Chapter 7
The Paravant
As the blindfold was pulled from Atkynd's eyes, he quickly took stock of his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of a large leather tent, large enough to accommodate at least four people. A campfire burned outside, providing just enough light for him to see. In the center of the tent was a low, crudely constructed wooden table with a pair of stools set on either side, and on it were three candles, a copper teapot, and a pair of clay cups. Behind the stool on the far side of the tent was a pile of hay and the skin of some animal that Atkynd couldn't make out in the low light. He noticed all this in the split second before his eyes were drawn to the figure sitting placidly behind the table.
Even in the low light, Atkynd could see that she was stunningly beautiful. It was difficult to determine her age, as she had a youthful face, yet Atkynd felt she could have been anywhere from her late teens to her early fifties – she simply had a timelessness about her that rivalled any mer. Her skin was lightly tanned, befitting someone who had spent most of their life outdoors in a warm climate, yet she lacked the freckles and sunspots that he would expect to go along with an active working life. She wore her curly black hair loose around her shoulders, and though it was wild and unkempt, it still had a lustrous sheen to it that was noticeable even in the dim firelight. She had a small frame, though she was nowhere near as diminutive as Tari; Atkynd suspected that she had eaten fairly well throughout her life, and that she was simply naturally petite. A loose, rough, brown robe was wrapped around her body, tied closed by a simple length of rope around her waist. Atkynd also noticed that she wore bronze manacles around her wrists and ankles, though the chains had been broken, allowing her to move freely. The remnants of the chains jangled with each slight movement she made.
What drew Atkynd's attention the most, however, were her eyes. Even in the dim light, he could tell that they were a bright, piercing blue, and they seemed to peer straight through him. It was her eyes, combined with a strangely serene confidence in her posture, that caught him off-guard when he first met her gaze. He only realized he'd been staring at her when she politely motioned to the stool across from her.
"Please, have a seat," she invited him. "I imagine you must be tired. Would you like some tea?" As she asked her question, she poured some of the liquid into the cup resting in front of her and brought it to her lips, sipping it pointedly while keeping him pinned under her bright blue gaze.
"…Thank you," Atkynd said as he inclined his head graciously, slipping reflexively into his diplomatic training to cope with the almost surreal situation he found himself in. The woman nodded and poured the tea into the cup in front of him as he hesitantly settled onto the stool.
"Not at all," the Paravant replied, smiling gently up at him. "You've been travelling for quite some time, yes? And it's been a while since you've eaten? Rego," she added, glancing at the guard standing behind him. "Would you please retrieve a bowl of food for our guest here?"
Atkynd could feel the Nede bristle behind him. "My lady, our food stores are already low-" he protested.
"We have enough to spare one bowl," the Paravant said firmly. Atkynd felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he saw Rego glare at him out of the corner of his eye, but the guard reluctantly stalked off regardless. The Paravant watched him depart, then turned her attention back to Atkynd.
"How is your arm?" she asked, a bit of remorse in her voice.
"Injured," Atkynd said drily, unable to resist retorting with a barbed response. When he noticed the pitying look in her eyes, however, he relented and added, "It will heal. Tari did an excellent job treating it. There isn't even much pain."
"Good. I'm pleased that you weren't more seriously injured," the Paravant said, sitting back on her stool and lifting her cup up, holding it delicately in both hands. "I'd also like to apologize for the way my companions treated you."
"Do they often randomly ambush elves?" Atkynd asked, raising an eyebrow. He lifted his cup, but didn't drink from it.
"No. In fact, I've given them strict instructions not to," the Paravant replied, her tone underlining her own displeasure. "However, I also realize it's sometimes difficult for them to restrain their… zeal. You must understand, they've spent their entire lives living in fear of their elven masters. What's more, now that they're free, they've also been marked for death. This makes them both aggressive and skittish, and thus prone to making rash decisions. I don't doubt that if you had been accompanied by a contingent of guards, they would have let you pass without incident. However, a lone rider accompanied only by a Nedic girl – apparently a slave that they could help free – was a simply too tempting a target." When Atkynd scowled and opened his mouth to protest, the Paravant quickly held up her hand. "Please, don't misunderstand me. I'm not defending their actions. I'm merely trying to explain them. They should not have attacked you in the first place, and you have my sincere apologies that you suffered because of their rash decision."
Atkynd closed his mouth and scowled into his tea, swirling it around. He let the silence linger for a few moments before ruefully replying, "What's done is done. Thank you for your apology, though you're not the one at fault."
"I am. I may not have shot you personally, but I am their leader, and as such, the responsibility for their actions falls on my shoulders," the Paravant replied evenly.
The tent flap opened, and Rego stepped back into the tent. He all but threw a wooden bowl in front of Atkynd, still glaring down at him. The Paravant shot him a look, then reached across the table for the bowl before Atkynd could pick it up.
"Come to think of it, I'm quite hungry as well, so I'll take this," she said airily.
Rego's eyes widened, and he quickly snatched the bowl back. "That… that one is cold. I'll fetch a new bowl," he said, hastily hurrying out of the tent. Atkynd watched him depart, then glanced back at the Paravant, raising an eyebrow.
"He poisoned the food, didn't he?" Atkynd asked drily.
"I doubt he went that far, but I wouldn't be surprised if he spat in it," the Paravant chuckled. Moments later, Rego pushed open the flap again and quickly set the bowl in front of Atkynd again. When the Paravant stared at him accusingly, he held his hands up and backed towards the entrance.
"Please, go ahead," the Paravant said, motioning to the bowl.
Atkynd hesitated, eyeing the steaming food. "Before I begin, I'd like to ask that Tari be fed as well. She needs this more than I," he said.
The Paravant's blue eyes widened for a moment, and then a warm smile spread across her face. "She was provided with food when she first arrived," she assured him. "So please, eat your fill."
Atkynd's stomach growled loudly, and he slowly picked the bowl up and brought it to his lips. The bowl was filled to the brim with a warm broth that he suspected was made primarily from barley and lentils. He could also make out small bits of carrot, onion, and celery, though it was clearly a rather simple stew. Nevertheless, having lived on a meager diet of wild plants for the last several days, it was all he could do to keep from downing the warm soup in one gulp. Against his body's protests, he slowly sipped the broth, savoring the taste, as the Paravant watched him intently. When the bowl was about half-empty, he forced himself to put it down, and then he turned his attention back to the woman sitting across from him.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, inclining his head. Then he laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "However, I suspect that you didn't invite me in here simply to apologize for wounding me and to offer me a meal." The Paravant tilted her head as he added, "Or do you go out of your way to speak with all your captives?"
"In truth, you're the first captive we've ever taken," the Paravant replied, chuckling. "But… yes, I asked you to join me because I also wished to speak with you privately." She set down her cup of tea as well and folded her hands in front of her. When Atkynd nodded, silently encouraging her to continue, she explained, "As I'm sure you're aware, I also spoke with your companion, Tari. According to her, you two have had quite the adventure across Cyrod." A slight smile twitched on her lips. "She also told quite the tale about you. You're a rather unusual visitor to our lands. A half-elven emissary from a far-off kingdom, offering trade deals and forging bonds with the ever-warring states of the Ayleid Empire. The more I heard about you, the more intrigued I became."
"I suspected as much. I presume you'd like to ask for my assistance, then?" Atkynd asked, shrugging. When the Paravant blinked at him in mild surprise, he explained, "I'd already heard rumors of you and your rebellion in my travels, but little more. Since you haven't made much of an impact aside from stirring a few rumors, I assume that this nascent rebellion is in a fragile state, and in desperate need of aid. Am I correct?"
"You are," the Paravant nodded.
Atkynd sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms thoughtfully. "I see. Well… I should warn you that it'll be very difficult for me to propose a trade deal with you to my king. For one, supporting a rebellion will jeopardize his contracts with the other states. To say nothing of the fact that you don't seem to have a city where we could ship goods-"
"You misunderstand me," the Paravant interjected gently. Atkynd paused, frowning in confusion. "While, yes, that sort of aid would be greatly appreciated, that's not the sort of help I was seeking from you. Rather… I was hoping that you personally might be able to lend us some assistance."
Atkynd unfolded his arms, his frown deepening as he leaned forward. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said slowly.
The Paravant's smile slowly returned as she leaned forward. "I was hoping you might be willing to serve as an emissary for my rebellion and aid us in negotiating with the Ayleid kingdoms."
Atkynd was speechless for several seconds, stunned by her request. When he finally found his voice again, he replied shortly, "No."
"No?" the Paravant echoed, though she didn't seem surprised by his abrupt response. If anything, her tone was slightly amused. "That was a rather swift refusal."
"I have several reasons why, if you require them," Atkynd replied bluntly. "First and foremost, I'm not a freelance emissary that you can simply hire like a mercenary. I represent the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae, and I'm here to promote the interests of my king. If I were to negotiate on your behalf – particularly without permission from my king – I would be committing treason. The most merciful punishment would be banishment from my homeland, if not outright execution… or worse. I have no desire to incur the wrath of my fa- my liege, especially when he's placed me in a position of trust for the first time."
"I understand," the Paravant nodded. "I would not expect you to negotiate counter to the needs of your kingdom, however. If you'd be amenable to it, I'd like you to at least lend us your expertise as an advisor. If you'd prefer to train other emissaries that could serve in your stead, that would be helpful as well. Surely that wouldn't violate your oath to your king?"
"…Perhaps not," Atkynd said slowly, deciding to humor her as he picked up the bowl of soup again and sipped at it. "However, if you're seeking an expert to train other envoys, I'm a very poor choice. I am still a novice when it comes to the art of diplomacy. This is the first time I've even set foot outside of Malabal, much less conducted negotiations with other kingdoms. The few deals that I've struck have been low-level, borderline inconsequential, and have been conducted between two neutral powers who can mutually benefit from each other and are interested in improving relations. That's a far cry from negotiating wartime deals between two hostile powers."
"A fair point," the Paravant conceded. "Nevertheless, you still possess far more experience than anyone in my camp. Few of us were permitted to even set foot in the courts of our kingdoms, and none received training as you have." Another faint smile creased her lips as she added, "While I recognize that you are a novice, it's not as though I have the option of recruiting a more experienced emissary, save perhaps if a Nordic king were to suddenly wander into our camp."
Despite himself, Atkynd let out a short snort of laughter at that picture, and the Paravant's smile broadened into a grin. "Even so, I have little understanding of the various courts of Cyrod," Atkynd said, forcing himself to straighten up. "From what I've seen, every kingdom has a unique, distinct culture that makes individual negotiations difficult. To effectively treat with each city-state, I would require in-depth knowledge of each kingdom, which I sorely lack."
"Ah! Then it's fortunate that many of those already in my camp come from several different states," the Paravant retorted cheerfully. "I was born in Sard myself. When we first escaped, we fled from Sancre Tor, which is a new city-state in and of itself. Its king spared no expense in purchasing laborers from across Cyrod. From what I recall, my companions were raised in Miscarcand, Rielle, Vatache, Veyond… to say nothing of those that fled and sought us out later. And we have many different human races with us as well – Nedes, Nords, men-of-kreath, men-of-ge, Keptu, Kothringi…."
"I see," Atkynd said, holding up his hand to stop her.
"Thus, we can provide you with any information you require," she finished patiently. "You need only ask."
Atkynd exhaled slowly. He hadn't expected her to riposte his concerns so effectively. Where had she learned how to argue like this? Was she trained while she was in Sard? In Sancre Tor? "I'm also concerned about the danger to myself," he continued, pushing those questions out of his mind. "Diplomacy requires both parties to mutually agree to engage with each other in peaceful, neutral settings. Given the cruel reputation of many of the Ayleid kings, I hardly think most of them would be interested in negotiating with what they consider their property… their livestock. Some, I feel, would be as inclined to hear the complaints of their cattle or their sheep. Even in relatively peaceful regions, there are stories of emissaries who angered kings and were executed for perceived impudence or insults. I've seen how some Ayleid kings treat even their most devout followers and slaves, so I shudder to think how they'd greet an enemy. I'm certain that I would be in near-constant jeopardy if I attempted to meet with them."
"Well, of course I can provide you with protection, if you fear for your safety," the Paravant assured him. "But from what I understand, you're quite capable of defusing a hostile situation yourself. Tari related the story of how you drove off an Ayleid slaver. She suggested that you know a powerful spell that you learned specifically to ensure your safety, yes?"
"It's not a perfect defense, and it doesn't affect those with weak minds," Atkynd countered. "I'm fairly certain the sorcerer-kings in particular know of ways to protect themselves from charms."
"Then we can provide you with guards, if you wish," the Paravant said smoothly.
"Oh? If your guards are competent, I would certainly feel more at ease. How effective is your army?" Atkynd asked, raising an eyebrow doubtfully.
The Paravant paused, which didn't escape Atkynd's notice. "We… have yet to engage in a battle against the Ayleids, so I can't provide you with an accurate assessment of our strength," she said evasively. "But my general, Morihaus, assures me that with the training he's providing, we'll be able to wage an effective campaign against the Ayleids."
"Truly?" Atkynd asked skeptically. He glanced around the tent, then added, "Then why are we here, instead of in a captured city?"
The Paravant smiled slightly, though Atkynd noticed that it seemed a bit strained. "Because we have yet to engage in a battle, as I said. If you need assurance about the skill of my men, however, then it might be easier for me to show you," she offered.
Atkynd chewed on the inside of his cheek, then brought the bowl of now-lukewarm soup to his lips again. He drained what little remained of the broth, savoring the last few mouthfuls as they slid down his throat. For the first time in days, his hunger had been satiated, which had put him in a pleasant, indulgent mood. He set the bowl down on the table and pushed himself up, nodding to her. "Very well. Please, lead the way," he agreed.
The Paravant rose as well and walked to the entrance of the tent, pushing the flap open and motioning for Atkynd to step outside. Atkynd did as she bade, slipping past her and ducking through the opening and into the warm evening air. It was well after dark, but there was just enough firelight to illuminate the area for Atkynd to see. They seemed to be deep in the swamp. The camp was situated in a cleared grove on a slightly elevated plateau near a winding stream. Atkynd couldn't see beyond the treeline, but they were high enough that anyone advancing on the camp from any direction would have to climb up a fairly steep hill to reach them.
The camp itself was comprised of crude leather tents arranged in tight circles around small fires in an almost tribal fashion. There were no walls or palisades protecting the encampment, but Atkynd could just make out clusters of low, sharpened stakes jutting out of the sides of the hill, providing modest protection against anyone trying to scale it.
Even at this late hour, the camp still buzzed with activity. Dozens of humans scurried about, carrying out various tasks. Some were stirring large, steaming cauldrons of soup with crude wooden oars. Others were mending clothing and tents with bone needles and thick, brown, sinewy thread, or crafting wooden spears and shields. What drew Atkynd's attention the most, however, was the spectacle in the center of the camp.
In a large, open space that had been cleared in the middle of the campground, several dozen humans were arranged in long rows and columns. They were clad in various states of dress – some with full chitons, others wearing only a short cloth skirt – but all wielded a long wooden spear and a crude wooden shield. A hard-faced woman paced in front of them, her hands folded behind her back, as she scowled at the assembled formation.
"Down!" she barked suddenly. Immediately, the humans in the front rows lowered their spears, while those behind them kept them at an angle. "Raise!" she continued, and the soldiers brought their shields up. "Up! Left!" she yelled. The soldiers brought their spears up and simultaneously turned to their left. "Down!" she shouted again, and the spears were once again lowered. "Forward!"
Atkynd watched, amazed, as the warriors marched together in unison, trying to keep pace with each other and maintain their lines. They walked about fifteen paces, until their commander yelled. "Halt! Up! Right!" The warriors in the formation immediately complied with her commands, stopping, raising their spears, and turning right again. The woman nodded, seeming satisfied, while beside him, the Paravant let out a soft chuckle.
"They're learning swiftly," she commented quietly.
"Remarkable," Atkynd admitted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost mistake them for well-trained mercenaries."
"I'm pleased to hear that," the Paravant replied, turning to face him. "As I said, this is the result of a training regimen established by my chief general, Morihaus. Tell me, do you know anything of how the Ayleids wage wars?"
"Hardly," Atkynd admitted.
"Morihaus has watched the Ayleids from… afar… for many years," the Paravant said. Atkynd's ear twitched slightly at her hesitation, but he didn't press it. "According to him, they determine the outcome of battles in two ways. The first is to arrange a duel between two champions. If neither side wishes to expend their forces, this is often the swiftest way to resolve a dispute. However, the defeated side does not always abide by the outcome of the duel, and sometimes battles occur even after a champion has defeated their opponent. It is by observing the way the Ayleids fight their pitched battles that Morihaus devised his strategems.
"According to him, Ayleid soldiers are more concerned with obtaining personal glory than achieving victory. As such, they typically fight in loose, disorganized formations where the two sides charge each other with little regard for tactics. Individual warriors attempt to defeat as many opponents as possible and claim their heads, feathers, or beads as trophies. The sorcerer-kings will use magic to aid their sides, but generally let their soldiers obtain glory for themselves. Morihaus, on the other hand, believes this style of combat can be exploited by a more organized, disciplined force. Fortunately, former slaves are perfect when it comes to learning his style of battle."
"How so?" Atkynd asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt.
"For one, they're used to obeying orders swiftly and without question," the Paravant explained. "They also tend to be more self-effacing than the Ayleids and are more concerned with survival than accolades. Thus, Morihaus devised a system wherein groups of about one hundred slaves – he calls them 'centuries – armed with long spears and shields work as one unit. Each slave defends their brothers and sisters, and obeys the orders of their commander – their centurion – without question. When not engaged in battle, they live as a group, forming close bonds with their companions, and thus are much more willing to fight for one another when a battle begins. It's a system the Ayleids would be loath to adopt themselves – trading pride for survival, glory for victory."
"Intriguing," Atkynd said evenly. "And how effective has it proven?"
"As I said, we have yet to test it on the battlefield," the Paravant admitted. "But Morihaus is certain it will ensure victory against the Ayleids, even with their superior arms, armor, and magic. While one human might not defeat an Ayleid, a hundred men could defeat a hundred elves."
"If you're evenly matched, perhaps. How many warriors do you have right now?" Atkynd asked warily.
"At present? A bit over four hundred," the Paravant said.
Atkynd stared at her in disbelief. "That's less than half of the Thousand Strong of Sedor," he pointed out. "And that rebellion was crushed rather swiftly, from what I understand."
"I'm aware," the Paravant conceded gently. "Though if we do emerge victorious and liberate some of the Ayleid city-states, our ranks will swell. And if Morihaus is confident that this stratagem will work, then I believe him."
"You have a great deal of confidence in this general," Atkynd noted.
"I must," the Paravant replied, smiling gently.
"Where did you meet him?" he asked.
"He was sent to me by Kyne herself," the Paravant chuckled. Atkynd stared at her, perplexed by her unusual response, but then he decided to brush it off as hyperbole.
"Where is he?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
"He's away at the moment, investigating something at my request," the Paravant replied.
"I see. That's disappointing," Atkynd said. "I'd be interested to meet him. And I do have other questions about his strategies. For instance, what he intends to do about your lack of mages. Unless some of your followers are spellcasters?"
"No," the Paravant confirmed. "As I said, though, the Ayleids do allow champions to engage one another in duels. That's the other part of Morihaus' strategy, until we can secure the allegiance of some mages ourselves. He intends to engage the sorcerer-kings in duels before the battle is joined. If my champion slays their sorcerers, then we needn't worry about the Ayleids using magicks against us. After all, the average Ayleid soldier is no more versed in magic than the average slave."
Atkynd let out a short laugh. "An interesting way of addressing that problem. Do you have a champion who could defeat a mage, though?"
"Not yet," the Paravant smiled mysteriously. "But I'm certain they will make themselves known to me soon."
Once again, her cryptic remark puzzled Atkynd. There was something in her expression that underlined her absolute certainty in the path she was following that intrigued him. It wasn't just that she was confident – it was as though she knew something that no one else did. Before he could ask her about it, however, a young man approached her and inclined his head.
"My lady," the boy said. "Apologies for interrupting, but I'll make this brief. Centurion Galius wishes to inform you that he still has received no word from the men he dispatched to meet with the envoy from Arpenia. It's been three days, and he's starting to grow concerned. He recommends that we consider moving the camp deeper into the jungle in case-"
"I appreciate the centurion's recommendation, and I'll take it into consideration. However, we must remain here until Morihaus returns," the Paravant replied evenly. "Post an extra set of guards along the borders of the camp to alleviate the centurion's worries and remain alert."
The boy hesitated, then inclined his head again and hurried off. The Paravant sighed, then noticed Atkynd gazing at her with a curious expression.
"I've not been idle in attempting to forge relations with the other city-states in the region," the Paravant explained. "A patrol from Veyond slew two scouts I sent to observe the area, and I dare not sacrifice anyone in an audience with Atatar. The King of Arpenia, however, has been secretly meeting with scouts under the command of Centurion Galius. He seems intrigued by our presence, and made it known that he hopes that we can harass Veyond, as they've had a long enmity with Arpenia for control of the southern Niben. In exchange, he's been providing us food and supplies."
"And he knows your location?" Atkynd asked warily.
"No. Each time we've met to exchange supplies for information, it's been on neutral ground and in various locations," the Paravant said reassuringly. "We refuse to reveal the location of our camp even to our allies."
"I see," Atkynd said slowly, relieved that they had at least taken some precautions. Then he frowned in confusion. "But if you've already met with a king and established cordial relations, then why do you need an emissary?"
"We've only met with the one king," the Paravant specified. "And accepting aid is hardly the same thing as forging a formal relationship with them." Then a warm smile spread across her face. "Besides… even if I had envoys already, I would still wish to recruit you specifically."
"…Why?" Atkynd asked slowly, his frown deepening.
The Paravant's smile widened. "Allow me to ask you a question in return. Why have you repeatedly come to Tari's aid?"
Atkynd blinked at her. "She's… aided me just as much as I've aided her," he said.
"Yes, but according to her, you were the first to offer assistance," the Paravant pressed. "You discovered her in the forest being forcibly abducted by an Ayleid soldier. He was more heavily armed than you, and likely could have killed you. What's more, you had no reason to aid her – if anything, you might have been jeopardizing the establishment of cordial relations with another kingdom. That was the purpose of your journey to Cyrod, yes? So, given that… why did you help a stray slave in the middle of the jungle whom you had no reason to involve yourself with?"
Atkynd grimaced, suddenly realizing that she was right – he could have completely ruined his chances at forging diplomatic ties with Ceya-Tar if he had been wrong in presuming that Tari had been in trouble. Nevertheless…. "She simply seemed as though she needed help, and I was in a position to offer it," Atkynd said evasively. He saw a slow, knowing smile crossing the Paravant's face, and he added quickly, "And it's not as though I didn't benefit as well. I was also lost, and she helped guide me out of the jungle."
"She did," the Paravant conceded. "And according to her, after you saved her, her master repaid her debt to you by guiding you to the Temple of the Ancestors, yes? Yet you also freed her when you next saw her, correct?"
"After she saved me from being poisoned," Atkynd corrected her.
"Indeed. But is your relationship entirely based upon repaying debts to one another?" the Paravant asked. "Who, then, owes whom now?"
Atkynd looked away, running his thumb along the belt of his tunic. "In truth, I'm unsure. We've helped each other so many times throughout our journey that it's long since ceased to matter," he muttered.
"Then pray, why do you continue to travel with her?" the Paravant asked. "Are you infatuated with her perhaps?"
"What?! No!" Atkynd said sharply. His immediate denial brought a grin to the Paravant's face. "Honestly, no," he repeated firmly, and truthfully. "I haven't known her long enough for such feelings to develop, for one, and I have my own… reasons for not wanting to start that sort of relationship with her."
"I see," the Paravant said evenly, her smile fading. "Then if it's not personal, why do you continue to travel with her? Why do you want to take her with you to your homeland, where she can live in a degree of freedom?"
Atkynd sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "As I said, it's because it was within my power to help her."
"Exactly!" the Paravant said emphatically, once again grinning broadly with approval. "And that's precisely why I want you to aid this rebellion. You have a rare quality, Atkynd. You're not merely sympathetic or compassionate. You also have the courage to act on it, and to do so unconditionally, simply for the sake of others. You can claim that you had something to gain by aiding her," she added when Atkynd opened his mouth to protest. "But you had no way of knowing that she would help you in any way once you drove off the Ayleid that was attempting to abduct her."
"It's… simple decency," Atkynd said stubbornly.
"Yet I suspect that few placed in the same situation would act as you did. Most would turn a blind eye, assume that it wasn't their place to get involved," the Paravant insisted. She turned away from him and folded her hands behind her back, gazing up at the roiling black clouds looming in the sky above them. "You don't need to justify yourself to me. I understand that feeling, that desire to help others. It's how this rebellion began." She turned her head slightly, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "Perhaps you know that before we escaped, I was working on a tea plantation near Sancre Tor. Before that, I was raised in Sard. I was one of the lucky ones. My beauty ensured that I was raised in near-luxury… something that could be said for my fellow slaves. We were tended to by deformed wretches, little better than goblins. The Ayleids used to love torturing them, humiliating them, subjecting them to vile indignities. And I pitied them. Whenever I saw one of my fellow humans mistreated, I protested. I was naïve, and perhaps a bit spoiled – I thought that my prized status gave me some leverage to speak up to my masters. I didn't understand that I was simply a more valuable piece of livestock to them. My masters prized my beauty, but hated my willfulness… and any beast that has yet to be broken must eventually be tamed. Still, they didn't want my beauty tarnished. So, they sent me to Sancre Tor. They believed that plantation work would 'reform my character,' but they also believed King Haromir wouldn't… damage me.
"I was there for six months. I knew it was a punishment, and I tried to be obedient, meek. Yet… even though conditions weren't as… cruel as they were for the wretches in my home city of Sard, they were still quite brutal. Those that didn't gather enough tea by the end of each day were beaten and whipped, and we were forced to subsist on scraps. Yet we were told constantly, by our overseers and other slaves, we were treated almost kindly." Her smile turned bitter as she added, "If that was kindness, then what hope did any of us have to hope for a better life?
"I hated feeling so helpless. As the months went by, I began to feel as though I could no longer do nothing… yet I also felt that there was nothing I could do. With nowhere else to turn, I began praying to the Divines nightly. Some of the Nords I worked with told me of gods that might help, so I beseeched them, fervently. Stendarr, to show some small degree of mercy. Mara, to teach the Ayleids love and pity. Kyne, for rain and wind, so that the overseers would permit us just one or two days of rest. I asked Akatosh to send me to – or at least show me – a time when Ayleids were no longer dominant, and I demanded that Auriel justify his children's cruelty. Yet it seemed that the gods never answered… until one hot day.
"We were working in the south field, the most recent stretch of land that King Haromir had acquired. There were about forty of us, and only one guard was watching us. One the Nordic men had been feeling ill for days, and he suddenly collapsed in the middle of the field. The guard roared at him to get back up, and when he didn't move, he began whipping the Nord, even though I'm fairly certain he was unconscious by then. As always, there was nothing I could do except watch and pray for him. I begged the gods to show even a sliver of mercy, to strike down the Ayleid guard, to do anything to help him. And once again, no one answered. But then… a miracle happened. When I finally decided that no god was going to answer my pleas, I instead began shouting at the guard to stop, something I had never done since my arrival in Sancre Tor. I felt my feet carrying me towards them. And then I realized that the manacles around my ankles had come loose.
"After that, everything was a blur," the Paravant said, looking back down at Atkynd with that mysterious smile on her face. "I don't think I attacked the Ayleid, but I do remember getting ahold of his keys and throwing them to the biggest slave in the field. He unchained himself and tossed them to the next slave before the guard even knew what had happened. That was enough, and the two of them together were enough to subdue the surprised guard and beat him into unconsciousness. Within minutes, the entire field had been unchained. Most of us began running south, but I decided to save a few more while we had the chance. The south-eastern field was also lightly guarded, and had more slaves, so I asked ten of the largest men to join me. There were only two guards in that field, and we overwhelmed them as well, freeing about sixty more. By then, however, the other guards had caught wind of what was going on, and they'd had time to grab their spears before they came after us. We had no choice but to flee into the jungle.
"As we traveled south, hoping to put as much distance between us and Sancre Tor, I continued to pray to the gods for aid and insight, and in time, they sent Morihaus to serve as my advisor and guide. He said that the Aedra had chosen me to lead a rebellion and finally liberate humanity from the Ayleid Empire. I couldn't do it alone, of course, but he said that I was the leader that the people would rally around, and that if I remained true to the Divines, I could usher in a new age where men could finally live free. That has been my purpose ever since."
"That's quite a story," Atkynd remarked as the Paravant trailed off. She smiled slightly at him as she turned to face him properly.
"My experiences made me realize the differences in how the Aedra and Daedra interact with the world," the Paravant explained, folding her hands in front of her and resting them on her upper thighs. "Had I prayed to the Daedra, I don't doubt that Mehrunes Dagon could have cleaved my chains and smote my enemies, or that Clavicus Vile could have proposed a deal that would see us all freed. Yet, I would be a slave to them instead, forever bound to them. It would be no different than trading one master for another. It's ironic. When one looks at the Ayleids, though they have enslaved humanity, they themselves are more bound to the Daedra than any other race, more the slave to their divine masters in their constant pursuit of power than any human is to them.
"The Aedra didn't enslave me. I believe they simply provided an opportunity for me to act, and by choosing to act, I earned their favor. I'm not the first human to rebel, of course – every slave knows the tale of the Thousand Strong of Sedor. But because I was willing to act, the Aedra were willing to lend me their aid. I don't believe they want humanity to suffer, to see us enslaved, but they also want us to free ourselves. If we're willing to do that, they're willing to offer humanity their blessings."
The Paravant smiled again, a serene, almost placid expression as she looked up at Atkynd. "You're at a similar crossroads, Atkynd. You told me before that because it was within your power to save a life, even at the risk of your own, and you did so. Now it's within your power to help thousands, perhaps millions of slaves. You're the ideal emissary to represent us – blessed with both human and elven perspectives, raised as a noble but sympathetic to commoners, provided with training we sorely lack, and harboring both cunning and compassion in equal measure. If the gods themselves designed an emissary for me, I could not have asked for more." Her smile faded, however, and she took a slight step back. "But… I cannot force you to join us. I can only ask you. Please… will you help us?"
Atkynd slowly exhaled, running his fingers anxiously through his tangled, matted hair. He shifted his weight back and forth, stalling, until he finally answered reluctantly, "There's only so much that I feel I can do for you. I can speak with my king about providing you with supplies – should this rebellion somehow prove successful, you could repay him with the spoils you'd gather along the way. I might also provide a bit of training, as I said… though even then, I'd like to obtain my liege's permission first. However, what you're asking – requesting that I join you outright – that's… simply something that I cannot do." The Paravant's face fell, and he added quickly, "I'm sorry, but the ramifications of joining-"
"No… you needn't say any more. I understand," the Paravant murmured, looking away, her voice laden with disappointment. Atkynd felt a pang of guilt lance through his chest. "Of course you have your own circumstances. I also understand your hesitation to aid a rebellion that hasn't even begun, much less scored any victories. This all must sound like madness."
Atkynd grimaced, folding his hands behind his back. "It's a noble cause, and one well worth fighting for," he said, trying to soften his denial of her request. "And… it's not as though I'm unsympathetic. It may be difficult, but I'll plead your case to my father. Perhaps there's something he could do. And maybe I can even convince some of the Nedes and Manmer in Malabal to travel south as well, to lend you their aid. Slavery is repugnant to them, so I doubt it would be difficult to persuade them to join you."
"If you could, I would appreciate that," the Paravant said, though her voice was still subdued. Atkynd felt as though he'd just kicked a wounded dog, and the guilt pooling in his stomach twisted like an angry worm. She slowly looked up, pinning him with her piercing blue gaze. "Either way, it sounds as though you must return to Malabal? And the sooner the better?" When he nodded, she sighed deeply. "Very well. In the meantime, you're free to stay here until you're ready to depart. We have few supplies, but if you'd like, we can provide you with enough to make it to Veyond. From there, I'm certain you can board a ship to return home. Whenever you're ready to resume your journey, please let me know, and I'll arrange it."
"I… thank you," Atkynd said softly, unable to meet her eyes. "You… you spoke quite a bit about my compassion, but you're far kinder than I."
"I don't believe that," the Paravant said quietly. Then she straightened up and cleared her throat. "If you need to speak with me, I'll be in my tent. I'm available whenever you need me."
"Thank you," Atkynd repeated. The Paravant mutely nodded and turned, walking back into her tent without another word, her shoulders slumped. Atkynd watched her with guilt and pity continuing to writhe in his stomach, and he was only distracted from it when a familiar figure came up and nudged his side with her shoulder.
"She's quite something, isn't she?" Tari asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"She is," Atkynd agreed, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched her disappear inside her tent. "She has a rare gift. I don't think I've ever met someone so naturally charismatic."
"She's not the only one who's clever with words," Tari pointed out, nudging him again.
"I've had years of training," Atkynd replied gently. "Certainly, it's not as though I don't have some charisma myself, but much of my own ability to persuade others comes from the application of what I was taught, combined with experience. That one, though… few can naturally draw others to them like she can. That sort of charisma can't be taught."
Tari peered up at him curiously. "You seem troubled."
"I had to make a difficult decision," Atkynd said shortly. When she continued to peer at him querulously, he shook his head and turned to look at her. "It doesn't matter now, though. In any case, we should resume our journey shortly. When would you like to leave?"
Tari blinked up at him, seeming confused. "…I'm not leaving," she said.
"…Wait, what?" Atkynd asked, staring at her, equally confused. Her tone made it sound as though her decision was obvious.
"I can't leave. Not now that we've found this rebellion. Not when there's so much I can do here," Tari explained, putting her hands behind her back. "The Paravant told me that a trained alchemist would be invaluable. They don't have many healers, and this camp has suffered through two different outbreaks of disease already. Setting up camp in a swamp will do that, of course," she added with a shrug. Then she frowned deeply up at him. "She also suggested that she was going to try to convince you to stay as well."
"She did. But I can't join her rebellion," Atkynd replied reluctantly.
Tari tilted her head, a perplexed expression on her face. "Why not? You're an excellent emissary."
"You grossly overestimate my abilities," Atkynd said, chuckling softly. "But I also can't join because of the potential ramifications of doing so." When Tari continued to look at him quizzically, he elaborated, "My obligation is to my kingdom. I can't simply abandon my responsibilities to spontaneously join a rebellion, especially one whose interests likely run counter to my father's. I'm still his representative, and any action I take is in his name, not mine. So I can't-"
"That's not the only reason you refused, is it?" Tari interrupted shortly, scowling at him.
Atkynd stopped short, then met her gaze and glared back at her. "Very well. This rebellion is sheer madness," he said bluntly. "A few hundred humans armed with sticks and hiding in the swamp cannot prevail against dozens of Ayleid kingdoms fielding veteran armies ten times that size, each. It's a fool's dream to even consider it."
"Perhaps! But it's all they have!" Tari snapped fiercely, surprising him. It was the first time she'd raised her voice at him. "What's the alternative, Atkynd? It's clear that the Ayleids will never treat us as any more than animals subject their whims and amusement! If our situation won't improve, then we have nothing to lose by fighting back against it! If we lose, we simply suffer the same torments we're already subject to, but if by some miracle we win, we have everything to gain!"
"You have nothing to lose," Atkynd shot back. "And I won't disparage that. However, I have much to lose. Least of all, my father's trust and confidence, and most of all, my life. I have no desire to throw that away for a war that cannot be won, and for a people that I have very little connection to."
"So you have no connection to me?" Tari asked, sounding hurt.
Atkynd took a half-step back, almost feeling as though she'd slapped him. "That's not what I said!" Atkynd exclaimed. "Of course we have a connection! And that's why I want to save you. Tari… come with me. There's no reason for you to lose your life here. In Malabal, you'll be safe. You'll be free. You don't need to fight a losing war to experience that."
"Perhaps I'd be free, but what about everyone still here?" Tari retorted. She looked up at him, shaking her head. "Atkynd, do you remember how difficult it was for me to leave the other slaves in Ceya-Tar? How deeply it hurt me, knowing that I had been freed while the others were still enslaved? Imagine that pain, and then add it to every other city in Cyrod." She looked down as she folded her hands in front of her, and Atkynd realized she was shaking. "I couldn't live with myself, knowing that I had a chance – however slim – to help free my fellow humans, and that I turned my back on them. Twice. I caused… so much suffering under Arcanalata. This is my chance to atone for that. Even if you say that it wasn't my fault, the guilt of what I did will forever fester inside me, until I've done everything in my power to redeem myself." She looked up again, a steely glint in her green eyes. "So… no. I'm sorry, but I can't go with you."
Atkynd grimaced and looked away, folding his arms over his chest. To his surprise, Tari stepped a bit closer and wrapped her slender arms around his waist, forcing him to look down at her again. "Please… stay," she whispered.
Atkynd sharply inhaled, a jolt running through his body from her sudden embrace, which left him bewildered. He swallowed, then reached down and slowly, reluctantly, disentangled her arms from him. Still holding her wrists, he stated, "I'm sorry. You have your obligations, and I have mine." The words burned like acid in his throat as he gave his reply.
Tari's eyes began glistening in the low light of the campfires, and Atkynd felt his own eyes starting sting as well. "Then… this is goodbye?" she murmured.
Atkynd felt a pang in his chest at her plaintive question, and after considering, he replied hesitantly, "Well… not necessarily. It's not as though I want to try trekking through the woods in pitch darkness, so I have to wait until at least morning…." Then, a rumble of thunder echoed above them. He quickly added, "And the rain might pick up again. Since I have a place to rest for a few days, I may as well bed down for at least a little while, right?" He noticed Tari's expression turning hopeful as he continued, "So, yes, I'll probably be here a bit longer, at least."
A slow smile spread across Tari's face, though Atkynd noticed that it was tinged with sadness. "Yes… I agree, it'd be foolish of you to ride off right now, so it would be best for you to stay with us," she agreed. Then her expression turned sly. "These rebels have been kind enough to lend me a tent. Perhaps-"
Before she could finish that thought, the sound of yelling echoed through the camp from the west. Tari and Atkynd both turned towards the sound as a young man came stumbling into camp. His chiton was torn, and even in the dim light Atkynd could make out dark red patches on his skin – dried blood. As he drew closer, Atkynd also saw deep gashes on his arms and chest, as though the young man had narrowly avoided fatal strikes from bladed weapons. The young man charged past them, his eyes fixated on the Paravant's tent.
"Betrayal!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and strained. He stumbled on the wet ground and fell to his knees, but he continued clawing his way through the mud towards the Paravant's tent. "My lady, we've been betrayed!"
The Paravant pushed aside her tent's flap and hurried towards the young man. When she saw the state she was in, she immediately knelt in front of him and grabbed tatters of his chiton, pressing them into his wounds. "A healer! Tari! Come here and tend to him!" she ordered. Tari quickly hurried forward, but the young man waved her off.
"There's no time!" he insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. "We must retreat! Immediately!"
The Paravant knelt down, putting her hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look up at him. "Calm down. Tell me what happened," she said in a soothing voice. The other slaves crowded around them, trading worried looks.
"I'm… I'm all that's left of the party that was sent to retrieve the supplies from Arpenia," the young man wheezed, shaking his head. "When we arrived, we were ambushed by Ayleids carrying the shields of not only Arpenia, but Atatar and Veyond as well. They captured Cael and Lonis. The rest were killed, though I managed to escape. However… I believe I was tracked."
The Paravant's eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. "You mean to say…?!"
The young man nodded, gripping her arms tightly over her robe. "The Ayleids know where we are… and they are coming to kill us."