dragon temple.

Perhaps there I shall unlock some long-lost map to help me find Mount Sorrow, which no
cartographer was willing to mark on a map after the tragedy that happened there. Only then will
I have a chance to recover the Sword of the Dragon’s Eye. I have taken leave of my humble
shepherd guide, who has been a truer friend to me during my quest than any other mortal man
has ever been to a Knight of the Kingdom.

D. A. 587, Novimbir 14

My brother has wronged me today! To Great Donigan I look for justice! How dare any
knight ask me to abandon this worthy cause, which Lord Falric himself has ordained? Worse yet
was his forceful effort to remove the Dragon’s Eye from my person. For his mistake, I repaid him
with my sword hilt to his temple and went along my way. I fear that he pursues me even now,
with other Knights of Beledon in tow. I must move quickly and disguise my passing as much as
time allows.

One thing now made sense to Loric. Knights of Falric had driven his father from Belgandost for his refusal to quit his quest. That seemed to fit his sire. Even a stubborn stump would quit before Palen did. However, this reading had raised more questions than it had answered.
Why
would anyone want Sir Palendar to quit a quest of such significance to Beledon?
Loric whispered the question he desired to have answered above all others, asking, “Did Sir Palendar achieve his aim?” There were so many questions in Loric’s head.
If so, where is the sword now?

At the least, my father knows what has become of the Dragon’s Eye he found. What did he do
with it? How did he escape Falric’s Knights?

That final query drove Loric back to his reading to discover what had happened. The next page was missing. Loric could see the ragged line of its remains, but someone had removed key entries from the journal. The entry following the missing page read:

D. A. 587, Novimbir 28

This is to be the final entry in my knightly log, for I am no longer a knight. The name Sir
Palendar belongs to my enemies, to do with as they like. All that matters to me is that I have
eluded pursuit without breaking my vows, so no curse shall fall upon my son, whom I have
brought safely out of my old stronghold. That curse now lay upon Falric’s Knights of Beledon,
for slaying my brothers and casting down the Logantian Order, but most especially for wrongs
done my lady wife, who is no longer with us. I cannot write of it; it pains me so. Of all the stings
that I have known since my quest began, this one is the hardest to bear. My son needs me, so my
quest must wait. It was a cursed failure! In place of a whole kingdom for my people, I have
harvested only blight upon my name, the destruction of my order and the end of my life, as I have
known it. Once my boy is grown, perhaps I will resume the folly I once held so dear to my heart.

I do not know if I shall. Should I forget: the Father of the Forest holds a keeper, and his keeper
keeps a secret.

Loric snapped the book shut in frustration with all that he still wished to know dancing through his mind to taunt him.
Why?
he thought. That word of query married a multitude of questions with only scant vagaries for answers.

The missing page taunted Loric.
Did Warnyck remove the page?
The action fit the scout well enough, but then why would he give the knightly log to Loric.
No. The scout had nothing to
do with these missing entries.
Palendar’s final line of his last entry echoed in his head,
The
Father of the Forest holds a keeper, and the keeper keeps a secret.
Loric reread the line multiple times, but it still had no meaning to him. “It is a riddle of some sort,” he whispered to himself,

“but my I cannot sort it out.” His mind was dull from fatigue. He was too tired to acknowledge his frustration. Instead, he rasped, “I will sleep and hope to dream my answers into being.”

Loric fell asleep as soon as he laid down his head....

Chapter Seventeen

An Acquaintance Renewed

A hand gently shook Loric awake.

“Captain, it’s time to move again,” Baldron informed him.

Loric wiped the sleep from his eyes to see that his lieutenant was standing over him. Loric clambered out of his bedroll and gathered his things. Darkness still covered the encampment, but companies were already forming with the same precision they would have exhibited ordering themselves during the day. Loric stretched and shook off his mantle of weariness so he could see to his men, not that they needed any guidance from him with Gradlin already barking necessary commands.

The host was on the move within a turn of the glass. Loric surmised that their ride would continue until their task was complete. Indeed, they rode until dawn before they stopped. The break only lasted for half-sands before they were obliged to mount up. They rode at a brisk pace, while the sun rose high and bright above them.

Loric considered all that he had read in his father’s knightly log as he rode. He wanted to question Aldric about matters there written, but he chose against it. Aldric was not going to tell him anything new, he decided, so why arm him with news of Sir Palendar’s discovery, when he may not know of it? For every reason Loric found to question his liege, he held a strong doubt.
I
should find the Father of the Forest and its keeper. Then I will know all. In due time....

Warnyck returned to the host in the midst of Loric’s mental debate. He said, “Of our

enemies there is nothing to report-”

“What?” asked an agitated Aldric.

“There is nothing to report,” Warnyck began again, with his grin betraying him, “because we now lie across the path our helpless quarry wishes to take.”

Aldric laughed with delight, “Good. You are lucky it is as you say, or my army would need a new set of eyes--and so would you.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Warnyck observed with a reflexive shudder.

Aldric only offered a wicked smile in reply.

“We are now less than a half-mile from the river,” the scout hurried on, ignoring his lordship’s bluff expression, “but our foes are moving swiftly toward us.”

“Carry these tidings to Lord Garrick,” Aldric ordered the scout. “We must prepare to meet the enemy.”

Warnyck hastened off as instructed, but he met an unexpected courier along his way. It was Marblin. Those men exchanged words. Then each messenger bore his report to its intended recipient. The veteran Moonwatcher made directly for Aldric and came to a stop before him.

Marblin’s face was deathly white. His shaking hands clung so tightly to his horse’s reins that Loric feared he was going to cut his hands on the leather. “L-Lord, I have ill tidings to bear,” he began, nearly weeping. “All has gone sour with Lord Garrett in the south. Even now, all may be lost there.”

“How did this evil befall us?” Aldric asked, alarmed out of his equanimity by the grim message at hand.

“Garrett drove us in a hard chase for the border, so we overtook our foes well short of Landolstadt,” answered Marblin, shaking his head uncertainly. “All started off well enough with our assault, but things took a bad turn.” His head hung despondently as he continued his tale, saying, “Garrett must have underestimated enemy numbers. Yet, we held our own.... well, we did until several thousand additional spearmen crashed into our flank. It was murderous fighting!

Complete mayhem, lord!”

“Was Hadregeon with them?” Aldric questioned eagerly.

Marblin shook his head. “Nay, lord. I never got a good look at their leader, but I am certain it was not the King of Landolstadt. Whoever it was, he was fierce in a fight and skilled in command. We were overmatched in every way. Lord Garrett tried to organize a retreat, but when he dispatched me to bring word hither, rout seemed imminent.”

Aldric shook his head against the outcome in the southwest. “Arrogant fool!” he growled angrily. “Did his father not warn him to be cautious?” He drew breath and comported himself.

“This message will sadden Lord Garrick, for hope of success now fails us. Go to him at once.”

“I have already born word to my lord,” answered Marblin. “That is why I have come to you.

His Lordship of Durbansdan makes no move to face his enemy, claiming that his life no longer matters to him.” Marblin appealed desperately to Aldric, “You must lead his men or all hope is lost to us. Our leader mourns a son who has not yet died, instead of commanding his men that he may live. He is in no fit state to lead his army.... and he refuses to take action against King Hadregeon.”

“I do not understand,” Aldric shared, shaking his head doubtfully. “The man you have just described is not the lord I know. The Garrick I know....” Aldric let that thought dangle. “It does not matter,” he decided. He turned to Marblin and assured him, “I will do as you ask, but only if I truly must.” He then demanded, “What was Garrett’s condition, when last you left him?”

“He was hard pressed, but he was unscathed,” answered Marblin. “His plan was to fall back to Moonriver Castle, where he expects to meet with you and his father.”

“Go to Lord Garrick,” Aldric ordered him. “Remind him that his son yet lives. Encourage him, for all is not yet lost.”

Aldric tapped Loric on his shoulder, urging him, “Go with your friend. If Lord Garrick is unwilling to lead his men, do so in his stead, on my authority.” Aldric discerned the doubt in his trusted captain’s face and assured him, “I have faith in your ability to do as I have asked.”

Loric shrugged and raced northward to the river, his mind muddled by this sudden turn in Durbansdanian fortunes and his heart racing with the sickening excitement of commanding an army that was not his own. There he found Garrick, the Lord of Durbansdan, seated upon a large, flat rock beside his horse, with his face buried in his hands. He moaned loudly for all to hear.

Garrick’s captains stood nearby, discussing their options. Some of them were already

making to lead their men back to their strongholds, while others proposed bending knees to new overlords, like Aldric or the leader across the field from them, King Hadregeon of Landolstadt.

Bitter debate had left them showing uncertainty what actions they should take, besides milling about, bewildered and demoralized.

“Milord,” Marblin asked tentatively, “why do you mourn? Your son is not dead. Even now, he battles free of his assailants. I am sure of this.”

“Do you not think I know what they will do to Garrett when they capture him?” rumbled the aggrieved warlord. “And capture him, they will!” Garrick snapped. He sobbed, “My son will not be spared. Not by Hadregeon, he will not--oh, no. I have sent him to his death.”

“Nay, milord,” Marblin said. “He lives. Even now he awaits us at Moonriver Castle.”

“Did you not hear me, man?” roared Garrick. “He is doomed!” His voice went weak as he shared, “I have just received word from Moonriver. The castle stands besieged by Turtioc’s traitorous mob.” His words slowed, thickened by bitterness, as he went on, “Nothing can save us from defeat now. Under the ruse of rescuer, Turtioc overwhelmed our border watchmen and marched on my keep.” Garrick spat, “Curse his disloyalty!”

Loric’s heart sank. Princess Avalana was waiting for him at Moonriver Castle. “Lord

Garrick,” he pleaded with his overlord, “you must lead us or we stand no chance of snatching victory from defeat.”

“I will not,” grumped Garrick.

“But many lives depend upon your skill, lord,” Loric begged him.

“I will be left alone until Hadregeon comes for me,” Garrick answered scornfully. “And then, I will have my revenge,” he added coldly.

“Your people need their king!” Loric snapped.

“And they will have him, when I am dead!” growled Garrick. “Lornigan’s line will end with me and another line will begin, Loric of....
Shimmermir!
Leave me!”

“We have no time for this argument,” Loric returned sharply. “If you will not lead these men against Hadregeon, at least do them the courtesy of surrendering so they will not die needlessly.”

“We all die, Loric,” Garrick assured him. “It is life that is needless.”

“I will not listen to this foolishness anymore!” Loric roared.

“I told you to leave me,” Garrick reminded him, showing a twisted smile.

Loric gathered his resolve to say what he must say, collected his breath and told Lord Garrick, “If you will not lead these men or offer your surrender to the enemy, then I must command them in your stead. Yea, even if I am less learned in the ways of war than you are.”

Garrick waved him away with a snort. “Begone! I will await my end in peace.”

Loric’s boot heels cut circles in the dirt as he turned away from Garrick, frustrated and disgusted. He channeled his extra energy into issuing orders to Men of Durbansdan. When any of them questioned his authority, the son of Palendar coolly explained that Lord Garrick was not well and had empowered him to command them. Furious though he was, Loric saved his wrath for the coming fight.

The interim commander watched as Hadregeon’s army came into view. He quickly arrayed

Garrick’s companies to meet them. The King of Landolstadt was with them. Cold rage seized Loric. He took his emotional madness by the hand and prepared to dance across the same floor as the Soul Snatcher.

Without waiting for his enemies to advance, Loric ordered a charge into their midst. He had superior numbers and the oath breaker himself was there for the taking. He guided Sunset on an unwavering line toward his adversary, Lord Regent Hadregeon, the King of Landolstadt. One idea blinded him. He thought it as he rode:
An army detached from its head is as lifeless as is a
man in the same condition. I will make this king so. Then the headless body of his people will
stagger blindly until they fall.