Paladin the path begins
Chapter 4

Tar’vid’s dreams were troubled, sleep coming infrequently to him as he re-adjusted his sword belt once again, placing his bag under his head roughly. He was starting to drift off when he heard footsteps on the stone outside, jumping up quickly he peered around the doorway of the storeroom. Five men had taken up residence in the centre of the tower now and were starting to build a fire.

“Oi Jacob, fetch me a torch would you” shouted a large man, waving over a thin man Tar’vid assumed was Jacob.

Tar’vid continued to watch as the other men hauled chests and sacks into the tower, dumping them a safe distance from the fire.

“Good haul today eh Sam?” Jacob said with relish to the large man.

“Yeah, but business is starting to dry up” Sam replied glumly, poking the freshly burning fire with a stick.

The other men had clearly finished unloading whatever they had looted and sat beside the fire as Jacob set up a spit, sliding a pig carcas over it without much effort. He heard wailing from somewhere outside the tower and the men looked up irritated.

“Benny, shut her up” Sam ordered, frustratedly pointing outside the tower.

“Why me?” Benny replied uncomfortably.

“’Cause otherwise I’ll give you a firm thrashing” shouted Sam, shaking his fist angrily.

Tar’vid took the opportunity to slip away from the storeroom, skirting round the crumbling tower walls and keeping out of the moonlight, his heart was pounding now. He’d practised fighting all his life, but the prospect of actual combat was terrifying him, realising how truly sheltered he’d been. He continued to circle the tower until he spotted a waggon in the darkness, it’s canvas covering was torn in several places and the wheel spokes damaged, there were no horses in sight though.

“Fine, I’m going” he heard Benny say sulkily.

Tar’vid heard heavy footsteps as Benny stomped across the floor angrily.

“Do it now Benny, Bastard... I’ll cut his damned throat, the fat bastard” Benny mumbled, walking over to the waggon.

Tar’vid stalked closer to the waggon as Benny pulled a woman half naked and screaming from the waggon.

“I’ve told you before you stupid bitch, shut up” Benny shouted at her, emphasising the last words by striking her across the face, knocking her to the ground. The woman stared up at Benny, her hands and feet bound, she was slender and her bloody face glistened in the moonlight. Tar’vid turned his attention to Benny, he was only young, perhaps his own age, he was of a slender build and carried his axe with the poise of someone that could only intimidate with it. Tar’vid drew his blade slowly, keeping the weapon steady so as not to rasp it on the sheath. He stooped low and came forward carefully, avoiding the fallen brush and stone, though the woman’s crying masked any noise he might have made.

“Be quiet!” Benny shouted at her angrily, pulling back his arm to strike her again.

Tar’vid had gotten close enough now and his nerves were gone, replaced with the calm of battle that Tar’son had instilled in him through his years of training. He drove the blade through Benny’s neck, the blade tip bursting out through the man’s eye socket. Tar’vid heard him gurgle as blood poured from the fatal wound. The woman was shrieking in terror now and he heard one of the men shouting Benny’s name angrily. Tar’vid slid the blade free of Benny’s corpse, allowing it to fall away. He put his finger to his lips and punched Benny’s body in the chest, it made a sickening crunching noise.

“Gods be damned Benny, not so hard!” he heard Jacob say as he came sauntering round the corner.

Jacob mouthed something silently as he saw Tar’vid standing beside Benny’s bloody body. Tar’vid thought quickly, and without missing a heartbeat he stooped quickly to grab Benny’s fallen axe, throwing it impossibly fast it struck Jacob in the forehead, nearly splitting the man’s skull in half. Jacob fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, blood gushing from the axe wound that had split his skull.

“Jacob!?” Sam shouted in concern.

When there was no reply, Tar’vid heard rapid movement as the others realised something was wrong. Tar’vid quickly cut the woman’s bonds. She may have been pretty, but her face was swollen and bloody beyond recognition.

“If you can, run,” he told her quietly as he lifted the woman to her feet.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly, before fleeing into the night.

“There, there’s a bastard right there!” he heard Sam shout.

“Kieron flank him, Cam with me” he growled, angrily drawing his sword.

Tar’vid weighed them up quickly, Sam clearly knew how to fight from the way he held his sword. Cam had a bow and Tar’vid instinctively blocked his line of sight with the waggon. Kieron was a large man like Sam, but he held his sword wrongly and Tar’vid shifted his weight slightly to take him first. Cam loosed an arrow that fell woefully short and Tar’vid broke from the waggon at speed charging down Kieron, he quickly disarmed him with a quick slash of his blade taking several of the man’s fingers, then reversing the cut and slicing through Kieron’s throat before he could react. The big man grabbed at his throat as his dark beard turned crimson, falling to the ground as his limbs twitched in his death throes. An arrow flew by Tar’vid’s head, missing by inches. He turned quickly to face the other two now closing in on him.

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Sam, approaching him slowly.

“I don’t take kindly to bandit scum insulting me” Tar’vid said with a sneer, the adrenaline pumping through him now.

“You’ve killed by brother and my best friend!” Sam yelled in rage, charging Tar’vid and forgetting any training he may have had.

Tar’vid took a side step, knocking Sam’s blade aside and putting him off balance. He cried out in pain as an arrow glanced off his shoulder blade knocking him forwards, he rolled aside instinctively, avoiding a wild strike from Sam. Getting back to his feet he winced, feeling blood running down his back freely.

“Yer mine now, you little prick” Sam snorted at him, coming forward confidently.

Tar’vid was in trouble, he was keeping one eye on the archer now as Sam slashed at him, and though he did have some rudimentary skill, it wasn’t enough as Tar’vid parried several strikes before driving his blade deep into Sam’s guts, blood spilling forth as he wrenched his blade free.

“You bastard” Sam grumbled in pain, punching Tar’vid square in the face.

Tar’vid stumbled backwards clutching his nose, the left side of his face a mask of agony. He threw himself to the ground, and as he expected an arrow whistled overhead moments later. Tar’vid scrambled behind a fallen stone as he tried to recover, another arrow grazed his head, slicing open his scalp, his left eye now drowned in a sheet of crimson as he stood unsteadily, spotting Sam breathing raggedly as he bled out on the ground. Tar’vid stumbled forwards swatting an arrow out of the air with his blade, then falling to one knee. His blade falling from his hand. Exhaustion had gripped him and he could barely force his body to move at all.

“Your mine now, you damned Paladin bastard, thinking you’re better than us,” Cam said in derision, drawing another arrow back slowly.

The bandit stood before him and spat on the ground, raising his bow to Tar’vid’s forehead.

“Any last words... you bastard hero?” Cam asked him with a sneer.

Tar’vid couldn’t believe it was going to end like this... a second later he heard the crunch of bone and the sound of tearing flesh, he looked up to see an arrowhead protruding from Cam’s eye socket, a shocked expression on his face.

Tar’vid could barely move at all as his shadowed saviour came over to him. He could tell it was a woman from her figure, though her face was shrouded in the darkness. She stood before him, her blade drawn, just staring down at him for a moment.

“Come on, let’s go human,” she said to him, lifting him to his feet. She was impossibly strong, pulling him up easily.

She stooped quickly, picking up his sword and sliding the bloody weapon into its sheath. He noticed her pass a glance at Cam’s arrows.

“Shoddy work” he heard her mumble, hauling him off into the tree line.

“Let’s hurry it up Paladin. I’m sure they were the only ones here, but I’d rather put some distance between us and those ruins all the same” she told him, pulling him along faster.

Her voice was beautiful, as were the piercing blue eyes peering from under her hood.

They moved as quickly as they could until they were deep into the forest, stopping in a small clearing where she lowered him against a fallen tree, Tar’vid wincing in pain as his shoulder caught against the bark.

“I have to say, I’m impressed Paladin. Rarely have I seen one man defeat four opponents, I think five was pushing it a little far though don’t you think?” she said to him as she scanned the forest, a hint of respect in her voice.

He was feeling faint and could feel his head wound still bleeding badly. He’d never tried healing himself before and wondered if it would work. Tar’vid mouthed the words of Salnah, placing his hand on his own chest, it hurt like all hells as pain lanced into his chest. He held the power only a short time, unwilling to spend days unconscious again, besides, who knew if this woman would leave him alone in the woods. Tar’vid gasped as he released the power, it had been difficult though, almost as if a voice were telling him to use it all.

“That’s interesting,” said the woman, walking over to him and squatting before him.

“What is?” Tar’vid replied, wiping away a trickle of blood from his eye.

“You can harness magic, you’re full of surprises Paladin and handsome too,” she told him, examining his face with her soft hands.

His head was clearing now and he felt the top of his head, it was still wet with blood, but the wound there was healed and he felt no scar.

“It’s not magic” he replied, getting to his feet as he unbuckled his sword belt, removing his tabard and shirt.

“It’s prayer, the power of the saints flows through every member of our order, could you check my back please?” he asked her, turning round and pointing to his shoulder blade.

“It certainly looked like magic paladin, your back’s fine. Just a slight scar on your shoulder blade. You could probably do with cleaning away all this blood though” she told him, running her fingers over his back, her touch feeling pleasant on his skin.

“Thank you for saving me, It would seem my short time alone has eroded the manners I was taught. I’m Tar’vid of Whitecliff” he told her with a slight bow, feeling a little awkward at her silence.

The woman pulled back her hood, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was an elf and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

“Glad I could help Tar’vid of Whitecliff, I’m Lunathion an Keldran, though you may call me Luna to save time,” she said kindly, hugging him. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he embraced her. They were holding each other for a long while.

“Is this feeling awkward yet?” she asked him in a whisper.

“No, It’s kind of nice” he replied, though in truth he felt flustered and unsure what to do.

She pulled him away and stroked his face gently.

“We need to sleep now, it’s a long way to Keldran” she whispered to him gently.

She backed up suddenly, almost as if she had just remembered where she was.

“You know, if you’re heading that way of course,” she told him looking away and walking over to the other side of the clearing to a small tent. What had just happened he thought, sitting back down and crossing his legs, he wished now he’d paid more attention in his racial studies. He had always excelled in combat and had wanted to practice it at every given moment, his other skills clearly having suffered for it. Tar’vid focused his mind as Tar’son had taught him, his senses heightened now beyond that of an ordinary man. He felt Luna’s eyes on him and it was only when he shifted slightly she looked away. He began to chant the prayer of Sah’ravel silently, then that of Tar’mine, feeling he could use all the protection and guidance he could get tonight.

Tar’vid came out of his meditation as the first rays of sunlight shone upon his face, the multitude of birds greeting the morning sun with a song. He stood up quickly, stretching out his legs, he should really have slept properly, but he had been paranoid of an attack during the night and in his meditative state, he was far more alert. Luna emerged from her tent, rubbing her eyes and stretching lethargically.

“Good morning,” he said to her kindly, still worried she’d found him off-putting since their embrace.

“It is isn’t it” she replied happily, sitting down and pulling on her knee length boots.

Tar’vid sat down beside her, pulling out a few rolls of bread he still had left in his sack. He passed one to Luna and she took it from him with a smile. The rolls were a little stale, but she didn’t complain as they ate in an awkward silence.

“Do you mind if I travel with you for a time?” he asked her once they’d finished,

“That would be great” Luna replied eagerly, then composed herself sitting straight.

“I mean, I will permit that,” She told him, more aloof than before.

He smiled happily, though he was confused at her odd behaviour, he would certainly be glad of her company. Tar’vid helped her take down the tent and they made their way back to the road. Tar’vid could see the tower from the roadway and had to check, perhaps out of a morbid curiosity to make sure all the bandits were dead.

“I’ll catch up with you in a moment, I need to see... what I did last night,” he said to her nervously.

“You don’t have to do it alone, come on” she replied grabbing his arm gently, pulling him towards the tower.

The crumbling tower was as he had remembered it, though wild dogs had been there during the night and fed well on the dead bandits. He went over to the waggon, searching the rickety cart quickly. There were several sacks of coins, though he took none. It was blood money after all, taken from innocent travellers. Luna came over with a sack in hand and tossed it into the waggon by him.

“It’s all food, I see that sour look on your face Tar’vid, but it’s going to spoil regardless and you may as well take it,” she told him, putting her hands on her hips.

Tar’vid wasn’t sure, he was feeling like a looter. But she made a good point and he started to sift through the sacks slowly.

“Come on Paladin, you must be running low if you’re eating stale bread,” she said concerned.

He gave in, storing as much as he could in his sack. Luna leapt up onto the cart and started searching. He heard her gasp in astonishment a few minutes later.

“What is it?” he asked curiously, looking over his shoulder at her.

Luna pulled an object from one of the large sacks carefully, it was a dagger, gilded in silver and etched with a golden elven script.

“This... this belonged to my mother, I haven’t seen this since she died... I thought the Paladins took it from her” she told him, never taking her eyes from the dagger.

“Paladins murdered your mother?” he asked concerned.

“It was a long time ago, your order was more... zealous back then” she replied sadly, still not taking her eyes off the dagger. She tucked it into her belt and looked back to him, a faint smile on her face.

“Let’s go Tar’vid, I want to be away from here now, I want to bring this home,” she told him, patting the dagger gently.

He nodded, not feeling the need to speak. They left the tower and it’s dead behind them, feeling glad for it. They spoke little for the next few hours, letting the previous night’s events sink in. Luna seemed unsure how to feel after finding her mother’s dagger he knew, perhaps stirring up memories she had thought long behind her.

“I don’t hate you,” Luna said after a while, looking at him with a sad smile.

Tar’vid didn’t know how to respond to her.

“I’m happy to hear that” he blurted out awkwardly, wishing he’d stayed silent.

She stopped and caught his hand softly, slowing him to a stand still and staring into his eyes for what felt an eternity. As he became lost in her eyes, she stepped towards him, kissing him tenderly on the lips, he felt so happy at that moment he hoped it wouldn’t end. Luna stepped back slowly, blinking rapidly as she did so.

“I’m sorry, I just... I had to know” she stammered nervously.

Tar’vid caressed her hand gently and she slipped her hand away quickly.

Luna smiled at him, but Tar’vid knew it was forced. There was a sadness to her now that hadn’t been with her before. What had that kiss confirmed to her he wondered, perhaps she had hoped he’d be the one for her.

Luna set off ahead of him at pace. Tar’vid shrugged and jogged to keep up, he’d never understand women.

Tar’vid built a fire while Luna erected her tent as night fell, there wasn’t a lot of space in the clearing they’d found and the fire had to be kept small.

“You don’t want to burn down the forest,” she said to him sternly when he’d made the initial stone circle too large. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Luna handed him her flint and Tar’vid scraped it with his blade, the sparks igniting the kindling quickly. He sat back and added twigs and small branches until the fire burned nicely.

“Not too shabby,” Luna said to him as she sat down beside him, the awkwardness of earlier fading away.

“My first fire” he replied proudly, leaning back on his elbows.

“Really, but you must have been on the road at least a week by now and it’s nearly winter,” she said surprised as she sat down beside him.

“I’m a Paladin, we undergo the trials of purity as children. Those of us that survive have increased immune systems and are unaffected by heat or cold, nor can we feel them” he explained to her, poking the fire with a twig.

“What do you mean by those that survive?” she asked, looking at him with concern.

“Mortality rates are high amongst the initial recruits, only a small fraction of us survive the rituals and purification we endure,” he told her sadly, remembering all the friends he had lost. His group had been particularly unforgiving, of the twenty orphans that had come to Whitecliff that year, only he had come through the trials alive.

Luna wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him close.

“Do you believe in fate Tar’vid?” Luna asked him quietly.

“I guess so, the saints guide everything we do. They watch over us until our appointed time of death, all I can hope to do is make the order proud of me” he replied, referring back to his lessons as a child.

“I’ve spent my whole life escaping fate, perhaps it’s time to let it catch up to me” Luna replied wistfully.

As Tar’vid looked for the words to respond Luna kissed him gently, resting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s getting late now Tar’vid, I’m going to try and get some sleep, you should try too,” she told him softly, kissing his cheek before she left.

Tar’vid sat by the fire a while longer, thoughts of Whitecliff and the trials whirring through his mind, but mostly Luna occupied his thoughts. She had disarmed him with her talk of fate and he wondered, perhaps he was part of hers. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, dousing the last remnants of the fire with dirt. He sat down outside Luna’s tent, his back to the entrance. Quietly he offered a prayer to Sah’ravel, perhaps she would come to him in the night and give an order to his thoughts. He lay down and drifted off to sleep as he heard an owl call in the night, Tar’mine’s symbol he thought, sleep overcoming him.

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