T Lain - City of Fire

“Don’t move him,” the knight said from above.

Naull turned back toward the cool, tenor voice. The knight removed her helmet and Naull looked up to see her face for the first time. The woman had black, short hair that stood up at odd angles, as if she cut her own hair with a knife. It should have given her a sloppy appearance, especially since she’d been wearing a full helm only moments before, but somehow it didn’t. Her wide, bright eyes met the wizard’s briefly, and she crouched by the half-elf’s broken body.

“This is bad,” the woman said. She opened Ian’s light armor and started picking wood splinters from the ranger’s wound. The half-elf groaned in pain though he was still unconscious. “He’s dying.”

It was then Naull noticed something on the woman’s breastplate. Inscribed carefully into the silver armor was a small symbol, an outline of a lightning bolt gripped in a firm hand. The wizard nudged her friend and gestured. He saw it and nodded.

The knight placed both her hands on Ian’s wound. She muttered something, but if it was a prayer or a spell, neither friend caught the words.

Ian suddenly moved, arching his back, and he let out what sounded like a startled sigh. The wound on his shoulder closed, and the abrasions he’d suffered seemed completely healed. He opened his eyes and started to sit up.

“No, friend,” the knight said, “do not move. You are all right, and among friends, but you are still badly injured.”

The half-elf’s gaze met the woman’s and he blinked in silent wonder. But he recovered his composure quickly and it seemed to Naull almost as if a mask had fallen down across Ian’s face. He was back.

“Thank you,” he said.

The knight smiled warmly. Her teeth, while white, weren’t entirely straight, and that somehow surprised Naull, too. Her ears jutted out, her chin was too large—every individual feature of the knight’s face seemed slightly off, but taken as a whole, they somehow added to her attractiveness. She looked at Regdar and the fighter’s eyes locked on the woman’s face for a few moments. Naull suddenly felt a little uncomfortable and made a sound in her throat. They both turned toward her.

“Yes,” the wizard said, “thank you.”

Ian lay back against the tree as Regdar and the knight rose.

“I was glad to be of service,” she said. “Heironeous be praised, but it seems I got here just soon enough.”

Regdar shook his head and chuckled slightly. “Some assistance,” the fighter said. He sheathed his bastard sword and looked around. The path looked like a small whirlwind had touched down on it. “You saved us.”

He pulled off his right gauntlet and held out a hand, and the woman did the same. The two clasped hands. Regdar’s was weather-beaten, scarred, and tanned. The knight’s was nearly as large, but pale, and the skin, while slightly freckled, appeared almost flawless otherwise.

Naull shifted uneasily and said, “I’m Naull.” She stuck her hand out. “This is Regdar. The half-elf is Ian and the big guy everybody calls Early.”

Releasing Regdar’s grip smoothly, the knight turned toward the wizard. She continued to smile, as if she hadn’t noticed the abruptness of Naull’s introduction.

“My name is Alhandra,” she replied as she took the wizard’s hand in her own. Her grip was gentle but firm. “I am a paladin of Heironeous.”

“A paladin,” Regdar said with some respect. “I thought as much.” He gestured at Ian and back at the horse. It stood over the ogre’s corpse, shifting only slightly. “Horse’s don’t like the smell of blood, or the smell of ogres for that matter, but yours seems remarkably well-trained.”

Alhandra strode over to her mount, laughing lightly. She raised her bare hand to the horse’s mane and stroked it with obvious love.

“Windlass is a fine mare, aren’t you, girl?”

The horse leaned into the paladin’s hand and enjoyed the short ear-rub.

“So, um, what brings you here?” Naull asked. “I mean, we’re happy to see you and all, but aren’t you a little out of the way? I mean, for a paladin of Heironeous?”

“Naull!”

Regdar’s voice had something of a scold to it, and Naull turned and glared at him. If Alhandra noticed the byplay, she gave no sign.

“Word reached me that there was trouble, away south, so I came.”

“Trouble?” Naull asked. “Word reached you about a band of orcs raiding trade caravans?”

Regdar gave Naull another warning glance, but the fighter was curious, too.

“No. I hadn’t heard about your trouble until I stopped at the town north of these woods.”

Naull nodded.

“I decided then to take the woodland path rather than the caravan road, since it seemed the most likely place for the orcs to be.”

She said it matter-of-factly, without any hint of a boast, but Naull felt her jaw drop slightly.

“You went hunting a whole orc band alone?” Naull’s voice held both disbelief and criticism.

Alhandra nodded and chuckled wryly. “There wasn’t anyone else. Still, I’m glad I didn’t run into this big fellow alone.”

The trio looked at the fallen ogre.

“He was the leader,” Regdar said.

“Unusual.”

“How so?” Naull asked.

Alhandra shrugged and said, “Ogres are dangerous, but stupid. They don’t plan raids; they simply hunt. Of course, I don’t know as much about ogres as you probably do…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged again.

Without a sound, Ian rose up behind Naull and she jumped as he interjected, “No, he had a pair of nasty lieutenants. They probably did most of the planning. The ogre had the muscle.”

Ian winced as he tried to rotate his arm.

“We dealt with them, though,” Early said. He walked with a limp and used his battered shield almost like a cane. His eyes were dark and ringed with sorrow. “They won’t be plannin’ any more raids.” He looked back up the path, the way they came and asked, “Can we go back, Regdar? For Trebba?”

The fighter nodded.

“Another member of your party?” Alhandra asked gently.

He nodded again and replied, “She killed one of the lieutenants, but died of her wounds. If she hadn’t killed him when she did, we wouldn’t have made it out alive. Let’s go get her.”

The party moved slowly through the wood. Alhandra offered her horse first to Early then to Ian, but neither wanted to ride. The paladin brought up the rear, leading Windlass along the narrow path. Naull walked up front with Regdar, and after a while she heard Early tell Alhandra of the ambush and the raid on the orc lair.

Naull grew uncomfortable as she watched the byplay between Early and the paladin. The woman listened to the tale with rapt attention, asking questions as they walked, but the more Early talked the more Naull realized how stupid—and how fortunate—they’d been.

If Alhandra agreed with Naull’s assessment, she didn’t say so. Indeed, though she commented on their tactics in some very specific ways, she avoided criticizing their efforts. Naull supposed that was for the best. By the time they reached Trebba’s body, even Early looked uncomfortable when he discussed their foray into the orcs’ lair.

“I am glad the rest of you survived,” Alhandra said after they found Trebba’s body and loaded it onto Windlass. “It is sad that this one died.” Alhandra met Regdar’s eyes when she said that and the fighter returned the look stubbornly; it was the paladin who looked away first. “It was a dangerous thing you did.”

“And foolish,” Regdar said at last.

Naull looked up at him sharply. She felt heat rise in her face.

Who was this paladin to make Regdar say such a thing, even if it was true? But then she looked at Alhandra and saw nothing but compassion on her face.