Ellen Targhetta undid the bandage on her patient and frowned.

Sir Gerhold Wentry winced as the adhesive pulled away from his bare skin and then grimaced again at the master physic’s pained expression. “That bad?” The knight wasn’t expecting bad news, for he felt good. After Ethan and Sera had left the previous morning, he had spent several hours resting on the couch before nature demanded he get up. He had managed to stand on his own and then, throughout the day, had felt better and better. Even though Ellen had initially treated his wound and supplied advanced elixirs, he gave most of the credit to Sera. The young woman had prayed over him before she had left, and the warming sensation in his wound was undeniable.

“You do know,” the woman said slowly, her delicate fingers gently exploring the stitched wound before her, “that it is illegal to procure physical elixirs from an alchemist without the magistrate’s approval.”

“I feel insulted that you should think so ill of me,” Gerhold quipped, realizing now that the physic was impressed by the progress of the healing and not concerned about infection or some other problem. “You know that I am a man of faith.”

“I know that you are well-liked in Garashire,” she replied. “An alchemist might feel they are earning the Savior’s favor by gifting an old, wounded paladin with a vial of healing.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Gerhold, but now it did. “And you think I could have walked into town on my own to make such a request in my current condition?”

Ellen conceded that point. When Sera had not arrived that morning, the older woman had still kept her promised appointment with the injured knight. While she had found him up and moving around, he was still quite hobbled, and the mile of uneven forest trail that led back to the main road would have been too much for him, especially since that still left him at least half a mile from any alchemist that might help him.

The physic now produced such a vial as she had just accused this man of taking. She held it in reserve for a moment, watching Gerhold’s eyes light up in anticipation. Under normal circumstances, with a wound this far along, she would never administer such a potent elixir as what she held. His injury would heal just fine, and he would return to his routine in a few days. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to spar with his students as vigorously as before, but he wouldn’t be hampered much beyond that. “Did Seraphima heal you?” she asked.

Gerhold nodded, understanding the differences between the words “treat” and “heal.” In the end, Ellen’s skepticism won out, and she handed the vial to Gerhold, who wasted no time drinking it. The physic was a woman of science, and while she understood there was power in the divine, she didn’t trust it. She had spoken with Priestess Salindra about Sera’s training in the temple, and both mistresses agreed that the young woman had immense potential. But the physic had never asked the young woman to pray over a patient, and the priestess had never given Sera and patient to pray over. So, her talent was untested and, thus, unreliable. Whatever “healing” the young woman may have performed on the knight might be temporary.

After drinking the elixir, Gerhold knew he would now be back on his feet even quicker. As the physic returned to her satchel to get new bandages to redress the wound, she asked about Sera. “Do you know where my pupil has gone?”

“Not specifically,” Gerhold replied honestly. He assumed the assassin would have had a rendezvous point with his associates but didn’t know where it would be. He knew where the other Elementals were being kept and assumed a point equidistant between them, but he couldn’t be sure.

“When will she return?”

“I don’t know,” Gerhold replied.

Ellen had collected what she needed and motioned for Gerhold to lie still on the table. “Will she return?”

Gerhold winced slightly as the woman applied ointment to his wound as the alcohol still stung. “I don’t know. She is on a mission of extreme importance for my Order. It might be dangerous, and I don’t know-”

“That is enough!”

The call came from the side entry toward the front of the house as a large man dressed in armor entered the room. Both Ellen and Gerhold looked in shock at the sudden entrance. The man didn’t return the look with a smile and kept a stern face. “You may finish your work quickly, Master Physic. Gerhold and we have much to discuss.”

We? Ellen could only see the one man. He was old for someone wearing full armor but perhaps not as old as Sir Gerhold. His hair was black with flecks of white on his head and streaks of white in his beard. He looked regal but not quite refined enough to be using the royal “We” as a pronoun. Then she heard motion in an adjoining room and realized he had not come alone.

The physic made short work of the bandage, as the wound didn’t need that much attention anymore. The stitches would come out on their own in time, and she didn’t think she would have to make a return visit. Without another word, she packed up her things and left only a few minutes after the arrival of the imposing knight.

“Sir Jenkins,” Gerhold greeted the man. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough, Gerhold. I had assumed you would be able to guard your charge for at least another five years. I guess I was wrong.”

Gerhold didn’t need to hear the head of his Order neglecting his title to know he was upset with him. Everything about the man’s posture, facial expression, and tone exuded displeasure.

“Had I not arrived when I did, would you have told that woman about the Elemental?”

“I would not have,” he bit back sharply, sitting up gingerly on the table so he didn’t have to look up to this man.

“But you told this young woman, Seraphima?”

How long had he been standing outside the kitchen? Gerhold wondered.

“Long enough,” the paladin replied, reading his expression. “Long enough to sense that the Elemental is not here. Long enough to know you were injured two days ago when it was likely stolen. And long enough to hear you sent a young woman after the thief.”

“No,” Gerhold held up his hand as he eased off the table. He was relieved that he could make the maneuver without help, which was good because Sir Jenkins wasn’t offering any. “No, it’s not what you think.”

“It had better not be,” the paladin replied.

“Actually,” Gerhold admitted. “It is probably worse than you think.” The retired knight tried to ignore his superior’s scowl. “I assume your contingent is making themselves at home in my sitting room. I prefer only to tell this story once.”

The two men moved through the short hallway to find three other paladins waiting for them. Gerhold did not know the knights personally, but he knew what they were by their appearances. The only one not sitting was a tall man with black leather armor. All paladins in service should wear metal armor, so this man was unique. From the look in his eye and the wicked battle axe on his hip, Gerhold was willing to bet he was an enforcer, a warrior knight who had lost the faith but was still ready to fight evil where it rose. With his soul no longer in the care of the Savior, he was willing to do things others were not, and, in a scenario where they might be called on to interrogate and possibly torture assassins or perhaps kill a young priestess because she knows too much, an enforcer was a valuable asset to have. Gerhold disapproved, but he understood.

Seated on his couch was a man that reminded him of Ethan, only ten years older. Or perhaps the knight reminded Gerhold of himself 25 years younger. Either way, this was another fighter but fully endorsed by the Order to carry out any official business. The third paladin was a woman. She also wore silver armor tailored to fit her more petite frame. Her sword wasn’t much longer than Sera’s, and she had scroll cases hanging from a cord on the other hip. She was a sage, more knowledgeable than any of these other men in the ways of the faith, specifically the Elementals and the ancient texts. She would be the final voice if decisions had to be made concerning prophecies or laws.

“Am I on trial here?” Gerhold asked? They basically had a judge, a warden, a lawyer, and an executioner.

“Do you need to be?” Jenkins asked. “Is there something more we should know?”

“I think I would rather be introduced first,” Gerhold said. There was an open spot on the couch, but he felt strong enough to stand after the last elixir and preferred to face the inquiry on his feet.

“This is Dame Emoyen Paige and Sir Terrance Stark,” Jenkins said, motioning to the two armored knights sitting in the room. “And this is Quarton Grightson,” he motioned to the black-clad killer. The three occupants nodded silently in response.

“Two nights ago,” Gerhold started, seeing no reason to drag this out, “an assassin broke into my house while I was preparing for a training session with two local youths. I pass my time as the weapon master of this town and have several students that come for training during different times of the week. These two, Ethanial and Seraphima, are two of my best. Ethan is easily the best fighter I’ve seen outside of the Order. Inexperienced but full of potential.

“Anyway, the assassin caught me off guard. We fought. I injured his leg, but he gutted me and left me bleeding on the floor.” Gerhold hadn’t felt well enough, and Ethan and Sera had left in a hurry, so no one had been able to clean the pool of blood in the middle of the floor. Now it was soaked into the wood and dried. Everyone’s eyes when to the stain in the center of the room, and everyone, Gerhold included, wondered how the knight could still be alive.

“He broke the lock on the chest, took the Elemental sword, set fire to my cabin, and left. My students arrived moments later. Ethan put out the fire – at least I assume he did – while Sera, a physic-in-training and a Priestess at the local Temple of the Divine Savior, saw to my wounds and saved my life. When the boy returned, I had just enough strength to insist he retrieve the weapon. He left, and I passed out.”

Gerhold now had the rapt attention of everyone in the room, and he paused for dramatic effect. “While he was gone, Sera stabilized me and got her mistress, a master physic from town. She stitched me up and sent me on the road to recovery. The young woman helped as well. Sera has a strong connection with the Savior that I have not seen in many priestesses and few paladins.” He sent his eyes around the room, accusing them without really knowing them. He knew Jenkins, though; the man cared far more about his present duty than any future glory with their lord.

“When Ethan returned, it was clear what had happened. The girl and I could see it plainly. He had the Elemental inside of him.”

This was not what Jenkins and the others had expected. “And where is this boy now?” Quarton, the enforcer asked. “Does he still live?”

“I was in no position to challenge him in my condition,” Gerhold defended himself. “Even if I was at full strength, with the passion of the Elemental flowing through him, I believe he would have bested me.”

“There is little defense for a blade in the back.” Gerhold turned to Jenkins as the seasoned paladin spoke, speaking of murder as if it were as common as shaking hands.

“Easy to say,” Gerhold bit back. “Harder to do. I am standing before you now, but 36 hours ago, I was flat on my back, unable to move. Plus, I felt it curious that the boy’s temper had increased, and previously unobserved selfish tendencies arose.”

“Because he used the sword to kill the assassin.” It was Emoyen, the sage, who spoke. It was more a statement than a question. “Interesting. So, the life given to transfer the Elemental lends power to the target. I wonder if the Elementals were tainted by the men who initially gave their lives to secure them in the weapons. Perhaps some of their spirits live on in them. Interesting,” her voice trailed off as she pulled out a parchment and began writing notes.

“Irrelevant,” Terrance spoke, rising from his chair. He had the most to gain from this situation. He was young for a paladin and, unlike Jenkins, still had aspirations. Recovering the Elemental and dealing a blow to the Supplanter would give him status in the Order. “The mission remains the same. Find the boy, transfer the Elemental back into the sword and send it back into hiding.”

“It’s not that simple,” Gerhold spoke up. “The others-”

But Jenkins cut him off, glancing at the three younger people in the room.

Gerhold looked shocked. “Now is hardly the time to keep secrets,” the older knight said, interpreting why the head of the Order had cut him off. Was he to believe that the others were brought into this mission without knowing the location of the other Elementals? “Surely you have heard from our friend in Red Valley?” Gerhold had not sent word that he was attacked, so if this group had come north from the Order’s headquarters in Brighton, it must have been an alarm from Red Valley that had alerted them. Plus, Brighton was six days away. They must have been north for another reason to get here two days after his attack.

Jenkin’s nodded. “The dagger is safe. That attack took place four days ago. We were providentially in the hills west of Golden Coast at the time. They sent the dagger back into hiding. And now we know that the sword has not fallen into the enemy’s hands, though I would not call it safe.”

“And the others?” Gerhold knew the locations of the spear and axe but also knew that Arrows Landing and Arrows Point were too distant to have made contact yet. The head of the Order understood as Gerhold did that the enemy would not have struck if they did not know the location of all the weapons.

“Hopefully, they fared better than you,” Jenkins admonished.

“Hopefully,” Gerhold admitted.

“Where is the boy now?”

“I sent him and the girl in search of information. We need to know what advantages the enemy has.”

Jenkins scowled at the reply, but Terrance spoke first. “You sent him away to keep him safe from us.”

Gerhold frowned at the younger knight. He spoke as if he would make the kill. Surely, that is why the enforcer was along. “The weapon is safe.”

“How?” Terrance argued back. “You sent it toward the enemy.”

“It is bonded to him,” Emoyen said. “It being the heart elemental means he will guard it with every fiber in his being. It should be safe enough if he is as skilled a fighter as Sir Gerhold says.”

“So, they will just kill him,” Quarton said. Always the same solution no matter the problem when an enforcer was involved.

“No,” Gerhold replied. “They don’t have all the weapons yet, and they don’t have an army of their own. They need the assassin’s guild to get the last Elemental and possibly the other two. It would be unwise to start killing members of the guild when you still need their help. Plus, now we have a man on the inside who can give us information.”

“Is he our man?” Terrance asked.

“Enough,” Jenkins silenced any more argument with a wave of his hand. “We will not fight about it now. What’s done is done. We came here to confirm our fears that the enemy did not make an isolated strike but knows the locations of all of the Elementals.” He paused briefly in thought. “We will split up. Quarton and I will go after the boy.” He looked to the other two paladins. “You two will go to Red Valley and guard the dagger. The enemy struck there and failed. They will likely strike again.”

“You are keeping-” Gerhold started, but Jenkins cut him off.

“You will stay here,” he said to the retired knight. “Heal from your wounds, and we will decide your punishment later when all this is done.”

Gerhold stared hard at his superior. Some things weren’t being said. The retired paladin guessed there was a traitor in their midst, and Jenkins must have also thought that. When the other party members rose to leave and prepare their horses, Gerhold pulled Jenkins back into the kitchen.

“You didn’t keep the dagger in Red Valley.”

Jenkins laughed. “Of course not.”

They exchanged looks, understanding that much of what they were thinking did not need to be said aloud. The assassins might strike at Red Valley again, but a contingent of paladins would be waiting for them, and the Elemental would be long gone. Jenkins might start after Ethan and Sera, but he actually wanted to check on the safety of the other two Elementals and didn’t want the two remaining paladins to know their locations or the outcomes of those attempted thefts.

“Tell me where you are sending the dagger,” Gerhold demanded.

“Why, so you can fail us again?”

“Because you don’t have anyone else you can trust.”

Jenkins regarded the older man for a while, knowing what he said was true. “Brighton,” he replied quietly. “The only place we can send it. There is a small Temple of the Divine Creator along the southern border that occasionally houses paladins as they prepare for a pilgrimage into Talla.”

Gerhold nodded and then turned to leave. He would not be able to ride a horse that far south in his condition, but there were caravans that left every day, and he would be able to ride in the back of a wagon. Jenkins grabbed his arm. “This is bigger than your young friend's life or even the Supplanter's aspirations. Rumors say the prince is involved. Talla is planning an invasion. The throne is allying with the Supplanter. If he gets the Elementals, the Savior better come quickly because we have no defense if he doesn’t.”

Gerhold wanted to ask what he was talking about, but Quarton walked in to say the horses were ready. Jenkins didn’t add anything more and nearly ran out of the kitchen. Gerhold went back into his sitting room and collapsed on the couch. Standing that long had made him exhausted, and he needed to think.

Emoyen and Terrance sat on an outdoor patio, blatantly disobeying Jenkins’ orders.

“I don’t like this,” Terrance said, sipping gingerly at his ale. It wasn’t yet noon, a little early for drinking, but the restaurant was preparing for the lunch rush, and the two paladins didn’t want to be asked to leave because they weren’t buying anything.

An ale sat before Emoyen as well, still untouched. She could hold her alcohol as well as most men but wanted to stay sharp as she looked across the courtyard at the southern edge of Garashire, where several caravans were preparing to leave. “Quiet yourself,” she said. She was older than Terrance by five years, and he was duty-bound to obey her, but technically not when her orders conflicted with Sir Jenkins. “If I am wrong, we will be on the road in an hour. We need food anyway.”

They hadn’t ordered yet, but Terrance didn’t argue and continued to sip his drink.

Neither of them wore armor anymore. Terrance had changed into an expensive shirt and string tie, looking like a businessman. To anyone who cared to question his interest in the caravans, they would easily assume he had goods shipping south and was just seeing them off. Emoyen had also changed, wearing a regal dress with religious significance. She could easily be mistaken for a priestess of one of the local temples, and the various religious leaders often traded literature and personnel along the established trade routes.

Emoyen was about to give in and drink from her mug when she sat up straight. “There he is.” She didn’t bother to point, and Terrance didn’t need any direction.

Sir Gerhold was tall and broad, and with the added limp and shuffle to his gate, the cloaked figure was easily identifiable. When he occasionally turned in their direction as he moved between the wagons, they could easily identify his bearded face and distinguishing features. “My bet is on Brighton,” Emoyen said, leaning back in her chair and taking a deep draught from her ale.

“It’s going to be Rivers Point,” Terrance argued. “They will want to send the dagger as far away as possible.”

When Emoyen had presented her theory that their Order would not be foolish enough to leave the Mind Elemental in Red Valley, where the enemy knew it to be, Terrance agreed it sounded ridiculous but also agreed with the logic that if the Supplanter sent another thief looking for it, they would start there. A paladin’s presence in the small village would not only be able to defeat the enemy but might also convince the heathens that the enchanted weapon was still there. Either way, their superior had ordered them to go, so Terrance wasn’t too interested in entertaining other options.

Emoyen thought otherwise. Sir Jenkins had given them two orders: Go to Red Valley and guard the dagger. If the blade were no longer in Red Valley, they would be forced to violate one of those orders. As long as they were going to disobey, they might as well choose which order actually to obey. Guarding the dagger seemed like the obvious choice. Convincing Terrance of this had not been hard. He chaffed at not being trusted with the information about where the weapons were and was surprised that Emoyen didn’t know either. As the leading sage and religious scholar of the Order, she had access to almost all of the records, and there must have been some old document that said where the Elementals were being kept.

Either way, if the Order was moving them now, she hadn’t been told the new location, and it made sense that Gerhold would be told since he was trusted with the current locations and was almost certainly not the traitor. Terrance bristled at the idea that there was a spy within the Order and resented even further that he was on the suspect list.

Emoyen was used to the secrets her Order kept and was only concerned with doing what was best for the Elementals. She had already talked to each caravan driver and knew where the wagon trains were headed. One was going to Rivers Point, and several were going down to Brighton. None were actually going to Red Valley, but if that was where the dagger was being kept, she expected Gerhold to travel as far as Golden Coast, and after the two-day journey, he would likely be able to ride a horse the rest of the way.

But, when the two paladins watched Gerhold negotiate with the largest wagon train headed to Brighton, it was decided. “I knew it,” Emoyen said, tossing back nearly half her drink in celebration. “You will be buying lunch.”

Terrance grunted in defeat. “As you wish.”

The pair would ride their horses down to the distant city, a six-day journey at least, and there was no use leaving early, as the enemy was still regrouping, and they were at least as far from the large city as the paladins were. They would go after their large lunch, negating the need to find dinner on the way. Terrance drained his drink and motioned for a serving girl to attend their table, already regretting the size of lunch Emoyen would make him pay for.