Fires of Justice

Part 12:  Paladin – Change the world . . . .

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A surprisingly short while later, the thirty-five people in the cage were free.  Terel was a true genius with a lockpick, and, it turned out, at hiding his picks.

Once the cages were opened – Kaylira’s sword was magically unbreakable, and broke the locks on the portable cage easily enough, with Altairen’s muscles behind it – Terel sat down on a stump, and ran his hands slowly and carefully through his hair.  When they came out, his hands were holding two lockpicks, and he set those down, and reached into his mouth, coming out with two more.  The broad buckle of his wide belt produced four more picks – and Terel started to work.

In thirty seconds, he opened the first lock on the first collar he worked on.  The second took perhaps fifteen seconds, the third ten, and he spent around five seconds per lock, after that.  Altairen examined the first one, and was immediately impressed by Terel’s skill.  It was very complicated, and, while all the rest were identical, to avoid having to carry a ton of keys – still, five seconds was quite an accomplishment!

Once they were all free, it seemed that each person felt a need to thank Altairen personally.  He accepted their thanks, on behalf of his goddess, then went back to his campsite, and got his things, brought them here.  He then began to work on how to make these people safe.

They had no weapons, and no goods, as their captors had sold everything they owned, earlier in the day.  They had been captured, by a larger force, the day before this one, and then that force had split, most going off to continue hunting “heretics.”

“So, let me be sure I understand you,” Altairen said, after he had heard their story.  “This city Geranett that you come from – they have outlawed worship of the Bright Gods, and gave worshippers sixty days, to convert, or to leave the area ruled by Geranett’s King?”

“Yes,” Kayleen said, looking grim.  “And then they stalled the purchase of the grounds and building of the Temple of Arteneh.  Most of the acolytes and their families left.  I stayed, to close the deal, along with these people, most of whom were temple staff.  Wellin and his men – “  The cleric indicated the big warrior and the seven men he commanded – “were guards for hire, and stayed with us, to accompany the caravan, when it left.  We were sixty strong, when we left Geranett, three days ago.  Then, yesterday . . . they attacked us, as we are not out of the boundaries of the lands of Geranett.  They killed eleven of Wellin’s men, and twelve of the others, who fought back.

“Today, they sold our goods and weapons.  We are destitute, now, Paladin.”

“Perhaps,” Altairen said.  “And perhaps not.”

He stood, and called for Terel.  The thief came over, his customary grin broadening, when Altairen asked for help in searching the wagons.

“I’ll help,” Terel said.  “But I think we’d best wait until tomorrow, to search the priest’s wagon, Sir Altairen – when Kayleen can make sure to remove any wards the bastard placed on it.”

“All right,” Altairen agreed.  “But, Terel, please – drop the ‘Sir.’  Just Altairen.  Or, if you like, you can call me paladin, as Kayleen does.  I like the term.  Not used much, on my world – but I like it.”

“Very well, Altairen,” Terel agreed.  “Where should we start?”

“First wagon, I think,” Altairen said.  “And you can attempt to teach me something of how to search properly.  I may be a miserable student – but I will try to learn.”

Terel chuckled, and led the way.  Half an hour later, he and Altairen had stripped the wagons of everything of value – they thought.

They found a half a dozen weapons, which, along with those left by the dead men, allowed the mercenary Wellin to outfit himself and his men, at least partially.

They also found two small chests, and a bag, all full of coins, each marked with some symbol of royalty, Altairen noted.  Most were gold or silver, though there was some copper mixed in, here and there, and a smattering of platinum.  As they searched, Terel told him of the money system that was used on this world.  It was straight forward, and easy to use.  Signets, scepters, crowns, and royals.  Copper, silver, gold, and platinum.  Ten coppers to make a silver, ten silvers to a gold, ten golds to a platinum.

There was also food, simple fare, dried meats and fruits, in the second wagon.  Altairen had Kayleen pass it out, while he found hunters who could use the three long bows that he and Terel had found.  He told them to hunt at first light, and set others to the task of gathering fruits and vegetables at first light.

There were blankets enough for everyone to have one, already – by sharing and grouping, Altairen could be sure no one would be too uncomfortable, or likely to get sick, overnight.  And the youngest ones, and their mothers, could sleep in the two wagons that were safe to use, before magical inspection.

Then, as he moved to sit down to talk to Kayleen and Kaylira, the door of the Priest’s wagon opened, and out came a young man, in the robes of a priest of Jaranaset, yawning and stretching.  He glanced around the camp, started to stretch again – then froze.

Suddenly, he whirled, and began shouting in the language of magic.  Before he could finish the spell, a single arrow, fired by the one mercenary who had claimed hunting skill, pierced his right shoulder, high above the vitals.  He screamed, lost his concentration, and his spell, and fell to the ground, clutching his wounded shoulder, and yowling.

Altairen was over him, saber drawn, and at the young Priest’s throat, before he could do more, or any of the former prisoners could attack him.

“Get up!” Altairen snarled.  As the priest stood, Altairen stepped in close to him.  “Listen, boy – I have a message that needs delivered.  And you will live, if you deliver it for me.”

The Priest nodded vigorously, and stammered, “Yes, Lord, of course.”

“Listen, then,” Altairen said.  He spun around, and included the former prisoners, in his address.  “There must be a High Priest of your Temple. Can you get into see him?”

“Y-yes,” the Priest’s apprentice answered.

“Very well, then,” Altairen snapped, and focused again on the crowd of former prisoners.  “This abolishing the worship of the Bright Gods . . . it is an aberration in the eyes of those Gods – after all, they do not attempt to stop worship of the Dark Ones, when those Gods leave others in peace.  I have been informed that the Goddess of Justice, at least, feels this way.  And by the actions of the cleric, there, I would say that her God, as well, opposes it.

“I have been charged by the Goddess Alethanna to oppose the Dark One’s bid for power, and I have accepted the charge willingly and gladly.  And I have the skills to do as I have been asked.  I have started, here, tonight.  And I will continue, every time that I see a chance.

“You and yours forbid the worship of Good, and that is evil – and it will no longer go unopposed.  So tell the worshippers of the Dark Ones, little Priest – tell them that while they are striving to wipe out worship of the Bright Gods . . . tell them that Alethanna’s Paladin is coming.  That justice is coming . . . for them!”

As he turned to look at the Priest again, Altairen saw the boy drop his arm to vertical, and flick his wrist oddly – so he was aware of the attack, before it came.

He caught the Priest’s wrist, and jerked it away from the Priest’s body, at the same time twisting the arm, and shoving it down to the Priest’s side. The blade of the tiny dagger he had produced bit the Priest’s flesh, but it was barely more than a scratch.

Yet the young Priest convulsed, and choked – and died.

Terel, the thief, was there in a second.  He lifted the dagger that had been used, and sniffed the blade, then tossed it quickly into the fire.

“Poisoned,” Terel said.  “Nasty stuff, too.”

“Well, then,” Altairen said, with a small smile, “I suppose I shall have to make my intentions known in some other way, won’t I?”

The former prisoners, all worshippers of the Bright Gods, stared for a moment – then let out with a mighty whoop of approval, surprising Altairen.  For a moment, he could only stare, agape, at the shouting, applauding crowd – then, he gathered himself, and called, “Thank you – all of you – but I am not who you should applaud, ladies and gentlemen.  Thank your Gods – for they stand behind us, and give us the strength we need, to face our enemies.

“Now, I think we should rest.  Wellin and his men have agreed to take the watch.”

“Paladin,” Kayleen called, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.  “I heard what you said to the young priest, before he died.  I can only assume that you were serious, given your office.”

“I was,” Altairen said.  “I was charged by my Goddess – and I shall obey, and gladly so!”

“Have you thought about what this shall entail?” Kayleen asked.  “You will need an army, paladin – and a place to base them.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Priestess Kayleen,” Wellin, the mercenary commander, said.  “But, once you an’ yours are safe, me an’ mine . . . we’ve talked, and we’ll gladly be the start of his army!”

There was a chorus of agreement, from every one of the people that had been freed.  And, as the cheer died down, a single stocky figure shouldered through the crowd, and to the front.  It was a dwarf, just over four feet tall, and with his long brown beard tucked neatly into his belt.  He stopped, placed his hands on his hips, and spoke.

“I am Garaken, of the White Mountains,” he said, in his deep, rumbling voice.  “I wasn’t part of this group, when they started, paladin – I came along for safety in numbers, and because those in Geranett were becoming unfriendly to my kind.  We made a deal, me and the pilgrims – I come along, see to horseshoes, weapon repairs, and the like, and they feed and protect me.

“Now that I’ve seen the sort of khark that they are fleeing . . . I side with you!

“I am a smith, paladin, of no small skill.  And I say this; get me to a smithy, and by Nekharef’s beard, I shall make you weapons for your army – from the very chains that the Dark-worshipping khark-eaters used to bind us!”

That got more cheers, and several members of the party hurt their hands, slapping Garaken on the back.  The dwarf only grinned widely, and nodded at those who congratulated him.

“Much appreciated, Garaken,” Altairen replied, grinning back at the dwarf.  “As soon as it may be, I will accept your offer.”

“Paladin,” Kayleen said, loud enough for all to hear.  I have a question, if I may?”

“Of course, Lady Kayleen,” Altairen agreed, matching her volume.  If she wanted all to hear this, he would accommodate her.

“Now that you have announced your challenge the Dark Gods of this world, do you have a plan of execution?” Kayleen asked.  “Where will you stay?  How will you feed your army?  How will you keep your allies as you make them?  Where will you start your movement for freedom?  I mean really start.

“This is obviously a happenstance attack, for I saw it from the start.  At least you are a competent fighter, and obviously intelligent, which is more than I can say for many of the would-be freedom fighters that have cropped up from time to time.”

“You have made your point, Kayleen,” Altairen said, bowing slightly.  “As I said, I am given a mission of my Goddess – and I thank you, for making that mission more clear.

“I had thought to find a place to build a fortress, Lady Kayleen, but I think that may not be sufficient, after seeing how readily these people have joined us.  I am confident that there will be others – many others!

“So, I suppose we shall have to find a likely spot – and build a town.”

Seeing the raven-haired cleric open her mouth, Altairen rushed on.

“Believe me, Lady – I know something of defending towns,” Altairen assured her.  “I have been fighting for the justice of Alethanna for a long time.”

“I accept your word on that, paladin,” Kayleen said with a nod of respect.  “But I must ask – what do you know of building a town?”

“How hard can it be?” Altairen asked, after a moment’s thought.  “A few houses – we can always add more later – public buildings, a wall . . . what more do we need?”

“Oh, you poor man!” Kayleen laughed.  “Let me ask – for safety’s sake, this town will have to be isolated, yes?”

“Of course,” Altairen agreed, looking puzzled.  “If our very worship is forbidden, by the prevailing governments, we shall have to build away from those governments – but close enough to be able to attack them, when we gain enough strength.”

“So, there will be nowhere to go for supplies,” Kayleen said in a slightly frustrated tone.  “You will need to take everything you need to create a self-sufficient community with you.  Have you any idea what that entails, Altairen?”

“Well, I can imagine it’s quite a lot,” Altairen admitted.  “But any good sized town will have all that we need, I should think – ”

“No,” Kayleen interrupted flatly.  “They shall not – not in the numbers that you will need.

“When I first left the Temple of the Greater Good, to travel and use what I had learned, I was sent with a group of 100 that were going to establish a colony in the western lands, far from here.  I saw how much they took – and they barely survived to get themselves properly started, Altairen.

“Listen – here is a partial list of what you will need, assuming that this group triples in size, before you reach your destination – which, if you continue freeing and succoring refugees, is a gentle estimate.  For I believe that most will join you.”

The cleric took a deep breath – and proceeded to recite her “partial list” – and worry the devil out of Altairen.

“Tools first,” Kayleen, said.  “For each man in the party – and half again that number, if you are wise, for tools break – you will need three different hammers, at least two different kinds of saw, a mallet – two would be wise, a light and a heavy – two pry-bars, small and large, an axe, a hatchet, at least two knives.  And perhaps ten heavy tree-saws.  Oh, and heavy gloves – at least two pair apiece, and an apron.  And I have probably missed much.”

Some men in the crowd rumbled agreement.

“Then, there are foodstuffs,” Kayleen said, shaking her head.  “We can hunt along the way, to wherever we end up bound for, but we should have dried meat anyway, just in case.  Dried vegetables, bread, or flour to make it.  Spices – we have to have those, I think.  Salt is rare, unless you have time to develop a salt mine, paladin, and that cannot be done on the road!

“And livestock!  What of that, Altairen?” Kayleen asked.  The stern look on her face melted, and began to be replaced by amusement, at Altairen’s dumbfounded look.  She continued in a lighter tone.  “Chickens – at least two dozen brood hens, and two roosters. A half a dozen cows, and a bull.  Goats, perhaps? Half a dozen nannies, and a billy goat.  Pigs, six to one, sows to boar.  Sheep, I would suggest a dozen ewes, and two rams – for the wool.

“And utensils – pots and pans enough to go around, until the good dwarf, there, can spare the time from making and repairing tools to begin producing them for us.  Eating utensils, plates, cups, bowls – we shall have to have many of these, until we find clay, and can make our own.

Clothing.  Looms, unless someone here knows how to make one from scratch.  Leather!  A great deal of leather, to make and repair boots and gloves, and other things, until we have the cattle to spare for slaughtering.  Tools to work the leather with. Needles, and thread!

“Wagons, to carry all of this, and horses to pull them.  Bedrolls, tents, and more horses, for those who would scout for us, and for those who would attack any of the Dark One’s servants that we may meet.

“Need I go on, paladin?”

“No, Lady,” Altairen said, after a long moment.  “I see that you are right.”

“This will take, among other things,” Kayleen said, quite gently, “a great deal of money.”

Altairen actually brightened a bit, the gloomy look on his face lifting slightly.  He glanced around at the two chests and one bag of treasure.  “There, Lady,” he said, “we may not be as bad off as you suspect.  I know something of the habits of the Dark Ones, and those who worship them, you see . . . .  Terel!  The young Priest did not have time to set wards on the wagon – will you search it?”

While the thief did as he asked, Altairen turned back to Kayleen.

“Lady Kayleen,” he said, loud enough to be sure the former slaves would hear, “Several times, while you described what will be needed, you said ‘we’ shall need.  Will you then accompany us?”

“I will,” Kayleen replied, just as loudly, understanding that he wanted the newly freed prisoners to hear.  “Arteneh and Alethanna have guided us here, to meet, Altairen – and your mission is one that the Arteneh can only approve of, paladin! I will join you – if you will have me . . . ?”

“I would be honored,” Altairen said, bowing deeply. There was a collective release of tension, among the former prisoners.  A cleric of the Greater Good, and a Paladin Of Justice –they were truly blessed!

There was a whoop of delight, from inside the Priest’s wagon, and Terel dove out, somersaulting across the grass, to stop before Altairen, and offer him a small pouch.  Altairen opened it, and spilled its contents onto his hand.

There were a half a dozen mid-sized gems, three diamonds, two emeralds, and a sapphire, all beautifully cut.

“Worth at least eight or ten thousand crowns,” Terel said.  “And that’s if you sell them in a hurry, rather than shop them around a bit.”

“Well done, Terel!” Altairen said.  “Was there aught else?”

“Some things – weapons and potions – that I was not willing to touch,” Terel said.  “At least, not until the Lady Kayleen is recovered, and can assure me that they aren’t cursed!”

“Wise choice,” Altairen agreed.  “I doubt you’d be much help to us, or to yourself, were you turned into a frog, Terel.”

“True – and who wants to eat flies all the time?” Terel said, brightly.

Chuckling, Altairen turned to Kayleen again.  More quietly, he said, “Lady, I would speak with you, privately – or at least more privately.  Your sister is welcome, and Terel.”

The four of them went and sat, and Altairen watched idly, as Wellin spoke to his men, about setting a watch.  After a moment, the paladin turned to his fellows, and said, “I am, as you know, an Outworlder, as you call those such as I.  I am aware that there are a hundred and one time a hundred things that I do not know of this world, that I shall need to know.

“Most immediately, I need three things:  I need to know of the gods and goddesses of this place.  I need to know the basics of law, and the weight given to the word of clerics, and those who worship Alethanna and Arteneh, at least.  And I need to know what types of weapons are commonly carried, and used, and how they are used.

“It seems that you three should be able to tell me these things.”

They did, taking their time.  Kayleen spoke of the Gods and Goddesses of the world she now told Altairen was called Quelannas, Terel spoke of the laws – there were only a few, that held true across all the known parts of the world – and of the respect that was, once upon a day, given to all clerics.  Now, he was careful to tell Altairen, that respect had turned, in many places, to derision, even contempt – at least for worshippers of the Bright Gods.

And Kaylira spoke of weapons, and combat.  Altairen was disturbed to hear that the long sword and short sword combination he had faced earlier that evening was fairly common – and more disturbed when Kaylira mentioned that the man using it hadn’t been very good.

On the other hand, though, she had been impressed by Altairen’s unarmed combat, even though she’d seen very little of it.  Apparently, such skills were rare, here.

Eventually, Altairen’s long day caught up with him, and he began to yawn.  He shook his head, after a long yawn, and said, “I fear I need to sleep, my friends.  And, before I do, I need to wash the blood of the Dark off of myself.  So, if you will all excuse me . . . ?”

Altairen returned to his tent, where he collected a spare blanket to towel dry with, and a cake of soap, and headed to the stream he’d been half-following, when he came here.

Altairen built a fire on the edge of the stream, and then cut a few branches, and made drying racks for his clothes.  He stripped, and rinsed out his clothing.  The blood in the clothes was fresh enough that it all came out, for the most part.  He threw his clothes on the drying racks near the fire, grabbed the cake of soap he had brought, and moved to the stream.  The water was cold – but he was a fastidious man, and hated to be dirty, any longer than absolutely necessary.

Lady Alethanna,  Altairen thought, as he stepped into the water of the stream, I have accepted the task that you have laid before me, and I will not shirk it – but I had no idea it would be so difficult!

Altairen washed the blood of the Dark Worshippers off of himself, and paddled about a bit, while his clothing dried.  He then got out of the stream, and slicked the water off of his skin with his hands.  He stood near the fire for a few moments, letting the heat and the mild breeze that had sprung up dry him off.

While he waited, he recited the prayer to his goddess that he always found himself thinking of, in times when he was nervous, or troubled.

“I will bend to the will of the Lady Alethanna.  Hers is the way that lights the darkness.  I will be true to her dictates, and walk on the ways of Justice.  I will not fear death, for death is not failure.  I shall stand beside those of strong faith in the Justice of the Gods.  I shall be courageous . . . for without courage, there can be no Justice.

“I shall bear the fire of her Silver Star into the darkness, that those lost within the darkness might see that there is a way out.  In the name of Alethanna, I shall do these things, for hers is the hand that made me whole.”

He dropped to one knee, and bowed, when he was finished, then put on his trousers and boots, and was putting out a hand to his tunic, when he heard a sharp, indrawn breath behind him.  Altairen spun, dipping and grabbing the unsheathed sword he had laid on the ground, and came up with it in his hand.  He leveled it at the place the sound had come from, and said, “Come into the light!  Now!”

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