The Lenaris Cycle
Chapter 3: Off to See the Paladin
Mirrors held nothing but worry when filled with my reflection. I may have been a full blooded Selarian, of noble birthing and noble training, but my cloud-white hair alone was worse than having half of my body covered in scars. At least scars if tended to properly by a good healer or priestess of Akela could go away, but my hair was who I was. Selarians have always been an odd, some say enigmatic race. When males grow to a pinnacle of wisdom it is said thus is the reason their hair turns the color mine is. When a woman's does the same, it is said to be a sign of foolishness, of impulsiveness, and bad luck.
Few men are born with white hair though it has been known to happen. Likewise, some women are born with black, but they are even rarer. Before I, there had not been a written down tale that described a woman that had been born with white. I was nothing if I was impulsive, and I was nothing if I was foolish. However, I can hardly argue with my luck. After all, my full blooded sister sits on the throne as if it were simply a fancy chair.
Mayhaps I simply doubt her judgment because for the longest time she has made none. I am not sure. Regardless, I doubted it. She was foolish, and ten years my junior though that truly means little. When Selarians can supposedly live longer than the stars if not for disease, ten years doesn't mean much. However Selarians rarely look upon time like elves who live a shorter lifespan by comparison. An old adage states that Selarians "live like an elf, age like a Selarian, but no matter what will look better than either after a thousand years passes."
This may be true, but few Selarians have ever lived that long. Selarians have always been above all else entities made out of pure and true magic. There are many magical diseases of which we can fall prey to. Not only that, but wars both civil and not constantly have plagued our lands. It would be a silly thing to expect a nation raised to be warriors and defenders to live to even five hundred on average.
I wanted to delay. The mirror was a pleasing sight compared to Adien Demrose, the general of the armies of Thyra. Paladins they called themselves, but vicious is what they were. They followed a path of mighty vengeance and persecution. Already they began to accuse my order's style of defense being an excuse for cowardice.
It was hard keeping my people from responding in kind with insults. Do not think that all members of my order were as pious and dedicated as I. I was not awarded my position of general due to my formerly noble status. one does not earn their status by birth or by prowess in battle. I earned it because I was the most loyal to Akela's teachings and I had overcome my hair to be a truly wise and anything but impulsive. I had been told that if they could choose anyone for a leader of all the Selarians in the world, they would have chosen me.
So, curved blade at my hip, and bracer at my wrist, I marched off to Adien's quarters. I had no desire for this, so I would simply have to remember what my sister demanded of me. She may well be Queen of Selaria, but she would never again be my queen. She had betrayed me. She was betraying her people by accepting in the Thyrans without any suspicion.
As my hand raised to knock, the door fell open. This is something one grows heavily used to in Selarian society. Often doors are warded simply to open upon an attempted knock if the occupant is expecting someone. Magic helps with convenience, but sometimes I feel convenience has become too convenient and we have lost that which makes us Selarian. Even if we are made of magic, it is not as if Humans use blood and bone all over their castles. One would never see a door oiled by blood.
"Ah, Lenaris, I see you've finally arrived. Our most esteemed Queen Ceren told me to expect you. No doubt you know we're bound for the Isles of Tar?" Adien's voice was sincere as he spoke, but to Thyrans, false sincerity seems to come easy to them as false shows of enjoyment at too rough a lover. He was sitting on his bed, sharpening his blade with a magical whetstone. It's purpose I could only guess at. His mysticism was just as valid as my own, I simply did not trust him and I had good reason. Though it is supposed to be a sign of pride, his hair was born white. I suppose a part of me had envy that mine was not born black.
Adien's quarters were quaint, but filled with finery befitting a noble. I suppose I hated the Thyrans most for how they indulged themselves. I was the bloody Queen's sister and I had not a single gemstone in my hilt, and yet his had three. There were masterful tapestries in his room, and a silver framed mirror. In our country, no other metal is more valued.
"My apologies, Adien. I became distracted. I hope we can leave and get this over with quickly as possible." No pleasure shone through in my voice and that might have been for the fact that none lurked within me. "And yes, I am aware of our mission. Why the islands of tar? They may be between us and Shay'dar, but I hardly see it being used for any sort of military base. The Shay'din despise islands."
He nodded, and stood, sheathing his blade at his hip and motioning for me to sit in a rather comfortable looking chair. "The Shay'din may not, but we know that the acolytes of Salcom will go wherever he directs. Earlier this week there were reports of corsairs from both the groves and the human lands that landed in the Isles of Tar. It seems that the First Temple in the groves has no knowledge of why. It is our global duty to discover why they have met there. The Isles are within our waters after all. I doubt you and your allies would prefer that we allowed the elves to investigate."
Damned fool that I may wish him to be, Adien was smart. The Paladins did not decide who lead them by brute strength. He was a good leader and a canny diplomat to boot. I couldn't find a chink in his armor, but I would make it my goal to see why I was so suspicious of him. If I was simply being unfair, I would apologize formally.
Still my once Queen would never forgive me, but I do not do what I do for the throne.
"You are right, of course. How many will be accompanying us? Should I bring any of my soldiers?" Calling them mine was just a shorter way of saying it. They were Akela's warriors, and I was only borrowing their time. "My resources are at your disposal."
"Our Queen felt it would be best if the two of us went alone in a small ship. It will be faster, and the two of us could take on an army between us I believe. At least six to one, and not many more than six can effectively attack one person at a time. You appear to be ready, so I would prefer to leave immediately." The Demrose was already prepared as well.
Paladins of Thyra did not dress nor arm themselves anything such as a Warrior of Akela did. They wore colors of white and yellow whereas we wore red, blue, or green. They wore full armor that covered nearly every part of them, though it is Selarian tradition to wear no helm and at least they followed that. They used shields whereas we used the traditional bracers. At the very least, I did have to hand to them that anyone could learn to use a shield and armor, and not everyone could learn to effectively use a bracer.Nodding I stood, bowing my head for a long moment. "I trust that we will be off to the docks then. Is there anything that I should be ready for?" It was not long before the feel of cold hard steel, rounded, a gauntlet, slammed into the base of my neck. My face smashed into the floor as my knees gave way. Selarian traditions of making oneself vulnerable are rarely a safe thing in private, but I had felt that mayhaps I had misjudged him.
Sadly, it did not seem I had.
"You should be ready to learn the wrongs in your heathen ways." Metal fingers reached through my hair and grasped me up to my feet. I had never been caught so off guard. My cheeks would burn red if I had the human blood with which to blush. "You should be ready to receive judgment."
Hissing out weakly, the world feeling shadowy and false from the blow and the pain from my scalp, I spit at his armor. His other gauntlet connected with my face and I tasted my vitality leaking from the wounds punctured by both the harsh metal and my own teeth. I may not have bled like a human, but the misty energies which were my life force mingled with my spit, and I launched that at his armor as well, staining it silver. "You are the heathen. You clothe yourself in pomp and metal heated from the very flames of rage that you seek to quell. You are a fool and a -"
"Silence slave to a goddess of falsehoods!" The gauntlet collided again, and I could feel my face begin to seep with that mist as well. All of my wounds felt hot and yet froze with the taste of steel. "Salcom, the god of the dark seeks to enslave this whole world much like your goddess Akela. One claims to do it for shadow, and one for light. Your reluctance to bring the fight to Salcom's door-"
"-It is not my reluctance! I am not a slave! Akela offers her aid to those willing to follow a true and honest path. Salcom forces people to earn his blessings through following his whims. At the very least neither are like Thyra, preaching light or death, and slaying those that follow other than they without provocation - betraying their fellows that come to them in trust and bow their heads to reveal weakness!" I was truly shocked that Adien did not interrupt me. He should have. I know if I was him, I likely would have.
Instead, he lifted me higher and threw me down to the floor, my head slamming down onto the stone. The world was harder and harder to focus on. Everything was blurred around the edges. This became worse as my nemesis' boot pressed down against my chest and forced me down against the floor ever harder. "You are a slave, Lenaris. But your judgment will be passed on the isles of tar, not here. I am glad your sister had the foresight to dispose of your order now before you became even more of a liability to Selaria. There is only one force well equipped enough to lead Selarian politics. Allow the thrower of spells, those that work in shadows, and even the simple warriors with no religious affiliations run free, but Thyra, the goddess of light, shall rule in Selaria."
His own words proved him a hypocrite but I was in no place to question him. I raised my arm slowly to slam my bracer into his foot, but his leg moved, and his boot smashed my wrist down to the floor with incredible force. His other boot resumed the other's place at my chest.
Slowly by slowly, he was crushing the life out of me. It would not be my end, but when the world would go black, who was to know how long I would live. My eyes may never open again. "My... sister..?"
"That's right. Ceren herself signed your death warrant. My order will be dealing with you personally. You should be proud. Most times when we want someone dead, we allow the elves to send their assassins." He began to laugh, and all I could do was shake.
How could I be proud? If I had not abandoned my birth rite to become a Warrior of Akela, for no true Warrior of Akela can become a queen though a Queen can be trained in the ways of battle from them, I would be able to stop this! If I had not been so foolish as to feel that a force of power and loyalty was more important than who sits upon the throne, then this would not be so. If only I had lived my life entirely contrary to my own whims and desires, Selaria would not be damned.
I had been foolish. I had been impulsive. My luck was to damn my entire country, my very people who should have called me queen and not my weak and easily corrupted sister. It would seem that what everyone had said about my hair was right.
I would rather I had been born to never know hair at all.
