by Greg Curtis
There was only one problem with wearing gold armour; it was so conspicuous and so desired by others that paladins would have to fight off literal hordes of bandits every time they left their homes. But even if by some mischance a bandit managed to obtain a paladin's armour, it wouldn't have fetched anything like the money he would have hoped for. The armour had gold in it, small amounts smelted into it by the master smiths of the Order and then spelled to shine like the sun, but it was mostly quality spring steel, and for another not of the Order, it would not shine so bright.
“Pretty.”
Yet even as she offered her flippant remark, Yorik knew she was assessing him and finding him as nothing she had imagined. He even knew why. From a soldier's perspective the armour was well crafted, obviously very protective, and completely useless to an elf ranger. It would protect well against weapons and magic both, but it was worse than useless at concealment. Anyone wearing it would be visible from at least a league away, and the gold inlay made it a tempting target for thieves. But then a paladin was not expected to hide when on official business, and thieves could be dealt with. They wore the wild heart rags only when they wanted to travel without drawing attention to themselves. But it was more than that which affected her.
The armour was spelled so that anyone seeing it, would not only know that the wearer was a paladin of the Order of the Lady, but also instinctively understand what that meant. The values that the wearer must hold true to. Life, love, justice, piety, righteousness, charity and temperance. None seeing it would ever be foolish enough to try and persuade the wearer to do ill. They knew he would not. Nor would they be able to attack one without knowing they were in the wrong.
It was said that many an evil doer had learned the wrongness of his life simply by seeing a paladin of the Order in the flesh. Sadly that hadn't been Yorik's experience. Brigands and bandits might know that they were doing evil, but for the most part they seemed to have accepted that about themselves. If anything they seemed to take the armour as a personal affront. An accusation perhaps, and they attacked with increased vigour. No doubt the result of a guilty conscience. Yet perhaps as they fell to the paladin's might and the Lady's grace, they at least understood that they had only themselves to blame for their mess, and learned a measure of regret.
“And where does your quest take you Yorik, son of Heric?”
“In truth I do not know Captain. Though it must seem strange I only know that I must head south and west until I find the one I am to deliver a message to.”
The captain's face was carefully neutral, giving nothing away. But Yorik was certain that behind that blank stare her thoughts were racing in all sorts of strange directions as the obvious questions arose.
“Message?”
“Again I cannot tell you good Captain. I do not know what the message is that I must deliver.”
Once more he got to stare at the captain's blank expression and wonder what was happening behind those eyes. This time it was more than a few heartbeats before she said anything.
“So you're telling me you've been given a mission to deliver a message to someone. But you don't know who that man is, where to find him, or even what the message is. And which part of that was it that you thought I might find strange?”
As he'd expected his explanation hadn't gone done too well with the captain, but then he wasn't surprised. When he said it even to himself it sounded ridiculous. But it was true.
“The Lady guides my feet, she is my compass. She will guide my hands, eyes and tongue when the time comes. More than that I do not know and I do not need to know.”
Once that wouldn't have been true, as pride would have made him ask or at least wonder; but no longer. Much of his false pride had vanished as he'd finally accepted the worst of his wrongdoing, and a sense of humility filled him. Only the Lady had saved him from himself, and who was he to question her?
“But I need to know!”
Yet even as she said it he could see her eyes squinting, turning away from his armour, and he knew Captain Ysabel wasn't being truthful. Genuinely angry and frustrated yes, but not completely truthful. She wanted to know, the curiosity was biting at her, but she didn't have the need. He suddenly understood why without knowing how. Perhaps the Lady had whispered that knowledge in his ear.
“Your elders have asked you to grant me free passage, haven't they?”
It would have been a matter of honour for them. Indeed Annalisse might also have had a finger in the pie. That inquisitive old woman was surely an elder as he'd suspected, and there was magic about her as well. Things that gave her status among the elves. She was also a meddler, though not in a bad way, and someone whom he suspected always knew a lot more than she ever let on.
Though he had spoken perhaps a dozen words with her in the three days he had escorted her and her kin to Hammeral, there had always been something calculating in her eyes. Something that said she saw beyond his wild heart rags. He had avoided her more than any of the others, finding her intensity troubling, and always knowing that she knew more of him than she said.
By way of answer the Captain just nodded, looking somewhat down in the mouth, and confirming everything he had imagined.
“Thank you. And please thank your elders for me, for their kindness. I have told you all I can of where I go and why, and you are free to tell them the same. But please do not assume that I am hiding anything from you. I am not.”
“I know that my journey – my means of finding my way – must sound like the ravings of a crazed man to you. I really do. But in this I am not the one setting my path. I am only the humble servant. I follow where I am led; I do as I am bid.”
In that statement he was finally being more honest than he ever had been before, and surprisingly, more true to his once innocent nature.
In the twenty some days since leaving Crossroads Shire a peace had descended on him that had transcended anything he had ever known. He didn't quite know how or why it had happened, he suspected it was simply the blessing of the Lady after she had vanquished the demon, but he was infinitely grateful for it.
It had not been an easy journey for him. In fact it had been a time of great difficulty as he finally found the ability to grieve properly for his family once the anger was gone. But that was good honest grief, and he let it flow through him, washing away the poison that had taken hold in his heart and soul. Too many days and weeks he had let the evil consume him, and against that even the grief was welcome. But even the grief was finally passing, as he found within him a new strength. The strength to remember the goodness of his life before. To relive happier times. And even to accept the goodness all around him in the midst of that grief.
Through that he had found the will to renew his vows to the Lady. To life and love in all their glory. It had been twenty years since he had first taken his vows. Twenty long years over which he realised, he had become jaded. He had accepted much of the glory of the world as normal. But it wasn't normal. It was wondrous.
As he'd travelled he'd once again discovered the endless wonder of the world. He’d celebrated the magnificence of the trees that had surrounded him as he'd entered the lands of Hammeral, had sung loud and well with the glory of the sunrise, and had laughed with the babbling brooks that seemed to dominate the region. At every moment, every twist in the trail, he kept finding more and more things to celebrate. And with every painful memory he remembered the love that had been his family.
Life and love. Those were the fundamentals of the Lady's teachings, and for the longest time he realised, he'd almost forgotten them. Even before the tragedy that had befallen his family. But now, it was like a reawakening, as he remembered the lessons he'd learned as a youngster, even before he'd joined the Order as a novitiate.
Somewhere over those long years as first an apprentice, then a knight and finally in time a paladin of the Order, he realised he'd lost something. He'd lost his path and his purity even as he'd mastered all the skills of the blades and war, and then gon
e on to excel in tactics and strategy, to memorize by heart all the laws of the lands, to learn the customs and languages of all the peoples, and to know their history. Such was his skill and dedication over the years that many had hoped that one day he might become the new master at arms or even commander of the chapter. Now that hope was long gone, and yet even as he said goodbye to his dreams, he knew he'd learned far more in the weeks since his failure, than he had in all his years in the Order.
In the last twenty days he'd travelled far more than just the many leagues south and west he'd ridden. It had been a journey of the soul as much as distance. And while it was still painful, he would rather not have had to stop. And now thanks to the elders he knew he didn't have to.
“Please tell your elders also, that I shall ask for the blessings of the Lady to be theirs.” He meant it. He didn't fully know why they'd granted him free passage through their lands, though honour and their implied debt was surely a large part of it, but he was grateful.
“I will pass your words on Yorik son of Heric, though I would prefer you did so yourself. Then at least I wouldn't sound like a complete fool. But I will ask one thing more of you first. Actually two things more.”
“Though you are correct in that the elders have granted you permission to travel through our lands, they also are not without concerns in the matter. Unfamiliar humans do not generally wander freely through our forests, and wild hearts not at all if we can help it.”
“Now that you have shown that you are not a wild heart, something I confess that grants my soldiers and I more than a small relief, I can feel more comfortable with your presence in our lands. But these are also dangerous times. The elders have said that a war is coming to our people. The foretellers have foretold it, the elders proclaimed it, and the elves must now prepare for it. In such times, even a human cleric would be a cause for concern as we must look to our borders, and ask elves from other regions to join us in the strife ahead.”
It was Yorik's turn to be surprised as she told him that war was coming. And yet even as he wanted to ask, he knew she was right. There was danger on the horizon. The Lady knew it, and through her will he knew it too. In fact his mission had something to do with it. But acting on her instincts he carefully said nothing of that understanding to her. It would only have made things more difficult between them.
“The first thing that I would ask is that you do not wear those wild heart rags in our forests at all. We are an honest people with very few thieves among us, and there will be many new elves present soon who will know nothing of you other than what they see. It would be unfortunate if it should come to a fight.”
“I would be pleased to.” Her words were only sensible, and Yorik quickly nodded his agreement. In truth he didn't want to wear them anyway. He wanted to show the world who he was and not the façade he had worn any longer.
“The second is that even though you mean no harm, the elders would still like to know what you do and where you go, even if you do not. It will give them comfort as they deliberate on other more weighty matters. Would you accept the company of an elven guide through our forests while you are among us? One who can report back to the elders, and perhaps provide assistance for you on your own quest?”
Yorik immediately wanted to say no. While he was not opposed to having an escort, and a guide through their lands would be useful, he had been enjoying his time alone in the great forests of Hammeral. Company would be an intrusion into that, even if the man didn't ask all sorts of penetrating questions. But the Lady had other ideas. He went to shake his head, and immediately nodded instead.
“I would be honoured to have such company.”
The words coming out of his mouth actually sounded relatively normal, despite the fact that he hadn't intended them. In fact he hadn't said them. Not intentionally anyway, but for some reason he wasn't particularly worried by his sudden loss of control to another. Clearly the will of the Lady was still working through him. Why she wanted him to have a guide he didn't know, but then it was not for him to know such things anyway. It was only his role to serve.
“And we would be honoured to offer such assistance. May I present the Acolyte of the Mother, Genivere Lin of Hammeral. She is knowledgeable in all the forests of Hammeral, experienced in wood craft and medicine, and well versed in all local lore and magic.”
The captain gestured to her side and Yorik turned to see an elven maiden dressed in the robes of a priestess, riding on a dappled horse loaded down with supplies. Apparently she was well prepared for a long trek.
Genivere Lin was a very beautiful woman, even among the elves, with her long silver blonde hair falling free to her waist. The captain and her soldiers all wore their hair braided to keep it out of the way in times of combat, but Genivere's was completely unrestrained. Then again, as a member of the priesthood she no doubt had little need to worry about combat, least of all in her own forests. But just in case she had a long quarterstaff standing up in the holster on the side of her saddle, while a long bow was slung over her shoulders. He had no doubt that she would be capable with both.
She also had magic at her disposal; strong magic. He could feel it as a gentle tingle all over his skin, making the hairs on the back of his arms stand up, as they did just after a lightning strike.
The thing that most captured his attention though, was not her beauty, her magic or her military prowess or lack of it. It was her purity. He could see it in her eyes. They shone with the light of innocence, and he knew that she could never deceive or cause harm to another. Such things simply weren't in her. This was a woman that he knew he could trust absolutely to do the right thing, and that was something that appealed to him greatly. Both as a man, and as a paladin of the Order of the Lady.
As he continued to stare at her – pretending to study her while actually simply reacting to her purity – he noticed one thing more that shocked him. It was her eyes. They were emerald green with light brown flecks, the same as those of the dryads, and he realised she was not pure elf. Somewhere in her ancestry there was some dryad blood. That surprised him on so many levels.
It wasn't just that the elves were a notoriously clannish people, choosing almost never to accept mates outside their own race, though that was part of it. Go to any human city, dwarven or even gnomish land, and you would find half breeds of all descriptions in every street. But in elven lands, apart from a few famous exceptions, never. But then there was also the fact that the dryads themselves were an almost invisible people. They chose to stick close to their great copses and let the rest of the world go by. They were almost never seen, and many learned scholars had suggested that they were very few in number. So few, that they were almost never seen at all outside of their copses, which had made the Lady such a rarity as she had actually left the forests to travel. Of course some said that the Lady had never been a dryad at all. That she had been an elemental simply walking in the mortal form of a dryad prophetess. Yorik didn't tell them they were right even though he knew the truth. He'd never felt that others had the need to know. They should know her teachings, not her nature.
On some level it made sense that an elf should be part dryad. The elves and the dryads were both forest dwellers, the elves building their great cities within the heart of forests, the dryads forgoing building altogether and living in the trees themselves. Instead of constructing their homes, they grew them. They also limited their numbers, choosing to live in copses of only a few hundred, never cities. But that was all that really separated them.
They were both very refined and peaceful peoples. Both were lovers of dance and song if the tales of the dryads were anything to go by. And they both had strong ties to the same goddess; – the Mother, as they called her. They were also both strongly magical. Elves and dryads had more in common with each other than probably with any other race. If any race was to mix with the elves, it would surely be them.
“There is something that interests you good sir?”
Yorik suddenly real
ised that he had been staring for an inordinate amount of time, and he quickly pulled his eyes away from hers, lest she take offence.
“My apologies Genivere Lin, I meant no offence. I simply noticed the colour of your eyes, and the small jagged edges on your ears.”
Staring at her once more he'd just noted them as well. Dryads had jagged ears, almost as though someone had cut large wedges out of them at the back, but hers were very small, which was why he hadn't noticed them at first, and like any elf's they also rose to delicate points.
“You are observant.”
She seemed surprised, and he almost dared hope, impressed rather than upset.
“The Prophetess said you would be. Most outsiders would not see beyond the points on my ears and the silver blond hair. But I am one quarter dryad as you've no doubt realised. My maternal grandmother came from the copse of Rivenwood for love, and from her I have inherited a little of her magic. Though I live as an elf, through her blood I can meet freely with others of my kin, allowing me passage through places others cannot go.”
