A Paladin's Journey Ch. 10

Maralon, you say," the man mused, crossing thick arms across his chest. He wore no weapon, but Erik had the impression this man didn't need one. "I do not know it."

"It was once called Caer'maralonnia," Erik blurted. Now why had he said that? This man could not be old enough to know that name unless he was a scholar like Erik.

The stranger's eyebrows lifted again as recognition dawned on his face.

Erik's mind worked furiously. Who was this man? He looked to be no more than forty, but he knew the name Caer'maralonnia, and these books were thousands of years old! That strange way of talking had Erik curious, too. He'd been all over the world and had never heard an accent like it.

In fact, the only person that sounded even close was...

Amina.

"What did you just say?" The man demanded, striding forward to stand over Erik. His face was hard as an anvil.

Erik realised that he had said Amina's name out loud. It couldn't be him, could it? "Sir," he began, trying not to stammer. "Are you by any chance an arohim?"

The man seized Erik by the lapels and forced him back a step, until he was pressed against the bookshelf. "That is now two words you have no understanding of," the man growled. This close, Erik could clearly see blue eyes like chips of ice.

"Let him go!" Sylvia cried, fisting the taller fellow in the short ribs, but he didn't even grunt. "We're aronduri!" She yelled.

That got a reaction. The man's hands sprung free of Erik's shirt as if burned, and he looked almost apologetic! "Aronduri?" He asked, looking a little bewildered. "How?" His expression darkened again suddenly. "You said 'Amina' before, did you not? How do you know that name?"

"Because she sent us here!" Sylvia said obstinately before Erik could answer. She was standing with feet planted as if ready to fight, her chin forward defiantly.

"LIES!" The man roared. Sylvia shrunk back with a squeak.

"NO!" Erik bellowed back, suddenly angry. The bigger man narrowed eyes at him.

It was get angry or sink to the ground in fear and awe. If this man was who Erik thought he was... "We come from Temple Sura," he continued in a more level tone. "We have been living there for some weeks, under the High Priestess Amina's grace."

"Boy," the man growled warningly, eyes glinting. Gods, but he was an intimidating presence! Erik steeled his backbone. "If you speak lies, I will not take it lightly."

"No lies," Erik promised. "We are few in number, but Sylvia and I are two of five aronduri."

"Erik!" Sylvia hissed. "What are you doing?"

Erik waved her down, more certain by the minute of his suspicion. "There are also three full Paladins, and four more arohim in training."

Sharp cobalt eyes searched Erik's face thoroughly. The only sound in the room was breathing, and Erik's heart thumping in his own ears.

Finally, the stranger nodded and relaxed. "I sense no lie in your words, arondur," he said, looking suddenly weary. Walking to the armchair, he sat down heavily. "So long," he murmured to himself, staring at the wall. "So many years. I didn't dare to hope."

"Hope for what?" Sylvia asked, stepping forward until she was standing in front of him.

He smiled for the first time as he ran his eyes over Sylvia from top to toe. Not rudely, but appreciatively. Erik couldn't be sure, but he thought Sylvia blushed slightly. Nevertheless, she did not shy away.

"Hope to see an arondur again, child," the man explained. "Yet here I am, with two of you before me. I should not be surprised, knowing how Aros works." He smiled as if to himself. "I sought shelter here from the storms some weeks back, not knowing this place was in the shadow of a Temple." He sighed and touched his forehead. "Or perhaps I simply forgot."

"Who are you?" Sylvia demanded, moving closer to him. She blushed again as she did, her fair skin flushing.

The man in the chair took a deep breath, then exhaled. Instead of answering her question, though, he said: "You are a pretty one, aren't you, girl? Per'elda?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Sylvia replied stiffly.

"Maybe a lot, maybe a little," he countered enigmatically. "Is your mother arondur also?"

Sylvia lifted her chin proudly. "She is indeed. She is one of the few Tar'elda this side of the Wild Sea."

The man nodded thoughtfully. "And the arohim? Where are they at present? At the Temple?" His gaze turned to Erik expectantly.

Erik shook his head. "No. They are off fighting the Heralds at present. I know not how the battle goes."

The stranger growled deep in his throat. "Heralds of bloody Dawn." He invested the name with scorn and disdain. "A disease that should never have been left to fester." He paused for a moment, then asked, "You did not answer my question. Why are you here in Suravale?"

The erratic nature of the man's questions was a little unnerving to Erik. "We were investigating a suitable place for refugees to live. Those displaced by the Heralds on the Sorral Plain. Aran has sent on only those who can be trusted, but we felt it safer to find a place other than the Temple for strangers to come."

"Smart," the man said. His eyes flicked back and forth between Erik and Sylvia. "Who is Aran? One of the arohim?"

"Yes," Erik answered. "You might say he leads us."

The big man grunted in a way that had Erik guessing as to his thoughts. "What of the other two? What are their names?"

"Henley Smythe and Elaina Fairborn," Erik told him.

The other man tilted his head for a moment, as if thinking, but then shook his head. Maybe he was trying to remember something? "The other one," he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the chair arms. "Aran. What is his family name?"

There was something in his hard eyes that gave Erik pause. Even Sylvia kept quiet. A long, drawn-out silence settled over the small room in an otherwise deserted city.

"Sunblade," Erik said softly.

The light of recognition in the man's eyes gave it away. There was only one man that he could be. One legendary figure whom had vanished after the Darkening. No record of his death had ever been made. He was almost mythical. Nobody had studied the ancient arohim more thoroughly than Erik, and now he was sure.

"You are Palavus Ironrod," Erik breathed.

The man looked up sharply, and Erik prepared himself for the worst.

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END OF CHAPTER TEN

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