Burchard wondered if this was all some trick to get them in trouble with the General. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why these five knights in this room were willing to go up against his father’s orders.
“Show them,” Sir Daniel said tersely.
Sir Foxbright thrust a scroll in Burchard’s face. “Read that. Then we will answer your questions if you still have them.”
Burchard untied the scroll and unrolled it, then proceeded to read it aloud so Ruschmann would know what it said.
“Ossa and Umbra will arise to prepare the way for their master. First, men will eat men. Then, when the fields are ripe for sowing, the dead will rise. Legions of dead, infinite in number, will herald his arrival. Mors, god of death and chaos, all will bow before him.”
The writing on the scroll stopped about midway down. To Burchard, it felt as though there should be more. This is what these grown men are willing to be called traitors for? Maybe my father is right and it is all nonsense.
He shared a glance with Ruschmann, who looked just as incredulous as he felt.
“This sounds like nonsense to me,” Burchard said, handing the scroll back to Sir Foxbright.
Sir Peter sighed. “Burchard, you told me that Eos helped you escape from Camp Tooth. Then, she sent Fang to you, and you learned she is the wolf goddess. Why do you think the wolf goddess would involve herself with you if there wasn’t something going on, something bigger than the Stinyian rebels?”
Burchard slowly let out his breath. “I don’t know why a goddess would care about me. Who am I—or we, for that matter—to understand why the gods do anything?”
Sir Emberwood chuckled. “You do have a point, squire. However, haven’t you ever been told that if any of the gods decide to make themselves known, you should pay attention?”
Burchard shook his head. “No, my father does not find value in spending time studying or worrying about the gods. They were rarely spoken about in our household.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Then let me give you some more understanding. When the gods make appearances, in Etria and throughout the world, important history-altering events tend to take place,” Sir Emberwood explained.
Burchard’s mind raced at the idea that the gods did appear to mortals—that his encounters with Eos had not been strange dreams as he had assumed but actual visions of a real in-the-flesh goddess.
“Sir Peter told us that you’ve informed him the wolf goddess has spoken to you several times. What did she tell you when you were sleeping outside of Camp Tooth?” Sir Emberwood prompted.
Burchard brushed stray strands of hair out of his face. “She told me to leave.”
“And when you didn’t leave, what happened?” Sir Emberwood pressed.
“My dream continued, and I saw a dark knight who we now know is Ossa. Then, we were attacked and…” He paused. “You know the rest of what happened already.”
“See, the wolf goddess gave you a warning, which you ignored, and then you were almost killed by Ossa,” Sir Emberwood said, looking Burchard directly in the eye.
Burchard rubbed the back of his neck, still not completely convinced. “You said that when gods appear, history-altering events happen. I doubt if I had died at Camp Tooth yesterday that would have been considered history-altering.”
Sir Waldorf scowled. “Andre didn’t mean that all encounters with a god or goddess result in history-altering events; just that when they appear, those type of things have a tendency to not be far behind.” He ran his hands through his hair before peering at each occupant in the room. “Why are we getting hung up on the small details? We need to move past this and figure out what our plan is before someone comes looking for us. Lucius, you’re not even supposed to be in the north.”
Sir Foxbright gave the squires a forced smile before focusing on Sir Peter. “Marcus is right. What is our plan?”
Sir Peter folded his arms across his chest. “Get as many of your men close to Alderth Castle as possible. I believe Eos coming to see Burchard now that he is here in the north and Ossa’s appearance at Camp Tooth cannot be a coincidence. Whether or not Ossa is going to attack the castle directly remains to be seen.”
“The king has been talking about sending the pages up here to learn about the strategy that General Wolfensberger is using to launch his campaign against the Stinyian rebels. Even though I am not supposed to be here right now, I do have a legitimate reason to come back,” Sir Foxbright said.
Sir Waldorf tugged on the corner of his shirt before speaking. “Andre and I have been ordered to bring our men into the castle’s vicinity to prepare for the first assault against the Stinyian rebels. We should be reachable by pigeon.”
“Very good. Then if Eos gives Burchard any more details, I will be sure to send word as soon as we know,” Sir Peter announced.
Burchard’s chest was tingling. These knights seemed convinced that they would make a difference if Ossa were to appear again. But he was not so sure. How could a couple hundred troops defeat an ancient commander of a death god? What if Mors himself showed up? Burchard still didn’t understand why two gods had decided he of all people was important. I’m just a lowly first-year squire.
Ruschmann nudged Burchard with the end of his crutch, drawing him out of his thoughts, which grew darker with each passing moment. “We’re supposed to leave first.”
Burchard nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He followed Ruschmann out and down the hallway. His friend took a while to figure out where they were. Soon enough, they were approaching the door to the healer’s suite.
“Ah, good, I was hoping you would come, Ruschmann,” said the healer with a smile. “Come sit, and we can get your ankle taken care of.”
Ruschmann propped his crutches by the door and hopped over to the chair. Burchard debated if he should stay or go. Fang brushed against his leg, and he realized she was probably hungry.
“I’m going to find Fang some food.”
Ruschmann gave him a wan smile as the healer had already begun poking and prodding his ankle.
17
Burchard was lost in thought, staring at the trees in the forest surrounding Alderth Castle. He was bored, and he still had one more day of taking it easy before he could go back to using his sword or bow, or practicing hand-to-hand combat. That left him with few options to entertain himself: running, riding—which he was doing now—trying to find Lady Gladys, or asking one of the servants for a task he could do. He hadn’t yet offered to help in the castle, afraid they would want him to mop or sweep the floor. When he tried looking for Lady Gladys yesterday evening, she had locked herself in her room. He had heard sounds that could almost have been the clack of wooden practice swords, but he realized he must have been mistaken, because why would Lady Gladys be using a sword?
Fang had been exploring around him, checking back in every once in a while if he hadn’t moved from his last position. He wasn’t sure why the wolf was content to stay with him when there was a wide-open forest just outside the gate waiting for her. Just then, Fang burst through the trees, glided to a halt a few paces from Burchard on Chip, and then faced where she had just come from, almost as though she was waiting for something.
Moments later, a young woman, no more than sixteen, with loose, long brown hair came through the trees, pausing a few horse-lengths from Burchard. It took him a moment to recognize the bow strapped to her back and then the owl that was perched on a low branch close to her head.
Eyes widening in recognition, Burchard spoke. “Jade?”
Jade grinned at him. “Hello, Burchard.” He watched as her eyes went from him down to Fang and back. He could see her lips form the word wolf, but the word never reached his ears. He could feel the medallion the druids had given him, a solid weight on a chain around his neck, and the horsehair bracelet around his wrist. Jade continued inspecting him, and he could feel her eyes lingering on his neck, even though the medallion wasn’t visible. He wondered if that was some sort of magic the druids possessed, that they could track the medallions given as a gift.
