The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  "I'm bypassing your permission!" Ian spat, marching forward through the tent flaps.

  "Ian!" a voice rang out. Ian knew who it was. He didn't turn. "Ian STOP!" The folds of the tent pushed aside easily, revealing what looked like a common room. The tent was massive, broken up into different rooms and living quarters. Women milled about inside, tending to their live-in kitchens, watching over their children or their husbands or both. Ian didn't stop to take in the ambiance. Instead, he spotted the only tent not being overrun with any kind of family activity.

  "You need to cool off!" Donavan said, stepping in front of Ian before he could get very far into the tent.

  "Why? I think I have a right to be mad! Don't you?" Donavan stayed in Ian's path, waiting for the tent flaps to open again.

  "Sure. Unless you're going to do something stupid." Ian groaned inwardly as the voice of his mentor called to him. He turned to see Marcus there, with Sage in tow. Sage had a stun rifle of his own make at the ready, prepared to drop Ian if the need arose.

  "Unless you're here to help, stay outta my way!" Ian went to move, but felt Marcus's hand clamp onto his shoulder. He winced a little, turning back around.

  "This is my business Marcus!" Marcus folded his arms and nodded.

  "And you're my business, Ian. Or have you forgotten?" Ian glanced back at the tent he was headed for, seeing the flaps moving. A very ornately dressed old man ambled out, carrying a staff and a pouch of something that Ian couldn't even guess at. Ian pushed past Donavan and met the man in the middle of the room.

  "Is that Aiko Maeda's tent?" Ian asked impatiently. The old man nodded without a word. Ian went to move past the elder, but found the withered looking staff across his path. He made a look of disbelief.

  "What business do you have here?" Marcus and the others were walking over at this point, watching Ian closely. The old man looked up, his weathered face not betraying any kind of emotion. Ian puffed up his chest.

  "What're you, her grandfather? Get outta my way Old Man!" Ian went to push the staff out of his way, only to find the rod immovable. He gave the rod a firm shove, and found it repelling him backwards. Ian's feet slipped from beneath him, and he landed on his haunches. The elder tilted his head slightly, almost in amusement.

  "I am a Nakara. What you would call a physician. Miss Maeda is not taking visitors." Ian stood, trying to move that staff again, but found that the old man would not budge. "Your anger is your enemy young man. One that is easily turned back at you. You have much in common with young Aiko. However, I will not allow you to pass without an explanation of your presence." Ian was debating another lunge, when Marcus spoke up.

  "How long has Aiko been under your care?" he asked, placing another stilling hand on Ian. The boy seemed to calm a little, suddenly curious about what Marcus was driving towards.

  "I am not her family Nakara. I was assigned to her for the duration of our stay here. Her condition is to be closely monitored. Unfortunately, she stayed away from the Conservatory too long this time." The old man's voice was gruff but even. "I believe that was your fault young man. You are Aionios the Undying, are you not?" Ian looked at the tent door again, wondering now what the Nakara could be talking about.

  "How long has she been in there?" Sage asked next. The Nakara moved his staff finally, and Ian remained where he was. After a thoughtful chin stroke, the man answered.

  "A few days now. She's in a bad way. Has been ever since she came back to us. She said she was practicing swordplay with you, Sir Kasidyne, before a trip to Ellen's Landing. When she returned, the toxicity level within her circulatory system was nearly catastrophic." The old man gathered his things together again. "I certainly hope she has the strength to endure this like her father did. It would be a terrible loss." Ian's face went pale. The old man kept walking, not acknowledging Ian's stricken state. Marcus lowered his head slightly, closing his eyes and offering a solemn prayer. Ian looked back at the tent again. He wasn't sure what to do.

  “May I see her?” Ian asked contritely. The Nakara stopped and gave Ian a glance.

  “I would not presume to deny you visitation,” he said quietly. “It is clear your intentions are pure. But be brief. I do not exaggerate when I tell you she is not well.” The Nakara continued on his way, leaving them to ponder silently.

  "What's going on?" Donavan asked finally. Marcus and Sage brought them both up to speed with what they knew. The Engine Room, the Falseblade and the death of Tracy Lesnin. When they were done explaining, Ian stood staring at the tent.

  "It wasn't her," he mumbled. Marcus nodded.

  "I thought you'd be happy to know that. I'm sorry this is her alibi." Ian shook his head. He started for the tent. He had to see her. He had to know.

  "Ian," Marcus started. Ian stopped short. "Maybe you shouldn't go in there just yet." Ian shook his head.

  "I have to Marcus. You said your faith has to be action, right?" Marcus was silent. "I have to act on what I believe. I need to know." The tent flaps parted soundlessly, and Ian stepped inside, his footsteps tentative.

  The inside of the tent was dark, muted of color. A large translucent cloth hung over the bed, covering it from view on all sides. The only light in the room came from within the canopy. Ian stepped slowly around it, finding a small stool on the left. He sat himself down and listened for a moment. She was there. He could hear her breathing. Her silhouette made very little movement on the cloth barrier. Ian just sat for a quiet moment, trying to think of what to say. He couldn't get his mouth to move.

  "Is there something else Nakara?" Aiko's voice said from behind the cloth. Ian stiffened a little.

  "It's me," he said finally. Aiko didn't react surprised at the sound of his voice. He heard her move a little, exhaling.

  "You should not be here," she said softly. Ian nodded.

  "Where else would I be?" he asked. The room was still for a very long moment. Ian fidgeted a little as he sat there. He didn't know what to do. "Is this the demon you told me about?" Aiko didn't make a sound. She didn't move at all. "It's okay if it is." Still Aiko made no sound. Ian didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing. The room grew still again, and Ian sat back slowly, blowing out some air.

  "Is it bad?" he asked finally. Aiko didn't make a sound. "I'll take that as a yes." Aiko shifted in her sheets. Ian could almost hear a grunt of discomfort. He leaned forward again, resting himself on his knees. "It's funny. I actually came here to punch you out at first." Aiko didn't say anything. If she thought that was humorous, she didn't let on. "It'd be easier to talk to you if you were a Dread like I thought. I had a whole thing ready. A lot of statements punctuated by overhand rights." Aiko sniffed a little. "Course, it'd be easier if I could see you." Ian took in a long breath, and held it for a moment. Aiko still said nothing. The room was quiet for a long moment.

  "I'm not actually sure what to do now. I had a bunch of things I wanted to say to you when I thought you were a Dread. I mean, somebody stole your face and tried to kill us all. I was so mad that you were a Dread. I wanted to hurt you bad. But that's impossible, isn't it? I mean, how could you be? You've been here since that sword dual with Marcus. Here. All alone, without a soul to talk to. Just sitting here, not caring that I might have wanted to know that the woman I've fallen in love with might be dying and I might want to be with her when it happens. No, instead, you just sit there. Instead of letting me in on the demon and maybe letting me help, you just lay there and wait to die. Well, I think that's pretty selfish. I think maybe you could've spared a few minutes, because things like this just don't sit well with me. I've been a lot of things in my life. A child, a punk, a thug, an officer, a paladin. Well, almost. But I don't think I've ever been in love before. And if this's what it means, well then I'm just going to sit here with you until you decide to talk to me or until one of us dies." Ian folded his arms and frowned. It occurred to him that he was talking too fast. He hadn't talked that much in one stretch in a long time. He sat in silence and he waited for a long while. Aik
o's breathing was even and slow.

  "It is terminal Ian," Aiko said finally. Ian looked at the cloth and frowned. "I do not know exactly how long I have. When I do not get my treatments, I become weak like this. And I shorten my life expectancy. But I wanted to be near you. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you." Ian watched the cloth closely, imagining her behind it. "It is a genetic blood disorder. My blood has unusual factors. I cannot get a transfusion, because my blood is neither positive, nor negative. I have AB intolerant blood. The red blood cells are mutated, and a transfusion will kill me, because my body will not accept anything it does not itself produce. Each new generation of platelets is further mutated and toxic. I am dying by degrees Ian. And soon, my body will not be able to produce enough healthy platelets for me to survive." Aiko paused, knowing she was moving into fatalist talk. "The Nakara has told me that I have a few more months to live. No amount of treatments will change that. They sustain me, but they also weaken me. They are a type of steroid. They cause my system to over-produce red blood cells. But the price is a weakened immune response and dependency. In time, I will need them constantly. I have taken them since I was a child. But I have become dependent on them. They only postpone the inevitable now." It was Ian's turn to be still now. He sat in quiet thought, trying to process what he’d just heard.

  "I did not tell you, because I did not want to burden you with my troubles. I have never told anyone about my disorder. I did not expect to fall in love with you so rapidly. I did not expect to fall in love at all. I was not certain it would ever come to this. My father was afflicted with this, but he became a samurai in spite of his illness. He overcame it. He trained until his demon passed. His blood factors normalized. I had hoped to do the same. I trained long and hard. I turned down a proposal of marriage twice and an arranged wedding once because of this. I was intent on defeating this first." Aiko's voice became small. "But I have failed." Ian could hear Aiko beginning to whimper. He moved quickly, reaching his hand inside the folds of the cloth barrier to take hers. Aiko hesitated at first, but swallowed her pride and took it willingly.

  "You haven't failed Aiko. Failure would be not trying." Ian watched Aiko's silhouette nod stiffly. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, and Ian heard a whimper from her. Ian felt his own eyes starting to burn.

  "You said a few months, right? Like less than a year?" Ian asked softly, wiping at his own tears with his free hand. Aiko nodded, squeezing his hand as strongly as she could. "And you'll be better in a few days, right?" Again, Aiko nodded noiselessly. Ian took in a sharp breath, straightening his back. "I'm gonna sound like an idiot saying this, but why don't we get married?"

  Aiko sat up and pushed the curtain aside slowly, revealing her stunned face. She was gaunt looking, almost frail. Her jade eyes were heavy with dark circles and her hair was not tied away from her face. She blinked at the light that entered into her little alcove, unaccustomed to the brightness. Her skin was pale, her normal coloring seemingly bleached away.

  But Ian didn't see any of that. He looked at her in all her sickness, with all her disheveled hair and her pallid features. All he saw were the beautiful parts of her. All he could see was what he had grown to love so much. Aiko gave him a weak smirk.

  "Because it would hurt you too much," she returned softly, her head lowering. “I would have to leave. I could not dishonor your feelings in that way.” Ian put his hand on her face and turned her eyes back to him.

  "I’d rather have the promise of us forever, and then lose you for a little while." Aiko's eyes started to waver. She looked down and tried to stifle her tears.

  "I cannot do this to you. It would be improper of me to commit to you when I have not even my life to offer you." Ian gave her hand a loving squeeze.

  "I’m not a samurai. I don’t need your honor. I need you. You can't be afraid to live Aiko. Even if you don't have long." He stopped himself. Char had said that to him once. The night before she died. He had never really paid attention to it before. But it felt like the right thing to say. Aiko almost smiled in that moment.

  "What would you have me do?" she asked, still looking at her hands.

  "Spend your life with me. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I was a moron for not saying what I feel. I already have that hanging over me once," he lamented. "I want to be there as you live, and as you pass. I want the last thing you see to be a man who loves you. Let me give you that." Aiko didn't respond. She just sat there, sniffling for a very long moment. Ian set himself to waiting. She needed time.

  "I was not ever afraid to die until I met you," she began. "I had no one but my family to leave behind. But we were always prepared for this." Aiko's veneer of control was washing away, her tears flowing down her face now. "How can I marry you when this will be the end result?" Ian placed his other hand on her cheek and thumbed away her tears.

  "Just say you will."

  Chapter 26

  What May Yet Be

  “It’s not like I made this decision lightly Marcus,” Ian said defensively. Marcus thrust his sword at him again, and Ian parried it without ease. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do with one hand in a sling. Fortunately, his wrist wasn't as broken as it had first seemed. More like a really bad stress fracture. He'd be cleared to have it out of the sling in a day or two. Either Darius was being generous, or he was trying to see how much pain it took to make Ian recoil. Ian was betting on the latter.

  “No. You just made it rashly,” Marcus returned.

  “That’s not fair Marcus,” Ian said abruptly.

  “I told you to relax. I didn't say to marry her. I specifically told you NOT to marry her. You’ve known her less than a month,” Marcus countered. It wasn’t the strongest argument he had, but it was the first thing that came to mind. “How could you possibly think this is a good idea?” Ian stalled an arcing strike and shoved, forcing Marcus back onto his heels.

  “I know what I’m doing?” Marcus tightened his grip on his blade and began circling. Ian kept his eyes locked on him, not allowing Marcus any kind of leeway.

  “And what about your training?” Ian lunged, pressing Marcus back a few steps before he could respond. Marcus juked aside, letting Ian fall past him into the wall. Ian recovered quickly, turning and blocking a one-handed slice before rolling away to a safer position. He winced as he arose, his arm biting with pain.

  “I’m not giving up if that’s what you’re asking. Just taking a short sabbatical.” Marcus relaxed his stance, showing Ian that the exercise was over. Ian’s arm had obviously had enough. Ian sheathed his blade and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “She’s dying Marcus. And I love her.”

  Marcus put his blade in its scabbard and sat down on a nearby bench in the Holodrome cubicle. He tossed Ian a towel and sat back. It was obvious that Ian meant what he said. He could see it in his posture. He could hear it in his tone.

  “I know what that feels like Ian. How it feels when you care so much you think nothing will ever be right unless you’re with that person every minute for the rest of your life.” Marcus took a moment to breathe. He didn’t want to say this wrong.

  “You know I’m not kidding when I say she’s dying Marcus. I’m not using that as an excuse.” Marcus watched Ian for a moment and nodded. It was clear. Ian may have been impulsive, but this decision was not one he could wait on.

  “I just don’t want you to jump without looking. That’s all.” Ian wiped his face with his towel and groaned.

  “I know how it sounds. It sounded crazy when I said it. But I know this’s right.” Marcus glowered as Ian sat down next to him on the bench.

  “It’s just . . . You’re my responsibility Ian. I can't teach you if you aren't here. And I can’t protect you if you leave.” Ian got an offended look on his face.

  “I'm not giving up on the paladins. I'll be back. And who says I need protecting?” Marcus smiled a little at Ian’s insulted tone.

  “The way you fight?” Ian didn’t like that. Marcus was the
expert with weapons. He knew Ian wasn’t ready yet to go it alone. Ian didn't really want to admit it, but Marcus was correct in that much.

  “You could come along on the honeymoon. We could always use a bodyguard,” Ian said lightly. Marcus nearly fell off his seat.

  “Sorry Ian. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with guard duty outside your honeymoon suite.” Marcus shivered a little. He didn’t need to think along that line.

  “You don’t have to stand at the door. You could stay in the lobby,” Ian said with a smile. He wiped his face again and stood, the levity gone from his face. “Listen. I’m doing this.” Marcus nodded.

  “And I know why Ian. I do. I just want you to think it through first. After that, if it still feels right, then I’m there.” Ian nodded a little, heading for the cubicle exit. Marcus didn’t watch him as he headed out, looking at his feet instead. He felt weary inside.

  “Hey,” Ian called from the doorway. “How’s Rebekah doing?” Marcus didn’t let his disappointment show too much.

  “No change. But then, she's not dying.” Marcus’s tone spoke volumes. Ian could feel the guilt in the sound of his voice.

  “That wasn’t your fault Marcus. Rebekah’s a big girl. She made that decision on her own.” Marcus let his head lower a little.

  "And I let her make that decision," he groaned. "It all comes back to that dream. Rebekah got cut in half in the dream and I couldn't stop it. Maybe that's because I didn't try. Maybe I should have had her locked in her room or something." Ian's face was grim. He didn't like seeing self-doubt on Marcus. It wasn't becoming.

  "She would have stuffed your teeth down your throat with her fist for that. Especially without an explanation.” Marcus chuckled at that.

  “Can’t argue with that,” he replied. Ian put a reassuring hand on Marcus’s shoulder.