The Faerie Knight by Niemitz David

Author:Niemitz, David
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Caffeinated Terrier Press
Published: 2024-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter thirty-one

Baroness Arnive

…but when the herdsman entered the cave, he recognized King Aurelius of old, with his white beard grown long with age.

“Do the eagles still circle the mountaintop?” The King under the Mountain asked, and when the herdsman replied in the affirmative, Aurelius continued: “Then you must leave, for my time to wake has not yet come.”

From ‘The Mountain King,’ traditional Narvonnian folk tale

4th Day of the Flower Moon, 297 AC

Acrasia wrinkled her nose and pouted. “She powders herself with too much clove and lemon,” the faerie observed, while Trist tried to keep a straight face. “I can’t believe I’m saying anything to praise that woman, but I prefer what Clarisant wears.”

Trist couldn’t help but shoot a look to the faerie at his side.

“What? I caught the scent of her perfume when she picked the sword up,” Acrasia grumbled. “At least Clarisant is subtle. This is just too strong.”

“I assume that’s the faerie speaking to you,” Baroness Arnive interrupted, and when Trist turned back to face her, he saw the older woman’s eyes were narrowed.

“Yes, my lady,” Trist said, considering his phrasing carefully. “Lady Acrasia was commenting on your choice of clove and lemon,” he finished.

“Good. Then she can listen to what I have to say, as well.” Arnive raised her hand into the middle of the carriage, between all four passengers, and then extended a single, well-manicured finger. “First, neither you, nor the faerie, nor both of you together, are to enter the Church of Saint Abatur. You’ve upset Father Kramer quite enough already, and I don’t have the time to smooth his ruffled feathers when war is coming to our doorstep. Is that understood?”

“It is, my lady,” Trist acknowledged, bowing his head. “Quite clearly.”

“Secondly,” the Baroness continued. “When the Crown Prince sends you into the mountains, I need you to take Sir Divdan with you.”

On the carriage bench next to her, Divdan stirred. “I had thought to remain with you, my lady,” he said cautiously, “And with the young Lord. Where I can be certain to keep you both safe.”

“We will be safe enough behind the walls,” Arnive assured him. “Despite Lord Isdern’s intentions otherwise, I will not allow my only son and heir anywhere near the fighting. But most importantly, Sir Divdan, I need you to take the Exarch to check on the bindings.”

It was as if all of the sound and motion had gone out of the carriage at once. “Bindings?” Trist repeated, feeling a stone settle in his belly.

“Oh no,” Acrasia murmured.

“Are you certain?” Divdan asked Arnive, slumping back on the bench.

“You are the only one I can send,” the Baroness stated flatly. “You were there. You can lead the Exarch. Is there someone else you would trust more than yourself to see this done, Sir Divdan?”

“No,” Divdan exhaled in defeat. “I will do it, my lady.”

Arnive wheeled from her own knight to face Trist again. “This is not to be spoken of at the war council,” she commanded him. “The Crown Prince is

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