Chapter 15: Warrior 3

Toril flew from the shrouded form that held him. White hands gripped the sides of her hood and pulled it back, revealing an unearthly beauty beneath. Her skin was akin to the finest marble statue, flawless in appearance. Her lips matched her eyes in the glowing shade of red in the dark cave. A pale pink tongue reached out to lick her lips, revealing the sharp canines in her mouth. He steeled himself against the woman shaped creature. A Vampire. The figure rose slowly.

"Yes... you will do nicely indeed."

Toril dropped into a fighting stance. "You will have to earn your meal damned one."

She laughed. "Damned?"

He frowned. "Are you not of the deathless? The undead?"

"Perhaps," The woman spoke. "You are of the Order of the Sun, are you not?"

"You know I am."

"A mighty paladin of a small order," She mocked. "Their great warrior."

"SILENCE!" Toril snarled. "You profane-"

"Nothing. Your order is nothing... just an excuse for rich sluts to get a quickie."

Toril's mouth hung slack.

"A child... a child sent on a man's task."

Toril attacked.

It was a futile gesture, for the vampire countered his every attack, often deflecting it so that he came against the hard rocks. She laughed as he swung his arm to grapple with her. Toril grunted as she allowed the grapple to succeed, then sucked in his breath sharply as she expertly pinned him to the ground. A low growl escaped her throat as she forced his head back, exposing his jugular. Toril closed his eyes and braced for the strike that never came. He opened his eyes to see her shudder as she withdrew to a safe distance away from him.

"That was very foolish."

"Of me? Or you?"

She smirked. "I can smell the blood in your veins." Her eyes narrowed. "How is your faith?"

"My faith?"

"Do you still believe?"

"Yes."

"Do you?" She stroked her cheek with a long fingernail. "Do you really?"

He frowned.

Her smile was akin to a well fed cat's. "Shall I tell you a tale?" Her eyes flashed like miniature suns. "There was once a female sun elf of the K'eloris Clan, Calaya was her name. She was all that her house made her, and she was spoiled. She had everything, and wanted nothing. So one day she encountered an old woman in the forest shire, who promised her heart's desire to her in return for bringing others to the old ways." She cocked her head to the side. "A return to the worship of the old gods..."

Toril frowned.

"Astrathe, Gorligo, Killiaen, Verat'taa, and Sioban," The vampire stood and looked to the open sky silhouetted in the mirror of the lake. "Five gods and goddesses whom time had forgotten, that is, forgotten to all those who did not live before the Founding. Of the five, it was the Goddess Astrathe who called for the Breaking." She paused. "You know of what I speak."

"Yes."

"Your precious Goddess Sioban struck the first blow that broke the chains that bound the Shadows from their prison. It was Sioban who slew the Morning Lord and assumed his mantle, and it was Sioban who brought slavery back to the Woodland Realm.

"Calaya brought the old ways back, and was rewarded with great power. She had five children; each followed the Returned as they grew. Kurne Dre'Kaluuss became the infamous Warlord of Palen; Dranus of the Silver Tongue followed Verat'taa and became the favored thief and rogue of the Trickster Goddess. Malak the Black delved into the dark arts of Gorligo, and emerged changed and reborn and Makiri the Lich King, Lord of Iceholme. And Dor'nea... you have met."

"The High Priestess of Sioban," Toril felt his guts twist. He could not believe it, but it all sounded too true, despite his distrust of the undead before him. "And you... you follow Killiaen."

She laughed. "Foolishness." Her eyes met his as she opened her vest to reveal a pair of perfect breasts, pale white with bright pink nipples, and between them was the mark of the Balancer, the twin scales that judge all. Toril paled. None would dare wear the mark of the Ultimate Judge unless one was truly of the Order.

"So the little one understands," She laced her leather vest closed. "Killiaen has no follower in this world." She leveled a direct gaze at him.

"Killiaen walks in this world."

Toril's mind was awash with the implication. Everything he had learned about the Divine told him that the Gods and Goddesses couldn't physically manifest in this world, but they could work through an Avatar, a mortal being that could be possessed for a set purpose.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"You have a task to perform do you not? A quest?"

"Yes."

"Let me guess... find a truly evil soul and redeem it?"

"How?"

"Standard get-rid-of-a-troublesome warrior quest."

"It is a noble task, one that would prove my worth and my faith."

"Ah... is that it? You needed to prove your worth?" She shook her head. "I am well over a thousand years old and it never fails to surprise me that young men of all species have the irrepressible urge to act foolish. The only person that can judge your actions of being of worth is you. Even those on high must judge their own actions."

Toril stared at her like she was insane. Here he was, a newly christened Paladin of Sioban, and he was stuck in a cave getting ethics lessons from a Vampire.

The Vampire paused and stared at him intently. "How intent are you on completing your task?"

"It is my quest... it is a sacred obligation."

"There is perhaps one way to accomplish your goal... if you are willing."

"How do you know that my task is not to redeem you?"

She laughed.

"Use your senses boy. Am I evil?"

Toril closed his eyes and focused. There was no taint to her aura, which confused him even more. How was it possible for a creature such as this NOT to be evil? There was a hint of evil, no more than what was found in any who were guided partially by self interest.

"I don't understand." He confessed.

"I was not turned into a vampire in the normal sense. Killer I may be, but I became what I am by my own hand."

"Necromancer," He spoke.

"Indeed."

Necromancers were among the most feared of magick users. Many who professed knowledge of the Death Arts were quite evil, but some maintained a balance, and remained neutral in their studies. It was rumored in some circles that a truly talented Necromancer could transcend even death.

"What is the task you have in mind?"

"Kill Killiaen's avatar and end her meddling in this world."

"How does this help me?"

"You will find in the course of your quest the answer to that question." She rose slowly. "You serve a jealous Goddess. Killiaen will most assuredly temp you into forsaking your vows."

"Who is her avatar?"

She smiled. "In due time." Her eyes were burning embers as she stared at him. "Are you sure you are a Paladin?"

"You doubt?" Toril replied, standing.

"Every Paladin I have met in my existence took many years to become a Paladin. How long have you been a Paladin?"

"Six weeks."

"And how long did it take you to train to become a Paladin?"

"A day."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you are a Paladin?" She asked again.

"Yes."

"Prove it." She challenged.

Toril shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Work like what? Are you afraid that I am right? That you are nothing more than a jumped up warrior with a few magick trinkets?"

"Damn you."

"You'll have to do better than that boy. I've been damned better by lesser men."

His eyes narrowed in focus. One of the simplest spells in his arsenal was an illumination spell, which he chanted softly under his breath. In normal circumstances the area around him would be bathed in soft white light, but the effect was nothing. The only light was that of the illumination provided by the hole above. He blinked. Was she right? His own thoughts drifted back to the day he was invested, as it were, as a Paladin of Sioban. The High Priestess herself performed the ritual, and he knelt before the statue of his goddess and spoke the words as directed by her. A beam of light enveloped him and he felt light and happy. For a briefest moment he felt that he understood. Afterward he was presented with fine arms and armor, and tutored in their abilities and history. With a solemn expression the High Priestess laid down her charge upon him, to seek out and confront an evil soul, with the intent of redeeming said soul. He never questioned once the words or the intentions of the High Priestess. He only accepted and obeyed.

"You question yourself... that is good." She spoke. "Before you can serve any god or goddess you must first know yourself, and be content with that knowledge."

"And what of you?" Toril spoke bitterly. "What do you question?"

"Everything," She replied. "I must weigh all my options before acting, and that act must be something I can live with. The Balancer would accept nothing less."

Toril slumped to the rocky floor of the cavern. Was he living a lie? His thoughts strayed to his mate, the scent of her skin, her laughing eyes, and her generous smile. She was unlike any woman he has ever met or known with the exception of his own mother, and being in the same room with her left him feeling weak. He loved her. It was a simple statement, but one that was very profound. He was in love with Clara, and would do anything for her.