The great cathedral's sanctuary was silent; there was an air of empty solemnity. The rising arches, vast sprawling ceiling, and tall windows were complemented by the rows of long wooden pews in the center. A lone woman sat in the middle of the rows. Leaning forward in her seat, and resting her elbows on the small shelf built into the back of the pew. Her hands were clasped together in prayer. Her silvery-blonde hair was braided back, and her sea-blue eyes looked heavenward. She wore a low necked, frilled brown skirt and blouse, and a small waistcoat-like jacket was drawn around her petite shoulders. Her small lips were silently mouthing the words of the actus contritionis as the afternoon sunlight filtered softly through the cathedral windows in gold. Perhaps nothing about her seemed exceptional at first glance-just another peasant girl reciting her prayers in the church.
Suddenly, the somnolence of the scene was broken by a blinding light illuminating the altar. Jeanne gasped and stood in shock, startled out of her prayers. There was a sound like rushing water, and a voice seemed to say in her head Step into the light, Daughter of Mary. She stepped towards the glowing altar, hesitantly, but with firm steps. Drawing up her dress, she walked up the steps to the altar. To her surprise and wonder each step she took lit the floor with a glow, and what looked like feathers of light sprang forth. She looked up at the source of the blinding light. A white hand-mace, brilliantly shimmering, descended down and hovered in front of her. Stretch forth thy hand, Chosen of the Host! Take this weapon and wield it against the foes of the Kingdom. Setting her jaw, and reaching out her hand, Jeanne grasped the hilt of the weapon. "Amen," she said aloud. As she did so there was a flash of light, a sound like the tinkling of a chandelier, and the cathedral was once again solemn-and empty.
Jeanne awoke to find herself kneeling in a wide, grassy plain. She was clutching in her hand the shimmering mace, but in her right was now an ornate, silver shield. In the center was a large aquamarine. She also found with surprise that her peasant's dress had been transformed into a knight's cuirass of silver and gold, replete with gauntlets and boots of shining steel. "What task thou ask of me, so shall I do it," she vowed, bowing her head. She looked around the field for a sign of some kind, but seeing none, she arose, hoisted her shield over her shoulder, and set off in the direction she was facing.
Before long she saw a tower, and some other building-like structures up ahead. She headed towards them. She could hear music like trumpets playing, and the cries of men and beasts as she approached. It was some sort of gathering-there were all manner of beasts and creatures walking around; large robed tigers wearing exotic colors and meditation beads from the East, mischievous jesters juggling oddities, canine demigods running through the fields, and even a half-naked blue ifrit-man-Jeanne averted her eyes as he floated past. Somewhat confused, she nevertheless continued on towards the tower.
A robed man was standing at the steps as she approached. "Hail!" She called to him when she was within earshot. The man turned in surprise, then seemed to recognize her somehow as he stretched out his hand in greeting. "Ah! You have come, Paladin of Light." Throwing his head back and laughing, he grabbed her hands in his. "I am Durand, Lord of the Sky Arena. Well met, Maiden of Light.
"Lord Durand," she bowed her head in greeting. "Pray, tell me whither I have come, and what manner of place this be?"
"Here is the Sky Arena, place of meeting, place of war; where many roads meet, and some collide. You, fair lady of the shield, have been summoned by the Lord to be His Hand in a battle against His enemies."
"Long have I known the Lord of whom you speak, Durand of the Sky Arena. I stand ready to do as He would have me, taking up mine shield and weapon against His enemies. Only direct me to said enemies, and, swear I by this arm, I will endeavour to bring honour to thine Lord and mine."
Durand laughed again. "Well said, Chosen of the light! If thy arm be as deft as thy lips, thine eyes shall verily see victory over thine enemies ere the day closes. Pray, come within and we shall talk more."
Jeanne and Durand went into the tower, and he explained more to her about what was to come. She had been chosen by God as a paladin of light to wage war in the Sky Arena with her shield and mace, and armed with holy light. She must face Veremos the Wicked, dark ifrit-king of the underworld, and emerge victorious.
"If you do this, you shall be granted true love." Durand was saying.
"A seeker of the love of a man I am not-my recompense is the regard of my Father alone; it is sufficient to me. But may it be as you say. If won in fairness, the heart of a man in the hand is a good thing." She replied.
"So it is!" Durand laughed again. "Let us walk."
The two walked out of the tower and towards the great arena where the battle was to take place. All manner of creatures were gather around the vast, open inside.
"See, thy enemy approaches." Durand pointed towards an approaching figure.
Veremos the Wicked was a tall, purple ifrit-man, handsome, with long flowing hair, two great horns and piercing eyes. He was surrounding by flaming lesser spirits and was girded with his wheel of power. He approached Jeanne and hovered in front of her, regarding her mockingly with his arms folded.
"Blessed of the light, fare thee well this bright day? By the One, thy armor is near as bright; if only the shimmer of the costume bespoke the skill of the bearer, peasant girl." When he spoke it sounded as if several voice were speaking in unison from many directions at once.
"If power came from appearances as thou assume, son of darkness, thou wouldst perchance be half as strong as thy words feign to be," She replied, not stepping back though he was standing right up in her face. She could feel his oppressive energy. "My strength is not in my arm, nor my pomp, but springs from the Lord who giveth me stoutness of heart."
"Ah! The fair heart of this maiden beats strong; let us see whether it beats so strong when I crush it in mine hands," Veremos laughed, showing his fangs. "But enough banter; all shall be made plain in the Arena. Thy god grant thee speed, erstwhile peasant girl; a struggle to the death is not so simple as the milking of cows in the morn," He laughed, and reached to pat her on the head. She quickly knocked his cold hand away, however, saying "The poison of thine own empty words take thee."
Veremos floated off into the arena, laughing.
"Lightly view thy opponent's strength not, holy paladin. We have but little time, and thy skills yet need sharpening, if not thy weapon." Durand warned, uncharacteristically grim.
As he spoke, a silver haired man in knight's armor walked up to them. "Here is the man! My squire, Darion of the Knighthood," cried Durand. The knight bowed deeply before Jeanne, who curtsied in return.
"Heard many a passing word of your fair beauty I have, but none bespeak it as true as that picture which stands before me!" Darion said to her as he bowed.
"Well met, Sir Knight; a compliment spoken in verity is sweeter sugar still, yet of not much greater worth than the sweet candy-tart of a young child." She said cooly.
At this, both Durand and Darion laughed.
"A knight of the word as of the shield!" Durand said, laughing. "But here you must make as friends; I must go, to other duties I am called. Squire Darion must be your sparring partner, ere the true battle begins. May the light shine on your battle," he said to Jeanne, and then quickly walked off.
Jeanne and Darion turned and walked side-by-side into the arena. It was like a vast, open-air coliseum, with all types of creatures in the stands. They stopped in the circular shaded colonnades, where other stood watching the fights or talking to one another. "Time is short, fair paladin," Darion said to her. "But thine opponent's arm is not."
"Grant me what skills thou knowest, pray thee, and as God would have it I shall be victorious." Jeanne replied.
They tussled and sparred together for a few hours, Darion wielding his great-sword and Jeanne wield her shield and mace. He explained techniques to her, and she took them and made them her own, turning them against him in clever strategy. "Defense is they offense," Darion panted as they engaged, "Thine enemies' mind is thy greatest weapon!"
"As are his hasty words!" She rejoined, dexterously knocking aside his raised blade and striking hm with the blunt end of her mace. As he recoiled and swung his blade over and down to strike her, she spun forward out of its path, and struck his side with her elbow. He swung out his right arm in a back-elbow strike in counter. Moving with lightning speed, she ducked under it, sweeping his legs out with her shield, spinning behind him and locking her mace across the front of his neck as he landed on his rear.
"Yield!" He cried, "May God grant the such prowess in the fight to come!" He added, bowing to her gracefully.
She threw back her flowing hair as she caught her breath, and looked towards the grassy arena. "If in thine heart thou knowest it to be true, so shall it be," She replied.
The time for the battle had come. Veremos the Wicked moved out to the arena, and hovered there, arms outstretched, holding billowing purple flames in his palms. Jeanne walked slowly, confidently out to meet him, hoisting her large shield on her back as she went. Her eyes looked heavenward. The piercing eyes of the ifrit-king lit up with flames of hatred as she approached. "Come then, daughter of light. Let us see who shall prevail this day." He drew his hands behind him and stood ready, his whole body burning strongly with bloodlust.
Still looking heavenward, Jeanne said, "God grant me strength of heart to strike down His enemies, and-" before she could finish, Veremos drew back and with an angry bellow and sent a ball of dark energy flying towards her. She drew her eyes down for the first time, and drew her left leg back, lowering her center of gravity, and raising her shield just as the energy ball struck. It made a sound like an angry shout as it dissipated on her shield. As soon as it did so, Veremos said "You can defend against one foe from the front; no little feat for a peasant!" He laughed. "But what of many foes striking from all around?" He spread his arms, and the many small dark flames surrounding his body drew up in formation over his head. He stretched out his hand, and they flew towards her in unison. Jeanne put her shield on her back. Sprinting forward to meet the flames, she threw herself diagonally into the their midst, spinning through the air and swinging her mace to dissipate every flame as she did so. She landed on one knee, with only two of the flames left behind her. They flew to converge on her, but springing up and backwards, she dodged them as they collided and exploded in a burts of energy. As soon as she landed, she again drew out her shield and locke dit in front of her body. Another ball of energy was flying towards her, and it hit the shield in full force just as she set it. Having blocked it, she kept her shield up as she sprinted closer to Veremos, his blasts continuously buffeting her shield, but not knocking her stout legs off their path. "Fool! Let us then see what strength farm-chores givest the arm," Veremos growled as she stood before him. He reached out and grabbing her shield with surprising strength, flung it away with one arm. He drew a symbol in the air, giving his fists a flaming cloak. Gripper her mace Jeanne engaged with him in melee, dodging and deflecting his relentless blows. At every blow the ground shook, and a sound like screams came from the ifrit-king's fists. She was doing her best to deflect, but he was too strong and fast-she was unable to find a counter opening. He pounded her mace repeatedly with his fists as she held it over her head to block, and suddenly, the mace broke in two pieces, and fell to the ground, all its glittering sheen gone. "And so shall I break thee!" Veremos called, drawing back his fist and gathering power. Now standing completely unarmed, she closed her eyes, seemingly waiting for the impact. With a roaring shout, the ifrit-king struck out at her. Suddenly, Jeanne moved with lightning quickness, diving and rolling under his legs and behind him. She launched a powerful kick on his rear, knocking him forward and off balance. This gave her a moment of time as she dashed towards her where her shield was lying. Veremos recovered himself in an instant, and flew towards her with his own rage-fueled lightning speed. Knowing she had little time, Jeanne swan-dove through the air, hitting the ground and rolling, catching her shield as she did so. As he came within a few feet of her, she grabbed her shield, and as she came out of her roll, threw the most powerful punch she could muster at his stomach. Her fist blew through his body, making a hole in his ripped abdomen. She looked up in disbelief as Veremos laughed uncontrollably. "Your petty hands cannot touch me!" He cried. As he did so, his magical body begin to heal and close itself around Jeanne's arm. She tried to pull it out but it was too late. She was trapped. He grabbed her forearm and pulled himself towards her face. "Your heartwarming journey ends here." He drew back his fist once more, gathering energy to strike. "Only you hatred could kill me!" He cried.
"Or yours!" She yelled. Suddenly looking up, she raised her shield up into his face. The aquamarine gem in the center glowed purple with the stored energy of all Veremos' own strikes she had deflected and absorbed with it. "Be gone!" Jeanne cried. The gem in the shield burst forth all the energy at once in a purple flood which shook the ground. It blew Veremos' body at the chest completely off, dissolving it into oblivion as his diminishing voice shouted in rage and disbelief. When it was over, his lower body slumped to the ground, its burning light gone out, and it dissolved around her arm. She drew herself up and threw back her her golden hair as she stood over her vanquished foe. She had won.
Those that were watching cheered-especially darion, who rushed out to meet her.
Stopping several paces before her, Darion broke out in song:
Fair is the sea in winter, tho' cold
Mighty is the lion of the plain, and bold
Quick is the swooping falcon in the fields
Fearsome is the she-bear and the claws she wields
But I have seen one beyond all these, aye
Such as Christian mortals see not ere they die
Whither, maiden, didst thou comest? Pray, tell
To know her name all my gold I would sell
Tarry a while, and witness thou her standing there
Eyes as starlight; and flowing like the laughing brook, her hair
Lo her deeds in war are great, tales a many are told
Not even such a one is found among the Holy Women of old
Feign, fair lady, to look on this knight with favour, and light
Smitten thrice am I by thy beauty, devotion, and might!
Jeanne turned towards him, striking a picture of saintly beauty in the early dawn. Her silvery hair flowed back and her face, though showing the signs of battle, could lose none of its fairness.
"Fair Lady Paladin!" Darion exclaimed, "As I yet wield this sword in mine hand, ever may I use it in protection of thee"
"Nay," replied the lady, "But I shall protect thee, with mine shield blessed of the Lord, and radiant with the Holy Light!"
"So it be as thou sayest", replied Darion, "But I pray thee, shield-maiden of light, allow me to swear my sword in accompany'ment to thy shield, as the hand that strikes from the gleaming gates of the Kingdom. Ever will it be taken up in they service." He planted his blade on the ground, and kneeled before her.
"Let it be as thou sayest, sir knight." Jeanne nodded, after considering for a moment.
"Tho' the path be winding, may God grant us the fortitude to endure what'er befalls;
verity, that our union may be true;
loyalty, that we may fight as one;
faith, that our trust be in one another as it be in the Lord."
She closed her eyes, and leaning down, she slowly kissed his his left shoulder, his right shoulder, and then the top of his bowed head.
"Arise, Darion, Holy Knight of the Blade," she lifted up his chin with her soft fingers.
"Amen, non erit tibi," Darion said solemnly. "May the latter days wane before us, 'ere I betray thy love for me." He stood up, and the two shared an embrace in love. Then, hoisting his blade over his shoulder, he offered Jeanne his hand. In turn hoisting her shield over her shoulder, she placed her hand in his, and the two lovers walked off into the morning sun. It enveloped them in silvery sunlight, and seemed to be a portent of divine blessing-as they indeed did live happily ever after, fighting in many battles together, spending many peaceful moments together, yet always and ever united by their mutual love and sacrifice. She had indeed found true love as had been foretold.