A Paladin's War Ch. 11

Sadani had said Agni could listen through fire. Did that mean Aran could speak to him that way? Could he do it right now? Light a fire and make contact? His flint and steel may be gone, but he could make a fire bow easily enough. He was always unpredictable, a stray thought said in his head. Not his voice, but another man's, a vala-memory from a long-dead Paladin. Even before the Twisted One began whispering to him. Frighteningly powerful, and quick to anger.

This was the first memory in a long time to offer anything useful on the world guardians. He tried to latch onto it, a dim picture of a fiery figure, but it evaporated before he could. The memories were like that; hard to hold onto once they surfaced. The Twisted One must be Maharad, whispering to Agni, but Sadani had said she and Agni ignored the whispers and hid from the world, which meant one of them - the dead Paladin or Sadani - were wrong. The urge to make a fire and find out for sure battled with an uneasy wariness and a strong instinct that told him that would be a mistake.

Shaking his head ruefully, Aran went to his belongings and pulled his clothes back on. He felt like he had more questions now than yesterday, but at least he knew Sadani was still herself, for good or ill. He couldn't get to Rava or Vasuda anymore, which left Ranada, Vayani and Agni. He resolved to leave Agni alone until Sadani was ready, as much as he disliked the idea; it gave Maharad more time to turn the fire guardian first, but if Agni had resisted this long, surely he could hold out a little longer.

"Looks like it's north for me," he said to himself as he stuffed a few of the hard fruits into his pack, as much as space would allow. He also filled his water skins with fresh water from the pool before resuming his journey, exiting the oasis and heading north. Whatever he'd felt in that jungle was his next target.

*

"You cannot believe it to be true!" Elaina said for the fifth time, addressing the three grim-faced Dwarves sharing the Dwarven command tent with her and Smythe. Solid Fathvir, red-rimmed blue eyes hard above his sandy beard shook his head in disgust. Baelin, pained eyes as grey as his beard, pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. Finya, pretty and younger than the other two but no less hard, took a deep breath, her pale cheeks coloured with anger that had not dimmed since Burin had been found dead in his bed with an Elvish knife in his breast. After Burin, these three were the highest-ranking Dwarves in the camp. This debate had been going on all night, into what was now the early hours of the morning.

"It is an outright bloody declaration of war!" Fathvir growled through clenched teeth, his gauntleted fist tight on the hilt of the mace at his waist. Elaina thought he might draw the weapon and charge at the Elvish camp himself any moment.

"They are our friends!" Elaina countered. "This is most certainly the work of Heralds, or darkspawn." She felt like she'd been talking in circles for the past two hours. Behind her, near the tent's entrance, Smythe shifted slightly where he was standing with arms folded, his face as grim as the Dwarves'.

"They are your friends, Elaina arohim," Finya said, her voice quieter than Fathvir's, but still steel. Barely suppressed fury glittered in her dark eyes.

"Someone has betrayed us all," Elaina urged. She was almost ready to get on her knees and plead them to see sense. That or scream at them until her voice was raw. Aros, give me strength as you never have before. "A Nameless, perhaps, or a darkspawn, but this was not the Elves!"

Silently cursing Aran for making her promise not to use her vala to align with the Dwarves - she didn't possess the ability strongly, but it would have helped - she went on. "I swear it on my life!"

"It's too simple," Smythe added from his position. "Too easy. Why would the Eryn'elda kill your king when you have almost five times their number in fighters right here?"

"The Elves are ever devious and crafty," Baelin replied. Of the three Dwarves, he was the one most in control of his emotions. "They would want us to think that."

"So would Maharad," Elaina countered. "He had a hold on Burin for a time, and I banished him. Or had you all forgotten so quickly?" That at least made Baelin glance at Finya and Fathvir in the first glimmer of uncertainty she'd seen yet. It was brief, but perhaps she could drive a wedge in there, get them to understand.

"Is it not convenient, Paladin," Fathvir began as he snatched up a scroll from the table and shook it at her, "that hours after our King signed the full power of our army over to you, he ends up dead!?" He finished in a shout, no longer able to contain his rage. The scroll crumpled in his fist. Smythe didn't move, but she sensed him preparing himself to act, gathering his vala.

This was the first time she had been accused directly of any involvement in Burin's death, but she had to agree, it did look convenient. What am I going to do? I'm no bloody diplomat! Baelin and Finya nodded agreement, both stroking the hilts of their weapons. Angry, she raised her own voice to match Fathvir's. "I swore in blood that I would care for your people in the event of his death!" She held up her left hand, though the cut had healed a few hours after the swearing. "It's written right there on the bloody scroll!"

"The decision is made," Baelin announced as if she'd never spoken, in a voice as cold as death. "Andil and Elessir will be taken for questioning. If they resist, it will be construed as admission of guilt, and war will be declared on Ildernass." Elaina went cold inside. No! This cannot be happening!

Smythe moved for the first time, striding forward and planting himself beside Elaina. He loomed over the table like a stooping hawk. "This is folly, Baelin!" he said. "The Elves will take to the trees as soon as they see you coming. You'll never dig them out! And if you engage them, your losses will be catastrophic!"

"We will burn the forest down if we must," the Captain-General replied in that same chill tone. Elaina could feel his pain, buried under rage that bordered on hate.

"You will dishonour Burin's agreement with me?" Elaina asked, already knowing the answer.

"We will avenge his death by killing the ones responsible," Baelin said, his grey eyes like polished stones. "Then, if you are found to have had no involvement in his death, we will talk of agreements."

"I will not allow this!" Elaina snapped, letting her own anger rise. "You dishonour me, and your King's memory with this course of action. If you march on the Elves, I will be standing in your way."

Finya shook her head sadly as if saying goodbye to a friend, while Baelin and Fathvir nodded grimly. "As you wish, Paladin," Baelin said. "I suggest you be gone from here quickly, before word spreads of your true allegiance."

Elaina opened her mouth to call them all fools, but Smythe laid a hand on her shoulder and nodded back toward the tent's entrance. "We can do no more here," he said gently. She let him lead her outside into the night, her heart heavy with bitter sadness. So close. We were so close. We worked so hard... She and Smythe walked away from the command tent through a camp eerily silent for one that held over a hundred-thousand souls, broken by the keening dirges of horns; laments for Burin. A tight ring of Dwarves circled the command tent, but they parted for the two Paladins, offering no resistance to their passing.

They walked silently through the camp, hailed by a few familiar Dwarves as they passed, but they were waved off, neither Smythe nor Elaina willing to speak of what had transpired in the tent. For every one that called out, two or three glared suspiciously, something that never would have happened a day ago.

A sudden tingle in her mind made her want to look over to the right, but she forced her head to remain straight. "Noah is here," she whispered without looking at Henley. She had sensed him approaching the camp in the back of her mind, but she'd been too preoccupied with the arguing to give it any real mind.

"Is he well?" came Henley's reply, his lips barely moved, but she could hear him well enough. On either side of the two Paladins, Dwarves hurried this way and that, running between tents on errands, dousing cook fires, saddling mounts. The camp was being broken before the march. Elaina felt sick.

"He is, though he feels tense. Like a drawn bowstring." No doubt he had come for Edda, despite her instructions to remain with the Elves. Henley grunted.

"Should we go to him?"

"No. He will sense my movements. He will come to us. Anything we do will draw more attention to him."

The tall Paladin nodded. "I would rather leave this camp without violence, if possible. I fear there will be enough of that soon." They stepped out of the way of a large cart that clattered by carrying barrels of arrows. The driver - a stout Dwarf with a gut like one of the barrels in the back - gave them a wary eye over his shoulder, as if he were afraid they might attack him. He whipped the pony a few times with the reins, picking up speed until Elaina thought the barrels might bounce right off the cart bed.

"There is the matter of another we cannot leave here," she told Henley quietly. "I think they will kill him if we do."

"Where?" was all Henley asked. She loved that about him; he did not care about the details. If Elaina said something must be done, he trusted her on it.

"Not far," she replied quickly, jerking her head to the left surreptitiously, toward the part of the camp where Deven's tent was. "We must do this fast."

"They won't catch us if we run," Henley suggested, "but they'll know it was us."

"I think it's too late for worrying about that," Elaina replied, gathering her vala. We are already condemned here." Fire and fury, how had it all gone so wrong? As one, they darted forward, flashing through the camp, Elaina leading Henley to a small tent near the camp's southern edge. There were two blocky Dwarves standing guard for no other reason than Deven was a Herald, or at least used to be. Before the guards' eyes had widened in surprise, the Paladins had burst through the canvas flap, stopping only long enough for Henley to scoop a worried-looking Deven off his cot before they took off again, punching a hole in the back of the tent and running toward the Emerin faster than a Rendari racer could gallop. Behind them, shouts rose in the camp. Hopefully stealing Devin away would create a helpful diversion for Noah. Indeed, she could feel him out there, far enough away to be clear of the camp and circling back to the south toward the forest.

They didn't stop running until they were a mile into the trees. Elaina skidded to a halt, breathing hard. Running that fast used a lot of energy; she would need to eat soon or she would flag. Henley stopped, too, setting Devin down on his feet and putting a broad hand against the thick trunk of an oak. He was stronger than her, but he had been running and carrying a man. Things like that took their toll.

"What is happening?" Deven asked in a shaky voice as he stepped back a few paces. He looked like he was preparing to run. Elaina held out a stalling hand.

"Trouble," Elaina told him. "We got you out of there for your own safety."

"Bloody trouble alright," Henley muttered. "We don't have long. We should push on."

"What trouble?" Dev said. "Heralds?"

"Burin is dead," Elaina said. "The Dwarven camp is no longer safe for us. Can you run?" Wide-eyed, Deven nodded quickly. "Then I suggest you come with us, unless you want to take your chances on your own?" The young man's head swung at the idea, and when Elaina and Henley broke into a trot, he followed silently. They headed west, staying about a mile inside the trees as they made for the Elves' camp. It was hard not to move faster, but both she and Henley would need their strength if this night came to fighting. It was difficult to see how that could be avoided without breaking their promise to Aran. She would break it, if she had to, as a last resort, and hope that he would forgive her for it after. Sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Deven trailed them as best he could, occasionally stumbling over root or rock hidden in the darkness. Elaina stayed with him, catching him when he couldn't catch himself. Before long, the sky began to turn grey through the thick tangle of branches above. By the time they reached the Elvish camp, grey had become orange. Bird calls from up above sounded as they entered the massive clearing that held the camp, signals from the sentries in the trees. Everywhere Elaina looked, Elves were preparing for battle, stringing bows, filling quivers, sharpening knives and swords.

She headed for the marquee that dominated the centre of the clearing, the place they had left Andil and Elessir last night, but Tarien hailed them before they reached it, his dark eyes hard. "What word, eruseni?" he asked, his gaze flicking to Deven briefly. "The forward scouts say the Dwarves are to march on us. Is this true?" He was fingering the hilt of the sword at his hip unconsciously.

Elaina took a deep breath, wanting to say something, anything, to dissolve the situation, but she had to tell the truth. "Yes." Tarien's mouth tightened. "Burin died by Elvish dagger. It was still in his chest when they found him. We could not talk them around, Tarien. We know it was not an Elf that did this, but their pain was too great. I am sorry." She wanted to weep. She had failed, and so many lives would be lost. Perhaps all would be lost.

"We have been betrayed," Tarien said softly, now gripping the hilt. Somewhere nearby, an Elf began shouting orders and a flurry of motion followed as warriors formed up, facing north, to the Sorral Plain. "This will be a bloody day, Elaina arohim. Perhaps some of us will survive." He smiled, then, a beautiful smile.

"You won't try and retreat back to Ildernass?" Henley asked. "Back to safety?"

"Not this day," Tarien replied evenly. He was oddly calm for one facing the almost certain destruction of his people. "The Eryn'elda have hidden long enough."

"Oh, Tarien," Elaina began, her heart full of sorrow, "I am so sorry."

"You did what you could, Elaina arohim, Henley arohim," Andil's deep voice said as he strode toward them across a bare patch of ground recently vacated by soldiers. Tall and imposing, the Lord of Ildernass was garbed in armour for the first time Elaina had seen, thick, smooth bark covering his arms, legs and chest, molded as if grown on him, all held together by red-gold vines. It seemed the lasselath offered more function than just comfort and fashion. "The sons and daughters of the Stonelord were always difficult to divert from their chosen purpose." He smiled down at them warmly. "Tarien, your duty calls you."

With a respectful bow, the captain departed at once, long legs eating ground as he dashed off to where the ranks of fighters were forming. "Lady Elessir?" Henley asked of Andil.

"Is sheltering those who cannot or should not fight," he replied. "She will ensure there is something left of the Eryn'elda after all is done." He glanced back to where Tarien had disappeared into the trees bordering the clearing. "Will you fight with us, arohim?" he said when his gaze returned to her and Henley. "Your abilities would be most welcome."

She shared a look with Henley, and she saw the same sorrow in his eyes she knew was in hers. "If the Dwarves cannot be convinced to stand down," she answered quietly. "We will fight with you, Lord Andil." From the army, rhythmic pipes began to play, elegant, yet with a deep, biting melody punctuated by the rattling of full quivers. It made Elaina's skin prickle. How many would die today, because of her? "May we burn for it," she finished in a whisper.

With a grim nod, Andil turned and strode north, where the ranks of Elves were now filing into the trees. Elaina watched after him with a heavy heart. It was only a small flicker of brightness against the grim morning when Noah appeared from the forest with Edda in tow. Running to them, she hugged them both hard.

"They are going to do battle," Noah stated in a somber voice. His brown-eyed gaze searched her face. "I will be by your side, this time." When she nodded, unable to make herself leave him behind, he exhaled in relief. The fool man would rather face death than let her fight alone. Perhaps that was why she was allowing it. Not that he would listen to her; she would have to tie him to a tree to make him stay behind.

"I will fight, too," Edda declared in a voice stronger than she felt inside. Elaina and Noah shook their heads as one.

"No," Noah said firmly.

At the same time, Elaina said, "I have another task for you, par'vala." Edda opened her mouth to argue, but Elaina snapped her fingers sharply in front of the girl's face. "Do you defy me, girl?" She made her voice hard; there was no time to brook nonsense. Edda recoiled, her mouth closing. Elaina had never spoken to her like that, but then, Edda had never given her a reason to, until now. "Good." She gestured to Deven, who had been standing there all this time silently, gazing around in equal parts fear and wonder. The poor boy had been thrust into a different world so suddenly his head was probably spinning.

"You are to take Deven and find shelter in the forest until we return for you, understood?" Edda nodded uncertainly, meeting Deven's dark eyes briefly until he dropped them, flushing.

"I understand, Master," Edda said quickly.

"She should follow the Elves that left with Elessir," Noah suggested. "I taught her how to track. She's capable."

It was a good idea. "Yes, do that," Elaina said with a nod. She took Edda by the shoulders. "You are a good woman, Edda Stoneman, and you will be a great Paladin, but you cannot fight before you are ready. We are going to need you alive and whole for what comes." She stepped back, fighting the sudden urge to cry. "Love before hate, par'vala."

"Love before hate," Edda returned, then looked to her brother. "Be careful, you big, hairy oaf," she said gently, touching him on the arm. Noah hugged her tightly. "I always am. You know that."

Edda snorted derisively and stepped back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "We'd best be away then, Deven. Follow me." She started south west, and when Deven's gaze found Elaina's, she nodded to reassure him.

"I will see you again soon, Deven," she said kindly. "Remember, there is always hope." Even now, when it feels as if there is none. Deven let Edda lead him away, leaving Elaina standing there, looking up at Henley. She didn't want to move a muscle, for that would lead to the next bit.

Henley smiled and touched her cheek. An errant gust of wind in the otherwise calm morning tugged at their cloaks and pushed a few strands of fair hair across her face. He brushed them away gently. "Whatever happens today," he began quietly, "we did what we could. Even if we did align with Baelin and the others, we cannot control minds. Nor should we."

Elaina started to shake her head in disagreement, but he went on. "I think the outcome would have been the same either way, but at least this way they'll not think we tried to influence them."

She sighed, not convinced. "They suspect me of treachery, Henley. I could have at least swayed them on that, if not for our promise to Aran."

"They are in pain," he replied firmly. "They are blinded by it, at least for now. Perhaps standing before us and the Elves will help them remember the cause." Elaina didn't think he sounded too hopeful of that.