The adversary the 13th p.., p.34
The Adversary: The 13th Paladin (Final Volume), page 34
‘What happened to you during your…pilgrimage?’ He paused, Lanlion giving him an encouraging look. ‘What exactly occurred on your travels? What changed inside you?’
The Bloodless shrugged his shoulders. ‘I have already told you – I was reminded that I am more than an accursed being.’ He pointed downwards. ‘Just as Lirana is more than a servant of the Adversary. The gods revealed to me that I am not to equate my condition with my deeds.’ He moved his hand moved back and forth between himself and the Forest Guardian. ‘A bowman is responsible for using his weapon responsibly. Just because my powers are more…exotic, does not mean that I am exempt from the code of conduct applicable to all beings who have the power to take or protect lives.’
Ahren smiled at Lanlion. ‘It almost sounds as if you have achieved a sense of inner peace.’
The Bloodless reciprocated the friendly gesture. ‘What is it that Falk always says? It’s a start.’
The two chuckled, Ahren sensing his melancholia, which had been weighing him down since he had ascended to the top of the tower, lifting ever so slightly.
I have been instructed to report that the council of war is resuming, muttered Culhen with a snort. I’m really not so sure if I like the fact that we companion animals have suddenly been lumbered with the responsibility of being messenger boys and girls.
Lanlion sighed. ‘Haminul says that our pause for breath is at an end. And he is complaining unmercifully about his new responsibilities.’
Ahren pointed at Culhen and rolled his eyes.
I saw that, grumbled the wolf.
Leaving the cold night air behind them, the trio descended the staircase, Ahren realising with a shudder that he would, all in all, much rather keep watch on the battlements than take part again in their discussions on how to approach the battle with the Adversary.
The crackling from the fire was the dominant sound in the chamber even though the entire council of war and the scribes were in attendance. Also audible was the sound of Lirana’s slow, steady breathing, signifying that the former soul companion was still asleep and that no-one was willing yet to awaken the woman, who had sobbed herself into exhaustion.
Finally, Uldini cleared his throat. 'Hear ye! Hear ye! Having all listened to the words of Palnah and Lirana, as well as the statements regarding Akkad’s beliefs, the time is now upon us for the council of war to reach a decision regarding how we are to continue the endless battle against the Adversary.’
Already, the scratching of the quill nibs on the parchments could be heard as the Arch Wizard’s statement was recorded for posterity.
‘Damn it all, Uldini,’ grumbled Trogadon impatiently. ‘I know you want your stilted blather to be recorded for all eternity, but can’t we simply talk like normal beings in here?’
The scratching of the nibs continued. Ahren bit his lip in an effort not to laugh, but the giggling from Khara, Hakanu and Lyssin suggested that others were maintaining their dignity with considerably less success.
‘Uh…well…I…’ muttered the Arch Wizard, glaring at Trogadon. ‘Are all in agreement that we take Belsarius’ theory to be true?’
‘I don’t see how we have a choice.’ Kamkanzakur’s voice rumbled like falling rocks. ‘And this truth forces us to make a crucial decision.’
‘Do we organise an orderly campaign against the Adversary or hurl ourselves forward pell-mell and hope for the best that the Paladins somehow manage to get to Him?’ interjected Falagarda, forcefully stating what the dwarf had been thinking.
‘An accurate if not entirely neutral sounding assessment, my dear,’ commented Quin-Wa dryly.
‘We have already experienced what happens if we don’t confront the Adversary at the right time,’ muttered Bergen. ‘So, it’s true – we really don’t have a choice.’
‘I agree.’
This was met by a stunned silence, Ahren staring – as did everyone else – in disbelief at the First.
‘What did you say?’ asked the Forest Guardian sceptically, wondering if the words of the age-old Paladin were nothing but a rhetorical ploy.
‘I agree,’ repeated the First. ‘If…’ he hesitated. ‘If Lirana and Belsarius are right, then the outcome of the many battles that I have fought in my long life suddenly make sense. The pattern behind the Adversary’s belligerent actions suddenly makes sense, and therefore, I now agree with Akkad. I am all too aware of the victories that were almost gifted to us, of defeats that should never have occurred…’ His voice began to quake, and he cleared his throat. ‘My companion animal would now be alive had I recognised the cyclical nature of events much earlier.’
Sunju placed a comforting hand on his forearm. ‘We were all blinded. All Jorath was. The Dark god made sure of that. Even now, we cannot rule out that we are not walking into a particularly cunning trap laid by the Adversary.’
‘So, do we attack with all possible speed, then?’ asked Falk, looking at the other council members.
‘When precisely does this constellation appear again?’ asked Fisker, fixing his eyes on Akkad.
‘The day after tomorrow – in the evening. It will fully manifest itself shortly after sundown.’
‘Which means we have only two days to prepare?’
‘That’s what it looks like,’ murmured Fisker, reaching for a carafe of wine. ‘Anyone else need a drink?’
‘Don’t overdo it,’ growled Falk. ‘Even if your monkey is smarter than you are, we might need your brains at some point.’
Fisker bowed mockingly. ‘Your faith in me is almost as encouraging as your words of motivation.’
‘Enough!’ The First spoke in little more than a whisper, but it was enough for Fisker to immediately close his mouth. ‘We need a plan,’ added the age-old Paladin.
Trogadon, having taken the jug from Fisker, now filled his goblet to the brim with one hand while he pointed at Khara with the other. ‘What about the suggestion that our princess made earlier – of fooling Him with a trick.’
Jelninolan nodded. ‘Now that we all believe the Adversary to be unaware of our new knowledge, we can use it to our advantage.’
‘But how?’ asked Sunju.
‘We must lure Him into taking the first step,’ intoned Uldini. ‘He must believe that the start of the battle is His idea.’
Falk shook his head. ‘Why should He risk coming out of his fortress if He only has to wait another two days for his full strength to return?’
‘If HE, WHO FORCES were a disciplined or patient being, He would still be the Custodian of Creation,’ interjected Jelninolan.
Ahren nodded to the priestess before rubbing his neck and staring up at the ceiling of the council chamber, where the shadows of the night were playing cat and mouse with the flickering light from the fire. ‘We have to attack Him at the point where He is most vulnerable.’
‘His addiction to power,’ said the First.
Ahren continued to stare upwards. ‘And His fear,’ he murmured.
‘And His pride,’ added Khara. ‘Think of all those crippled species of Dark Ones, like the Sicklehoppers, for example. Although the Adversary mutilated so many of His servants in frankly ridiculous ways, He refused point-blank to correct his errors.’
‘His arrogance is boundless…’ murmured Uldini contemplatively.
Closing his eyes, Ahren sought out Culhen’s mind, which once again was connected to Sun Shimmer’s. Do you lot have any ideas? he asked.
But of course. Overweening pride dripped from the wolf’s response, as the animal sent him an image of a fat rabbit scampering across an open field. A black-feathered hawk was circling overhead. I hope you understand what we mean.
Ahren opened his eyes and chuckled. ‘Our companion animals have an excellent idea. And I think I know how we can go about implementing it…’
He began to talk, placing all his faith in his own instinct, which had so often led him to the right solution if usually by means of unusual paths. The longer he spoke, the more the faces of the listeners became filled with horror. Only Hakanu’s grin became broader with every sentence that his master uttered.
The conclusion of Ahren’s briefing was met with an unmistakable, collective groan, which, however, was drowned out by Hakanu’s hoop of joy.
The night was dark, and the moonlight was Ahren’s only companion as he walked through the deserted streets of Deepstone. The final words of the council of war were still ringing in his ears – words of a daring plan that had now been concocted.
The last ever plan of this war – if it succeeded.
Ahren ran his fingers along the stone wall of what had once been the mayoral residence. Even this building, which had once been the crown jewel of Deepstone, was now no more important than the other stone houses that formed what was now the old town. Ahren found it difficult to recognise anything here from his childhood days – when he had wanted to be nothing more than an apprentice – under the watchful eye of a kindly master.
Wandering through the streets and across the broad avenues, Ahren’s mind was a jumble of thoughts – ranging from those events local to here in his early years to the looming threat that was so imminent.
Tomorrow would mark the turning point and determine the fate of Jorath. This simple fact made him dizzy. The years of searching for all the Paladins had been accompanied by a recognisable goal, but the journey’s end was nigh. All the words had been spoken, all the plans had been forged, all the trump cards had been carefully placed in position.
Ahren came to a sudden halt as he suddenly realised where he had arrived.
Low, simple gravestones surrounded by well-tended grass. Many things in Deepstone may have been moved, but the old graveyard still lay within view of the chapel, now considerably more imposing than in the days when Ahren had been an innocent godsday pupil, learning under the kindly tuition of Keeper Jegral. Slowly, he walked among the graves, coming to a halt before one in particular, his tears making it impossible to properly read the inscription that he was already familiar with.
‘Holken…’ he whispered with a lump in his throat. ‘We have managed it, Holken. All the Paladins are united.’ The breath of a whisper would have been louder than the words that Ahren was barely uttering.
The young man wiped away his tears and looked up at the night sky. The stars were staring coldly down, including those which in no time at all would be dancing their deadly roundelay – announcing either the end of the Adversary or the destruction of Creation as Ahren knew it.
‘If you could only see Deepstone now,’ he continued, looking down again at the final resting place of his deceased friend. ‘It even has a castle. You would be so proud…’
He swallowed hard. He clenched his fists so tightly that it hurt.
‘No-one…’ the Paladin’s voice was growing stronger, ‘no-one who died in this war will have died in vain. I promise you that.’
Ahren paused for a heartbeat – it was as if he was hoping that his friend would give him some sort of signal – some sort of blessing for the fateful day that still lay ahead. But instead, only a cloud pushed itself before the moon, casting the graves around the Paladin in a deep darkness.
Ahren nodded mutely. He could not wait for the light. It was time for him and the other Paladins to drive the darkness away – for once and for all.
Chapter 14
A heavy morning mist resembling an expansive burial shroud covered the flat land between Deepstone and the towering fortifications of the Ring – it was as though Mother Nature could hardly wait to prepare the field of death for the imminent battle.
Ahren repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists as he paced back and forth like a caged animal behind the parapet on top of the western tower. His eyes kept glancing from the Obsidian Fortress to the hilly, snow-covered terrain north of Deepstone as he scanned the landscape nervously.
Didn’t there use to be wheatfields there? he asked himself. Long before a certain greenhorn touched a gods’ stone, starting all this madness? Try as he might, Ahren was unable to reconcile this countryside, now blanketed in fog, with his memories of childhood. The city of Deepstone had swallowed up what the boy Ahren had once considered his whole world and hidden it behind the new defensive walls.
The river of Time carries everything away, mused Culhen philosophically, the wolf lying in his full armour in a corner of the fortified tower top, beaming with joy because Yoka, wanting to warm herself, had decided to cuddle up to him. It seems only yesterday that I was everyone’s favourite whelp, whose every whim was acceded to – and now look at me – here I am, a stately Alpha who will soon have a litter of whelps to take after me.
Ahren chuckled. Sun Shimmer is circling up there above the blanket of cloud. Are you sure that she isn’t listening in on you? And passing on your foolish words to Yoka?
Culhen suddenly raised his head and whimpered. She would never do that, would she? The wolf looked at Yoka, who merely gazed back at him before cuddling in closer. Phew, said the wolf. That was close.
‘According to Yoka, your animal has a very high opinion of himself,’ murmured Lyssin to Ahren, who was still anxiously pacing.
Culhen whimpered again. Oh, no! What a dastardly crow Sun Shimmer is!
A loud, angry caw split the sky. ‘You’d better stop talking,’ said the young man aloud to his furry friend, ‘before you alienate all the companion animals.’
Not receiving a reply, Ahren understood that his message really had gotten through to his generally obdurate wolf.
‘Not Yoka,’ said Lyssin, shaking her head. ‘For some reason, she finds Culhen’s boasting cute.’
Another whimper, but no prompt retort. Ahren was beginning to believe that his wolf might indeed be capable of learning manners.
His fellow Forest Guardian, who didn’t seem in the least bothered by the cold, and who was sitting in her united cloak on a crenel between two merlons, frowned and pointed at Yoka. ‘She simply won’t stop babbling. And it’s always some nonsense that inevitably makes me laugh.’
Ahren peered at the stoical looking Champion of the gods. ‘Hm,’ he murmured, ‘You don’t look that amused to me.’
‘I’m laughing inside.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Ahren in a lightly mocking tone. He was now leaning against the parapet and staring out onto the mist. ‘What’s keeping him?’
‘He was supposed to set off at daybreak,’ said Lyssin, calmly reminding the anxious Paladin. ‘Which entails a march of four leagues while incorporating all the peculiarities of your plan. So, he cannot possibly be here yet.’
‘I know,’ grumbled Ahren.
‘Ah, I see,’ she murmured, imitating what he had said with a grin.
The Thirteenth looked sideways at Lyssin with a self-deprecating smile. ‘Should you not – as the newest member of our select little group of Champions – be a little…I don’t know…less forward…perhaps?’
‘No idea,’ said Lyssin matter-of-factly. ‘Father never brought me up like that. What were you like as a freshly baked Paladin?’
Ahren groaned at the memory. ‘Stay the way you are,’ he muttered.
Lyssin laughed – and it wasn’t inside this time. She glanced affectionately over at Yoka and chuckled. ‘Why can’t my she-wolf stop blathering nonsense all the time?’
Ahren looked over at the she-wolf. ‘Companion animals understand instinctively what their Paladins need in moments of crisis. I see it like this – they are the anchors that keep us connected to Jorath.’
‘Hm – I wonder is that why the First always seems as though he exchanged his heart for a lump of ice? Because he has been without his companion animal for such a long time.’
Ahren cocked his head and mused for a moment. ‘I often wondered the same thing. I have come to the conclusion that his mood is mainly down to his having been the first of the Paladins to be formed. He has never handed on the sceptre of his monumental task, and now it seems as if he cannot separate himself from it.’
‘You know – I think that it would do him good to hear that,’ said a voice from within the tower, which Ahren immediately recognised as Khara’s. His beloved emerged through the archway of the heavy oak door, now open, but which normally barred access to the staircase within the castle. ‘I have been instructed to report to you that all the Paladins are in position – including the Father of the Mountain.’
Ahren nodded gratefully to her. ‘So, we are now only waiting for Trimm.’
‘Isn’t that always the case?’ countered Khara with a smile.
‘How is Palnah?’ asked the Thirteenth. ‘After her having to use all her powers yesterday…’
‘She is resting safe and sound in the Heart Hall,’ the Swordsmistress replied.
Ahren breathed a sigh of relief. This meant that the new-born babies, the pregnant Paladins and the soul companions were all secure deep below the castle. This plan with all its hair-raising risks was surely going to prove bloody enough without endangering the most vulnerable among them.
Khara took from her belt bag two small, buff-coloured, wax discs, handing one each to Ahren and Lyssin. ‘Akkad says you should press them onto your armour – preferably directly over your hearts.’
Ahren looked down at the object in his hand and recognised the sign of the THREE, which had been painted on it with a substance unknown to him. ‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘An experiment of our much-beloved Ancient,’ said Khara. ‘All the Paladins should wear the signet, which – if it works correctly – will dampen the gods’ Blessing call between you so that more of you can gather in one place without the Adversary being able to pick up your scent.’
Lyssin stared down at her disc. ‘And what happens if these things don’t do what they’re supposed to?’
‘Well, I’m not really sure,’ murmured Khara, shrugging her shoulders. ‘There was something said about you all then growing a second head, I think.’ She began to grin. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t really listening to Akkad.’
‘Very funny,’ muttered Lyssin, pressing the signet onto her chest. ‘You are more than welcome to keep my hilarious she-wolf company. Then you can both make each other laugh.’
