Excerpt: Paladin's Song

It was on her second day in the library, when she was sitting behind the desk in the front of the building, when she discovered why the job was not as good as she might have previously thought. She looked up as the door opened, and her breath caught, and her heart began to pound with fear and elation both. She resisted the urge to crawl under the desk and hide, and instead rose to her feet to greet the High Cleric.

His hood did not hide his features today. Some people might have called him ugly; to her, he looked much like many of the warriors that she had known. His head was shaved bald, which could only be convenient in battle, and on his brow he wore a circlet made of silver. His features were strong and chiseled, and she found him to be rather handsome despite the scars of battle and the way that his age had started to show. He smiled warmly at her and the corners of his blue eyes crinkled as he saw her standing there. “Taerwyn Davies, the little pinecone smiter. I thought I saw you the other evening on my way in.”

She felt her face go bright red, and her eyes dropped to the ground in embarrassment. She even went so far as to drop a curtsy, as she might have done back home. “Lord Thorven.” She was hoping that he would not remember her. It had been a few years since she had seen him last. She was not so lucky. “You look well.”

He folded his arms across his chest and laughed, and the sound set her at ease. It was welcomed as a familiar sound that she was used to since childhood, even though it was unexpected in this place. “I’ve seen better days. But I’ve seen worse, as well. You look almost all grown up. How are you? How is your family?”

Her face fell, and she looked away toward the wall, just so she did not have to look at him. “My family is fine. Nevus is going to make a great lord of the hold, when Father passes on, which I hope is not any time soon. Father continues to hold ground against the enemy.” She wondered if he would notice that he left herself out. He probably did, since she knew that he was sharp and observant. The question was if he would let it be or not.

Of course he did not. His voice became gentle, and she felt almost compelled to look back at the cleric. Green eyes met blue, and she shook her head. She knew what question was coming even before he asked. “And you, Taerwyn? Did something happen to put you here, or are you here because you want to be?”

She cursed his powers of perception silently. He was good; he always had been. A small laugh escaped her in spite of her embarrassment. She did not know what it was about him, but she always felt like spilling the whole truth around him. “I got caught on the battlefield.” She gestured to the crutch that leaned against the wall nearby, as if that should explain everything.

His eyes closed in what looked like it might be pain, and she wondered why, before he recovered quickly and chuckled. “I know your father. He did not appreciate finding you out there at all, and now you’re here.”

“Precisely.” She laughed quietly, and sat back down. Her leg was bothering her, and she knew that he would not mind. She was starting to realize just how good it was to see a face she knew from home, even though the last time she saw him had been frightening. The smile faded from her face as she recalled that night.

“You still have questions, I see. Your father did not explain.” He leaned against the wall near her, and his face took on a distant look. “There are certain gifts that come with what I am. Sometimes it gives the appearance of returning from the dead, like a more powerful version of the healing spells that your father can do.”

“So you are not undead?” She really should have figured that it would be something of the sort, but that fear had lingered with her for three years now. She felt extremely foolish now.

He threw his head back and laughed. “Is that why you’ve been afraid of me for all this time? Because you thought I was the dead come back to life? I wondered what it was before I left Gray Mountain the last time. I can’t believe Caeldon didn’t explain it to you.”

“Well, to be fair to him, Lord Thorven, I never asked.” She felt the shameful red in her cheeks. She had been so silly, to think that he was one of the unliving. Had she really believed that they would continue to allow him to be High Cleric if he was? Of course, she had not seen him since that night, so she could not have known that he was still serving in that capacity.

“Fair enough.” He still continued to chuckle, however, and her face continued to burn slightly. She knew he did not mean to be unkind, because he had never spoken an unkind word to her since she met him almost twelve years ago now, but she felt ashamed of herself for even thinking such silly things in the first place. He had every right to laugh at those fears. She knew that she would too, once she was over the mortification of this moment.

“Was there something you needed from the library today?” She needed to deflect attention away from herself and onto something else.

He straightened his shoulders and pushed off the wall, and let his hands fall to his side. With his spine straight and head held high, he was once more the cleric instead of the old family friend. He still smiled as he nodded. “I already know what section I’m working in, but thank you for the offer of assistance.”

She dipped her head to him and smiled. It was good to see a face she knew in this place, which had been hostile except for Sandry and Sister Jocaste. “You are quite welcome, Lord Thorven. And thank you for clearing up my… misconception.” She laughed and felt herself turning red again. “I should have known that you were not undead, but I did not think.”

“You were fourteen and uneducated in the ways of my kind. The manner in which I revived was not exactly what I would describe as pleasant.” He smiled again, and she relaxed further as his good humor calmed her nerves and strengthened her soul wearied by the past few days. “I might have thought the same thing, in your shoes.”

“I am still uneducated in the ways of clerics, sir.” She grinned at him. “And probably always will be.”

He got that distant look in his eyes again as he smiled back at her. “No, you will learn eventually. I’m not sure that you’ll be able to escape it, if you continue down the path that you’ve chosen for yourself.” He focused on her, and his smile seemed sad for an instant. “You have grown up so much.”

She blushed, and wondered what, exactly, he meant by all of what he had just spoken. “Thank you, I think.”

He grinned, once more the family friend. “It is a good thing. You have your father’s spirit, and your mother’s great capacity for emotion. It will serve you well, in the long run, if you allow it to. But here, you must learn self-discipline and patience.” He shook his head, and frowned as though he had said something he did not want to say, or was about to do so. He hesitated, and then nodded to himself before speaking once more. “You, Taerwyn, can not escape your path any more than I can mine. Learn what you can now, because it will serve you well later.”

“What do you mean by that?” She frowned too now.

He gave her an enigmatic smile, and his voice lowered to something soft and almost gentle as he leaned in a little closer so she could hear him. “You will find out soon enough. Don’t be in a hurry to rush your destiny. Enjoy the things that you have, while you have them.” He cleared his throat and straightened again to turn and walk toward the library’s collection of tomes. “It was good to see you again, Taerwyn.”

“I wish you luck in finding what you seek, Lord Thorven.” She watched him disappear into the shelves of books, and frowned more deeply. What was that all about? His last words left her with a chill, and she shivered as goose bumps rose on her arms.

She did not have long to linger on the thought, however, as the bell rang to summon them all to the midday meal. She gathered up the crutch and hobbled out of the library. She would be thinking on what he said for the rest of the day.