their liege’s in the battle. Many knights were still lost, finding themselves grief-stricken, ashamed and Orderless. He had been somewhat derelict in his duties because he had been so focused on Max’s Order after she blew herself up. And then they had the Trials for the new IDC, and then the construction. Well, he’d had a lot on his plate. Still, when Blu had come to him and asked if he would help Glenn, Mordecai had felt a rush of guilt. Glenn was the only surviving paladin from Cinder’s Order and he knew the man must be devastated to not only lose his soldier brethren, but also his liege.
After absorbing much of Glenn’s darker emotions, Mordecai found himself moving from one paladin to another. Many of the adrift paladins were staying at the lodge, having nowhere else to go. The homes of their wardens reverted back to the property of the IDC – as was tradition. That too was going to change, Mordecai knew. Paladins were going to be compensated for their time and they would also be allowed to own belongings and property. But that didn’t help the ones currently grieving and homeless. His skin prickled as dark energy moved around him – and through him – using him as an outlet or a filter. Hurt and pain, grief and loss, needed to be absorbed or it wreaked havoc on the whole world – and not just the person it emanated from. That was his job and also where his domain and that of Life overlapped a little. Pain knifed into his chest and he bent over, breathing through the pain.
“Mordecai, let us –” Aiden began, only to have Mordecai shove him back. The prickling, writhing element of death was still too near and he wouldn’t risk his paladins. “It’s our job,” Aiden reminded him, frustration clear in his voice, as he read Mordecai’s thoughts. Mordecai ignored him, counting his breaths.
“It is okay. I have this.”
Mordecai jerked himself upright and saw Dana placing comforting hands on his paladins as she wove her way through them. They parted like the red sea. Naturally, he thought, snidely. Dana had said she would be gone for a couple of weeks. It had been closer to five. After their little interlude in the hallway, he had thought perhaps they could talk out their differences. Maybe even be friends. But the longer she was away, the more his doubts crept back in and the more his anger returned. She couldn’t be trusted to keep her word. He needed to remember that.
She stopped only when she was within touching distance of him. When she reached out, Mordecai side-stepped her. “What are you doing here, Dana?”
“I said I would be back,” came her calm reply.
Mordecai was shaking so badly now that his teeth were chattering. His vitality was dangerously low, and his temper wasn’t helping the situation. “You said you would be away for two weeks. It’s been over four.” His words sounded like the accusation they were.
“I know. It could not be helped,” Dana said, ever calm. She reached out a hand again.
Mordecai snapped, “Don’t touch me, Dana. I mean it.” He was feeling raw and vulnerable, and the last thing he wanted was Dana to know it.
“It hurts so bad,” Dana murmured, ignoring his snarling words and placing a hand on his chest.
“It’s supposed to!” he retorted.
Dana nodded, “Yes. It is. But that doesn’t lessen the burden.” She moved forward and placed her other hand on his opposite pec, warmth spreading from her palms in an outward motion. “My wardens; nature’s warriors. You do me proud. You have ever since you held that frog in your hands and sang to it as it died.”
Mordecai barely noticed when the cold stopped invading his body and warmth took its place. He was too intrigued by the gorgeous woman staring up at him like he hung the moon. “Frog?” he questioned.
“You don’t remember? A hawk decided it was going to make the little fellow its meal for the evening, but it accidentally dropped it. You found it on the ground and even though you could not do anything to save it, you still held it as it died. You offered it comfort and peace, and it died knowing it was not alone.”
Mordecai did recall the incident she was speaking of. He had been perhaps four or five years old. “It was just a frog,” he muttered.
Dana’s smile was like the sun as she replied, “The shell the