“Well,” Benger says, “any luck?” Emlyn shakes her head, “No luck, but we have a tentative collaboration. If they find out who’s missing or spot any of them in their travels, they’ll send word to the Temple. If we manage to resurrect any of them from the bone pile those bandits left behind, we’ll have to send word to them too by way of the nearest caravan.”
Benger looks at Emlyn critically, “What’s bothering you?”
“To get them to cooperate, I had to sit with their seer. She laid out her cards for me, and I think it unsettled both of us,” Emlyn says with a wan smile, “Any seer worthy of the name who tried to look into my past might run screaming.”
“Most of them are fakes,” Benger shrugs, “That’s why all the girls get the same fortune from them.”
“Not all are,” Emlyn replies slowly, “and not this one, I think. She was far too accurate about many things, even if she didn’t understand them. Much of my life beggars belief, and I’ve lived it. I wouldn’t expect a seer to be able to interpret any of it correctly. Particularly one that isn’t familiar with my people or what happened to us.” Glancing up, Benger spots a young man from a neighboring village hovering behind Emlyn, hoping for a response.
“No matter, all of that. It’s done and over. You’ve survived it, and besides,” Benger grins, “I think you have someone behind you that would like to talk to you, little sister.”
“Valgar,” Benger calls, “Let me introduce you to my fellow paladin, Nia. She’s here visiting with my family for the Winter Break. Nia, this is Valgar. Watch out for him, he likes to dance with all the pretty girls.”
Chuckling, Emlyn turns to Valgar and says, “Nice to meet you.”
“So, how do you know Benger?” Valgar asks her.
“We are in the same cohort,” Emlyn replies, “We serve together.”
“Oh,” Valgar exclaims, “I hadn’t realized that there were girls who are paladins.”
“It does seem to be more common where I’m from,” Emlyn agrees, “but still not unheard of here. There are a few others at the temple in Harito.”
“Benger’s cohort is the best one,” Valgar replies, “As far as I know, they’re all male.”
“They are,” Emlyn agrees, “except for me. I was added recently.”
“Will you be back here in the spring?” Valgar asks hopefully.
“No,” Emlyn replies, “The rest of the cohort is taking turns taking me home for each break. I think in spring I’m headed off with Madil and Falnor for summer.”
“Why would they do that?” Valgar asks, with a bit of a leer.
“Because they are kind,” Emlyn replies, “and they know that I’m far from home.”
The pair walks around the fair with Valgar pointing out things of interest until they come to a booth for an archery contest. Calmly, Emlyn walks up and sorts through the bows before picking through the arrows. Warrick, busy with a bit of fun with his friends, starts to head toward Emlyn to warn her, but Benger stops him and grins, gesturing for Warrick to watch.
The goal of the game is to get the arrow through the spinning hoop and into the target behind it. The bows are not the best, and wonky would be a generous description of the arrows. Emlyn puts her coppers on the counter and sets herself up, drawing the bow she selected. Arrow nocked, she waits a moment and releases. The arrow speeds through the spinning ring and buries itself in the target. Taking another breath, nocking another arrow, she times her shot, and again the arrow speeds through the ring and buries itself in the target behind. Reaching for the next arrow, she goes to knock it, and the string breaks, cutting her cheek.
“Ow,” Emlyn growls and quickly mumbles a prayer to heal it.
Grabbing another bow, she quickly completes the remaining three shots and looks to the proprietor for her prize.
Grumbling, the man pulls down a selection of items for Emlyn to choose from, “I don’t give out many of these.”
The prizes are cheap, but Emlyn decides on a simple necklace of copper and pretty stones. It looks like something that Oja might like. As Emlyn scans the crowd looking for anyone she recognizes, Warrick and Benger have melted back into the crowd.
One of the bystanders wanders over, “Shooting like that... The King’s Guard would very much like to have a word with you and see what you could do with a real bow and decent arrows. It likely pays better than what you’re earning now. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Argonath Falkur, technically Argonath formerly of Clan Falkur and now of the King's Guard. I recruit for the King’s Guard. Who might you be?”
“I am Nia ferch Hayden ap Rhys, Paladin of Morrighu,” Emlyn replies, with a smart salute.
Argonath takes this in with a smile and introduces his companions. "I have Korek, formerly of Clan Viridia, now of the King's Guard and Atres, formerly of Clan Valkis and now of the King's Guard, with me."
“Perhaps you’d like to attend a bit of a hunt with us later.” Argonath gestures at a couple of other men behind him, “We’re going to head down the mountain and see if we can’t get an elk.”
“I had planned to try to take one on our way here, but our trip was interrupted. I didn’t come to the fair equipped for hunting,” Emlyn explains, “nor am I dressed for it. My bow and gear are back at Benger’s family home.”
“I think we could equip you well enough that if you wanted to, you could join us,” Argonath shrugs.
“I’d still need my boots and a few other things,” Emlyn shakes her head, “So perhaps another time?”
“I find that I’m curious to see what you can do with a real bow,” Argonath smirks, “I could have one of my men accompany you or even fetch whatever you need.”
Seeing that she’s not going to be able to shake off the King’s Guard easily, Emlyn relents.
“Let me go and tell everyone,” Emlyn shrugs, “and deliver Oja’s prize to her. Having at least one of you for company is probably not a bad idea. Trouble has stuck to me like tree sap this whole trip.”
“What kind of trouble?” Argonath asks, “Now I’m curious.”
“Bandits and thieves, mostly,” Emlyn shrugs, “I might have the record for the most eventful first day of service ever at the Temple.”
“When was your Induction ceremony?” Argonath asks.
“A few days ago,” Emlyn replies, “Two days after the high priest had his ball.”
“I thought I just saw you heal yourself,” Argonath says, “or did I mistake that?”
“No, you didn’t mistake it,” Emlyn says with an enigmatic smile, “I was bonded to a god that died, and now that I’m bonded to a new god, my abilities are returning rather quickly.”
“But none of the gods have died since.... And you’re not... You should be...” Argonath is flummoxed. “How is it that you’re, well, barely out of pig tails? All that ended centuries ago.”
“So I’ve been told,” Emlyn shrugs, “My own questions about the whole thing have taught me that time flows differently in different places. I’m not even entirely sure where ‘here’ is to where I come from, or how that changes the flow of time. The best answer I can give you is to ask the mages about it. Perhaps one of them can explain it to you. I can only tell you that for me, it was last year when my childhood friends and I were all still together, hiding in the woods, raiding supply caravans for food and weapons.”
“And where are your friends now?” Argonath asks, looking around.
Emlyn’s expression shifts suddenly, and before she can answer, he nods in understanding.
Growing sympathetic, he stops her reply, “I... see. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”
Emlyn nods and stares at her feet for a moment.
Casting about to change the subject, Argonath decides that the hunt is likely the safest topic. "Let’s go get your gear,” Argonath grins, “and see if we can get an elk and get back here in time to dance with you. I think we would all very much like the opportunity to dance with you.”
Glancing up, she sees friendly smiles from the men with him and nods in acceptance.
Valgar looks on, a bit jealous. “I’ve seen the King’s Guard, and they’re all in uniform,” Valgar replies, “You’re not in uniform, and I don’t know that she should be anywhere near any of you.”
Sighing, Argonath pulls his coat back to show the King’s Medallion that’s hung inside it. “We don’t all wear the regulation uniforms, boy,” Argonath says, “Now leave off, you jealous twit.” Motioning the men to wait with a hand signal he recognizes, Argonath smirks to himself.
“Valgar,” Emlyn replies formally, “I have had a lovely time, but please excuse me. Duty calls, and I must be about the business of my office.”
With another hand signal to follow, Emlyn marches into the crowd, back straight, and completely ignoring Valgar. The trio from the King’s Guard gives each other some interested and amused looks as they follow in her wake, leaving the confused and slightly angry Valgar behind. Emlyn quickly runs into Benger and Warrick, both of whom seem highly amused by Valgar’s antics and her response to them.
“So, off to go hunting with the King’s Guard, eh?” Benger grins, “Didn’t take them long to spot your skill.”
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“I’ve won something for your mother,” Emlyn explains, showing him the necklace, “I think this might be more suitable than some of the other things we’ve looked at recently.”
“I think she’ll like that a lot better,” Benger agrees, “I guess you’re headed back to the house to get your hunting gear then?”
Emlyn nods.
“How soon did you know that they were King’s Guard?” Benger asks quietly.
“The second time he said it,” Emlyn replies in equally hushed tones, “It was either true or a trap, so I started checking right away. His motive is to recruit me, but honestly, if Prince Armeniel ever needed or wanted my help, a simple request to the Temple would be sufficient.”
Warrick asks, more loudly, “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“I was younger than Vonham when I got my first real bow,” Emlyn replies, “My older sister taught me.”
Benger catches Argonath’s eye as he starts to form a question and shakes his head.
“Family too?” Argonath mouths to Benger, who nods briefly before turning back to Emlyn. “I’ll make sure the fire is hot so we can cook what you bring back.”
“Hush,” Emlyn says, “I’m already hungry.”
Benger laughs as Warrick runs ahead, “Mama, Mama, Nia won something for you. Come and see...”
Oja is behind the table and seems to be doing a brisk bit of trading, so Emlyn waits for her to finish. Oja carefully packs away the butter and cheese into the same crates that the pickles and preserves came out of. “Here,” Emlyn says, “I won this at the archery contest, and I think it would be lovely on you.” Oja oohs over the necklace and lets Emlyn put it around her neck. Oja hugs her and then spots the men lounging behind her. “Who’s this then?” “I’ve been invited to go hunting with the King’s Guard,” Emlyn explains, “so I’m going to head back to the house and pick up my gear. Is there anything I can bring back with me?”
Oja takes in the somewhat rough-looking men and gives them a glare, “You better bring her back unharmed.”
Straightening up, Argonath bows formally to Oja, “Madam, it is merely my intention to see just how good Nia is with a bow. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Hah,” Benger snorts, “That’s a question Master Branaulf has been trying to puzzle out for a while. He’s not had a chance to test her yet. “
Argonath turns to Benger, curious, “Might I ask what your... relationship is?”
“We’re in the same cohort,” Emlyn says simply before growling in frustration, “Why is it that everyone assumes that we’re a couple? Is it that rare here for females to take up the art of war? Or are they only allowed to do so under male supervision? Or is it a different under that everyone assumes?”
Benger sits back with a raised eyebrow and grins as Emlyn starts to storm off.
“Where are you going?” Benger calls.
Stopping for a moment without looking back, Emlyn sighs heavily, “To go punch a tree a few times before I say something else I probably shouldn’t.”
As Emlyn moves out of earshot, Argonath runs a hand over his face, “I seem to be tripping over every rock and running headlong into walls today. It seems that I owe both of you an apology.”
“If there were even a hint of anything like that between us,” Benger shrugs, “They wouldn’t let us stay in the same cohort. We’re friends, but no more than that.”
“I see,” Argonath nods, “Any advice?”
“Be easy on her. She’s had a rough go of things. My job has been to make sure she doesn’t reinjure herself.”
At Argonath’s look, Benger goes on, “She drives herself too hard, often to exhaustion, even collapse. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to catch her to keep her from cracking her skull, especially when she was learning to walk again.”
“What is she so afraid of?” Argonath asks, “I can’t see her driving herself like that otherwise.”
“I don’t know,” Benger shrugs, “She hasn’t said, and I haven’t asked. I will say this, though. I’m not sure what happened today, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in a temper. I should probably go after her.”
“Let me,” Argonath says, “I think I know what’s wrong.”
Gesturing to his men to follow, Argonath goes looking for Emlyn. One of the men spots a treetop that’s moving in suspicious ways, so they head in that direction. They find Emlyn abusing a tree with punches, kicks, and other strikes. “Trained in unarmed combat” is another factoid about Nia that Argonath files away.
After a few moments, he clears his throat and hands his coat to one of his men. “Perhaps you’d like to try some of that with a more... mobile opponent?”
“Maybe,” Emlyn growls, “but fair warning, when my strength goes, I’ll be down in short order. I’m trusting you not to hurt me when that happens.”
“I’ll have Korek and Atres referee for us,” Argonath agrees, “If they see you start to falter, they can stop us. Will that do?”
Emlyn stops hitting the tree and turns to face him. Mumbling a prayer, she heals herself where she’s scraped skin against the bark of the tree before bowing formally to Argonath. Korek and Atres move to either side as the two start to prowl widdershins around each other. Emlyn, wary of Argonath’s height and reach, adopts a lowered crouching posture, coiled like a spring.
Argonath, seeking to take advantage of his height and sinewy build, remains more upright. Fast as a serpent, Emlyn lunges in, punching at Argonath’s knee. Argonath dodges back but lands a kick squarely in Emlyn’s chest, rocking her a bit, but not moving her from her stance. Emlyn recovers quickly and launches into a flurry of blows, driving Argonath backward as he blocks her blows. A few blows land on vulnerable or sensitive points, and Argonath grimaces. Suddenly, Argonath spots an opening and sweeps her feet from under her.
Before he can take advantage of it, Emlyn rolls and is back on her feet, but quickly starts to crumple. Both Korek and Atres wade in to halt the fight. Argonath kneels next to her, “Gods, you weren’t kidding. It does seem to hit you quickly. Should I go get Benger?”
“No,” Emlyn waves him off, “I can do this for myself now.”
Argonath watches as the first, then a second, and then a third blue nimbus rolls across her. Emlyn starts to sit up, but Argonath says, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I over-extended myself fighting with those bandits,” Emlyn says wryly, “I hadn’t expected there to be quite so many of them. Once we were in the thick of it, I found their bone pile, so I wasn’t about to let them take Benger or Jathon if I could help it. Now I'm paying for that error in judgment.”
“How many did you think there were? And how many did there end up being?” Argonath asks.
“I badly underestimated that one,” Emlyn admits, chagrined, “I thought perhaps twenty at the most. The number ended up being somewhere between forty and fifty.”
“What made you think you could take on twenty bandits?” Atres frowns, “Much less fifty of them. There are three of us, and we wouldn’t even try that.”
“I had Snowflake,” Emlyn shrugs, “and between us, we did for most of that twenty right there in the road. They made the mistake of telling my mare they planned to eat her. Snowflake did most of the work, trampling them into pulp.”
“Sounds like a remarkable horse,” Korek says with an appreciative grin, “Can’t wait to meet her.”
“She is, even though she looks ordinary enough. Still, if I'd been right there might have been maybe three or four more of them,” Emlyn explains, “Easy enough with Benger, myself, and Jathon. What I didn’t know was that they had a camp in a cave in the woods with just as many, if not more, waiting to attack us. That’s why I didn’t sense them and why my tally was so badly off.”
“What do you mean?” Argonath asks, “How does that have anything to do with what you can sense?”
“Do you know what a blind helm is?” Emlyn asks.
“I’ve seen them, but never used one,” Korek says.
“We have one of the King's Guard,” Atres adds, “that uses one.”
“I’ve used one a time or two,” Argonath says.
“I was fitted with my first one at two or three,” Emlyn explains, “I’ve trained with one ever since. It teaches you to use other senses to locate your opponents. I had no idea that caves provide cover.”
Emlyn looks around at the faces staring back at her in disbelief and shrugs, not caring. “No matter, you need not take my word for it. You can ask Master Ember about the aftermath of the Midwinter Ball,” Emlyn replies, “Let him and the other Temple Masters tell you. He made me demonstrate what I was planning for that. If it comes from someone else who’s witnessed it, perhaps then you’ll believe me.”
At her comment, Argonath grows thoughtful and stands up, offering Emlyn a hand up. He finds her grip firm, but lacking the calluses he’d expect.
“Hold still and let me tidy you up,” Argonath says, “If I take you back looking like this, I think Oja will have my hide.”
He gently picks all the leaves and forest litter off her clothing and out of her hair.
“There,” Argonath nods, “Much better. Much less like we’ve been throwing each other around a forest clearing.”
Emlyn laughs, “I didn’t throw you, and you only managed to sweep my legs once.” Bowing to him formally again, “I thank you for the match.”
Korek nudges Atres and nods at Emlyn’s bow, “Doesn’t that remind you of that Path instructor?”
Curious, Atres wanders over to the tree she’d been abusing earlier, and it does seem that there are dents in the tree from some of the blows she’d landed.
“Why don’t you ever take your gloves off?” Korek asks.
“I don’t want anyone to see my hands,” Emlyn explains, “at least not yet.”
“Still healing?” Atres asks, and Emlyn nods hesitantly. “You know,” Atres says, still staring at the tree, “I think you’re lucky you dodged that punch to the knee.”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever given Argonath a run like that in unarmed combat,” Korek grins, “We normally just get thrown all over the training yard. You managed to land a few blows on him that made him grimace.”
“Do I need to heal you, too?” Emlyn asks Argonath, “I can.”
“Save your spells,” Argonath grins, “I carry potions. We purchase most of what Davilla sells at your temple’s booth. Now, are you ready to get your gear so that we can go hunting? You’ve piqued my curiosity, and I’m eager to see what you can do with a bow.”
Emlyn nods and starts to walk away, but Argonath stops her.
“Speaking of paying for errors in judgment,” Argonath adds, “I’d like to offer my apologies for my earlier assumption. Having women take up the art of war, as you called it, is extremely rare, almost unheard of, here. Some of the mountain tribes have what they call Shield Maidens, but even among them, it’s rare. I believe that your Temple has some female clerics, but only one or two other female paladins. I realize this isn’t what you're used to, so please forgive me. Just know that you are not what any of us are used to, either.”
“I also apologize,” Emlyn replies, “I have been battling this sentiment most of my life. First from my father and older brothers, then from those who found themselves under my command, then from my commander, who was, as you so eloquently put it, a jealous twit, quite a few people at the Temple, and now most recently from Valgar and you. It all just sort of boiled over today.”
“Then again,” Argonath grins, “the last snowflake never thinks the avalanche is its fault. I do apologize for being your last snowflake. I can’t wait until you’re strong enough to have a proper go in the ring.”
“Nor can I,” Emlyn agrees, “I seem to have about as much substance as the cooked peas in the dining hall. I’m well past ready to be done with that.”
“Let’s go meet the redoubtable Snowflake,” Korek says, “and pick up your hunting kit.”
Benger spots Emlyn walking back with the King's Guard clustered around her, chatting amiably, and sighs in relief.
Warrick is already saddled up and has the packhorse in tow so that he can bring more things for Oja to trade with. Benger steps up to greet Emlyn.
“You look a good bit happier than the last time I saw you,” Benger grins, “and your new friends all seem to be in one piece. I take it that you’ve settled your differences?”
Bowing formally to Benger, Emlyn apologizes, “I shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me. I’m sorry for that, for anything I might have said.”
Laughing, Benger throws an arm around her shoulders, “You’ve not said anything that offended me in the slightest. If anything, I’m surprised I haven’t seen a flash or two of temper from you long before this. Your self-control is... remarkable. It’s good to know that your temper blows over as quickly as it arrives.”
Before Emlyn can reply, Benger holds up a finger, “I’m staying here since I’ve not been home in a bit, but Warrick will go with you to make sure you can find the house. I’ve already saddled Snowflake for you. If you run into trouble, don’t forget to pray.”
Leaning in conspiratorially, “Warrick didn’t think Damiana would be here and wants to go back to get her present. He hid it so that Rand or Vonham couldn’t tamper with it, so he needs to go fetch it himself.”
Emlyn nods in agreement, and Benger steps back, eyeing the King’s Guard. “I assume that my little sister will be safe enough with the three of you, but in case something else happens, remind her to pray for assistance. She’s still new to her service and forgets that she has a Temple to call on.”
Argonath nods, thoughtfully. “Will do. We can meet at that tree, just there, once we’ve fetched our horses. Now, where is this wondrous beast, Snowflake?”
To his surprise, Emlyn heads down the picket line to the most unassuming, stolid, placid mare and scratches under her chin. “Meet the hidden gem that is Snowflake.”
“She doesn’t look like much,” Korek ventures, “but I’ll take your word for it.”
“Hah,” Emlyn grins, “She can be quite feisty. I’d tell you to ask the bandits, but she pulped them all quite thoroughly, without much prompting.”
Without thinking, Emlyn slips into her language, cooing to the mare and praising her again for her performance. Shaking his head in puzzlement, Argonath, Korek, and Atres head off to get their horses. Emlyn mounts up and backs Snowflake away from the picket line.
Snowflake dances about a bit in anticipation, but Emlyn settles her, “Easy, girl. We’ve got a bit of a ride ahead of us today. Don’t tire yourself out, and maybe you’ll get to show off for a more appreciative audience later.”
Snowflake settles down obediently, and Emlyn turns her with a knee toward the tree to wait for her new companions.