Ghonewyn stumbled along, exhausted with still- fresh wounds banging and burning. Throughout her trek she had lived on berries and roots using what foraging skills Leilia had taught her while Ghonewyn had journeyed with the now-broken party. She was tired, hungry and injured, and home was still nowhere in sight. She felt little hope, but trusted that Tunare had led her in the right direction.
Earlier on in her journey Ghonewyn had stumbled upon a small venturing party of orcs. When they had spotted her, they raised a great war cry and charged into the battle. Rage had bubbled up in her heart, and Ghonewyn had welcomed the fight. Calling communion with her God around her, she had begun a spell that would smite the filth where they stood- but the spell was more difficult and less powerful than usual, and only felled a single orc. Unarmed as she was, Ghonewyn had been in for a tough fight, and by the time she had disarmed one orc and slain two more, the rest had run, leaving her with several wounds, the worst a deep cut from a sword that had found a chink in her armor and had bit deep into her side. Calling forth her God once more, she had prayed for healing, but again her magic was less forthcoming than usual, and the wound closed only enough so that she would not bleed to death. She had tried it again, when the wound opened again over the course of her journey, but nothing had happened. After considering the situation, she attributed the failure to Tunare being angry with Ghonewyn's failure, and prayed for the chance to prove herself once more. After tying some tourniquets around the worst of her wounds, she set out for home once more.
Now, Ghonewyn staggered down the beaten dirt path towards her home- or, her home as far as she could figure. She more or less kept what she could see of the setting sun behind her and to her left, but she had neither seen nor heard the wood elfin city of Kelethin yet. Perhaps she had merely passed it before she found the path. She prayed that that was the case.
As she walked she considered her road thus far. She had been sent by Yuin Starchaser to assassinate Emperor Crush. In all likelihood, she had failed. Her party, her assistance, her friends, were all dead, because she had failed to protect them. Along the way she had led an attack to free the slaves working in the orcish mines. She had succeeded, but only through a battle that lacked honour, thereby failing to live by the paladin's code. As a result of her failure, Ghonewyn was no longer able to reach an intimate communion with her beloved Goddess Tunare as before. It seemed that, these days, Ghonewyn was a walking mass of failures. She would prove herself once more, though. She would break the spine of the incoming orcish invasion and send many of the despiccable pig-spawn to the underworld- then she would be back in Tunare's graces and communion with Her would last forever. 'Yes,' she thought, 'I will earn your love once more, Tunare. You will be proud of me again.'
Suddenly she heard a voice coming from above her, calling her name. She thought the voice sounded male, and it was decidedly elfin. It was pleasant to hear. With great effort, Ghonewyn opened her eyes, and found herself lying on her back, with two male faces looming over her, both with very concerned looks on their faces.
She realized that she recognized them: one was Almin Tynthal, the other Fryno Lovayn. She had chatted with them both on several occasions, and had even succumbed to her womanly urges with Almin once in her early days as a paladin (it had not happened again- Ghonewyn had spent a week atoning for breaking her vow of chastity, and sometimes still felt guilty for it. She had often wondered why something that felt so good was so taboo, but then, her superiors' word was as good as the word of Tunare herself, so she had never questioned the order). Both men were talented warriors, and very compassionate people. Seeing their concern now made Ghonewyn's stomach turn. Shaking a groggy head, she pushed herself up on shaky hands and looked around, the sights causing her heart to leap for joy.
In front of her loomed the great, swooping spires of her beloved home, Felwithe. Its golden gates stood to testify to the glory that was the high elf race itself, and the immaculate care of the city's buildings portrayed the elves' fastidious attention to detail. The fact that she was finally home nearly brought tears to her eyes. The fact that the reason that she now stood before the gates of Felwithe was that of her failures made holding back those tears all the more difficult.
Almin spoke first. "Ghonewyn, is that you?" he asked. When she nodded, concern flooded his face. "Sweet Tunare, what has happened to you?! We must get you to a healer, quickly! Lovayn, help me lift her up," he said, and both men leapt to Ghonewyn's side, taking an arm and trying to lift her up.
Ghonewyn flailed her arms about, removing herself from the presumptuous grip of her so-called friends. It pained her to see the hurt looks in their eyes, but Ghonewyn needed help from no one. As she rose on shaky legs she spoke. "Let me go! I'm fine, it's just a scratch. I must speak with Yuin Starchaser. If you want to help, take me to him," she said. She instantly regretted the cold tone of her voice, especially seeing the hurt in Almin's eyes. Light, but those eyes should never see hurt... no, she thought. She had a job to do, and could think nothing else. She pushed all other thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand.
Almin and Fryno led her through the long, winding corridor leading to the inner core of Felwithe. The builders of Felwithe had been ingenuitive tacticians, for the city itself had been built on the opposing side of a cliff separating the Greater Faydark forest from a large opening in the rock. The city was surrounded on all sides by a thick rock wall and sheer, inscalable cliffs. The only way to get in or out of Felwithe was through the front gate, and through a full mile of a narrow, twisting corridor with many tiny eddies and cubbies that wormed its way under the cliff to the city compound. Only five elves could walk abreast in this corridor (even fewer if the traveler were a larger race- a small party of ogres had once tried to attack Felwithe, and only two could stand side-by-side), which meant that a dozen skilled elves could hold off entire armies for days. Also, many torches burned perpetually with flame fed by magic. Should the weaves holding the torches ever break, the cave would plunge into darkness, causing mass confusion to all who were not blessed with infravision. If a battle turned awry, the torches could be instantly extinguished and the elves could withdraw under cover of darkness and regroup past Felwithe's second line of defence. These conditions made for an extremely defensible position, and if a battle were to turn awry, all Felwithe's wizards were trained to evacuate mass citizenry with their magic once the wizards reached sufficient power. So far, though, in several thousand of years (conesquently, fewer than a dozen generations of elves), no attacker had ever breached the corridor, so Felwithe's second line of defence had never been necessary.
That second line was the bridge spanning a river that cut through the entrance to Felwithe. When one first leaves the corridor one would come across a wide open space with a gold-and-silver checkerboard bridge spanning a wide, crystal-clear blue river running through the entrance to the city. This bridge was enchanted with a powerful spell that, upon willing it so, any three head mages of Felwithe could cause it to temporarily phase out of existence, cutting off all access to the city across the river. The river was about fifty feet wide, and the cliffsides were rounded off and sloped down slightly, making it difficult for makeshift enemy bridges to take hold on the rock.
It had been several weeks since Ghonewyn had seen her home, and it was no less glorious than when she left- though it seemed unusually quiet. She thought she knew why- word had already reached them of her failure. Everyone already knew she was a useless failure. She felt like dying from the shame.
As she walked along, she beheld the beauty of the glittering bridge, the stunning arches of the mages' temple to the south, and the awe- inspiring glory of the temple of the Clerics of Tunare. The structure housing the paladins was a massive, uncommonly square and straight-edged building (most buildings in Felwithe were smooth and rounded). The front had three doors leading to a wide open atrium with several corridors branching off in different directions. One path led the traversere upstairs to the chambers of the upper paladins and the strategy room, another led down to the armories and quarters of the new recruits, and still others deeper into the building on the ground floor for the full-fledged paladins of Tunare. The building was elegant in its simplicity- the floors were white marble, and the walls were gilded with silver. Overhead was an inspiring mural depicting Tunare breathing life upon her children, the elves. It stole Ghonewyn's breath every time she beheld it.
Now, though, she didn't have time to gaze upon Tunare's glory. An anonymous pair of guards wearing scale mail armor approached to intercept her as she moved to ascend the stairs to the strategy room. Her ire was thoroughly aroused at the inconvenience. "I don't have time for this! I must see Yuin Starchaser. He... I must inform him of the latest goings-on of the impending attack. Move it!" She shouted as she forced her way between them. They stood confused for a moment, unsure of what to do, but allowed her to pass and returned to their posts.
Despite her weakened legs, Ghonewyn ascended the stairs rapidly, and quickly paced the halls to the strategy room, Almin and Fryno trailing close behind. She paused at the closed door, composing herself and, taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and entered the room.
The strategy room was simple, even for a room in the Hall of the Paladins. It was relatively small, and had three chairs at a large table. The table was laden with maps, compasses, and sextants of every kind. The maps were held down with books, knives, rocks, anything available. There were three men in leaning over the table, none wearing armor, but only simple jerkins and trousers, and were surveying the maps and talking quietly yet heatedly. All three looked up at Ghonewyn simultaneously. She knew two of them: one was General Ynlarn Jyleel, commander of Felwithe's defenses, a very hard man; another was Yuin Starchaser, Master Paladin in Tynkale's mysterious absence, a paradoxically kind and compassionate man; and the third was a man wearing a thick brown robe with cowl raised high enough to shield his face. She did not recognize this individual. When Yuin's gaze met hers, Ghonewyn immediately dropped to her knees.
"I, I have news to report to you, Master Paladin," she stammered. "I, my group has failed in our task. We fought through the dungeons of Castle Crushbone and confronted Emperor Crush himself, but the despicable orcs have struck an alliance with the dark elves. A very powerful dark elf who called himself D'vinn interrupted the attack and almost single-handedly repelled our offensive. Shamefully, I am the only survivor of the attack. Master, I am sorry. I failed." Tears that had begun to well in her eyes splashed on the marble floor.
Suddenly a hand cupped her chin and lifted it gently. She looked up into the flawless, smiling face of Yuin. He spoke in a deep yet melodious voice. "My child, I understand. Our cousins are a very powerful race, and are not to be trifled with. The attack was a far chance, but one we were forced to take. I trust you and your band slew a number of orcs in the battles?" Ghonewyn's eyes teared up once more as she recalled the horrible slaughter in the mines. She nodded, and Yuin smiled once more. "It is alright, child. You did the best you could. I grieve the loss of your companions. Their sacrifice for the good of Faydwer will not be forgotten. Tunare, and I, still love you." The mention of Tunare sent a fiery bolt of agony through Ghonewyn's heart- Tunare no longer loved her; she was a failure, and not worthy of Tunare's grace. Yuin's words brought her some comfort, though, and she wiped away her tears and stood as best she could. Yuin smiled again and turned his head to nod behind her. Ghonewyn turned and saw her companions standing nervously, unsure of what to do. "Almin Tynthale, Fryno Lovayn, thank you for escorting Ghonewyn home. You have done your duty well. Back to your posts. Dismissed." Yuin said. The pair snapped to attention in unison and thumped fists to plate-and-mailed chests in salute, and marched off, presumably to guard the entrance to Felwithe once more.
Ghonewyn turned back to the two commanders and silent figure in the room, and saw Jyleel's face alive with fury. Almin and Fryno were his soldiers, Ghonewyn knew, and for Yuin to command them was an affront to Jyleel's authority. Ghonewyn hoped that she would never be in a position of office- the politics of leadership were too tiresome for her one-track mind. Yuin spoke again, his melodious voice soothing her worries. "Come now, child. Help us with our strategizing, for you have witnessed first- hand the might of the orcish armies. What can you tell us about them?" he asked as he led Ghonewyn to the table, on hand on her back.
Ghonewyn's armor suddenly seemed very cumbersome. She longed to remove it and not be so weighed down- after all, it was battle armor, and not meant to be worn for such a long period of time. She leaned over the table, and spoke. "Well, from what we saw of Crushbone, it is nearly deserted, and the milling sea of filth encamped outside of the god-forsaken area is only the surface of the orcs' power. You see, during our battle with Emporer Crush, he told us that he had thirty thousand swords ready to sweep across Faydwer at any moment." Yuin gasped, Jyleel's scowl deepened, and the third, robed man seemed unperturbed at the disturbing news.
Yuin spoke in a shaky voice. "Thirty thousand? But, that's more than every man, woman, and child in Felwithe and Kelethin put together! We have heard reports of young warriors entering Crushbone and slaying dozens of orcs in a single attack before they withdrew! How could numbers like that be possible?"
Ghonewyn shook her head. The whole situation seemed impossible. "I don't know. Maybe he was lying- evil does that, when it seeks to corrupt the hearts of the pure. Perhaps he was exaggerating, in an attempt to make me... make us, panic. Perhaps he was telling the truth, and Faydwer is in for a decisive battle . I don't know, but I do not think he was lying. My party and I slew more than a score ourselves, but compared to the ocean entrenched outside, it seemed our efforts were in vain. A score is nothing to Crush- he can launch his army at Felwithe and fight a battle for a week, and still not every orc will so much as hear the sounds of battle. It seems hopeless now." Ghonewyn's shoulders slumped in sudden exhaustion.
Yuin laughed heartily. "My child, it is never hopeless. Felwithe has withstood greater threats than this. They may be many, but they are still orcs, and orcs are capable of only so much- even with a dark elf by their side. Trust in Tunare, child, and everything will be alright." Ghonewyn barely manage to hold back a sniff. Tunare didn't help her or her friends in their time of need.
Jyleel spoke up suddenly, in a high and not- so melodious voice. "Yes, yes, trusting in Tunare is all well and good, but that doesn't explain how we will withstand a battle against ten times our numbers. Even elves must rest, and eat. If the orcs cut off our supply lines, we could starve to death before the fighting even begins. If we starve, How, then, will we be strong enough to fight?" His scowl only deepened as he nodded towards Ghonewyn. She had never liked the man before, but he was right- she was a failure, after all.
Yuin shrugged. "When not tending our injured the clerics can summon food for us if necessary. We can evacuate via our wizards if events turn too poor for us to handle. We will find a way." Jyleel snorted and bent over the maps once more.
Yuin turned back to the table as well. "The problem is, there are too many unknowns. The army is amassing, but we don't know when it will strike, or even when it will mobilize itself. We do not know how many there are, though it is confirmed that the army's strength lies in the thousands- there are simply too many to count. We do not know if this dark elf is merely a rogue, or if the orcs are truly allied with the dark elves. Even if they are, Neriak is a long way from here, an entire continent away, and a dark elf army would take a long time to mobilize and arrive here for the battle anyway. We do not even know the fate of Emperor Crush himself- as I am sure that he is suffering right now," Yuin turned his head and winked at Ghonewyn before continuing, "but even if he were to leave the seat of power, another would likely rise to take his place. There are too many unknowns here.
But, I do believe that we have a chance. I have heard legends of a certain artifact that can be used in our cause. It can rally the hearts of those it touches and increase their fervour. It is a weapon designed to protect and lead the helpless to fend for themselves. It is a weapon of incredible power, able to scour the hearts of all for the evil within and smite it with godly wrath. It may just help us in this battle, and swing the fate of Faydwer in our favour." Ghonewyn looked toward Yuin, enraptured by his tale. Jyleel turned a cynical eye to him, but looked interested nonetheless.
"What is this weapon you speak of, Master?" Ghonewyn asked intently.
"It is a sword known, in the legends, as the Fiery Defender."
"The Fiery Defender..." Ghonewyn whispered reverently. She had heard the legends as well, about how a hero had forged the sword and used it to lead a battle against a horde of dragons long ago. Legend had it that the hero had slain over a hundred dragons himself, simply by calling forth its holy power. She had never in her heart believed the legends true, but if they were, the weapon may just help turn the tide. Sudden courage welled up inside Ghonewyn, and she knew what she must do. "I will do it." She said with resolve.
Yuin looked at her with surprise. Jyleel scowled at her, and the anonymous figure merely stood, face hidden under the cowl of his robes. Ghonewyn was getting a bad feeling from this individual, but she pushed it out of her mind. "I'll do it. I'll retrieve the Fiery Defender, I'll avenge my friends, and I'll help drive back this army. I'll do it." She said. Something inside her told her that she had no idea what she was getting herself into, but deep down, she was convicted that this was something she had to do to regain her honour, and the love of her God.
If it were possible, Jyleel scowled even deeper, and threw up his hands in frustration. "This is madness! The Fiery Defender is nothing but a legend, a myth! It doesn't exist! This could be a suicide mission!" He shouted.
For the first time Ghonewyn had ever seen, Yuin glowered at someone- Jyleel. Ghonewyn suddenly felt as though a glower from this man was a very dangerous thing. "You do not know that for certain. Besides, just as you said, this in itself is a losing battle. We need something to tip the scales. This might just be it. Besides, even if she fails, we would only be back where we started- no sword, no greater numbers, and little hope. We have nothing to lose." Jyleel looked away, as much as admitting the point, and Yuin turned back to Ghonewyn and smiled wide. "Ghonewyn, I admire your bravery and your desire to do good, but you must enter this quest with a pure heart. A heart full of hate, of greed, of selfishness, of pride, will defeat before you even grasp this sword- the sword itself would destroy you for those evils.. Take a day to think about why you want to undertake this quest, then come back to me and give me your answer. We have lost three powerful allies this day- I do not wish to lose a fourth."
Yuin turned back to the meeting. "We have learned all we can this day. Let us supp and retire for the evening. We've a long day ahead of us. This meeting is adjourned." Yuin saluted the other two, Jyleel returned it grudgingly, and the third figure simply stood there, ready to leave.
As Ghonewyn, Jyleel, and the taciturn figure began to file out, Yuin touched Ghonewyn's forearm. She turned to him, and was absorbed once more into his warm smile. "Thank you for speaking up. You have brought hope to this tired heart." Ghonewyn's heart leapt with pride at his praise. "Tonight, though, I have research I must do. I must find out as much about this Fiery Defender as possible. Now wait," Yuin placed a calloused finger against Ghonewyn's mouth when she tried to speak up. "I can see how tired you are. Go to the hall of healers tonight and have yourself restored, and then get some rest. I can see it in your eyes- you are nearly ready to collapse. That is an order, child," he said when Ghonewyn began to argue. "Now, go. Get some rest. Retire early- we have an early morning ahead of us."
Ghonewyn sighed and left the room. She descended the stairs to the ground level, and exited the Hall of Paladins, heading in the direction of the clerics' guild. She even failed to resist her weaknesses. She was just one great, walking mass of failure.