Dark Illumination

Chapter Five

A week on the road made Dillan’s ass chafe on the saddle. Ambrose snorted, nodding his head as if in agreement as they trudged forward through the Gilt Wood—so named because the leaves remained perpetually sunset yellow. It was a beautiful and serene sight. Normally he appreciated the ride through this particular forest, but considering where they were headed he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy himself.

They had a few more days of riding before they reached the border between Lumeria and Teare. A part of him wanted to ride hard, sparing no rest for his escort, just to get things over with. Another part of him felt like he was headed in the wrong direction. He needed to be back at camp with the rest of his Legion. The minion attacks were much more frequent now. Even before the High King’s accident.

Groups of the nasty creatures had been attempting to breach the barriers protecting the Lumarian border. Without Knight intervention, culling the horde, the wards could only hold for so long. With the balance between the Light and Dark weakening the more the borders needed patrolling. It was all he could think about.

The message hawks they brought with them were exhausted from flying missives to and from the camp. In the last correspondence Garret’s letters were all in capital letters. His second-in-command had reached his limit. He had written that Dillan should stop remote commanding or Garret would ride day and night just to catch up and kick his sorry ass.

The threat made Dillan laugh. The Knight of Morningstar would do it too. He wasn’t above teaching his monarch a lesson if it was sorely needed. Dillan was tempted to send another message just to test Garret’s resolve. It would definitely bring some needed change to the tedium of their travel.

Kyle insisted that they rest the horses at the end of the day so they wouldn’t have to change mounts halfway there. The advice was sound. The Knights were partial to their personal steeds. If they needed to ride hard, they wanted animals they could trust between their thighs. Ambrose would never tire. Barbaro Colts were known for their stamina as much as their fierceness. He could run hard for a week straight without having to stop for drink or food. Dillan had requested it of him once, but the toll on the beast broke his heart. He vowed never to put Ambrose through that punishing pace again unless absolutely necessary. Now wasn’t that moment.

Under Kyle’s strict schedule they were making good time. Even at the easy pace they were going they would arrive at the gates of the Onyx Palace earlier than anticipated. Traveling light helped immensely. Sending Sebastian ahead with the bulk of his entourage allowed Dillan the almost leisurely march his cousin had set.

He wondered what his brother had been up to since arriving in his stead. He wondered what the princess thought of the breach in protocol. A smirk of satisfaction curled the corners of his lips upward. His wife to be must was been furious. His wife. The idea made his stomach curdle. He was far too young for this union. If it were not for the accident, the High King should have had several more decades of ruling under him.

The way the joining worked, if one died the other soon followed to make room for the next High King and Queen. Maintaining the godforsaken balance was paramount. Dillan hated this aspect of this duty the most. If the princess died there was nothing that could be done. The same for him. This put him on edge. It meant he would have to protect her to the best of his abilities while keeping their kingdoms safe from The Void. The vein on his temple ticked from the mounting stress. He ran a hand down his face. What he would give for a minion attack right now just to work off the excess energy accumulated from the sedentary days of traveling.

“Well, don’t you look like something Ambrose crapped out,” Kyle said, easing his purebred golden stallion close to the Barbaro Colt. The other horse couldn’t compare in size. Ambrose beat the golden stallion by several hands both in height and in girth.

Dillan scowled at his cousin while the monster he rode on snickered. “Don’t make me regret taking you along instead of Riona. At least she smells so much better.”

“Hey!” Kyle sniffed himself. “You were the one who insisted baths were optional until we crossed the border. I had to make do with wet towels for three f*****g days. Don’t b***h. You smell just as dandy. What would the princess think when she gets a whiff of your royal odor, Your Highness?”

The title the Knight of Morningstar tacked on because he knew it would piss Dillan off. Already he couldn’t stop the cringe even if he wanted to. He hated being Prince of Light. He cursed being chosen on a daily basis. More so the closer they got to their destination. Each hoofbeat on the soft undergrowth brought him closer to his blasphemous fate.

He let go of the reins and shifted in his saddle. The leather protested, like it no longer wanted anyone sitting on top of it. “At least we don’t have to wear any armor.”

“That’s only for now,” Kyle reminded. “We have to suit up when we reach Lumeria. You especially.”

Dillan cursed a blue streak. He hated his ceremonial armor. The breastplate pinched. The shoulderplates were cumbersome. And the damnable cape that threated to trip him. Whoever thought to add the yards of useless fabric to their uniform should be brought back to life just so Dillan could feel the pleasure of running Lightseeker through the bastard’s gut.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled when he ran out of creative ways to damn someone to the deepest pits of The Void.

“I’m pretty sure Sebastian wouldn’t have complained when he had to don his armor to meet the princess.”

He growled. Mention of his perfect brother never failed to get a rise out of him. They had always been competitive. Dillan blamed his mother when she used to bride them with rewards. Whoever finished their chores first got the biggest piece of chicken or prime cut of beef or the last slice of pie. It was ridiculous, yet to this day whenever a chance to compete arose they leapt at the chance to beat the other. Kyle knew this. The ass was being intentional in his insults.

At the back of his mind he wondered if their competitive nature was what drove Sebastian to agree to act as his stand in while he settled his affairs. He pushed the poisonous thought away. At the end of the day, he didn’t doubt Sebastian’s loyalty. His brother would bleed for him as would Dillan. They had fought countless battles together. Trained together. Stitched wounds for each other. Sebastian’s sutures were always better than Dillan’s, but the other never complained when his wounds healed crookedly because Dillan was the one who stitched him up. He would always say that the nasty looking scars made him look manlier to the maidens.

And, boy, were their maidens. Those of the female persuasion always seemed to prefer the often quiet Sebastian. What was it about brooding men that women liked? He was of the mind that conversation was a way into a girl’s heart, or at least inside her skirt. But all his brother had to do was frown into his ale and the prettiest wenches would already be on his lap like ants to honey. It was disgusting. He snorted good-naturedly.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Kyle had signaled for them to stop. He didn’t need to give Ambrose the go ahead. The beast knew military gestures better than most apprentice Knights. He immediately halted once the order was given.

Dillan blinked several times, allowing his mind to return to the present as his retinue prepared to make came for the night. He slid off the saddle and proceeded to remove all his gear in order to give Ambrose respite from carrying such a heavy load for an entire day. Not that he would have minded, even with the cumbersome armor Dillan refused to have anyone else carry. His stuff his responsibility. Much to the dismay of his squire. The poor boy hardly had anything to do. Just because he was the Prince of Light didn’t mean his arms no longer worked. But Dillan humored him once in a while. Like right now. He itched to hunt, so he handed his gear to his waiting attendant, who sported a wide grin at being of service.

“Kyle,” he barked. His cousin paused from overseeing camp setup and looked over at him. “I’m hunting dinner. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Bring—”

He shook his head and scowled. “We’re in the Gilt Wood. Nothing more dangerous here than a couple of rabbits. Are you afraid a couple of fluffy bunnies with eat me?”

His men chuckled, bringing a flush to Kyle’s cheeks. Served him right. Dillan had been taking the verbal punches like a man since they had left his Legion. Now it was his turn.

“Have camp ready when I return.” He slung a quiver of arrows and a longbow over his shoulder and sprinted off, not allowing his cousin to argue his need for an escort any further.

It didn’t take long for him to spot the tracks of a buck. The Gilt Woods was always teaming with wildlife. Travelers would never starve. The Light provided so long as they only took what they needed and respected the nature around them. Everything came from The Light and from The Light they shall all return.

He crouched down and traced the deep grooves made in the earth. The prints were fresh. And judging from the depths the animal was huge, twelve point at the least. It would keep them feed for the rest of their journey out of Lumeria.

Reciting a silent prayer of thanks for the bulk he and his men were about to have for dinner, Dillan pushed to his feet and followed the tracks until he reached an opening in the underbrush. Several yards away, in a grassy knoll, stood the beautiful creature. The setting sun glinted off its rich yellow fur. With all the gold surrounding them the animal blended into the woods. If it weren’t for the twitch of its ears, he would have missed it.

He crouched down, drawing an arrow from the quiver and notching it on his bow. Inhaling deeply, he drew the string back until his fingers touched his cheek. He aimed, paused. If he let loose too soon he might miss and the animal would bound away. Kyle would hold him to his couple of hours then his cousin would send reinforcements. He had no time to track the bulk further into the forest and make it back to camp in time. So he waited for the right moment.

Then the bulk lifted its massive head, sniffing the air. In the distance a familiar globulus mass caught Dillan’s attention. Cold sweat dotted his brow. It couldn’t be. Not this far into the kingdom.

Thinking fast, he dropped the bow and arrow, removed the quiver from his shoulder, and summoned Lightseeker from his vambrace. As if the sword sensed his urgency, it solidified immediately. White flames coated the blade as Dillan charged. The buck saw him coming and leapt away. He didn’t care for the loss of their dinner. All that mattered was that he caught the minion before it fully transformed.

He clutched Lightseeker’s handle with both hands and swung in a wide arch, cleaving the amorphous creature in half. The flames on the blade engulfed it immediately then it burst in a million limpid dust particles.

Breathing hard more from adrenaline more than from exertion, he searched for others. Minions rarely travelled alone. Then a loud cry reverberated from the direction of the camp. Not thinking twice, Dillan turned on his heel and ran full tilt back to his comrades.