The five finally arrived at the waiting apprentice and Lina answered his unspoken question. ‘I’ve decided on the life of a Keeper, and Jegral was kind enough to take me on as a Novice.’
Ahren could only nod in surprise but understood the unspoken message behind her words. It wasn’t unusual for a family member to enter the Church if a malefactor had resided within the family’s four walls. Rumour had it that Keeper Jegral himself had taken office for just such a reason. The god of people seemed to find favour in the fact that his servants might manifest themselves out of a supposedly bad turn of events and mould a better future for themselves and others.
Sven clearly saw things differently. He spat out the word ‘traitor!’ in her direction in a low voice.
Lina’s face froze, but Ahren gave the young woman credit for not flinching at her brother’s utterance.
Mayor Pramsbildt cleared his throat. ‘We hereby hand over Sven, the miller’s son, into your custody. Accompany him to the border of the Eastern Forest and take care that he makes no attempt to return. He is banished from Deepstone for life. Should he, however, set foot in his homeland again no word shall be spoken to him, no door shall be opened to him, no help shall be given him.’ Then he looked at Ahren expectantly. The village leader clearly wanted the leaving ceremony to be as short as possible and kept the traditional address to a bare minimum.
Ahren glanced at Likis, who gave him an encouraging smile. ‘As the village council wishes’, said the young Forest Guardian simply, and took a step back, indicating to Sven that he should start moving. Culhen gave a low growl, and Ahren telepathically ordered him to be quiet. The wolf clearly understood who was standing in front of him, and the animal’s rage helped the apprentice to remain steadfast and to defy Sven, who looked at him unsteadily with eyes full of hate.
A memory flashed through Ahren’s mind – of Culhen, who had been just as unsteady as he staggered on the very same spot in the village square, gripped in the poison that was raging through his veins. The young Paladin used the memory to steel himself against the oncoming hours when he would be going on a slow march beside this man who had afflicted Ahren and Culhen so grievously.
Sven limped painfully away from the village square with Ahren escorting him, neither saying a word. The apprentice looked back and saw Pramsbildt heading straight for the tavern and trying to persuade Likis to join him. The merchant’s son was looking keenly at the mayor while Lina was holding her sobbing mother in her arms. The miller’s daughter glanced quickly at Ahren and her look was inscrutable.
‘Are you happy now?’
Those were the first words Sven had uttered since they had left Deepstone that morning. They resonated with so much bitterness and accusation that Ahren stopped dumbfounded for a moment. The rain was still falling on them and it eclipsed all the other forest sounds. The young Paladin looked at the exiled youth in puzzlement. ‘Why should I be happy?’ he asked, confused.
‘Look what you’ve done to me’, cried the one-time miller’s son in a voice that suggested he had lost his reason. He yanked the hood off his head. Ahren could now see that Sven’s face was peculiarly misshapen. His eyes were no longer on the same level...they seemed somehow crooked. Jelninolan really had to have been at the end of her healing powers. It was true that she had performed a fundamental charm that had saved his life, but apart from that, it was clear she had been unable to do anything else for the exile.
Ahren gasped when he understood the consequences of his outburst of fury and heard the self-righteous complaint in the voice of his fellow traveller.
He struggled to keep his cool. He was boiling with rage inside, and this emotion was strengthened by Culhen’s disgust. The wolf saw Sven as the enemy who was to be fought.
‘Sven, I really didn’t care about you at all until one month ago’, began the apprentice in a cold voice. ‘If you hadn’t poisoned Culhen, none of this would have happened. Maybe you should think about what you’ve done to everyone else. Your petty and malicious attempt to do me harm almost cost Culhen and me our lives. Instead it’s made you an exile and a cripple and caused your family endless grief.’ His first words may have been spoken quietly but now Ahren was screaming his complaint out into the forest. He had to give vent to his rage and frustration in order not to attack Sven again. Standing in front of him was the physical result of his loss of control. Sven’s physical appearance was testament to his failure that time to find a peaceful solution to the conflict, initially so insignificant, between himself and the miller’s son. If he couldn’t even manage to prevent a rival from his younger days doing him damage, but instead allowed things to go out of control, then how could he possibly save Jorath?
How was he supposed to live up to his self-imposed aspiration to save as many as possible from the looming Darkness?
‘They should all have supported me! He’s only a wolf, dammit!’ Sven was almost screeching as his voice cracked. ‘He was a Blood Wolf! A Dark One! And now everyone is treating him like a lap dog! And the drunkard’s son is a Paladin all of a sudden? Don’t make me laugh!’ he gave a throaty, horrendous cackle, the sound was unnatural and had nothing to do with human merriment.
Ahren was shaking from head to toe and grimly held on to Culhen’s fur to stop himself from leaping forward and ploughing into the hate-filled exile. At the same time his firm grip was preventing Culhen from doing the same. Somehow, he could not find his way into the young man’s inner world, a world in which the exile blamed everyone else but himself for his failings, and who despised everything he didn’t know or understand.
Ahren retreated mentally from his opponent, his anger dissipated and was replaced by a deep calmness. He didn’t need to understand him. All he had to do was not hate him anymore. His task was to protect him and all other members of the free peoples, no matter how he felt.
He had to be a Paladin.
Sven recoiled when he saw the change in Ahren’s facial expression. His own face betrayed confusion, and for a moment the young Forest Guardian was tempted to explain the situation to the outcast.
But Sven had already made it clear that he didn’t believe in Ahren’s role, and anyway it wasn’t necessary. Ahren himself would protect him from the dark god, even if the exile hated him.
The night had been long, wet and cold. They had made painfully slow progress the previous day on account of Sven’s crippled feet, and Ahren calculated that they wouldn’t reach the edge of the forest before late afternoon. They were sitting under the dense foliage of a royal oak, eating their cold breakfast, and Sven’s breath was making a worrying rattling sound in his chest. Ahren had offered him a tea to counteract the oncoming cough, but the condemned young man had thrown the brew onto the ground with a scornful look.
Now Ahren was gazing out into the forest, enjoying the first signs of the aromas of spring which suggested the beginning of blossoms coming to life. He listened contentedly to the melodic sound of raindrops as they dripped down from leaf to leaf, each one singing its own song to anyone who wanted to listen.
Ever since he had reached the decision not to hate Sven his view of the rainy forest had altered completely. His deep love of nature, which he had internalised under Falk’s steady guidance, enabled him to recognise the beauty all around him, and also to tolerate the constant revulsion exhibited by his captive, who continually threw him murderous looks and quiet threats which he managed to wheeze out between his coughing fits.
Culhen too had been moved by his master’s transformation and was now sniffing the ground as he wandered through the forest instead of constantly growling at Sven. Any discontent the wolf felt now was caused by the animal’s hunger. How could it be otherwise?
‘We need to get moving’, announced Ahren finally. Sven had tried testing him a few times and had cursed him violently, but the Forest Guardian had remained calm. It was clear to him that the exile was trying to cover up the truth concerning his own deeds with the loudest possible histrionics.
When the
y had been attacked by an angry mob the previous year that had wanted to lynch Jelninolan because they had irrationally blamed her for the burning down of a granary, Ahren had asked himself afterwards how the farmers had been able to scream and shout in such a rage. The elf’s answer had been short and to the point. ‘Those who shout loudly enough will not hear the voice inside themselves.’
That summed up Sven at that moment. The more he blamed Ahren for his situation, the more pity the young man felt for the poisoner.
Sven was hoarse when the eastern edge of the forest came into view. His tirades and the worsening cough had affected his voice, and now he could hardly speak.
The limping figure was moving ever more slowly and Ahren walked patiently by his side, not saying a word. Sven had to stop repeatedly as they neared their destination and it was almost dark when they passed the final trees.
‘Herewith begins your banishment. Return no more to Deepstone’, said Ahren quietly, intoning the ritual words. At that point he was not permitted to speak to Sven anymore and had to leave him to his own devices, but the apprentice couldn’t square that with his own calling as a Paladin. And so he did what he could to help the convict begin his new life in exile. He looked fixedly ahead and pointed into the dusk. ‘A few hundred more paces to the east and you reach a trading path. One or two traders pass by every day.’ He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small bundle. ‘Here are some provisions, an oil cloth to protect against the rain and some tea against the cough. There are also fifty gold coins sewn into the bottom of the bag, and with that you can start a small business if you’re clever.’ He still didn’t look at Sven as he threw the bag a few paces in front of him. ‘Hjalgar laws forbid me from helping you. But if someone picks up a bag that they find on their journey, there’s nothing I can do about it.’
Sven stared at him malevolently, and Ahren decided that he’d had enough of his counterpart’s hatred. He looked at the bitter young man one last time, then he turned his back on the unrepentant youth and trotted back into the depths of the forest. Culhen gave one last defiant howl, and the outcast was left alone with his hatred.
Sven stood there stock still and perched on his crutches until the night had fully enveloped the forest. A fit of coughing overcame him and he cursed as he grasped the bag in front of him. Then he stumbled out of the forest, grateful to the darkness that was hiding his broken body.
‘I thought you might need company’, a voice intoned from behind a tree.
Ahren smiled thankfully as his master appeared into view and leaned against a tree trunk with a questioning look on his face. The young Forest Guardian had marched through the night, lost in his own thoughts. Culhen had stayed close by his side and had tried to interpret what Ahren had been thinking. Now it was noon, and Deepstone could only be another half a league away, but still the young man was grateful that his mentor would accompany him the rest of the way, and he gave his master a friendly nod.
Falk walked beside him and said nothing at first. Instead, he ruffled the wolf’s fur and eyed his apprentice keenly. ‘Something happened, didn’t it? Did he cause trouble?’ asked the old man uneasily.
Ahren hesitated, then shook his head. He ducked under a low-lying branch and wiped the rain, which was still falling continuously, from his face. By this time Ahren was freezing cold and soaked through, for the tricks of the trade that belonged to being a Forest Guardian could only keep the rain out for so long, and now he was looking forward to nothing more than a blazing fire and a cosy blanket. He tried to find the words that would explain the truths he had discovered but he found it hard to formulate them out loud.
‘I wanted to help Sven for the wrong reasons’, he began in a halting voice. ‘Somehow, I wanted to undo what I had done, to fix his arm, to make his face go back to normal. I wanted to make everything good again, but not to make him feel better. I just didn’t want to feel guilty anymore.’ Those thoughts had enabled him to walk right through the night and now it felt good that he was sharing them with his master. ‘But I am a Paladin. It’s my duty to help, no matter what I feel or what the other person thinks of me’, Ahren said, explaining his new insight. Then he peered over at the old Paladin walking silently beside him and stroking his beard.
‘It’s important that you’ve learned this, Ahren’, said Falk. ‘But you’ve set the bar very high, and of course you might fail. Helping somebody for helping’s sake is good and right. And it’s just as important to recognise that sometimes you can’t undo your mistakes. The best you can do there is to learn from them, so you don’t repeat them.’ Then the big man laid an arm on his student’s shoulder as they continued walking. ‘But you must take care that you don’t get caught up in the web of your own responsibilities. You made a great effort to help a man who almost had you and your wolf on his conscience, and all Deepstone has seen what you have done, good and bad. But even here there are over a hundred friendly souls residing. What do you think they would have thought if you had expended all your energy helping a troublemaker while ignoring their cares and troubles?’
Ahren stopped, dumbfounded, and stared at Falk with wide eyes as his master continued.
‘You do have a responsibility towards creation, that’s true. But if you’re going to straighten every blade of grass that you’ve stepped on, you’ll end up trampling down a whole field.’
Ahren was about to protest, but Falk raised a placatory hand. ‘It’s good that you tried, but Sven didn’t want to be helped. You have to husband your strengths. Otherwise, good people will suffer. Weighing up when and where to help is the hardest part of our job.’
The old Forest Guardian walked on, and Ahren followed him pondering.
‘By the way, Likis told me about his idea of giving Pramsbildt a hand’, said Falk in a casual voice. ‘You inspired him there. If what he and Holken are planning works, then you will have saved a whole village thanks to one conversation. That’s something worth thinking about.’
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Ahren’s head was spinning as tried to digest all that had happened over the previous weeks and days. It seemed as if with every lesson he learned, he was always presented with two new ones.
Chapter 6
The Spring Festival lived up to its name. The weather had brightened up considerably the previous week, and little fleecy clouds were floating across the blue sky while the first rays of sunshine were warming the land below. The whole of Deepstone had been splendidly decked out once word had spread that the village’s guests of honour, as well as two real-life Paladins, would be participating. Keeper Jegral had mingled with the villagers in a state of excitement, recruiting dozens of volunteers so that the Spring Ceremony which launched the festival would be something really special. In all likelihood he wouldn’t have managed everything without the assistance of his new initiate Lina, but it seemed that the young woman was flourishing in her new vocation. None of the villagers could refuse the pretty face that peeked out from under the wrap with its mica silk as she asked in a soft and friendly voice for little favours – a cake here and a helping hand there – which, when all gathered together, turned into quite an amount.
The village square was bedecked with garlands and ribbons. Poles as tall as a man were put in place, each one carved and exhibiting inspiring spring motifs.
Every villager wore the best clothing they could find in their chests at home, and there was a boisterous festive mood in the air. All the destruction of winter, including the damage done to the village through the storm invoked by Jelninolan, had been remedied, and thanks to Trogadon’s mortar nobody had fallen victim to the Blue Death.
Ahren looked around at all the happy faces, and his eyes were drawn to Lina with her calm smile as she invited the villagers to visit the chapel.
‘She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’ said Khara beside him. She had just arrived and was wearing a dark green, elegantly flowing dress that Jelninolan had made for her.
‘You’re right, that’s true�
��, said Ahren absently. All in all, her stay in Deepstone had done more good than bad, he thought, blissfully unaware of the sharp tone in the swordfighter’s voice.
‘She’s certainly the prettiest girl in the village, isn’t she?’ she asked icily.
‘By far’, said Ahren, still lost in thought.
Culhen was sending him waves of unease, and this distracted him further. Danger, cried the wolf, and Ahren looked around the square, not understanding what the wolf meant.
‘Likis told me that you kissed each other once. Was it nice?’ chattered Khara in a voice that contained enough ice to bring on the winter again.
‘Wonderful’, replied Ahren abruptly as he continued to look around. Culhen was relentlessly abusing him with warning signals, but with the best will in the world Ahren couldn’t see any danger.
‘Well, that’s great. I’m looking forward to our next training session’, said Khara curtly and hurried away.
Culhen yelped and covered his eyes with one of his paws. Ahren looked down at him in confusion and then at the departing Khara. What on earth had happened?
Ahren heard a guffaw behind him before Trogadon came up to him and slapped him on the back. ‘Boy’, he said and there were tears in his eyes. ‘If you carry on like that the dark god will have no chance of killing you because your own mouth will have been the death of you long before then.’
The dwarf walked away, still laughing uproariously, leaving the baffled Paladin standing there with his giddy wolf, who was rolling around on his back and barking up at his master joyfully.
The beginning of the Spring Ceremony was very harmonious. It seemed as if all the villagers were eager to leave the wounds of winter with all its consequences behind them, and when Jegral officially announced that everyone had survived the winter, the congregation burst into a round of applause and there were many shouts of thanks aimed at Trogadon. The dwarf even blushed for the first time since Ahren had known him and it was a delightful sight to behold. The young man would have enjoyed everything that was happening were it not for the fact that Khara was ignoring him for some reason. Also, Likis, who was sitting between them, kept glancing at Ahren with looks that veered between pitying and smirking.
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