A Paladin's Journey Ch. 01

Latham hesitated briefly. "He wouldn't say, sir, no matter how I pressed him. He says it's of the highest priority."

"Highest priority, ey?" Eames said in disbelief, crossing his arms across his chest and refusing to think about the chair behind his desk that seemed to call him back. The darn thing was too hard anyway. "We'll see about that. Let him through. If it's not as urgent as he says it is, I'll have him whipped."

"Yes, sir!" Latham barked before turning on his heel and disappearing. Moments later he returned with Tevin, proving Eames' memory of the man accurate. The fellow had two chins, both of which were covered by a three-day scruff, and he was breathing hard, as if he'd been rushing to get here, or perhaps it was just the stairs that had rendered him winded, as unfit as he was.

"Make it good, Tevin," Eames warned. "Or you will be punished for wasting a Commander's time." He had never liked Tevin; the man displayed signs of greed and laziness, which were unbecoming for a Herald.

Tevin saluted hurriedly, and set his chins wobbling as he began to talk. "Lord Commander! We were on patrol to the south-" was all he got out before he needed to take a breath. Eames wanted to tap his foot in frustration. "When we came across a half-breed Elf spying on us on the plains. When she spotted us, she took off-" another breath. "But we chased her down and found she was with a young man."

Eames' eyebrows had lifted slightly, but they quickly drew down again. "There had better be more to this story, Tevin."

Tevin's jowls shook as he stuttered his reply. "Uh, there's more, my Lord. They told us they were farm folk, but there was something off about them, so we arrested them." He paused for yet another breath. "During the night there was a commotion, and I woke to see the prisoners had been freed, and there was a girl with them who matched one of the descriptions you gave, the human girl."

Eames was now listening intently. "Go on."

"Well," Tevin continued. "The young man cut down the two watchmen standing guard like it was nothing, then when the rest of us rushed him, he made us all look like fools. I've never seen a man move like that, sir. We didn't have a chance. He killed everyone but me, sir, and then he let me go."

"So, he killed Rogan, also?" Eames inquired off-handedly, as if it were of no consequence. Truthfully, he'd secretly given Rogan -- the only other Herald in Tevin's ill-fated party -- a relic from another time that Eames had come across years ago. This relic -- in the design of an ornate dagger -- reportedly allowed the bearer to go undetected by the cursed ones, as well as cause great harm to any cursed one it even so much as scratched. Eames had given it to Rogan in the hope of finding out if these claims were true, yet now it would seem he would never know.

When Tevin nodded, Eames didn't bother asking whether the fat fool had recovered the dagger; he would bet his last copper that it was either still with Rogan's corpse, or in the hands of the Paladins now.

"Why would he let you go, when he killed all the others?" Eames asked softly, as a blade is softly drawn from its sheath. Watchmen were well trained, and a young man with this level of skill was unheard of. Add that to the fact that one of the escapees -- the human girl -- had appeared to aid Tevin's prisoners, and it made for a very damning case, indeed.

Tevin went white in the face. "I -- uh, truthfully my Lord, it's because I answered his questions."

Eames stepped toward the sweating sergeant, only stopping when their faces were inches away. "And what, Sergeant Tevin," Eames asked in a near-whisper. "Did he ask you, and what did you tell him?"

Tevin immediately spilled everything he knew, and Eames believed him; the man was too petrified to lie. So, according to Tevin, this young swordsman knew that Eames was using the Maralon City Watch to expand Herald influence in the West. Eames couldn't see a great drawback to this; it was doubtful what one young man could do with this knowledge, yet he would monitor the situation regardless.

Rapists on the City Watch came as something of a surprise, but if it was true, then Eames could see a way to use that against the Maralon Council, maybe even so far as to secure himself a seat at their table.

Once Tevin was finished, Eames dismissed him with a warning. "Keep quiet about this, Tevin. I will handle things from here. Give Lieutenant Latham the descriptions of the offenders -- this young man and his half-breed friend -- before you leave."

Stammering his thanks, Tevin saluted and waddled away. Latham followed the sergeant, leaving Eames to digest this new information. A bright light flashed through the windows, and thunder boomed ominously soon after; it would seem yet another storm had arrived. These increasingly powerful northerly storms had been growing more frequent and severe, but Eames gave the inclement weather little thought; his mind was occupied by a mysterious warrior, and a young woman who had slipped through his fingers.

***

***ARAN***

The journey from the Temple to Maralon took about a week on foot, but on horseback, Aran hoped to be there in two days. Relying on their Gifts, Aran, Smythe and Elaina needed no sleep or food -- they could go for days without, if required -- and only stopped to feed and water the horses every few hours.

Aran was unsure exactly how to go about finding the Gifted twins once they got to Maralon; all he had to go on was a memory of the stone chamber in the dream. He remained faithful, however, confident that Aros would guide him true.

Since leaving the Temple, they'd ridden through the night and on through the next day, crossing the vast Sorral Plains which covered the many leagues between the Karvani mountains and Maralon. Several times they had had to suddenly alter their course to avoid Herald or watchmen patrols, but so far, they'd been successful in traveling unseen.

Not much was said between the three Paladins, who pushed on as fast as they could safely drive the horses. Aran could feel Elaina's determination through the Bond, which equaled his own.

The sun was descending in the west, and Aran judged them to be roughly halfway to Maralon. With luck, they would avoid the rest of the patrols and be in the city before nightfall tomorrow, then they would see what could be done about these Heralds.

*

It was twilight on the second day of travel -- Aran had been accurate with his guess at how long the journey would take -- when the trio of Paladins pulled into a copse of fir trees a mile or so outside the city, well off the Maralon road. Dismounting, Aran loosely looped Strider's reins over one of the thinner branches; he didn't expect to be in Maralon long, and wanted the stallion to be here when he got back, but if something went wrong and they got delayed, Strider would be able to pull free easily enough to feed or water himself.

Smythe and Elaina did the same with their mounts -- Smythe keeping Thunder well away from Strider - before turning to Aran expectantly.

"Right," Aran said with a grin. "Not far from here there is a small village, and in that village, there is a cellar behind a brickmaker's shop. That cellar holds a secret door that leads to a tunnel that runs right underneath Maralon."

"I heard about that from Sorla," Smythe said, stroking his mustaches.

Aran nodded. "It will take us to the old Maralon Temple underneath the city, and from there, I can get us out onto the street."

"And then?" Elaina asked, brushing a strand of flaxen hair away from her face.

"And then," Aran suggested casually. "We go to the big Herald house near the slum district, where there is another cellar door that leads to their prison cells."

"I know you know the city, Aran," Smythe began. "But isn't it a little risky to go walking the streets? You said you let that Herald go that arrested you; what if your description is all over Maralon?"

It was a good question, and Aran felt concern through Elaina's Bond, but he'd already considered that outcome. "That's a safe assumption, Smythe, and it means we'll need these," he said, flipping open one of his saddlebags and pulling out three Herald robes which he'd kept from when he'd helped Sara and Sorla escape last time he'd been in Maralon.

"Put these on," he instructed, tossing a robe each to Smythe and Elaina before following his own direction and slipping the red-lined yellow garment over his clothes. "Keep your hoods up and your Gifts suppressed, and nobody should bother us. With luck, this shouldn't take too long."

"What about our weapons?" Elaina inquired. "Do Heralds normally carry them?"

"Aye, they do, lass," Smythe replied, already in the process of strapping Lightbringer to his broad back. Even with the long hilt level with the top of his head, the tip of the scabbard reached down past his knees. "Seems like they carry varying arms, so we shouldn't stand out too much, ey, Aran?"

Aran agreed; the Herald's he'd seen in the past -- those that were armed -- had all worn different types of weapons.

At that, Elaina belted her spiked mace -- Shatter -- on over her robe. Gift-forged, as were Aran's and Smythe's swords, Shatter would break anything that it hit, provided its power had been triggered. Gift-forged weapons had different catalysts; Oroth was connected to Aran's emotions, while Lightbringer glowed with a blinding light when Smythe was in proximity to darkspawn. Shatter would emit a high-pitched hum when Elaina was under attack, rendering all defenses against the mace useless to its onslaught, and would stay that way until she was safe again. Aran had never seen Shatter used in battle, but he felt sorry for any fool who stood in Elaina's way.

Once Elaina and Smythe were ready, Aran led them from the copse of fir and across the plain to the village of Senna.

*

Senna was a small farming village a mile or so from the walls of Maralon. The Sorral plains were fertile and made for excellent farming, hence the multitude of crops that dotted the vast grassland. No residents stopped to question why three Heralds were taking a stroll through the sleepy village after dark despite one or two strange looks, and thankfully, there were no real Heralds present.

Aran led the way to the brickmaker's; a small, simple cottage at the eastern end of Senna, with a kiln behind it, and then around to the cellar door, which sat between the house and the kiln. To his dismay, there was a thick chain looped around the door handles, secured by a sturdy lock.

While Aran was thinking of how to solve this problem, Elaina fished out a crystal from beneath her robe. A sunstone! Aran wished he'd been smart enough to grab a couple before leaving. "Good thinking," he said gratefully. "I didn't think of that."

Elaina shot him a quick smile. "Huddle close," she urged in a whisper. "We'll need to block the light."

Aran and Smythe pressed in on either side of her, and Aran felt a small surge from her Gift before the small crystal came to life, bathing the Paladins in a soft, warm glow. Aran looked up at the dark windows in the back of the brickmaker's cottage, but it appeared he either wasn't home, or was asleep.

He watched as Elaina briefly touched the sunstone to the lock. The stone winked out almost immediately, and she slipped it back inside her robe. The iron padlock appeared unchanged, but when she gave it a light tug, the hasp came free as easily as if she'd had the key.

"Good work!" Smythe whispered as he carefully removed the chains, making as little noise as possible. Once the cellar was open, Smythe went down first, then Elaina, and Aran last, pulling the doors shut behind them.

The cellar was as Aran remembered, the small stone-walled space stacked with sacks of potatoes and turnips and the odd barrel of ale. The far wall was where Aran headed, where a square shape was sliced so finely into the stone that if one wasn't looking for it, they would miss it entirely. It was doubtful even the brickmaker knew about it, else the tunnels beneath would have been discovered by now.

Elaina and Smythe crowded in behind Aran -- Smythe having to duck his head from the low ceiling -- as he pressed the stone near the upper right corner of the square. A grinding sound reverberated through the cellar as the square depressed and moved to the left, revealing darkness beyond.

Unable to see with their eyes, the Paladins used their Gifts to sense their surroundings as Aran led the way through the stone tunnel, which slanted ever downwards as it took them toward Maralon.

"Will this take us beneath the Planeward?" Elaina asked softly as they walked.

"Eventually," Aran replied. "This tunnel leads direct to the Hidden Temple. I don't imagine we'll be there very long, but while we are, we'll be out of reach of Amina."

The rest of the walk was silent save for the scraping of boots on the stone floor. The tunnel leveled out after maybe half a mile, and two hours later Aran was pressing another stone facing. Turning to his companions, he smiled. "Welcome to the Hidden Temple. Once one of the grandest Temples in Ekistair, now just a few simple rooms."

The tunnel came out in a back room the Servants had been using for storage which in turn led out into the main living area, and Aran felt Elaina and Smythe smiling as they let their senses traverse the unlit space. It was clear nobody had been here since Aran had left; the long dining table was still in place, as was the comfortable furniture scattered around the living area with its cozy fireplace. Without the Servants, though, the place felt empty and quiet.

"Feels like a Temple, to me," Smythe said softly. "But why do I suddenly feel... disconnected?"

"Yes, I feel it too," Elaina agreed. "I'm not sure I like it."

"It's the Planeward," Aran explained. "It limits our Gifts to the space it covers, so effectively, we're cut off from the rest of the world right now. It has its benefits, and its drawbacks."

"How did you live with this feeling?" Elaina asked.

"It was easier with Sara and the Servants here," he told them as he moved across the room toward the door that led to the next tunnel. "They were my family, and it was good to be with them, but it was trying at the same time. I was uncertain about how things were going for you two, and I obviously couldn't reach anyone on the Plane."

"Well," Elaina said from behind him as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We all came through alright."

Aran patted her hand as he led them through another secret opening, which would put them out on the streets of Maralon city.

*

The alley looked exactly as Aran remembered; shouldered by tall, red-brick buildings three stories high and leading out to the street. He turned to Smythe and Elaina, who were right behind him. "Keep your hoods up and follow me."

Lamplight played on the dark cobblestones as the three Paladins slipped from the mouth of the alley and made their way towards the big house at the end of the street. Aran kept his eyes peeled for Heralds, but so far none had appeared. Where were they all?

The night was quiet save for the occasional barking of a dog, and the lamplit avenue empty save for themselves. As they walked, the street curved slightly right, eventually revealing the house Aran was looking for; a monstrous thing four stories high, the wide stairs out front lined by a dozen Heralds, six on each side. He took a sharp right down another alleyway, which held the basement door he remembered, and found it was guarded by no fewer than three Heralds, who spotted them immediately.

With no time to think, Aran approached casually, hoping Smythe and Elaina were doing the same behind him. Once he was close enough, he would take down the nearest one, and Smythe and Elaina would follow suit.

"Ah," said the middle Herald, his face shrouded by the hood of his cloak. "Come to relieve us, have you? About time!" He had a somewhat pompous tone, as if he thought quite highly of himself.

"We have," Aran said simply, resisting the urge to put a hand on Oroth's hilt.

"Good," the Herald grunted. "I cannot stand guard duty. I'd rather do anything else. Come on, lads! Let's go put our feet up!" At that, the three guards moved off, leaving them alone in the alley.

Unbelieving of his good luck, and thankful for lazy guards, Aran waited a slow count of thirty before bending to pull up the almost horizontal doors and dropping down into the empty stone corridor below. As his boots hit the stone floor, a Gift flared from somewhere below and to the north-west, maybe a hundred yards away, at Aran's best guess. "You feel that?" He asked when Smythe and Elaina had joined him.

"Aye," Smythe grunted. "Not far, either."

Aran looked down the long, grey stone corridor, which ran for maybe forty yards before ending in a stout wooden door. What looked like the iron bars of cells lined the distance on each side. "Come," he said as he moved toward the door. "We need to find a way to get further down."

Mercifully, they saw only empty cells as they passed. Aran did not think he'd be able to leave anyone who'd been captured by Heralds to their fate. The door at the end of the corridor was locked, but some quick work with a Sunstone saw it opened. A landing lay on the other side, connected to a set of spiraling stairs on the left that led down, and the opposite on the right.

The Gift signal had come from further down, so Aran chose the obvious route, and led the way down the stone steps, which wound down into blackness. With no way to tell what was around the next curve, Aran prayed to Aros that their good luck would continue, and there were no guards on the stairs. Lanterns were hung every so often, and they'd been lit, offering at least some light with which to see by. Aran wished he could use his Gift, but kept it readily suppressed; he would not underestimate the Heralds ability to find Gifted.

Down and down the stairs led, and Aran was beginning to think they would go forever until he rounded a curve and found himself in a small, square room with three more Heralds standing guard at a heavy-looking iron door. At that moment, the Gift flared again, and this time it felt like it was just on the other side of that door. It was accompanied by a scream, muffled somewhat through the stone wall.

"You're early!" The middle Herald -- the biggest one -- said with a scowl. Aran couldn't see his whole face beneath that red cowl, but his nose looked crooked, and he had a dour twist to his mouth. "We weren't to be relieved until morning. Has something changed?"

Aran kept on walking forward. "Yes, plans have changed." The big Herald reached for his sword, but Aran never gave him a chance to draw it. With folded knuckles he struck the man in the throat while pushing his other hand down over the fellow's sword arm, preventing him from baring steel as he struggled to draw breath. On either side of Aran, Smythe and Elaina were dealing with the other two.

Seconds later, three Heralds lay unconscious on the stone floor. Aran eyed his fellow Paladins. "Alright?"

When they nodded, Aran turned to the door, and Elaina produced her Sunstone once again. Another scream came from the other side as she touched the crystal to the keyhole. When the lock clicked, Smythe put a heavy boot to the iron door, which flew open to bang loudly against the stone wall.

Aran slipped in first, and what he saw curdled his stomach. Two Heralds, a graying, skinny man and a stocky woman, turned at the sound of the door crashing open. They each had a hot poker in hand, the tips glowing brightly. They had obviously been using them on the young man and woman hanging suspended from the ceiling, judging by the smell of burning flesh in the air.