The Paladin Caper

by Patrick Weekes

  Dairy bucked again, lunged upright, and sucked in a lungful of air as he clutched at Desidora.

  “It’s all right. It’s all right.” She pulled him into a hug, her eyes stinging.

  “What happened? I was on a treeship, and—”

  “We’ll explain later, I promise.” Desidora hugged him tighter, then pulled him up from the altar. He stood, his legs shaky. “For now, we need to—”

  “Beware!” Ululenia cried, still on her knees at the edge of the room, and Desidora looked at her, and then at the back of the room where she pointed, and saw coils of energy swirling, the same magic that had transported Ghylspwr away. She took Dairy’s hand and pulled him from the chamber as the coils shimmered and solidified into a quartet of golems. Unlike the one that had held Ghylspwr, these were built for battle, massive and armored and carrying broad-bladed swords that were longer than Desidora was tall.

  Desidora pulled the energy around her one more time and flung coils of darkness around the golden hoop, but again, it did nothing. “Damn it. Damn it.”

  “We must go.” Ululenia pushed herself to her feet, and Dairy held her up as he stepped back into the tunnel. “Desidora, we must flee.”

  “You’re hurt,” Dairy said as Ululenia hung on him, and Desidora saw that it was not some cheap trick to maneuver herself into caressing him. She was barely able to stand. “Can we outrun those things?”

  Desidora backed into the tunnel, with Dairy pulling Ululenia. The priestess glared at the golems as they raised their weapons and stepped toward her.

  “I doubt we can outrun them,” Desidora said, and pulled the magic into her a final time. She held up a hand, pointed not at the golems but the ceiling at the edge of the tunnel. “But let us see how fast they can dig.”

  The golems clanked forward, blades raised, but they were too late. Her blast of energy hit the ceiling, and with a crackling rumble, rock and crystal creaked and cracked and slammed down to collapse the tunnel before them.

  Desidora stared at it until Dairy grabbed her hand.

  “Come on, Sister Desidora,” he said, and started to pull her back to the red-lit safety of the main tunnel. “I don’t know what’s going on, exactly, but we should probably run.”

  “I am with you,” Desidora said, “in all respects.”

  She would need to shake and shiver more later, and there was a good chance channeling that much energy was going to make her sick. But there was no victory and no revenge for her here.

  Eyes stinging with unshed tears for several stupid reasons, Desidora ran.

  Loch, Kail, and the elf had almost worked their way through the golems in the processing center when the room’s light flickered, and the long table flared with sudden points of crimson radiance.

  Westteich and the other nobles had been huddling back there, occasionally attacking but mostly letting the golems do the heavy work, and Loch saw their faces when the items on the table lit up.

  “Isafesira de Lochenville,” Westteich called, a broad smile on his face, “you come from a noble line, your little pigment problem notwithstanding.”

  Loch chopped a golem’s head off, then cut its arms off, and then kicked it into the same vat of acid that she’d used to kill Arikayurichi. “Your point?”

  “It’s only right that you should be here,” Westteich said, “to see the end of the old order. To see the return of the ancients.”

  He gestured at the table, and the other nobles in their black jackets each grabbed something from the surface. Loch caught a better look and saw that the nobles held crimson bands of crystal, each about the size of the bracer an archer would wear to protect his forearm while shooting.

  “You wondered what Project Paladin was?” Westteich called out as Loch started running, smashing another golem aside as it reached for her and doing a vaulting hip-slide over one of the moving belts. It was too late. The noblemen all rolled up their sleeves, pride on their chiseled faces, and fixed the bands on. “Behold the paladin bands, and behold the paladins who wear them, the bearers of the lords and leaders of this world, returned in glory!”

  Every one of the noblemen shuddered as the bands clicked into place, glowing brightly on their arms. Crimson light flared in their eyes for a moment, and then every single one seemed to stand a little straighter.

  Loch stumbled to a halt.

  “Holy crap, I was right!” Kail called, throwing a golem over his hip with an astonished look on his face.

  “Did you think that the ancients would have humble forms like ours?” Westteich taunted. Loch noticed that he hadn’t put one of the bands on. “They are creatures of pure thought, energy uncorrupted by mortal weakness! Do you understand now how foolish you have looked, thinking you could contend with such power?”

  “Damn it,” Irrethelathlialann said, coming to Loch’s side. “We have lost, Isafesira.”

  Kail stood on Loch’s other side. “Hey, Ethel, did you see how I was right?”

  “That is actually the most frightening part of this entire evening.” Irrethelathlialann lifted his thin wooden blade. “The door leading outside is sealed. Flight is impossible.”

  “Nobody’s leaving yet,” Loch said. “Not until we have Dairy.”

  “The ancients have returned,” Irrethelathlialann said quietly. “His death was the key to doing so. Even you should be able to follow the logic.”

  “Who am I talking to?” Loch asked. Westteich and the other nobles were separated from her group by a few moving belts.

  “Handel Westteich,” he called back proudly, “former protector of the Forge of Ancients and—”

  “Not you.” Loch rolled her eyes. “Which one of you paladins is in charge?”

  The nobles in their long black jackets looked at her curiously.

  Then one of them, perhaps a little taller, a little blonder, and a little wealthier-looking than the rest, said, “You may call me Lesaguris. And who am I talking to?”

  Loch raised her blade. “The woman who’s going to stop you.”

  Lesaguris nodded thoughtfully. “Good luck with that.”

  He raised his right arm, and a flare of crimson energy slashed out from the paladin band, cracking like a whip as it slammed into Loch and the others.

  She had seen him moving and started to dive for cover, and she hit the ground rolling. The left side of her body felt like it had fallen asleep, everything stinging with pins and needles.

  “Beginning to regret being right,” Kail muttered, getting back to his feet and using his stolen staff for support.

  “Responses to ranged attack insufficient,” Irrethelathlialann said as he rolled behind a table and flipped it onto its side. Either the energy had knocked him into whatever strange mind-set crystal magic did to elves, or he had activated it himself with his ring to improve his reaction time. “Utilization of terrain to limit incoming—”

  “Yes, cover, gods,” Kail shouted back, and he and Loch dove to the ground behind a stack of crates as more crimson energy flashed out at them, smashing beakers and shattering crystals where it struck.

  “Door,” Loch said to Kail.

  “I’m guessing it’s gonna be locked.”

  “Be creative.”

  “Understood, Captain.” He lunged to his feet and sprinted for the door leading outside, and Loch got to her feet as well.

  The nobles—the paladins, apparently—were advancing. There were a half dozen of them, not counting Westteich. Kail and Irrethelathlialann had taken down several while Loch had been dealing with Arikayurichi. Six versus three, or two with Kail doing something with the door, was crappy odds to begin with.

  The odds got worse as Lesaguris closed with her, his quarterstaff snapping out at her head. She parried with her blade, checked it with the sheath-stick, and lunged. Lesaguris parried with easy grace and kicked her in the chest in the same smooth motion.

  The kick wasn’t stronger than a human could possibly have managed, Loch figured as she slammed into a moving belt, but it was right the
re at the upper edge of normal.

  “Yes, we’re a little better at being you than you are,” Lesaguris said with a smile. “Now, where is Arikayurichi?”

  “Dead,” Loch said, lifting her blade. Lesaguris gave his thoughtful nod again and then lunged in with a circling strike that Loch parried, only to realize too late that it was a feint as the quarterstaff spun to crack down on her wrist. Her blade skittered away, sheath-stick along with it, and Loch lunged in hard, punched at his wrist, and tore the quarterstaff free.

  His elbow caught her on the cheek, and she stumbled, got her guard down as his other hand drove a fist into her stomach, and then felt her feet go out from under her as he took out her legs.

  She landed on the moving belt, punched out blind, and caught something that sent him back and gave her the breathing room to get back to her feet.

  By the time she did, Lesaguris stood opposite her on the moving belt. He rolled out his shoulders and adjusted the long black coat. “You know, I’ve missed bodies. You’re not bad.”

  “I’m not done,” Loch said.

  Loch was starting to hate his thoughtful nod and was about to come in swinging when a blast of crimson energy caught her from the side. She hit the ground some ways away, landing with a jolt that would have hurt more if half her body hadn’t gone pins and needles again, and blinked away spots of blackness at the edge of her vision.

  “I think you might be,” Lesaguris said, hopping down from the moving belt. “You can’t take me one-to-one, and we outnumber you two-to-one. Don’t get me wrong, ma’am. You’re fighting for your way of life, and I honor that. We did the same in our day.”

  “Your day is over.” Loch had landed close to her blade and sheath-stick. She grabbed both, slammed the blade into the sheath so that it was a walking stick once more, and used it to shove herself back to her feet.

  “And now the Champion of Dawn defeated the Glimmering Folk and declared that a new day has begun,” Lesaguris said. “According to Ghylspwr, you were instrumental in making that happen. That’s why we’ve listened to his recommendation for leniency.”

  The other paladin, the one who had blasted her from the side, came around into Loch’s field of view. Loch kept an eye on him as she said to Lesaguris, “So what? I surrender and watch you destroy this world?”

  “I’m afraid you lost the chance for that when you stopped Arikayurichi from hobbling the Republic and the Empire.” Lesaguris shrugged. “Ordinarily, we’d slap a band on you, but Ghylspwr was adamant that you’d prefer a quick death.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Loch said. Behind Lesaguris, Irrethelathlialann moved with desperate precision, keeping the paladins back but never getting close enough to do any real damage.

  Lesaguris thoughtfully nodded at her again, and she readied herself for the attack. Her side was still weak, and after fighting Arikayurichi, she wasn’t moving as quickly as she needed to against someone with his power.

  Then the sealed door leading out of the processing center slammed open, ripping a fair chunk of the doorframe along with it, and Icy stepped into the room with Desidora behind him, her dress and hair pitch black and her skin alabaster.

  “Captain,” Kail called from the ground where the door had caught him, “I got it open!”

  “Rain check on the quick death,” Loch called, and dove behind the crates as blasts of crimson snapped around her. She dove over one belt, dodged around another, and slid under a third, then came back to her feet at the doorway in time to see Lesaguris pointing at her.

  The crimson energy whip-cracked into Loch and blasted her through the doorway. This time she didn’t roll as well as she needed to, but as escapes went, she’d gone through worse.

  Nine

  WELL,” SAID LESAGURIS, looking at the processing center, “this is more damage than I’d expected.”

  The rest of the black-coated paladins had rushed outside after Loch and the rest of her team, leaving only Westteich and the leader of the ancients.

  It was definitely Lesaguris talking. The nobleman who had been in charge of that body beforehand had been loyal, enthusiastic, and not the kind of man you put in charge of projects that required compound sentences. Westteich hadn’t been sure that such a man was the right sort to be part of the return of the ancients, but now he had a clearer picture of how things looked.

  “I’m afraid Arikayurichi insisted on handling Loch’s capture himself,” Westteich said, noting the shattered crystals and broken tables and general chaos that would likely slow down any processing in the processing center for the next week or two. “I offered alternatives that might have allowed for a quieter capture, but he was quite emotional about it.”

  “Arikayurichi was a bit of a blunt instrument,” Lesaguris said. He clasped his arms behind his back while the few functional golems began to pick up the detritus. “He had a fairly low opinion of humanity, you know, which was why he championed the plan to devastate both the Republic and the Empire.”

  Westteich nodded politely. “I’m sure such a plan would eventually have worked out in a manner that facilitated the return of the ancients, my lord.”

  Lesaguris turned to him with an amused look. “Delicately put, Westteich.” He paused as a black-coated ancient came into the processing center. “Mister Skinner, where do we stand?”

  “Well, the place is crawling with kobolds,” said the man, chewing on his lower lip, “but nothing we can’t handle. May be able to use them, as well as what happened at the Forge of the Ancients. I’ll need what’s left of the Hunters, though.”

  “Granted.” Lesaguris nodded to the man, who ducked back out of the room. “Would you like to know what happens now, Westteich?”

  “Of course, my lord. I can hardly help tear down the world of men and rebuild the world of the ancients without knowing the plan.” Westteich smiled. “You’ll forgive me tempering my curiosity, however. Arikayurichi did not always appreciate it.”

  Lesaguris chuckled. “You can rest easy, Westteich. I have no intention of slapping a band on you. I note you avoided volunteering to grab one when we first arrived. You knew a life of thralldom was coming, and you thought that you deserved better. Trying to take what you believe you deserve is the only way you ever get anywhere.” He gestured at his own body. “This poor fellow never thought twice about what being a paladin, the mortal vessel carrying an ancient, actually meant.”

  “To be honest,” Westteich said, “I’d be surprised if he had even thought once about it.”

  Lesaguris raised a hand, and one of the golems switched from picking up smashed fragments of glass to repairing the moving belt. “And you never told them, did you, Westteich? I’m guessing not all of these men would have volunteered for thralldom, and you knew what it meant, and you knew that we needed thralls, so you kept quiet and just never put on the band yourself.”

  “Those without the intelligence to ask the difficult questions,” Westteich said, “generally deserve what they get.”

  Another of the black-coated paladins came back into the room. “I figured out why we had intruders in the entry chamber. We’re dealing with a death priestess.”

  “Thank you, Mister Lively.” Lesaguris nodded. “Take steps. We made efforts to get our souls into this world. I’d rather not have them drained out of it again.” The presumable Mister Lively nodded and ducked back out, and Lesaguris turned to Westteich. “I like you, Westteich. I like this world. I don’t see any reason to bathe it in fire just because it’s not exactly the way we left it all those centuries ago. This Republic of yours has everything we need already in place.” He waved at the room. “Barring a few repairs, of course. You know what strikes me as odd, though, Westteich?”

  “What’s that, my lord?”

  “The scrying panels show Arikayurichi lying in wait for Loch by the processing center door, ready to cut her down as she came in. If that were his plan, why on earth would he sound the alarm beforehand? Why give Loch that warning instead of letting her walk into the room unprep
ared?”

  “We may never know,” Westteich said with a sad shake of his head. “As I said, my lord, he was very emotional about her. I doubt he was thinking clearly, and with an enemy as skilled as Loch, a clear and objective mind is vital to the task.”

  Lesaguris gave Westteich a long and searching look, and finally said, “That task is now yours, Westteich. I’ll have one of the boys give you the message crystals to find the trackers Arikayurichi was using.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Westteich bowed. “I’m honored to help, and I’ll use the trackers. I believe I have a few other avenues to explore, options Arikayurichi never considered.”

  “Good.” Lesaguris nodded. “I have operations running in parallel that can assist.” He pressed a stud on his paladin band, and one more of the black-coated ancients came in, a handsome man with eyebrows that made him look permanently confused. “Mister Slant, coordinate our incoming and outgoing information on this Loch figure, would you?”

  Mister Slant smiled. “Just give me a target, sir.”

  Lesaguris didn’t smile this time. “Ghylspwr has talked about Loch’s team a great deal. They’re quite possibly the most powerful direct opposition we face in our return, and we must assume that every theft, every bit of petty vandalism and harassment, every action they take is a stroke in their plan to destroy us.”

  “So it looks like the wind-daemon is breaking out,” Kail said from the control console of the sad and unnamed airship, “and while I’m not positive that Jyelle has possessed it as part of her quest for revenge against Loch—”

  “LLLLLLLOKKKKKKK!” shouted something inside the balloon that had part, but not all, of a functioning mouth.

  “It’s probably her,” Kail finished lamely.

  “What? How?” Loch was still clearing her head. She’d blindly stumbled out to the dock with Kail towing her, almost down from Lesaguris’s parting shot.