Ashleen hobbled up the steps one by one, attempting to ignore her immeasurable pain and exhaustion. As she climbed, she stared at the wall looming high above her. If she looked down at the steps she would see her feet and knowing what they looked like would only intensify the pain, making it too unbearable to continue.
The sun rose higher in the sky as she climbed the stone steps and she noticed the guards moving about atop the shining white wall. Then, they noticed her. She saw them pointing at her and heard them begin to shout, though she could not make out the words. More guards arrived to gawk at her as she climbed. One step, then another and another. The wall grew closer and closer and was now lined not only by guards, but by ordinary citizens as well, all shouting and pointing at her.
She finally reached the last step, but did not stop at the guard post erected there. She barely even glanced at the thousands of people lining the streets and balconies as she stepped into the city. She kept her eyes fixed on the goal—she had come much too far to falter now. The crowd began to cheer, their voices erupting as one giant roar filling the city and echoing down through the mountains. Ashleen stepped onto the polished stone street and continued moving forward toward the castle. The people began to chant now, “Paladin! Paladin!” as she limped forward. Tears burned her eyes and formed little streams down her cheeks through the blood and grime covering her face.
As she neared the castle, she could see a group of people lining the high marble steps before her. Though she could not make out their faces from her current distance, she knew who they were—the royal family, the Council of Lords, and, of course, the Paladin. When she was about a hundred feet from the marble stairs leading to the castle, she saw the King and Queen begin to descend to the street below, followed closely by their ten daughters. The Council and Paladin flanked the royal family on either side and followed the King’s lead, descending the marble steps down onto the polished stone street below.
Ashleen dropped her spear when she was about thirty feet from the King and Queen. When she was a few steps away from them she fell to her knees, not from respect, but rather exhaustion. Her legs had decided that they could not take another step. She stared up at the people in front of her and saw the King and Queen rush toward her. She lifted the sword in both hands holding it horizontal to the ground, presenting it to the King. Her dry, cracked lips parted and in a hoarse whisper she muttered, “I present the Sword of Light, Father.”
The King bent down and accepted the sword from his daughter. He then turned to the thousands of assembled subjects and thrust the sword high into the air. “Princess Ashleen has completed the Paladin’s Quest!” he shouted, pride beaming from his face. The crowd exploded in a deafening roar as they cheered the first woman to ever take, much less complete, the quest. Ashleen’s eyes glanced over the Paladin until they met Tomfrey’s, and she saw him smile at her. Then, everything went black and Ashleen collapsed face first onto the stones.
***
Ashleen awoke in her bed, her head buried deep in her soft feather pillow. Her eyes took a moment to focus and, once her vision cleared, she glanced around the room. The windows were open, the curtains swaying gently in the breeze, and she recognized that it was night. She saw her mother, Queen Gwyndalin, sound asleep in a cushioned chair beside the bed. Ashleen noticed a glass of water on the bedside table and was suddenly parched. She sat up in bed, reached over and took the glass, drinking deeply. She drained the water and set the empty glass back on the table. This woke the Queen who bolted to her feet when she saw her daughter sitting up in the bed.
“Ashleen!” her mother shouted as she leapt over to the bed and sat down collecting her daughter in a giant hug. Ashleen screamed in agony, squeezing her eyes tight, and Gwyndalin quickly released her. “Oh, dear, I am so sorry!”
Ashleen opened her eyes and saw her mother recoiling from her, a hand over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. Ashleen forced a smile. “It is alright, Mother. I am just very sore.”
“I know, darling,” said Gwyndalin. “I am just so happy to see you awake. I was so afraid we had lost you,” the Queen continued through her tears. “I was ready to kill your father.”
Ashleen chuckled a bit, but then winced from the pain it caused. “It was not his fault, Mother. I chose to go.”
“Still, I was terrified you would never awaken.”
“Mother, I have been out walking through the mountains for over a week, foraging for food and fighting bears. I think I am entitled to sleep an entire day.”
The Queen stared at her daughter and then placed a hand under Ashleen’s chin. “My darling, you have slept for almost four days.”
Ashleen stared back at her mother with eyes wide and mouth agape. She shook her head. “No wonder I’m famished.”
The Queen smiled and stood gracefully. She walked over to the door and opened it, sticking her head slightly into the hallway. Ashleen heard her give a command to someone outside the door, but did not really pay attention to what it was. She was busy slowly pushing the blankets from her body. It hurt to move, but she needed to before her muscles completely atrophied there in the bed. She pulled her feet out from under the covers and noticed that they were wrapped in clean, white bandages. She placed her feet on the floor and stood. She almost lost her balance and the Queen slammed the door with a shout as she realized Ashleen was out of bed. She rushed over to her daughter to help hold her up.
“You should stay in bed, darling,” the Queen said, but Ashleen ignored her.
“Just help me over to the mirror,” she instructed her mother. She leaned against Gwyndalin who helped her across the carpeted floor to the vanity. Each step was agony, but she was feeling considerably better than she did almost four days ago when she arrived back at the fortress from her quest.
When they reached the vanity, Ashleen leaned over and looked into the mirror. Her hair and face had been washed and the gashes on her cheeks had been sewn up. The cuts were healing nicely—a few more days and she would be able to remove the stitches. Unfortunately, her face would be permanently scarred and she would no longer be considered the prettiest girl in the realm, if she ever had been. She replaced the bandage and then pulled the sleeve of her gown off of her right shoulder. It was bandaged and she slowly unwrapped it. She could see the marks where the cave bear had sunk its teeth into her flesh, but overall her shoulder looked pretty good.
The Queen closed her eyes and began to cry. “My sweet child, I am so sorry you had to go through that,” she said as she helped Ashleen re-wrap her shoulder. “If only I could have bore your father a son…” she began, but Ashleen shushed her.
“I survived with the scars to prove I completed the quest,” Ashleen said. “I will be the first woman to ever become a Paladin and the first to ever ascend to the throne of Caerwynspire, or any other kingdom in the Middle Realm for that matter.”
Her mother nodded. “I am proud of you, darling. Truly.”
Caerwynspire, like all kingdoms of the Middle Realm, had hereditary sovereigns. The eldest male heir would ascend to the throne as king. As fate would have it, the House of Caerwyn had no male heirs. King Artur’s brothers had no heirs at all—one died before an heir was born and the other took the oath to become a Cleric of Avalon, foregoing intercourse and other physical pleasures. Artur himself had eleven daughters as he and Gwyndalin tried desperately to have a male heir.
This left a peculiar problem. Caerwynspire was the first line of defense against an invasion from the Realm of Darkness, and, though faith in the old legends waned throughout the Middle Realm, the citizens of Caerwynspire took their role as sentinels for all humanity very seriously. They were, therefore, a warrior people. All able-bodied citizens, male and female, were trained as warriors and everyone over the age of thirteen was a member of the military, either as an active soldier or a reservist. The most elite troops in the kingdom were known as Paladin, knights of the highest order. To become the heir apparent to the throne, a prince was required to join the
Paladin. However, to join the Paladin, an initiate had to complete the Paladin Quest.
An initiate of the Paladin would leave the safety of the city walls wearing no clothing and carrying nothing. The initiate had to travel on foot, approximately three days journey, to retrieve the Sword of Light from a cave deep in the Scorched Mountains. To make matters worse, the cave was home to hundreds of cave bears. Averaging around three hundred pounds, cave bears were not the most monstrous beasts in the realm, but their sharp claws and teeth could easily rip a man apart.
King Artur had convinced the Council of Lords to allow his eldest daughter, Ashleen, now seventeen years old, to succeed him on the throne in the absence of a male heir. The Council had agreed, anxious to forgo the civil war that would likely grip the kingdom if the House of Caerwyn no longer sat on the throne. However, the Council conditioned their approval on Ashleen becoming a Paladin like all other sovereigns before her. The King, as commander of the Paladin, saw no rule forbidding a female from joining the order. While some of the older Paladin were resistant to the idea of a woman in their ranks, they all agreed that anyone who could successfully complete the Paladin’s Quest had what it took to become a Paladin. Artur brought up the idea to Ashleen who jumped at the chance. She was already a fierce warrior and would relish the opportunity to become the first female to join the Paladin and rule as sovereign of Caerwynspire.
“You are my daughter and I worry about you,” the Queen said. “I worry about all of my girls, but you are my first born. Honestly, I barely know some of them, but you and I have always been close. Especially since the incident with the pirates.” The Queen began to weep.
Two years prior, Ashleen and her mother were sailing south to Riversmeet on a diplomatic visit with King Tybalt and his family. The ship had been captured by pirates, all the men killed, and the Queen and Ashleen taken prisoner. The Queen had felt terror like she had never known. Terror not only for herself, but more so for Ashleen. The Princess was fifteen years old at the time and was growing into a very beautiful woman.
The pirates wanted ransom of course, but the Caerwyn were a warrior people and ransom was out of the question. The King loved his wife and daughter very much, but he and the Council needed to send a message. No one kidnapped a citizen of Caerwynspire for ransom, much less the Queen and Princess. King Artur offered to make anyone who brought him the captain of the pirates alive a lord with thousands of hectares of land, a chest of gold, and an arranged marriage with one of his daughters. The pirates were captured by the royal navy of the Stromland shortly after entering the Glass Sea. King Tybalt of the Stromland sent the captain of the pirates north in chains to King Artur. In a very public ceremony, the King took the pirate to the top of the White Fortress, high in the mountain, and gave Gwyndalin and Ashleen the choice—life or death. Gwyndalin could not bring herself to impose a death sentence on the pirate. Ashleen was not so timid. She shoved the pirate over the edge of the tower without even the slightest hesitation. He fell to his death leaving a red stain on the stones below so embedded that it could not be completely removed.
Ashleen leaned over and kissed her mother gently on the cheek. “Help me back to bed, Mother,” she said.
Gwyndalin nodded as she wiped her tears and helped Ashleen walk back to her bed where the Princess turned and sat down, wincing through the pain. She lifted her legs and the Queen pulled the covers over her. Just as Ashleen had settled back in, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” said the Queen. The door opened and a young servant girl entered carrying a tray with bread, a bowl of goat stew, and a cup of water. She set the tray in Ashleen’s lap. Ashleen took a drink of water and then bit into the bread. The Queen waved the girl away as Ashleen practically inhaled her meal.
As the Princess was scraping the last morsels of goat meat from the bottom of the bowl, her bedroom door flung open and the King entered followed by all ten of Ashleen’s sisters. The girls buzzed with laughter and questions, all approaching Ashleen’s bed at once. Ashleen withdrew and the Queen stepped in to stop them.
“Quiet!” Gwyndalin commanded her daughters and they immediately halted, as did the King. “Your sister has just awoken. I know you are all very excited to see that she is alright, but she does not have the strength to handle this many visitors.” The Queen shuffled the girls out the door and Ashleen promised to visit each of them later, while assuring her oldest sister, Lisabeth, she would be first.
The King bent down and looked at Ashleen’s face. “You do not seem any worse for wear. The claw marks are healing nicely. The bear faired much worse than you,” he said with a boisterous laugh. “I am having its skin cleaned for you. It will make a nice rug or perhaps a winter cloak.”
Ashleen smiled at her father. “We shall see,” she said.
“Your mother was terrified that you would not make it back to us, but I had faith in you.”
The Queen popped the King on the shoulder with the palm of her hand. “Do not listen to him Ashleen, he barely slept the entire time you were gone.”
The King sat down on the bed beside his daughter with a huff. “Tell me about the bear,” the King said like a little boy begging for stories of adventure. “How did you kill it?”
“Not tonight,” the Queen said and she took the King by the arm and pulled him from the bed. “There will be plenty of time for stories later.”
“Yes, at the feast following the initiation ceremony. Only Paladin allowed, so your mother will not be there to spoil all of the fun,” he said as his wife hurried him out of the room. The Queen closed the door and then leaned her back against it with a look of exhaustion on her face. She smiled at Ashleen and walked back over to the bed. She took the bowl from her daughter and set it on the tray, then set the tray on the bedside table.
“Sleep my darling,” she said. “You are going to need all of your energy. You will soon be longing to fight a bear rather than spin the same tales over and over as will be required,” she smiled.
Ashleen laid down onto her soft pillow. “Thank you, Mother,” she said as she closed her eyes. The Queen returned to the chair beside the bed as Ashleen fell back to sleep. She closed her eyes as well. Sleep would come easier now that she felt confident Ashleen would be alright.
***
All of the doors to the Great Hall were closed. The room was filled with two hundred and twenty-seven Paladin, Ashleen being the youngest and the eldest being Sir Gelispee, the Sergeant of Arms and the grumpiest old man Ashleen had ever known. Sir Gelispee had trained the King, the Queen, Ashleen, and her sisters in the art of combat. He was a strict master who accepted no weakness in his pupils. He never said a kind word or gave encouragement, only corrected and criticized. He stood beside the King, hunched over, staring at Ashleen with his one good eye, a brown patch covering the empty socket where his left eye once was.
The Paladin were dressed in shining golden armor, red capes draping their shoulders. They were formed into two rows with the King and Gelispee standing between the rows at one end and Ashleen standing between the rows at the other. Ashleen was adorned as the others, complete with a golden helmet atop her head. Her long hair was braided and fell out of the helmet and down her back. The King was dressed as the others as well, except that he wore his crown over his helmet. The two Paladin nearest Ashleen each held a banner. The one on the left held the banner of Caerwynspire—a golden sun emblazoned on a red background, and the one on the right held the banner of the Paladin—a white sword emblazoned on a golden background.
Suddenly Sir Gelispee spoke. “Paladin!” he shouted in a gruff voice.
“Ears!” the Paladin responded in unison without turning their heads to look at Gelispee.
“Commander Artur, King of Caerwynspire, Defender of the White Fortress and Wielder of the Sword of Light, has summoned us here tonight to consider the initiation of Ashleen of the House Caerwyn, Princess of Caerwynspire, first-born of the King and current heir to the throne, into our noble order.”
“Who speaks for her?” shouted a voice.
“I do!” responded Sir Tomfrey. Sir Tomfrey was just a few years older than Ashleen and was the grandson of Sir Gelispee. Tradition forbade a Paladin from speaking for his own blood when offered up for initiation and the King had sought another to speak for Ashleen. Tomfrey eagerly volunteered. “She possesses all of the necessary qualifications, is a warrior of the highest merit, has demonstrated valor and bravery, and has proven herself to be a person of honor and integrity,” Tomfrey said.
“Do any wish to challenge the truth of Sir Tomfrey’s assertions?” asked Sir Gelispee. No one spoke and the Sergeant at Arms continued. “Who trained her to be a warrior?”
“Sir Gelispee of the Paladin,” said Sir Tomfrey.
“Does anyone wish to challenge the competence of the instruction?” asked the Sergeant at Arms. No one spoke. Sir Gelispee continued. “Has she completed the Paladin’s Quest?” he asked.
“Yes. Fourteen days ago she set out on the Quest for the Sword of Light. She wore no clothes, carried no food, water, weapons, or tools. She found the sword in a dark cave filled with ferocious bears. She risked life and limb to successfully recover the Sword. Seven days ago, she returned to the White Fortress with the Sword of Light and presented it to Commander Artur just after dawn. She has, thus, completed the Paladin’s Quest.”
“Do any wish to challenge Sir Tomfrey’s assertions?” asked Sir Gelispee. No one spoke. “Does anyone else have anything to add?” Again, no one spoke. “Then I will speak some words,” the old man said.
“I have known Ashleen her entire life, and though I think she is a competent warrior, better even than many in this room, I do not believe the Paladin is an appropriate order for women. That said, she has completed the Paladin Quest and, other than her gender, is certainly qualified. I do, however, understand the reason we must accept Ashleen into our order. If she is not allowed by the Council to succeed her father, our Commander, on the throne, there could be a civil war in Caerwynspire. The Council of Lords will not allow her to succeed Commander Artur unless Ashleen becomes a Paladin. Therefore, I shall cast my vote to accept Ashleen into our order. I know there are others in this room that, like myself, have strong feelings about allowing a woman into our ranks. This is the time to speak. If she is accepted and initiated, there shall be no other discussion about the matter. She will be a Paladin and I will not tolerate the Paladin disparaging one of their own for any reason, other than treason or breaking the Code.”
Dragon's Keep: The Complete Dracengard Series Page 15