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Authors: Donita K. Paul
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mind.”
“No, I did not.” Granny sat on a boulder. “But let me ask you something more important.”
Kale waited.
“Do you like that image of yourself? Does using your power in that manner appeal to you?”
Kale held her breath as she contemplated the question. The feeling of power did hold some allure.
Granny clucked her tongue. “Don’t you find that odd, Kale? You have been given more talent and power than most of Amara’s citizens, yet you would use this talent to feed a hunger for controlling others. In Wulder’s Tomes, there is a principle about the inward enemy defeating the soul with a surprise attack. Don’t let your own desires cause your fall into disgrace.”
“Yes, Granny Noon. I understand, and I will keep a vigilance against this enemy.”
“You understand this enemy is yourself?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
9
P ALADIN
Granny Noon still led the way through the tunnels. Bardon and Kale marched behind her while the minor dragons napped in their pocket-dens inside Kale’s moonbeam cape. Except Ardeo. He supplied the light needed where the scarce lightrocks shone dimly.
Next in line, the bisonbeck soldier trudged sullenly. Gilda marched behind her new subject. His forced loyalty would most likely slip. Regidor brought up the rear.
When Bardon glanced over his shoulder, he noted that the newlyweds had lost their affectionate demeanor. In fact, from his three years’ experience as a husband, he’d say a difference of opinion had surfaced between the silent couple.
Cross passageways riddled this section of the tunnel. Bardon wondered how Granny Noon kept from losing her direction. She turned right or left without seeming to examine her surroundings. He saw no markings on the walls to indicate their location. They followed the granny straight through the next intersection. Behind him, he heard a trample of footsteps and an exclamation from Gilda. He turned just in time to see the female meech facing the cross tunnel with her arm extended. Her fingers formed a fist with her wrist toward the ceiling. As her fingers uncurled, a bright ball of light formed against her palm.
Regidor shouted. “Gilda!”
The blaze rolled out of her hand, across the fingertips, and soared into the side tunnel. A flash of intense light and a popping noise from within the shaft followed.
At Bardon’s elbow, Kale gasped. “The bisonbeck.”
Gilda lowered her arm and turned as if to continue her trek to the gateway.
Bardon and Kale passed her to peer into the lightrock-illuminated passageway. Ten yards into the tunnel, a lazy haze of smoke drifted above a pile of black ash.
“Gilda!” Bardon barked.
With deliberate nonchalance, she turned and gazed back at him.
“Yes?”
“Why did you kill him?”
“He deserted.”
“Could you not have commanded him to return?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Without eye contact, it was uncertain.”
“He accepted allegiance to you.”
She shrugged again and reached up to smooth one of her many veils. “I demanded he follow me. The darkness still held his heart. It was only a matter of time before he turned against us.”
Granny Noon came to stand before the meech wizard. “Wulder values life.”
Gilda snickered. “Even a life created by Pretender?”
The emerlindian’s expression saddened. “Pretender cannot initiate life. That is a misconception. He can, however, twist life.”
Gilda looked incredulous. “Pretender did not create the seven low races?”
“Pretender distorted the seven high races.” Granny Noon turned abruptly and strode away. “We must see Paladin.”
A few more steps took them to the shimmering gateway. Granny Noon passed through without comment, and the others followed. They entered a magnificent palace courtyard, where a sentry greeted them and inquired after the nature of their business. A nod from Granny Noon informed Bardon he was their spokesman.
“We’ve come to see Paladin. I am
“No, I did not.” Granny sat on a boulder. “But let me ask you something more important.”
Kale waited.
“Do you like that image of yourself? Does using your power in that manner appeal to you?”
Kale held her breath as she contemplated the question. The feeling of power did hold some allure.
Granny clucked her tongue. “Don’t you find that odd, Kale? You have been given more talent and power than most of Amara’s citizens, yet you would use this talent to feed a hunger for controlling others. In Wulder’s Tomes, there is a principle about the inward enemy defeating the soul with a surprise attack. Don’t let your own desires cause your fall into disgrace.”
“Yes, Granny Noon. I understand, and I will keep a vigilance against this enemy.”
“You understand this enemy is yourself?”
“I do.”
“Good.”
9
P ALADIN
Granny Noon still led the way through the tunnels. Bardon and Kale marched behind her while the minor dragons napped in their pocket-dens inside Kale’s moonbeam cape. Except Ardeo. He supplied the light needed where the scarce lightrocks shone dimly.
Next in line, the bisonbeck soldier trudged sullenly. Gilda marched behind her new subject. His forced loyalty would most likely slip. Regidor brought up the rear.
When Bardon glanced over his shoulder, he noted that the newlyweds had lost their affectionate demeanor. In fact, from his three years’ experience as a husband, he’d say a difference of opinion had surfaced between the silent couple.
Cross passageways riddled this section of the tunnel. Bardon wondered how Granny Noon kept from losing her direction. She turned right or left without seeming to examine her surroundings. He saw no markings on the walls to indicate their location. They followed the granny straight through the next intersection. Behind him, he heard a trample of footsteps and an exclamation from Gilda. He turned just in time to see the female meech facing the cross tunnel with her arm extended. Her fingers formed a fist with her wrist toward the ceiling. As her fingers uncurled, a bright ball of light formed against her palm.
Regidor shouted. “Gilda!”
The blaze rolled out of her hand, across the fingertips, and soared into the side tunnel. A flash of intense light and a popping noise from within the shaft followed.
At Bardon’s elbow, Kale gasped. “The bisonbeck.”
Gilda lowered her arm and turned as if to continue her trek to the gateway.
Bardon and Kale passed her to peer into the lightrock-illuminated passageway. Ten yards into the tunnel, a lazy haze of smoke drifted above a pile of black ash.
“Gilda!” Bardon barked.
With deliberate nonchalance, she turned and gazed back at him.
“Yes?”
“Why did you kill him?”
“He deserted.”
“Could you not have commanded him to return?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Without eye contact, it was uncertain.”
“He accepted allegiance to you.”
She shrugged again and reached up to smooth one of her many veils. “I demanded he follow me. The darkness still held his heart. It was only a matter of time before he turned against us.”
Granny Noon came to stand before the meech wizard. “Wulder values life.”
Gilda snickered. “Even a life created by Pretender?”
The emerlindian’s expression saddened. “Pretender cannot initiate life. That is a misconception. He can, however, twist life.”
Gilda looked incredulous. “Pretender did not create the seven low races?”
“Pretender distorted the seven high races.” Granny Noon turned abruptly and strode away. “We must see Paladin.”
A few more steps took them to the shimmering gateway. Granny Noon passed through without comment, and the others followed. They entered a magnificent palace courtyard, where a sentry greeted them and inquired after the nature of their business. A nod from Granny Noon informed Bardon he was their spokesman.
“We’ve come to see Paladin. I am
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