The Lady's Man

by Greg Curtis

  Yorik's own quarters – and despite the smaller size of the city, and the large number of new soldiers apparently now going to be making their home in it, he and every other member of the Order had been found quarters – were typical. He had a smallish sitting room in which five or perhaps six people could sit with comfort, a bedroom perched directly on top of it which he climbed a ladder to reach, and a small kitchen and bathroom in the back. It was more space than he had ever known before. But best of all, the quarters came with a balcony on which he could sit in the evenings, and enjoy the beauty of the land. He loved doing that.

  As a paladin he was usually given a small upstairs room in a chapter house, with a communal bathroom nearby and a dining hall on the ground floor. And while that might be humble, in truth he was satisfied with it. A paladin's life was not meant to be one of self-indulgence. Here he had an almost self contained house, next to hundreds of others, which together formed a chapter house, and some days he didn't quite believe it was his to live in. Other days he wondered if it was too much. If it might corrupt him. He was far from alone in that. All his brothers surely wondered the same thing. Just as they all surely wondered how the elves could have so many spare quarters available for them. Yorik suspected that that was in part due to the foretellers.

  Training was held in the open area in the common in the centre of the city where everyone could watch, and at first that had come as a shock. Yorik was familiar with the Order’s courtyards where the only people watching them were the other members of the Order. But in time he had become used to it. The trainers after all didn't allow them the time to stand around and wonder who might be watching them or what they thought.

  Meetings were held in either of the two public houses nearest their quarters, both of which were easily large enough to take a hundred men at arms. And of course the other chapters located throughout the city had their own halls to gather in.

  The public houses also served as the equivalent of great rooms where normally after a day training or working the brothers would gather together and talk. Normally that would be around an open fire and after a full meal. Here the fires were more closed in – it mattered when the entire city was made of wood – and they were eating elven fare which was not nearly so heavy as what they were used to. Still it was much the same.

  In the public houses they could do more than just sit and talk as they would have back in Ender's Fall. They might play a few games of hoops or darts which were set up in each of the halls. Bards often regaled them with tall tales and song. And then of course there were others to talk to outside of the Order. That never happened in a chapter house.

  The halls were the elves' equivalent of taverns. Free of all ales and meads – the elves seemed to have a dislike of the common brews and stuck to their wines – but still a place where all might stay and have a good time. And a place where the younger people hung out and too often danced. Where couples danced.

  Men and women dancing together! In public! That was unexpected. In fact the first time he had seen it Yorik hadn't been able to stop staring, rude as it surely was. But the elves seemed to consider it normal and Hammeral was their city. They simply had to adjust.

  The amenities in their quarters were excellent too. Yorik had flowing water for cooking, bathing and the removal of night soil by a sewer system, an indoor fire for cooking and heating, genuine glass windows which gave him an expansive view of the forests, and even carpets, soft furnishings and a genuine feather mattress. But for the fact that he was still sore from his injuries, he could have forgotten there was a war on, and thought he was nobility on vacation in a strange city.

  The same was true for all the other knights and paladins, and for their first week in Hammeral it had been their main topic of conversation. That and the basics of elven life. How should they address people? Where were the best places to eat? Why was there no stone about? They missed the stone.

  Currency was also always an issue. Was a New Vineland copper with the king's head on it worth the same as an elven copper bit? How much should a meal cost?

  And finally there was of course the question that was on everyone’s lips: Where to next?

  Having realised that they weren't to be given any marching orders any time soon however, the following week the conversation had turned to exploring Hammeral and trying to find their way around the city. For just as the houses conformed to the shape of the trees in which they sat, so too did the city itself seem to conform to the nature of the land on which it was built. Thus the cobbled streets below were never straight. They bent and flowed around hillocks, trees and small rivers, almost as though they were reeds in the wind. The walkways high above twisted and turned in every direction as they rose ever higher and spanned the gaps between trees. Stables and farms were not made of square fenced paddocks and fields either. They too bent and twisted around the shape of the forest. And with the whole city laid out among tall trees and paths disappearing into them everywhere, there was no hope of simply seeing your destination ahead until you were almost on top of it.

  Of course if any of them had learned to speak Elvish properly, it wouldn't have been such a problem. But even now, despite daily lessons for all the Order, or at least for the human half of it, they were still very limited in what they could say. The same was true for the elven half of the Order, who were being taught to speak with them as well and more often than not acting as guides. Between the two of them however, they were becoming better at communicating, with a form of pigeon developing.

  The city was also a good place to become fit he'd discovered. The elves hardly ever rode anywhere within the city, and sprawled out as it was over at least a couple of leagues of forest, getting anywhere at all involved a lot of walking. Meanwhile ascending a hundred or more feet to reach his house at least twice a day, in full armour, left him short of breath and covered in sweat. He was beginning to understand why the elves were so thin and was even starting to envy them their svelte figures as they almost seemed to run up and down the walkways like children.

  It was not the cold or passionless city Yorik would have expected to find had he relied only on his lessons. Its people were certainly more polite and considerate than elsewhere, and from time to time a little too formal. But they were also relaxed, warm and welcoming, something he would never have expected.

  Genivere had explained it to him one evening as they had sat by the fire on their way to deliver the Lady's message to Myral, and though her words had made perfect sense at the time, they ran hard against everything he had ever understood of elves. But according to her the elves had never had any problem with humans, gnomes or the other peoples, or even dwarves living among them, as long as they lived according to their ways. It was just that few wanted to live as the elves did. And he knew she was right after having visited the markets and finding that there were some other unexpected strangers living among the elves. Mainly a few satyrs and dryads, but also the odd human, who no doubt had never mentioned their living among elves if and when they returned to human lands. But then they probably wouldn't have been believed if they had.

  What the elves could not accept however, was the rape as they called it, of the natural world. The dwarves with their ever deepening mines smashing the very structure of the world and their tailings polluting the land were considered as almost evil, while the humans who tended to cut down the great forests of the world to grow crops or raise animals, were also clearly in the wrong. These were things that were unacceptable to the elves, and they would not tolerate people who could support such actions among them.

  Thus, over the years the elves had formalised many of their customs for the outsiders as they were known, making traders and wanderers jump through hoops before allowing them to stay among them. It wasn't that they didn't consider those others worthy of their time and company; it was that they had to make sure they weren't the sort of people to defile the world of their Goddess.

  The Order however, was seen as different. Because t
hey followed the teachings of the Lady, they were already considered almost elven in their ways. The Lady after all was said to be either a dryad or an elemental. Members of the Order of course weren’t perfect, because they still chose to live in the great stone monoliths – Yorik wasn't quite sure whether Genivere had meant chapter houses or cities by that – and because they had such a fixation with armour and steel. Too much steel required great sacrifices of the land as it meant mines had to be dug, smithies had to burn wood and coal to forge it, while great clouds of smoke and lakes of dirty water were released to poison the world. And yet that same steel was being used to protect the people and the lands.

  The elves had their own mines and smithies, but they were very different to those Yorik had seen before. They burnt only the highest quality coal from another mine which burnt almost without smoke, while the tailings were washed back into the mine shaft itself. And while it was true that they mined some steel, most of what they used was actually recycled steel from old weapons and implements. The elves were morally opposed to waste, which explained why all of the fallen weapons from the undead dwarves had been brought back with them, and now sat in great piles, waiting to be reforged. And once the mines had been depleted of the particular mineral sought, they were refilled with rock and good earth, and great forests planted over them.

  From a soldier's perspective, what they had was inefficient and it would make it difficult for the elves to rearm themselves quickly. However, as a member of the Order of the Lady Yorik found it pleasing, as did his comrades. Already the commanders had sent off their best smiths to learn from and teach the elven smiths at the nearer towns. Neither of their people he guessed, would ever match the dwarves for their incredible ability to forge mighty weapons, but together it was hoped they might come close, and without the cost to the world around them. Also, while the Order had brought with them enough gold to purchase more dwarven goods than they could use in the short term, dwarven weapons were usually designed for dwarven arms. The dwarves would only craft weapons for humans when sufficient coin had crossed the table, and they would never knowingly craft weapons for elves. Besides, the Lady's servants had the most powerful magic to impart to their weapons, and that might make all the difference in a war.

  War though, was the dominant thought on everyone's mind lately. Be they elves or humans, everyone was readying themselves for a war with an enemy they still couldn't be sure of.

  Yorik had thought, or perhaps just hoped, that after their battle with the undead dwarven army of Stonebow, the enemy would be weakened. But whoever was behind this hadn't seemed to be. Instead his attacks were growing in number.

  There were reports of attacks on all of the major cities of the human and elven realms. The towns and cities of the Saravaile Forests hundreds of leagues to the east had been repeatedly assaulted, and the elves there were fighting day and night. Two hundred and fifty leagues to the North the human city of Haggard Keep had been surrounded by the undead. For the moment they were holding their own thanks to their extensive fortifications and their neighbours in Helmsford.

  According to the traders, the dwarves had been hit particularly hard, though of course none had come from further afield than Deep Scarp. Because the dwarves’ custom was to lay their dead to rest in great catacombs without sufficient prayers and blessings they were quickly taken over as fodder for their enemy. It had no doubt come as a shock to the dwarves to discover that their revered dead whom they had thought were securely locked away in their fortified underground catacombs had in fact become the enemy and were suddenly turning around and attacking them within their own underground cities.

  As for the other races, there were reports that they too were being hit. The satyrs had suffered losses in many of their villages, though since they were a naturally fast running people, probably less than they could have. Many of the gnomish villages and towns had been overrun as well. How many Yorik had no idea. He doubted anyone did. In the end the Order of the Lady was a human one – or had been as far as he had known until he had met the rangers – so their contacts were mainly those living within the various human realms. And as Hammeral was an elven city the elders likewise received word mostly from the different elven realms.

  But however many it was that had been killed, and whether they were satyrs, dwarves or any of the other races, it was too many. And it wasn't ending.

  Was it the Dark One truly? Yorik still didn't know and he doubted anyone else did either. None of the commanders or clerics had bothered to return after their interrogation of him in the wagon to tell him of their thoughts on the matter. They were too busy talking among themselves as they prepared their plans. But he wasn't alone in being forgotten by them. For three long weeks after the battle they had all kept to themselves in a tight bunch at the head of the column as they returned to Hammeral, leaving the others to follow them and guess what was being discussed.

  Gossip had been rife after the battle. Once the initial elation at having survived and won a major battle had worn off, the next obvious question was what next? Where was the next battle going to be? And when? And with no leaders to advise them, an elven city set as their destination and the undead their foe, the speculation had grown increasingly wild over the weeks.

  Once they had arrived at Hammeral many if not all had thought that they would be told of the expected course of the war, or at least be given their instructions, but again nothing of the sort had happened. Instead the commanders, lead clerics, head rangers and master wizards had all gathered together in a group and gone off to visit with the town's elders. It was a meeting that even weeks later was still going on as far as any could tell, with the occasional directive arriving by messenger from the council chambers. Usually it was just the instructions for the day. The expected training, the chores for each chapter to carry out and so forth. But occasionally it was more as for example when the Ender's Fall chapter was told to start training in the longbow, with the Hammeral Rangers’ chapter.

  It wasn't an easy weapon to master, and with a wounded shoulder, Yorik’s progress in the long bow had been hampered to say the least, which was why he was still trying to put the arrow into the centre of a target a hundred yards away, after everyone else had left for lunch. But he did fancy he was making progress. After a solid week of training with the instructors, he was becoming reasonably accurate so long as he only used perhaps half his strength. However half wasn't good enough. Not for a paladin. And until full strength had returned to his shoulder he knew his ability would always be limited. Unfortunately due to his nature, he could never accept any type of limitation, which was why he always tried to draw the string back to its very end and then cursed the pain and his failure as his aim quickly deteriorated.

  The real frustration that had dominated Yorik's thoughts during the month on the trail to Hammeral, and then the next three weeks in the city, had nothing to do with the city or its people, the long bow, the pain of his injuries or even the war. Rather it was Genivere.

  After waking up in the wagon and then being ministered to by her, he had begun to see her in a whole new light. Or rather, he had been unable to continue seeing her only as a companion no matter how he tried. She was far more than that. She was warm and fun. Beautiful and intelligent. Compassionate yet both strong and wise. In fact she was everything a man could dream of. And he did dream of her, literally.

  Perhaps he had been cold inside for too long. Hurt by the death of his family, so filled with first rage as he sought his revenge and then later fear and shame as the Order marched off to war, that he had somehow overlooked all that she was, though how that could be he didn't know. What he did know however, was that he could no longer see past her. Whenever she was near he had eyes for no one and nothing else, and when she was away his world was somehow a little dimmer as if the sun had passed behind a cloud. The problem was what to do about it.

  To court her properly was his dream – and his nightmare. Knowing nothing of elven courtship he knew the terrib
le feeling that his courting her would be intolerable to the other elves, and most of all to her family. He had disgraced himself after all. His humanity would probably count against him too but on its own it would not have been a solid barrier. But his disgrace cut to the bone. To court her would be to cause her shame and he could never allow that. And if it went as far as he dreamed, what would become of their children? The offspring of a disgraced paladin who would soon be stripped of everything but his name?

  The relationship had no future. The adult in him knew that, and every so often when he was starting to give in again to his childish fantasies and threatening to do something embarrassing, he pulled himself back from the edge. He wondered sometimes if Genivere was having the same struggle.

  He was sure that Genivere felt something of the same for him – even if neither of them would say it – and was trying to keep a respectable distance. Certainly when she came to change his dressings and massage his aching muscles there was an awkwardness between them that neither had known before, no doubt brought on by the intimacy. He mumbled and stuttered like a tongue tied fool, while she moved so tentatively it was as if she was reaching out to pull the thorns out of a cactus.