“What is the council doing about the traitor? Surely you will admit there is one after the night of the assault. The Justicars were bloody well waiting for us,” Shade said, his eyes locked on Vaze’s face. He’d always been good at reading people, just not so good at acting according to what he read. Vaze however was difficult to read anything from. The man had a guarded way about him, not giving any hints to his thoughts.
“I will tell you this. There were only four people that knew the staging points for the assault. Lutheron, who planned the attack, and the three group leaders he chose. Myself, Caspian, and Faramir. The common belief around the council is that the plans were overheard. I, however, have turned down two lunch invitations from Faramir since that night,” Vaze said and then smiled faintly. “Take what you will from my words and use it discreetly.”
“I see. Thank you for the honesty. I will distract Lutheron for you,” Shade said with a nod. The answer was cryptic of course but he had expected as much. Still it was more than Charm had given him in answer so far.
Vaze’s smile widened. “Of course, if I’m the traitor that was fabulous misdirection,” he whispered and flicked his hand. The shadows died away and the noise of the day returned. Giving Shade a wink, he turned on his heels and headed back toward the Justicar’s hall.
“Bloody intrigue. It’s like bread and water to us,” Shade sighed and picked up his crowbar from the ground. Vaze’s words still rang in his mind regarding the traitor. Only four people had known and those four should have been the most trustworthy members of the Fionaveir. Caspian had founded the organization. It was extremely doubtful that he would be the traitor to his own cause. Then Faramir of course was Caspian’s wife and had been a founding member as well. That left Lutheron and Vaze, and Lutheron seemed a fanatic when it came to Symphony. Vaze was the only one that didn’t have rock solid reasoning for loyalty, which made his parting words even more ominous. He had, of course, never actually said the traitor was Faramir. So what if Faramir suspected him, and he knew. That would be reason enough to refuse lunch with her. “Bloody intrigue,” Shade repeated with a growl of frustration and turned his mind to the ship. At least his ship was something he understood clearly, unlike Immortals.
Chapter 4
The Darklands
“Are you sure that’s Fiona Veirasha?” Jala hissed as the pale knight stopped several feet from them.
“Positive. She was a childhood hero of mine. I have several books regarding her and they all have pictures looking like that,” Valor replied in a hushed voice, motioning toward the woman. “With the exception of the blood of course,” he amended just as softly.
“I’m afraid they don’t let you choose your attire in the afterlife. I count myself quite fortunate that my head is on my shoulders, considering.” Fiona broke in. Her voice was a loud whisper with a faint hissing to the words. She looked them over critically from Jala leaning on the horse, one leg suspended behind her, to Valor’s rather ragged appearance, and made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Not what I expected in champions, but I suppose you will do,” she sighed and gave a slight shrug.
“Champions?” Jala asked, unsure exactly what the woman was talking about. They were not champions of any cause other than rescuing Finn.
“You will both need rest before you face the Dark lady. Come. I will show you to relative safety.” Fiona motioned for them to follow and turned toward the trees without another word.
“Wait. We have no reason to hold faith in you. Why should we follow?” Valor asked, challenge ringing in his words.
Fiona glanced back over her shoulder at him and a faint smile creased her pale lips. “The smaller creatures are at bay because of my presence. Once I leave they will attack. Choose your odds, Arovan. One of me or hundreds of them,” she said with a trace of amusement.
Valor let his gaze sweep over the clustered demons surrounding them and then looked back to Jala. “She makes a valid point,” he said quietly and raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“Well, we at least have to figure out why she is calling us Champions, don’t we.” Jala said with a sigh and shrugged at him.
“So we follow,” Valor agreed and moved to help her onto the horse.
“And quickly because she is still walking,” Jala said, moving quickly to gain the saddle. Pain lanced through her leg and she inhaled sharply. “A couple of minutes to heal would have been nice,” she hissed.
Valor nodded quickly and handed her the reins before moving to follow Fiona. “Would have been, but apparently we aren’t getting them. Let’s go.”
“Wait. You aren’t riding? You are hurt too,” Jala called after him. Valorous gave a soft snort and trotted along behind his master. She could feel mild irritation through the reins. Apparently she wasn’t the only one baffled by Valor walking.
“If there is a fight I’d rather be on foot for it in this terrain,” Valor replied, and by the way his gaze was fixed on Fiona’s back it was obvious who he expected to be fighting.
“Valor, she died over three hundred years ago. Why is she still in the Darklands and why is she here for us?” Jala asked, her words just loud enough to reach him.
He shrugged in response. “I suppose we will find out soon,” Valor replied. He lengthened his stride to gain ground on Fiona, though the quick movement must have pained him. He offered no complaint, however, and his expression remained neutral.
“Careful now,” Valor murmured as he helped her down from the saddle.
The ride had been a very lengthy and dull one through rough terrain. Her ankle throbbed steadily as did the burn on her wrist. Jala glanced past Valor irritably to where Fiona stood waiting for them outside a small dark cave. “Thank you, Valor,” she mumbled as she started to hobble toward the cave. The path leading up to it was too narrow and steep even for the nimble footed Arovanni.