Paladin the path begins

Luna woke early, shivering in the cold and pulling her blanket tightly against her. The moonlight pierced the blackness of night, letting her see out across the calmness of the ocean. She stood slowly, her legs and arms weary from the cold. She went over to the cliffs edge a hundred yards or so from the camp and sat down heavily. They were only a day out from Fernhaven, perhaps she would be only hours from seeing Tar’vid. She’d known him less than a few weeks but had felt their connection only a few hours after meeting him. She didn’t hear Tarquin approach and though she had come to like the man, she didn’t trust him.

“The cold keeping you up too?” she asked as he sat down beside her, hearing him exhale sharply at the cold touch of the rock.

“Indeed, it is times like these I wish I had wintered in Brownfields. Though I would then have never have met you, Luna” he replied with his usual charm.

She laughed, continuing to stare out to sea.

“I’ve told you before, I’m taken” she replied, blowing on her hands for a little warmth.

“Alas, I have heard that from many married women and yet...” he replied, leaning in towards her.

Luna batted the side of his head with her palm, when he was like this he was unbearable and she’d had to put him in his place before.

“I made myself perfectly clear the last time you tried it on, the next time I’ll knock out your damned perfect teeth,” she told him angrily as he grabbed his head in pain.

They sat in an awkward silence as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

“Forgive me, Luna, your beauty is distracting to me... but it shall not happen again, I swear this” Tarquin said, flashing a smile.

“Very well, you are forgiven Tarquin” she smiled back, though she knew he would dog her forever if he could.

“I’ll beg your leave my lady, there are other women with looser morals than yourself... thankfully,” he said as he stood, Luna casually tossed a stone at his smirking face as he walked away.

She sat alone until the sun’s rays washed over her face, providing a much-needed relief from the bitter cold. As the sun touched the camp people began to rouse, beginning the work of harnessing the oxen to the waggons and breaking down the tents. Several of the older travellers were found dead, the cold overcoming them in the night. A hasty pyre was built with the bodies being burned, no one knew the two men and so the waggon trains leader said a few words of prayer about their single god looking over them and accepting them to paradise. Luna was fascinated by them, how could one god look after so much she thought as she lifted her bow, slinging it over her shoulder and grabbing her spear, which was coming in handy as a walking aid in the snow. Tarquin fell in beside her as the train rolled away from the camp, he had a long wool lined coat she hadn’t seen before.

“The man was already dead, he had no more use for it,” Tarquin said, perhaps anticipating her question.

“It’s a bit ghoulish don’t you think?” she asked, a little disgusted.

“Perhaps, but I have no intention of freezing to death like those two” he replied bluntly, none of his usual swagger shining through.

Luna pulled her cloak tighter, she had certainly felt the cold creeping through her hands and feet lately. Perhaps Deadra would winter at the inn, in fact, she hoped she would. Luna considered her a friend now and her sister would need an ally in Keldran whilst her uncle lived. The sky was cloudy still and soon there were the first flakes of snow falling for the day. It was going to be a long day of walking, she knew it.

The caravan rolled on for a few hours until the road became boggy, the waggon wheels starting to stick in the mud. The few elves in the caravan were helpful and like herself used their superior strength to force out the waggons at all too regular intervals. She was exhausted as they reached the river Rosie where several men approached them from the edge of the forest, bows were strung and crossbows made taut as others drew weapons for a fight. The men though were ragged and shaking from the cold, several had frost bite in their hands and feet, though they were bandits and outlaws the caravan took them in grudgingly, though they were eager to join at first the constant start-stop riggers of the wagons bogging down was too much for several of them who abandoned the wagons, several others died along the way due to exposure as the snows intensified . The men were left at the roadside, though it seemed to upset most of the travellers that the bodies weren’t disposed of properly. There was a deathly silence now that the forest was several hours behind them.

“This must be what hell is like” complained Tarquin as they pushed out another waggon, feeling like it was for the hundredth time today.

“If you pushed as hard as you complained, this would be much easier” Luna hissed, heaving the waggons wheels free again.

As the waggon came free and rolled on they both let out a deep breath. Never in all her time in the service of Keldran had she worked harder, combat and hunting seemed a summer picnic in comparison.

Luna picked up her spear and began walking on again, leaning more and more on its shaft for support. Tarquin looked miserable, his fleece coat now half caked in mud, she looked down at her armour. Its once shining blue plates now covered in mud and slushed snow. As the caravan reached the crest of Ford’s Ridge their spirits sank further than ever. They saw before them a large camp had sprung up around Fernhaven and she wondered if Lisander still ran the west gate. It had been years since she had seen him, but he was a good friend of Fiora and perhaps he could fast track her into the city. She continued to think like this until the caravan was halted at a barricade a hundred yards from the gate.

“Each of you takes a ticket, when your numbers are near a member of the guard will fetch you from your designated areas!” barked the guards as they made their way down the caravan, all of them with bared weapons.

Luna waved to get their attention, but they paid her no mind, only flashing their weapons to dissuade trouble.

She cursed under her breath, knowing in her current state no one would believe her a princess of Keldran.

“You tried at least” shrugged Tarquin, wiping at his reddened nose with a rag.

Luna dejectedly moved along with the line until she took a ticket, wondering if she would die here. The ticket numbered at two thousand and thirty.

The caravan was dumped near the coastal cliffs, where they received the chilling sea winds in the open field. She thought they had been left to die as no shelters were provided for them. The caravan quickly breaking up its waggons to build shelters, Tarquin sneezed from beside her.

“I think we may die here Luna my dear,” he said, in as upbeat manner as he could.

“Not us Tarquin, we are destined for great things you and me” she replied, though in truth she was pretty sure most of them would be dead by the end of the week.

For the first few days, bands of hunters ventured into the forest in a vain attempt to find game. All they found were snow wolves, their thick hide and fur rendering all but the most accurate of arrow shots useless.

“Fall back!” one of the hunters cried out, though the wolves were already on him.

Luna dropped back, keeping her bow raised the whole time. Tarquin appeared out of nowhere, nearly getting an arrow for his trouble.

“Leif and Kayla are dead, nearly did for me too!” he panted, a claw slash across his chest.

“Bow at the ready, we cover each other okay?” Luna stressed, never taking her eyes off the surrounding area.

“But of course my lady” Tarquin replied, still his usual cheery self, though his words were slurring.

Making their way through the forest they linked up with other bands of hunters, most had taken some losses, and in return for only two wolves which the strongest of them hauled back on their shoulders.

“They’re out there, I do feels their eyes on me!” one of the hunters muttered nervously, his hands shaking from the cold.

As if on cue the wolves sprang their ambush, bursting from the trees silently, Luna loosed an arrow striking one of the red-eyed beasts through the eye socket and dropping it to the ground dead. The others however fared badly, when she turned two more hunters lay dead, Tarquin’s bow had broken and he fended off two wolves with his rapier. One lunged at him and using his swords reach he pierced its skull, dropping the wolf just as the other leapt at him. Luna drew and loosed in a flash, her arrow hitting the beast through the mouth and piercing its brain. Tarquin lay in the snow, the wolf mere feet from him.

“At least we know who the better shot is” he winced, staring up at Luna as she pulled him to his feet.

The other hunters had managed to drive the rest of the pack off, but they had lost a further four in the skirmish, seven wolves would have to do she thought, they’d lost over half their number just for those, this would be the last hunt.

They arrived at the camp a little before sundown, too many wives, husbands and children not having their family return home. Luna placed Tarquin down in their tent, dabbing at his cuts with a cloth soaked in cheap red realm vodka. It turned out snow wolves claws secreted a poison that rendered their victims unconscious within hours, Tarquin’s speech becoming more slurred and nonsensical by the hour. Despite her attempts to draw out the poison, she didn’t really know what she was doing and Tarquin fell unconscious within the hour Luna draped a blanket over him, tucking him in tightly against the ever growing cold.

She ventured out of their makeshift tent and into the biting cold of the camp. As per the last few days, corpses were being taken to the edge of the forest to be dumped, finding firewood from the forest was now too dangerous and time-consuming. Though it depressed many in the camp to dump the bodies so, it was necessary. The bodies being dumped also stopped the wolves from entering the camp at night, an easy meal preferable to them than the hail of arrows they would receive otherwise. Especially as arrows were getting hard to come by. Luna walked down towards the main gate, checking on the flow of people. It was becoming more depressing each day as only thirty or so were seen in a given day. After seeing that the waiting numbers weren’t even yet at a thousand she trudged back through the snow, planting herself on a log and warming her hands by one of the large fires, the only things provided by the town.

“How’s he doing Luna?” asked Gilbert, a nice man she had met the previous day. His wife had died two days back and she wondered how he kept himself together.

“He’ll live... I think. He’s the first one the bastards didn’t drag away to eat” she said with resentment, her teeth chattering.

“Never heard you curse before, you remind me of my daughter sometimes” he laughed, tossing a small log onto the fire.

“That’s funny Gil, I’m probably five times your age young man” she replied, pulling her cloak tight against what remained of her armour.

The wind was dying down now, though snow was starting to fall again.

“You ever been caught in a situation like this before?” he asked her, now more solemnly.

“Never, being here makes me realise how sheltered I’ve been” she replied, her hands finally warming through.

She stared off towards the town walls, wondering if Tar’vid would get her inside if he only knew she was here.

“Tiff, my daughter. She’s in there, not a hundred yards from the gate. I messed up Luna, I wanted to travel in a caravan for protection, it set us back a month and now Jane’s dead because of me” he started to cry, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“And now, here I am acting all pathetic,” he said to her more steadily.

“You’ve handled yourself admirably Gil, your wife would want you to survive this, I’m sure,” she told him gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sure she would, but for this damned cold. If only we were all Paladins, I heard they don’t feel the cold. Unfeeling and righteous, like that young man at the inn” he said to her, warming his hands by the fire.

Luna returned to her makeshift tent before darkness fell, the temperature was falling quickly outside and she tied the entrance of the tent shut tightly. Pulling a blanket across the entranceway she hoped it would stop what little heat there was escaping.

Tarquin was still unconscious when she checked on him and she dropped down heavily onto her bedding. Luna rubbed her face slowly before wrapping a wolf fur around her. Perhaps the morning would bring good news for once. She drifted off to sleep, hoping she’d wake in the morning.

The snow continued to fall for the next few days with the bodies piling up heavily. She had seen more death these last weeks than in the entirety of her life and it was starting to affect her, she knew it. Tarquin had mentioned her shortening temper, especially after she had found Gil dead in his tent. The cold taking him to see his wife. Men had tried to drag him out to the edge of camp, but she had snapped then driving them away before crying hysterically. It had taken her hours to compose herself, taking him to the edge of the camp herself. He had been a kind hearted man, that although she had known him only a few days had seemed one of her closest friends. All through her life friends had never been abundant to her, perhaps it was why she and Tar’vid had such a connection. Luna had placed his body down gently beside the others, she was no longer shocked at the sight of twenty or more bodies staring blankly into the sky... and that frightened her more than any snow wolf ever could. As she had walked away from the mass of bodies, she wondered how much more of this her sanity could take. Of the fifty men, women and children that had arrived, only fifteen remained, the plague that had ravaged the south lands hadn’t abated with the cold and so the gates remained closed, the slow task of clearing the remaining people continuing. She sat on a snow laden verge and watched the guards usher a small girl into the gatehouse her feet black with frostbite.

“You know, watching the gate like this won’t make our turn come any faster” Tarquin whispered to her, flashing a smile she hadn’t seen in over a week.

“What makes you so happy” she replied testily, the morning’s events still weighing heavily on her mind.

“I may have acquired a little something, whilst playing cards last night is all,” he said staring off towards the gate.

“Come on my pretty elf, I may as well show you. Staying here is only numbing my backside” he said, motioning for her to follow.

Luna stood slowly, what the hells she thought. It wasn’t like she was actually doing anything here anyway and as she walked away with Tarquin she heard the call of an owl coming from the gatehouse.

Tarquin pushed open the tent flap, turning over his bed he rummaged in the soil underneath as she sat down on her bed, pulling a fur around her tightly.

“What are you scrambling around in the dirt for?” she asked puzzled, trying to peer over his hunched form.

There was a rustling at the entrance and as they turned to look a rather brutish man pushed into the tent, a spiked club in his hand. She went instinctively for a weapon, finding that there wasn’t one to hand.

“You lookin’ for these you cheatin’ little bastard!” growled the man dangling a drawstring bag from his fingers.

Tarquin stood up, a pair of knives flashing into his hands.

“You would be wise to hand me those back and leave,” Tarquin said menacingly, spinning the knives in his hands faster than she could follow.

The brutish man stroked his beard, laughing and taking a step towards them.

“The crusher doesn’t take threats lightly, boy!” he growled back angrily.

“Don’t kid yourself Klive, we both know you can’t even touch me” mocked Tarquin, brushing back his hair softly with a knife.

Klive bristled angrily, taking another step towards them and bringing up his club. “There’s four of us and two of you. And only one of you has a weapon at that, bastard. Now I’m gonna hurt you real bad, then we’ll enjoy the girl... for a time!” he snarled, pointing at her.

Luna spat at him, taking one of Tarquin’s knives. This guy couldn’t take them both, but another three may be a problem she thought. There came the sound of voices, muffled by the tent flap, an angry response followed. Shortly after that the screams of several men, then silence but for a low whimpering.

“Gren, Holjar, Silias... what’s happening out there!?” called Klive, his eyes never leaving herself or Tarquin.

There was no response as a gauntleted hand burst through the tent flap, Klive going tumbling backwards as the flap closed heavily once more.

“What the hells?” Tarquin muttered, confusion on his face.

She wasted no time, throwing the tent flap aside and tears filling her eyes as she saw who stood before them. Resplendent in a suit of gleaming plate armour stood Tar’vid, the prone Klive staring up at him in terror.