Rich Wulf - Flight of the Dying Sun

“Tristam’s a good man, but he can be high strung, especially where his mission to recover Ashrem’s work is concerned,” Zed said. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice him reaching for his wand when you started threatening to stop us?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “I thought him harmless at the time.”

“He probably doesn’t even remember,” Zed said. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize. I was just trying to help.”

“There is no need,” she said. “Don’t you remember? You said sorry when you hit me the second time.”

“I did?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You remember that?” he said.

She nodded again.

“Even after being knocked out?” he asked.

“You never knocked me out, Arthen,” she said. “I let you think you won.”

Zed looked at her in blank surprise then smiled a little. “Isn’t that a bit like lying?”

“I considered it a strategic retreat,” she said. “If you wish to believe you can defeat a Spear of Boldrei in two blows-that is your own stupidity.”

Zed cackled. He looked out the window again, but his grin faded as he stared at the receding Vathirond cityscape.

“I know you are a private, stubborn, arrogant, introverted, antisocial, dreadful man,” Eraina said, “but if you wish to talk about what’s bothering you, I promise to listen.”

“Flatterer,” Zed said. His frown broke slightly as he looked back at her.

“You’ve been to Vathirond before,” she said.

Zed nodded. “Long time ago,” he said. “When I still served the Flame.”

“So you really were a paladin, then,” Eraina said.

“You already knew that,” Zed said, his gray eyes boring into hers.

“And this is where you fell,” she said. It was not a question.

“Therese Kalaven was my commanding officer,” he said. “She was everything I thought a champion of the Silver Flame should be. Bold. Beautiful. Totally fearless. I would have followed her anywhere.” Zed laughed bitterly. “I was a stupid boy back then.”

“You loved her,” Eraina said.

“I thought I did,” Zed said. “Looking back, I think my motivations were a little more …” He smirked. “Basic. She reciprocated, which of course only made me all the more willing to follow her.”

“Most paladins take vows of chastity for a reason, Arthen,” Eraina said. “Relationships like that are doomed from the start.”

“Trust me, Eraina, I’ve heard it all before,” Zed said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We were assigned to Thrane’s front lines. Our squad had a reputation for speed, efficiency, and brutality. Therese was a brilliant commander, if totally ruthless.”

Zed took a deep breath as he remembered. Eraina watched him quietly, her eyes sympathetic.

“I was blind, Eraina. I never saw what she was becoming. What we all were becoming. Therese would have rationalized any violence, any atrocity, in the name of the Silver Flame. We were dispatched to Vathirond. We were supposed to ally with the Brelish, help them wipe out some Cyran forces that had been harassing their borders. When we got to Vathirond, we found the Brelish defenses had been sabotaged. They were totally defenseless.”

“The Battle of Vathirond,” Eraina said. “I’ve heard of it. So Therese saw an easier target and chose to ally with the Cyrans instead?”

“That’s not all,” Zed replied. “Therese burned the temples of the Sovereign Host, convinced the priests were using their congregation to spy on Thrane over the border. She commanded us to show no mercy.” Zed scowled. “I watched my brothers and sisters, Champions of the Flame, do terrible things. I saw two soldiers drag a priestess out of a burning temple into an alley. I don’t know what they planned to do to her. Everything blurred. I killed them both. The girl screamed and ran for her life. I don’t even know if she survived the siege. When I gathered my senses again, I couldn’t hear the Flame’s voice anymore.”

“What did you do?” Eraina asked.

“What could I do?” Zed said. “I’d killed my fellow soldiers, but I wasn’t about to turn myself in for doing the right thing. I ran. I left Vathirond behind. I figured the deeper I ran into Breland, the less chance there’d be that Therese would find me.” He snickered. “Or maybe I was running from the Flame. I don’t know. But any god that would strip one of its champions for saving an innocent girl is a god I’m better off without.”

“Perhaps your god didn’t punish you for saving that girl,” Eraina asked. “Perhaps it punished you for waiting so long to do the right thing.”

Zed looked out the window again. “I’ve wondered about that,” he said in a low voice. “Would it hurt so much for the Flame to tell me what I did wrong?”

“Didn’t it?” she said.

“No,” Zed said, exasperated. “In fact, it didn’t. It let me kill my friends, disgrace my family, and stagger off to hide in a bottle for six years. The Silver Flame gave up on me, Eraina, so I gave up on myself.”

Eraina said nothing for a long time. She watched Zed sadly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“What did you do next?” she asked.

“I realized I would need money to keep paying for the alcohol,” Zed said. “I discovered I was good at noticing things other people missed, remembering details everyone else forgot, and my military training didn’t hurt, either. I lived under an alias in Sharn, working as an inquisitive. I fell.”

“But you rose again,” Eraina said. “You may not be a paladin, but neither are you an anonymous drunkard. What happened?”

Zed chuckled. “Would you believe I have Dalan to thank for that?”

“Dalan d’Cannith?” Eraina was genuinely surprised.

“Dalan hired me to recover some stolen Cannith prototypes that had made their way to Sharn,” he said. “While on the job, I saved his life from a hobgoblin assassin. I didn’t think any more of it, but Dalan didn’t forget. Say what you will about him, but he’s a man who repays his debts.”

“What did he do?” she asked.

“I got a letter from him four months later,” Zed said. “It contained details regarding Commander Therese Kalaven’s trial and execution by the church inquisitors for assorted war crimes. The warrant for my own arrest had been repealed, and I had been issued a full pardon and formal apology from the Voice of the Flame herself. Dalan had dug it all up, brought it all to light. He even arranged an invitation to return to my post in Flamekeep whenever I wished.”

“But you never went,” Eraina said.

“No,” Zed said. “I’m still not convinced that any gods are really watching over us, but Dalan convinced me that people can watch out for each other. If even a man like Dalan can put a wrong thing right, then I have no excuse to hide from evil.” He looked at her, his gaze clear and strong now. “So that’s what I do now. I help people, however I can. Actually, trying to do the right thing gave me the focus I needed to stop drinking.” He smirked. “I’m still working on quitting smoking.”

“I think you are right, Arthen,” Eraina said. “The Flame never watched over you.”

“Angling to convert me to the Host, Eraina?” he asked. “Never had you pegged as an evangelist.”

“That isn’t what I mean,” she said. “Aren’t you the one who always touts the value of redemption? Yet you deny your own redemption, deny any possibility of returning to your role as champion.”

“You don’t have to be an artist to like a painting, Eraina,” Zed said.

“You’re a good man, Arthen,” Eraina said. “The Flame never watched you because it knew you could watch yourself. You were chosen as a paladin because you did not need protection. You had the strength to protect others-and you still do.”