The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  “And just before the blade falls,” Marcus said with a resignation in his tone, “I look over, and you’re there, in a pillar of light, holding something just out of my view.” Marcus wasn’t looking at Uther anymore. Instead, he’d found himself sitting on the step in front of the podium. He was looking at his hands.

  “You have seen my revelation?” Uther asked, his voice almost quaking. Marcus looked up, not sure he’d heard correctly. Uther’s face was a mix of shock and delight.

  “Your revelation?” Marcus asked haltingly. Uther nodded. He looked to be on the verge of giddiness. His eyes could hardly contain his excitement.

  “Almost all of my life, I have seen that image of myself in dream. I have sought the answer to this riddle for nearly twelve years. In all that time, not even the interpreters among my people could explain it. But you have the answer.” Marcus put up a hand, trying to stop Uther from going too far with that line of thinking.

  “I have the dream. I’m not a dream interpreter either.” Uther smiled a little, not seeming to notice Marcus’s protestations.

  “Do you not see? My revelation is the image alone. There are no pieces. You’re dream has parts that are further clues to my own. If we can divine your dream, we can answer mine as well. We have to answer the question together. Your dream and mine are connected. When we solve yours, my purpose in life will be clear. I’ll know what to do.” Marcus looked back at his hands and said a small prayer. He’d had his revelations save his life before. He’d even been able to save others with them. But sharing them with another person was new territory.

  “Listen, if my pattern holds, then we’re not going to know what to do until it’s time to do it. And since the dream is already in motion, we may not have much time anyway.” Uther felt his ecstasy start to fade. Marcus watched him settle back into his chair and begin to ponder what that really meant. After a moment, Uther’s face read of deep concern.

  “But if that is true, then I will not have the time to prepare to do my work. I cannot do what I know I must if I do not have time to prepare.” Marcus could only watch him as he began to realize the awful truth. “My revelation is different than those of my people. The future of my race depends entirely on what I do with this vision.” Marcus got a questioning look. He wasn’t sure what Uther was getting at.

  “Your entire race? I don’t understand.” Uther nodded.

  “I am what you would call an Oracle for my people. But more than that, I was born as the last of my kind, and the bearer of the Unknown Dream. There will be no more Un’Hok Tol after me. How I divine and react to this revelation will determine the future of the Un’Hok Tol. Whether we attain our ascension, or wither in the desert, fallen and failed.” Marcus had never heard of anything like that before. The entire future of his people weighed on this one decision.

  “No pressure, huh?” Uther didn’t smile at the levity.

  “Your dream speaks of death. I have to know what to do to counter this. If I make the wrong choice, I will betray my people and my gifts. I will be a pariah.” Marcus could see the struggle in Uther’s eyes and stood. He knelt himself next to the chair Uther sat in and met his gaze.

  “Uther, my mentor told me something that I think you need to hear.” Marcus looked down and tried his best to recall Jacob’s words. “Being a paladin, being an Un’Hok Tol, even just being a good person is a test. Paladins go through a rigorous testing at the end of their training. It’s called the rest of their life. You don’t know what life holds in store. But every choice qualifies or disqualifies you for the work you do. If you live close to what you believe, you will always be prepared to do what you have to.” Uther didn’t seem as though he quite understood.

  “But what if my choice kills me? What if I am too afraid to do what I have to and I die? What if I make that mistake? I cannot undo being dead.” Marcus frowned a little.

  “I’m not the one to answer that question. Fear is a demon we all have to face sooner or later. And risk is our business. Dying might happen. And to be truthful, you may have to die to accomplish your goals. But that’s something, if we’re ready, we won’t fear.” Uther still looked troubled. Marcus wasn’t sure he was getting across.

  “So how do you keep from despairing? This revelation of yours ends in your death. How can you be so calm?” Marcus gave him a wry smile.

  “Who says I’m calm?” Uther raised his eyebrows. “Revelations like this aren’t necessarily guarantees. Not all images are literal. Revelations need interpretation. At least some of this is a warning. That much I’m sure of. It might be warning me that I have to do something or everyone will die. It might be warning me to not do something. It might be telling me to stop someone, or to push someone into doing something. I’m not really sure.” Uther looked down again. This wasn’t very encouraging. “Look, I just do what I know to be true. I live my principles and I do what I know is right. I qualify myself. And I hope every day that what I do will pay off in the end. Even if it’s not for me. Right and wrong choices are simple if you just do what is right.” Marcus stood and headed back to his notes. Uther closed his eyes and began to ponder for a moment.

  “But which is right? Living for a cause, or dying for one?” Marcus stopped, thinking about it. It wasn’t a question someone normally asked him. He took a few seconds, trying to reason out an answer.

  “Really depends on the situation. You should always live for your faith. But every once and awhile, we are asked to make that choice. The answer isn’t as simple as you seem to want it Uther. Judge the situation, and choose the best path.” Uther shook his head.

  “What if the two paths are wrong?” Marcus smirked.

  “Then take the third one.” Uther wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet. “Sometimes you have to make your own right path.” Marcus returned to the podium and finished organizing his notes.

  “No matter what Uther, I think you’ll make the right choice in the end.” Uther opened his eyes.

  “Why do you say that?” Marcus smiled.

  “It’s not in your nature to do wrong. You have bravery in you that you just haven’t tapped yet. Sooner or later, you’ll find it. And when you do, this won’t be so troubling. You’ll figure it out. Then, you'll know what to do.” The door to the class opened and the rest of the class walked in. Marcus smiled a little brighter, feeling better than he had when he’d arrived. He wasn’t ready to admit it, but telling Uther had made him feel a little lighter. Uther’s newfound hope had raised some in himself. If only his other concerns could be dispelled so easily.

  Chapter 12

  The Deepening Fog

  Drew Anger drove into Littlefield in his sleek new sports car and shook his head. He really hadn’t ever intended to come back here. He had absolutely meant for Jennifer to forget all about her paladin fiancé and marry him instead. But she had never let him go. She had never shaken his memory from her mind. He had always been there, even in her music.

  Her music, he thought. It hadn’t had the pop or the style that he had been used to hearing. Jennifer’s songs had been snappy and gleeful, but that certain zing was just gone for some reason. The songs had bounced between being exceptionally melancholy to unbelievably angry and back again. But that apparently was the appeal. Not that here Jennifer’s bouncier tunes weren’t being lauded. They were. But Jennifer seemed to want to write dark themes into her music. And by the sales numbers, people wanted to hear the music of the disenfranchised these days. No one really knew why.

  Drew made sure his path didn’t take him through the main section of Littlefield. He felt he needed to be away from the paladins as much as possible. They seemed to be everywhere these days, so staying away from the bulk of Littlefield proper seemed to be the best choice.

  He hated this place.

  It was so stuffy and restricting. Not a one of them ever had any fun or tried to let loose a little. In his assessment, they didn’t know how to relax. You couldn’t live your life and you couldn’t party. You couldn’t do
anything you wanted. And they all had to believe it. There was no wiggle room here. The place was a hole.

  Sticking to the Littlefield Beltway, Drew took the long way around the city and got off in the suburbs near the campus, looking for Jennifer’s old house. Her father was away on business for a few days, and she had decided to use the old house as a base of operations for what she had called, ‘her private little war against the Princess of Norik.’

  Drew had gotten the call the night before, just before the story about Jen, Rebekah Norik and the Paladin had broken. Apparently, she’d had a change of heart about having him there. He’d boarded the fastest ride he could find; a cargo cruiser whose shipment was headed for Meridian City. He'd decided to drive the rest of the way.

  Normally, Drew would be all for a full-on media blitz, but he’d seen the papers. He knew what the stakes were. The paparazzi had taken it for what it had seemed to be. A love triangle between two of the most widely covered women in popular culture, and a paladin of great note. But the prize wasn’t just to prove who the better pop star was. It was simply to gain one thing.

  The affections of that Paladin.

  It was enough to turn Drew’s stomach. He couldn’t stand the man. And to see these two women, who were in his estimation, way out of Marcus’s league, throwing themselves at him in a display of press and flash photography was an unbelievable waste of time and effort. Not to mention just plain stupid.

  And in all of that press, not one reporter ever mentioned me, he thought. It was a selfish thought driven by ego and rage rather than by actual concern. The last few months, Drew had sated himself with the perceptions of others. The idea that he and Jennifer were an item was a huge ego stroke. It had propelled him into the public eye, and he reveled in it, despite claims to the contrary. Drew was only concerned about his own career. He didn’t care about anyone else. But he’d never admit it.

  After a little more driving, he pulled into the driveway of the old home he’d visited for so many weeks when he was younger. He had arrived one fateful night, intent on taking Jennifer out. He hadn’t considered asking really. Jennifer was the new hottie in town, and Drew thought he was making headway. But pulling into the driveway showed him what he couldn’t believe. Marcus at Jennifer’s door, asking her out. In the end, she’d chosen Marcus, and Drew had been dismissed.

  He hated this place.

  The neighborhood wasn’t the quiet little suburb that he remembered. In fact, he had to slam on the brakes to keep from hitting a group of photographers conferencing in the driveway. Drew laid on the horn for a moment, but the photographers just glared at him.

  “Get outta the way ya bunch a jerks!” he barked out his window, his city-borne accent breaking through. The group looked up and saw who it was. They didn’t move, other than to fumble for their cameras. Drew threw the machine into park and got out of the car, slamming the door closed harder than he really needed to.

  “Mister Anger. What’s your take on Jennifer and the paladin? Are you jealous?” Flashbulbs started bursting all around him. He shielded his eyes from the light and muscled ahead.

  “What do you plan to do?” Another asked.

  “I plan to get you outta my face, ya bunch a leeches!” Drew wasn’t in a good mood, and it showed. He surged through the crowd, which seemed to be filing endlessly out of the bushes and shadows. These guys had camped in and were ready for action.

  Clearing the crowd’s outer edge, Drew looked up and saw why there was an edge at all. A single blonde paladin standing at the door, keeping the paparazzi out. The press seemed to stop some ten feet from the front door. This guard was clearly keeping them at bay with his presence alone. Drew frowned, but counted his blessings. At least it wasn’t Marcus. He straightened his suit and started up to the door.

  “What’re you doing here?” He barked in the most authoritative voice he could muster. The Paladin smirked a little and looked right at him. The eyes were what caught him. There were no pupils. Just the whites showing back at people. This was one paladin that didn’t have to worry about intimidating anyone. It was no wonder why the press was hanging back.

  “I’ve been assigned to be your guardian for the day by Sir Lefein. I’ll be keeping the press outside,” he said, giving his blonde hair a push. Drew did his best not to show his shock at seeing the young paladin’s eyes. “Ian Sodaro,” he said, extending a hand to him. He sized up Drew immediately, and saw exactly what Marcus saw. A jealous and egocentric fool who had a knack with shady deals. He’d met a few characters like Drew in his days in Meridian’s slums. And not even the slimiest street urchins respected men like Drew Anger.

  “Well why don’t you do me a favor and get the hell outta my way, before I do terrible things to your reputation.” Ian fought to keep from laughing in Drew’s face. That wasn’t the kind of thing that scared him particularly.

  “My reputation? Really? I’m sorry Mister Anger. But there really is nothing you can say that would concern me all that much.” Ian pulled out one of his fist daggers and spun it in front of Drew’s face. “And I really don’t think you want to try.” Drew fell back a step at the threat, seeing his reflection in the blade’s wake.

  Ian smirked a little. The Council had assigned him to temporary guard duty for Jennifer Burton at the behest of the Peace Games’ sponsor. Ian wasn’t keen on doing it, but orders were orders. And Marcus had given him reign to spook Drew when he arrived, if he wanted. In fact, he’d almost made it a standing order. He was glad to do it, since he really didn’t like this guy any more than Marcus did. Besides, any chance to use the eyes Mordred had left him with for more than scaring off potential dates was worth it.

  “Down boy,” said the soft voice of Jennifer Burton from behind. Ian holstered his dagger in a flourish of spins and leaned on the door frame casually. Drew composed himself quickly and met Jennifer on the step.

  “What the hell Jen?” Jennifer shrugged a little.

  “I asked for a little peace and quiet. The Paladin Council assigned us a security contingent. Ian’s just doing me a favor. There’s another kid in the backyard name Jack. Seems to think he’s god’s gift to women.” Ian chortled.

  “Jack was hitting on you?” Jennifer nodded.

  “He was trying,” she returned. “He’s not bad at it, actually. But he’s a little young for me.” Ian nodded slightly.

  “I’ll tell him you said so. He’ll love that.”

  “Actually, I didn’t ask. Sir Leaf-something insisted that I be protected. I think he’s a fan. So Ian and Jack are here.” Drew looked at Ian again, who gave him a small two-fingered salute. He scowled.

  “One of the pretty boy’s friends?” Drew asked simply, loud enough for Ian to hear. The accusation didn’t offend Ian. He smirked a little at it.

  “His pupil actually. And the pretty-boy has a name Drew,” was all that Jennifer would say, grabbing Drew by the arm. “We’ve got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. Come on. How long before Sylph gets here?” She started dragging Drew into the house, only to be stopped by Ian. Drew looked down at the powerful, gloved hand on his arm and scowled deeper.

  “Look. I’m cutting you some slack because I’m on duty protecting the girl and her troop,” Ian said slowly. “But I know guys like you. And if I see something I’m not keen on-”

  “You’re gonna kill me. Is that it?” Drew said, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to look impressive. Ian chuckled a little, and then met his eyes. Drew felt the blood drain out of his face.

  “No. Nothing that fancy. Killing you would not be nearly as cruel as I can be. But I may step out there and tell the press about that toupee of yours.” Drew swallowed hard, and stepped inside, self-consciously tweaking his hair. Jennifer slapped Ian on the arm as he smiled.

  “Leave him alone Ian,” she said in a whisper. Ian started to laugh.

  “I’m just messing with him,” he offered. “This assignment is boring you know.” Jennifer shook her head.

  “Yeah. Tha
t’s how Jack’s opening line started.” Ian laughed a little. “Drew’s my manager Ian. I can’t win Marcus back if he’s whimpering in a corner.” Jennifer walked into the house and shut the door. Ian shook his head.

  “You’re not supposed to win,” he said to himself.

  “Well, what’s the problem then?” Sage asked from beneath the bulkhead he was working on. He pushed a lock of sweaty blonde hair out of his face and tried not to sound too frustrated. The Triumphant was airworthy and running in fine shape, except for the seven thousand two hundred and forty-one individual bugs that had to be worked out of her system still. Sage didn’t mind the number so much as he minded the nature of the problems.

  “Looks like it’s a bandwidth problem,” stated Tracy Lesnin. She was a deck officer with nothing to do. Tracy had asked Sage if she could assist, hoping she could get reassigned to engineering. Sage hadn’t had any complaints.

  He couldn’t see her, but could imagine her glancing around at the repair log, scratching her redheaded scalp absently. Tracy was a strange mix of beautiful and odd, bordering on geeky at the same time as holding a powerful attractiveness. Sage had insisted on climbing into the bulkhead himself, just so he wouldn’t stare at her.

  “I told them not to use the cheap conduit.” Sage’s voice rung of disdain, echoing within the wall. Tracy could tell. Sage’s accent always sounded sharper when he was upset. “Do they listen to the designer? No. Why would they?”

  “What can you do, eh?” There was a resounding clang inside the bulkhead, and Sage let out a string of Spanish words that were not familiar to the young officer.

  “What I can do is list a formal complaint about all the substandard parts they used to make my ship!” Sage began shimmying out from under the compartment. Tracy stepped her slight frame aside and made sure to be well away from Sage when he emerged.

  “That’s bureaucracy for you,” was all Tracy could offer. Sage snorted at that and sat up. He tossed the fried cable aside and looked up at his repair assistant. Sure enough, Tracy was scratching her head.