Art by Melissa Conway and N.A. Soleil
Pardon the interruption last month; now, back to our regularly scheduled programming!
Last time we checked in with The Golden Paladin and crew, they’d just been attacked by mages!! Hesa, badass that she is, did … something … to disable the mages and end the assault, and now GP has to catch up with her and make sure she’s okay …
Narrated by Shae Strong and Randell Moore
The Golden Paladin vaulted atop the command wagon to find Hesa frozen in a posture of attack: legs spread, hands outstretched, fingers still smoking, breathing heavy and labored. Her face was a taut mask of pure rage that stopped the Golden Paladin in his tracks. She had a temper, yes, but he’d never seen the penultimately professional magus lose her shit — and by that expression, that’s exactly what had happened.
In his hesitation, her eyes focused and she noticed him. Quickly shaking her hand to dispel the smoke, Hesa straightened and ran her hands down her robe self-consciously. She quickly rearranged her face to her normal expression — but failed to fully manage it. A tightening around her eyes and lips alerted the Golden Paladin that whatever had triggered her still had her in its grip.
“Mass dispel,” she explained brusquely. “The mage at the back, you saw him?” At the Golden Paladin’s nod, she continued: “Their leader. He was channeling reflective spells, which is why we weren’t able to damage them. He must not have expected me to be on the field; not many other mages could have countered him.”
“What was the catalyst for countering him?”
Hesa looked away abruptly. The Golden Paladin became aware of a gathering of people at the front of the wagon — his squad leaders, waiting for him. His five minutes must be up.
“Ah — time for the AAR. I’ll handle it.” He paused, lowered his voice. “Let me know if you want to talk about it later.”
Hesa nodded without looking back. Satisfied with the response, the Golden Paladin jumped down.
***
Night fell without further attack, and the convoy pulled back slightly to strike camp with the tower just visible over the horizon, but ostensibly outside its offensive range.
The Golden Paladin, Hesa, Tiann’a, Baleraphon, and the Golden Paladin’s commanders sat around the large table inside the command wagon, finishing up a tactics discussion. Now that they’d confirmed that the towers were in fact on the points where leylines meet, they’d have to pivot direction. They weren’t ready to assault the towers themselves, and in essence, their first objective had always been intel. With that completed, they needed to gather more allies, and that meant heading for the first city: Liallynn Mielwyn, home of the beastfolk.
The mages they’d killed were likely the only direct protectors of the tower itself, and they’d been no small force. Given that a clearly high-ranking mage had been among them (and had escaped, Creator damn it), the Golden Paladin assumed that the enemy had prepared an aggressive preliminary defense hoping to cut the Kingdoms’ assault off at the knees. This tower was one of the closest to Arthur’s realm, after all.
Scouts had already returned with more intel about the terrain they’d need to traverse in the eventual assault. Between the camp’s position and the tower was a ridgeline, which they’d need to circumvent anyway. But in scouting the area, the scouts hadn’t come across any other enemy forces. It seemed that the initial group had been arrogantly confident. The Golden Paladin both scoffed at and was appreciative of their lack of understanding of tactics. Though a part of him had to admit that if they hadn’t had the assets they had — assets it’s unlikely that Merlin and his allies knew the full extent of — it would probably have gone much worse.
Hesa had been unnaturally subdued since the battle, and the Golden Paladin kept her in the corner of his eye and tried to field questions for her where he could, though her dedication to her duty was strong enough that she was able to participate despite her heightened emotions.
Much later that night, when the meeting had long concluded and the last straggler, Tiann’a, bid a final goodbye around a yawn, the Golden Paladin hesitated at the entrance to the command wagon. Hesa was sitting at the table still, her hands clenched in her lap, her gaze unfocused.
The Golden Paladin grabbed a flask of spring wine off the wall and set a cup near her, into which he splashed some of the wine.
“Here. It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, taking a seat.
Hesa scoffed, though he got the sense it wasn’t directed at him, and took an obliging gulp. “You seem to always be present to witness as I am washed off my feet by the tides of my past.” She fell bitterly silent, her jaw visibly clenching.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“I think I need to,” Hesa said, faltering. “Only Arthur knows what I endured while I was enslaved, and she likely doesn’t know it all. I won’t speak of that; I don’t want to relive it. But to release this fist squeezing my heart, I need to at least curse his name. And, unfortunately, it is important tactical information. I … was not strong enough to bring it up in session today, so I’d appreciate you passing it along.”
“Of course,” the Golden Paladin said gently. “I take it you knew their leader?”
One of Hesa’s hands twitched: she covered it with the other. “All too well. Solomon Kuhll.” She spat the name and had to take a moment to recover her composure. “A member of the original group to decide that this planet should be ruled by might makes right, who eventually became one of the mage-slaver overlords. We killed as many of them as we could, but there were a few who couldn’t be accounted for, him included. You can imagine my glee after seeing him alive and well after all this time.” She sighed shakily and put her head in her hands. “Celestial bind me, I thought I’d be better by now.”
“‘Better’?”
Hesa glanced at the Golden Paladin briefly, then dropped her eyes again. “He and I have personal history.”
“Is that why you were able to counter him?”
Hesa paused as a mirthless smirk ghosted across her face. “Yes. I know the wavelength of his access to the Weave intimately.”
N.A. Soleil is a portmanteau pseudonym of the two authors' names.
