A Paladin's War Ch. 11

She turned to Noah, who had a small smile on his face. How could he be happy at a time like this? He stepped in close and cupped her cheek with a calloused palm. "To the end, my love." His lips found hers, and she kissed him back hard. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

"I am sorry to bring you to this," she said, pressing her forehead against his. "I can release you, if you wish it." She didn't want to lose him, but she would do it.

"You could do that," he began, finding her eyes with his. "But I would ride beside you anyway, so we might as well keep the melda, yes?" He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you," she replied. Aros, this was shaping up to be the hardest day of her life. At least she had Noah. And Henley. She wished she was stronger.

Together, the two Paladins and Noah made their way across the clearing and through the forest, neither one saying anything more until they reached the place where the trees thinned and gave way to the sprawling plain. The sky was clear, now more blue than orange. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. Elaina would have preferred leaden skies and hard rain to better suit her somber mood.

Rank upon rank of Elvish warriors stood there in the grass, now trampled flat behind them but still waving gently out in front as far as the eye could see. Captains rode up and down the forward line, shouting battle orders in Elvish. Cracks formed in Elaina's heart as she watched them. If she survived today, she knew she would never forget it.

"It is well that you are here," Solovir's deep voice intoned as he walked up beside them. Elaina hadn't sensed him coming, but then he was sometimes hard to find with her vala. The Alda'rendi's long white hair was tied back tightly, away from his smoothly handsome face. His eyes - so pale a blue they were almost white - gazed out over the Elves arrayed on the plain. "I too will be fighting today." He lifted a hand and a small ball of fire appeared above his palm for a moment. "What of your friends back in the forest? The Humans?"

"They have instructions for what to do if something happens to me," Smythe said grimly. He whispered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer. Elaina thought she heard the name "Elsa," which only made her sadder. Before she could say anything, a slim young Elf man came out of the forest behind them leading Thunder and Willow. Her white mare was a welcome sight - she would much rather ride today than use her legs - but she found herself waving the groom away before he reached her. She would not take Willow into a massacre. Henley appeared to feel the same, shaking his head at the groom in polite refusal.

"Can you hear it?" Solovir said. "They are almost here." Elaina listened, and after a moment, the distant drums and horns drifted to her ears across the grassland.

Her feet felt like blocks of lead as she took the first step forward. She would not allow this battle to begin with her at the rear. Today was her fault, no matter what Henley said, and she would face it directly. Aros help me. Henley, Noah and Solovir followed her through the long ranks of hard-eyed Eryn'elda. Disciplined, they kept their eyes forward, their bows held slanted at the same precise angle across their chests. Elaina saw faces among them she recognised.

Tarien cantered up to them at the front line, sitting his sleek grey gelding proudly. She met his eyes and he nodded. No more words were necessary. About a hundred yards away, Andil was making his way over, crossing the forward rank of bowmen, taller than his kin by a foot or more, and larger. The hilt of a long blade jutted up over his shoulder. She hadn't noticed it before. The Lord of Ildernass stopped every few steps to speak to his soldiers, and whenever he did, Elaina thought they stood a little straighter, lifted their chins a little higher.

The drums and horns were louder now, but the Elves resumed their battle music in answer. The two rhythms vied for dominance, the Elvish one louder for now, but the approaching one was larger, more threatening. Elaina opened her vala and pushed it wide, covering as many of the Eryn'elda as she could. She was tired, but that didn't matter anymore. Henley did the same as they both turned to regard the soldiers, near to twenty-thousand Elves, all ready to die.

Thousands of heads turned to the Paladins as the vala passed over them, offering them some light on this darkest of days. Sensations bloomed in Elaina's mind and heart as so many souls were bared to her. Fear, anger, sadness, love, purpose, a hundred more emotions whirling in a vast sea. Elaina turned her back on them, unable to meet their eyes any longer. Henley placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Tarien raised a hand high and swung it forward and down, signalling a march. Elaina, Henley and Solovir walked too, keeping pace out in front of the first rank. They stopped at the crest of a low rise that gave a long view of the plain before them. The first Dwarves were just coming into sight perhaps half a mile away, headed by stout infantry. The sea of green grass darkened as the tide of drengr rolled forward steadily.

"They've brought the whole bloody army," Henley muttered in awe. From left to right, three wide columns of foot approached, with two long, snaking lines of cavalry in between. Elaina's stomach tightened. The edges of the outer columns were out of sight. She'd never seen so many soldiers in one place.

"It is customary for the generals to meet first," Andil said in his bass voice as he reached the crest. "Let us hope they have not forsaken the old ways." Indeed, as he spoke, a small party broke away from one of the cavalry columns, riding out ahead. Tarien called a halt once the line of Elves reached the crest. Elaina felt a sharp spike of fear from those at the front as their eyes fell on the mighty host across the plain. Praying for a miracle, she walked out with Andil, Henley and Noah. Tarien came too, dismounting first, though Solovir remained behind. The sun was just peeking above the eastern horizon when the two groups met, casting golden halos across the tops of the low, rolling hills.

Baelin, Finya and Fathvir, along with a small honour guard, drew rein when they were twenty paces away. Their anger was still deep and hot; it had been foolish to hope otherwise. "And so here we find you, Elaina arohim," Fathvir sneered, investing the last word with scorn. His pain was the sharpest. He had been close to Burin.

"I am where I said I would be," Elaina replied more calmly than she felt, "if you kept this course of action." She tried to align with them, but their anger and sorrow pushed back.

"You surely cannot hope to affect the outcome of this battle," Finya said, letting her stout black pony come forward a few steps. "Two arohim, even ten, could not."

"I wish we had ten," Henley murmured beside her.

"I am aware, Finya," Elaina said. "But you are wrong to do this, so here I will be, to my own death if necessary."

Finya looked as if she wanted to say more, but Baelin spoke instead. "Lord Andil of Ildernass," he began in formal tones, "you are to be taken into custody and questioned over the death of King Burin Stonedeep, Lord of the Ten Rings, Keeper of the Eastern Gates. Your refusal will be considered a hostile action."

In response, Andil bowed smoothly. "I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting, Master...?"

"Commander-General Baelin Ironborn," Baelin replied flatly. "If we are done with introductions, Andil, I suggest you come peacefully, or blood will be shed."

Elaina's shame and sadness was shoved aside by a hot flare of anger. How could they be so bloody blind! "Is this what Burin would have wanted?" she demanded, taking a few strides forward. Henley said something to her, but she didn't hear it. The honour guard - half a dozen hard-faced Dwarves in full plate armour, reached for their weapons, but Elaina stopped short before they drew. "For the Dwarves of Dun'Arghol to leave the seclusion of the mountain for the first time in memory, only to slaughter an ally on a false judgement?" Her outburst was met by silence.

"We have had this discussion, Elaina Fairborn," Baelin replied levelly. "At length."

Before Elaina could say more, Andil spoke. "I decline your suggestion, Commander-General." He suddenly seemed even larger than he was in reality. "I will not abide your accusations. It was no Elf of Ildernass who assassinated your king. Of this I am certain." The faces of the Dwarves darkened. "If war is the solution you seek, you shall have it. We are innocent of wrongdoing, and we will not run." By the end, his voice was as stark as winter's heart. "Perhaps the sons and daughters of Dun'Arghol were not ready to leave the mountain after all."

Fathvir spat loudly at that. Elaina's anger faded into worry; there was enough tension and friction here to make a feast for Maharad. A shadow fell over the plain, and for a wild moment Elaina thought it was the dark god himself, but a glance skyward showed only a lonely cloud crossing the sun.

"Prepare yourselves to be attacked!" Baelin snapped, wheeling his grey pony around.

"Finya, please!" Elaina said desperately. If she could get through to anyone, Finya surely-

"I'm sorry," Finya replied, her face set determinedly as she followed Baelin.

"Henley?" she looked at him, hoping there was some way. He shook his head.

"There is too much pain in them," he said after a moment. "Too much hate. Old hate. I could not shift it."

"Do not blame yourselves," Andil said kindly as he started back toward his people. "I think perhaps this was inevitable. Tragic, but inevitable. May you survive this day, friends arohim." Tarien followed him after shooting a regretful glance at Elaina and Henley. That left the Paladins standing between two armies, one big enough to swallow the other whole. Indeed, the two outer columns of drengr were moving away from the middle one, likely into a flanking manoeuvre. An attack would be called as soon as Baelin's party returned to the main force.

An approaching presence made them both look south, and Elaina's heart sank even further when she saw Kedron coming, running at full tilt until he slid to a halt in front of them. "Master Smythe, Master Fairborn," he said breathlessly as he sketched a bow. Unless she'd missed something, Kedron was supposed to be far away from here.

Smythe's face was a thunderhead. "What in the Seven Circles do you think you're doing here, boy?" His voice was gravel. "Don't you see a bloody pitched battle is about to begin?" Recognition dawned on his face, then. "Oh, Aros save me, Kedron! The whole bloody Chapel is here! Why?!" Elaina could sense them, too, just on the edge of her awareness. The Humans were coming out of the forest to join the Elves. There was another arohim with them, too, one new to Elaina. She didn't know how many were still coming, but she doubted it was enough to turn the tide of Dwarves. It appeared today's butcher's bill would be higher still.

"It wasn't me, Master!" Kedron spluttered, as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. "It was a woman, all wrapped in leaves and flowers! She said her name was Vani or something! She said you were in danger and you needed us!"

Smythe seized the boy's shoulders and bent close to him. "Vayani is here? I cannot sense her. Where?"

Kedron's head swung back and forth frantically. "Not here, Master. She sent us to help, but said she cannot aid us herself." Cursing under his breath, Smythe released Kedron and straightened.

"Henley," Elaina began, "what is he talking about?" The big Paladin was pinching the top of his nose between a thick thumb and forefinger, his eyes squeezed shut.

"It doesn't matter now," he replied sadly when he opened his eyes. "It is too late to save them anyway."

"Did I do wrong, Master?" Kedron asked, his dark eyes earnest.

"No, lad," Henley told him in a kinder voice. "You did what you thought was right."

"I will fight beside you," Kedron said firmly, putting a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. He handled it with familiarity, as if he'd been wearing it years instead of a few months.

Henley opened his mouth to say something but the words died on his tongue. His eyes widened and a sudden sharp gust of wind washed over them, dust and grass blowing behind it. Elaina threw her arm up to protect her eyes, and when she lowered it, Amina was standing there, beautiful and more regal than any queen could hope for, even in a simple blue linen dress with skirts divided for riding. A furious queen, by her face. Elaina's breath caught in her throat at the look in those sapphire eyes that could've drill holes in steel, clear even through the brightness of her blazing vala. Was the Priestess here to punish her? She surely deserved it. She was about to fall to her knees in shame when Amina roared.

"Hold, you shadow-blinded fools!" Her voice echoed across the plain like thunder, somehow much louder than it should have been. The sun caught her golden hair, making it glow. It took Elaina a moment to realise Amina was not addressing her. The booming words made both Baelin's lot and Andil halt, both turning back to see who had called. Further out on the plain, the Dwarvish army stopped too. They would be feeling Amina's power, which easily enveloped them all, a golden glow - at least to the eyes of an arohim - that ran as far as the eye could see and further. "Is this what has become of you?" She waited until Andil and Tarien returned to stand alongside Henley, Elaina and Kedron. Baelin's group arrived just after, putting Amina between the two parties.

"What is the meaning of-" Baelin started to say, but Amina thundered over the top of him.

"SILENCE!" Baelin flinched as if she'd struck him, and the Dwarves' ponies danced nervously. "Is this what has become of the mighty Dwarves? Wise and strong, lords over the mountains? You should be ashamed!" Elaina had never seen Amina like this. She was almost quivering. "Have you forgotten so much? Does the name Edellein Sura no longer grace your memories?"

To her shock, Baelin, Finya and Fathvir all bowed their heads reluctantly. Edellein Sura was a Paladin who had spent a good portion of her life helping the Dwarves settle into Dun'Arghol after the Purge. "Our king was killed by an Elvish knife," Baelin said quietly, forcing himself to lift his gaze to meet Amina's.

"Yes," Amina said grimly, turning to fix Andil with a stare little softer. "I sense no darkness in you, Andil. Or your people." Andil offered a smooth bow, then nodded.

"The killing was not of Eryn'elda doing, Priestess, of that I am certain."

Amina searched his face. "You were going to die here today, Andil." Her tone was almost cold, now.

"Yes," Andil replied softly, for the first time today showing any outward remorse at the expected outcome for his people.

"You as well have forgotten much," Amina told him. "I expect better from the Lord of Ildernass." Elaina blinked at the way she was speaking to him. Andil had to be a thousand years older than the Priestess, but the tall Elf said nothing. "Pride!" Amina barked, spinning to include the Dwarves. "Pride is a far greater threat than fear, or even hate. You have all become much too proud, and it has blinded you." She thrust a finger toward Baelin. "You were set to dishonour your King's memory this day. And you," she spun back to point at Andil, "were going to sacrifice yourself and your people needlessly." A somber silence settled. The Dwarves stared inwardly as if seeing things they had not before. Andil turned to look back at his soldiers for a moment before bringing his attention back to Amina.

"The death of King Burin is a tragedy," the Priestess said to the Dwarves. "But not one that can be lain at the feet of the Elves, I think." The Dwarves frowned. "Nor was it likely treachery from within your own ranks," she added. They glanced at one another then, as if perhaps they had not considered that. Suddenly Amina turned to the south and east. She stared at something off that way for a few seconds, though Elaina could not see or sense anything but grass in that direction. With shocking speed, Amina launched into a run in a flurry of dust and flying grass, making the Dwarves start and Tarien gape. Andil made no move that Elaina could tell. He just watched the direction she went curiously.

"Who is that woman?" Baelin asked after a moment. "And where did she go?" Elaina would have very much liked to know where she was going as well.

"That," Henley began, his voice tinged with notes of pride. "Is Amina Moonsong, High Priestess of Temple Sura." Baelin, Fathvir and Finya looked at one another, their expressions unreadable. Elaina sensed their surprise, though.

Before anyone could say anything else, Amina was back, one heartbeat a blur of motion, the next dead still. She'd stopped off to the right of the group a little way, to capture everyone in her vision. She had a man by the scruff of the neck, smooth-faced and bald in simple country clothes. He hung so limp in her grasp and lacked life force. Elaina assumed he was dead, until she saw his chest was rising and falling with his breath.

"Nameless," she heard Henley mutter darkly.

"This," Amina said with distaste, dropping the fellow to the ground. "Is the one who killed Burin." As he hit the ground, the Nameless came to, rising to his feet at once.

"This man?" Fathvir said doubtfully as he heeled his pony forward. "This man killed Burin Stonedeep? I think not!" The Nameless sneered up Fathvir, his eyes dark and unblinking. Like an uncoiling snake, he whipped a knife from somewhere and struck at Amina, his hand moving faster than Elaina could follow. By the time she had opened her mouth to cry out, the blade stopped an inch from Amina's chest, held there by the Priestess's hand on his wrist.

"Yes," Amina said to Fathvir without taking her gaze off the Nameless. "This man is one of the most dangerous creatures walking this world. He was hiding among your people, Henley, though I do not think he harmed anyone other than Burin." Henley bit off a curse, and Kedron shifted uncomfortably.

The Nameless spoke then, in a cold, jeering voice. "He never saw me coming," he said with a dark chuckle. "They never do." Fathvir cursed and drew his weapon. Baelin and Finya did the same.

"I did," Amina replied calmly. "I see you, Nameless."

Andil cocked his head, studying the man in Amina's grip. He said something that sounded like an Elvish prayer.

"You will die for this!" Fathvir cried, swinging down from the saddle and starting forward, mace held high.

"No!" Amina snapped, stopping the Dwarf with a glare. "This man is already dead." There was a blast of light from her vala, and the bald man dropped to the ground like a wet noodle. This time, there was no breathing to mark him alive. Amina wiped her hands on her dress as if they were dirty and stepped away from the body. "A terrible thing, what he sacrificed to become such a creature," she murmured before taking in everyone present within her sapphire gaze. "What say you?" she asked of the Dwarves, who were all looking at the corpse of the Nameless as if it might get up and attack again.

Baelin answered, though it took him some time to get the words out. "I think perhaps..." He took a deep breath. "No, not perhaps. I have been errant, Priestess." He looked to Andil and Tarien, then to Elaina and Henley before dismounting. "I offer immediate retraction of all accusations," he began humbly, "and apologise profusely, may the Stonelord crumble me into dirt if I do not."

Andil approached the much shorter man. "I too have been remiss, Baelin. I accept your retraction and apology." He glanced at Amina and sighed. "Perhaps it is time our people learn to exist together once again." Baelin nodded, though the look on his face said he did not think that would be so easy.