The paladin surprised Yddith by changing emotion with an incredible suddenness. She spat on the ground to punctuate the finality of her assessment. "They were wrong because horsemanship, weapon prowess, elegant grace, and exceeding good looks are no foundation for love. I saved myself for him and he betrayed me."
Yddith sucked in her breath, nearly missing a twist on the knot she was tying. "He took advantage of you?"
In spite of the painful memory, Alhandra seemed amused at Yddith's horrified reaction. The paladin obviously assumed that in spite of her naive demeanor, Yddith was not unfamiliar with the ways of men.
"No, not physically," the paladin continued, "but he betrayed my love with churlish disregard. We were out riding, jumping fallen trees and earthen mounds. It was a beautiful day and we'd been racing and jumping like demons from Baator. We were leagues away from civilization when a downpour was unleashed upon us. We weren't expecting the thunderstorm. There'd been no sign before we left, and we certainly risked catching the ague if we rode all the way back dressed as we were."
As Yddith and the paladin walked along, she sensed that some of the chasm that had opened between the two women was closing again. There was nothing like sharing a heartbreak to re-ignite a sense of trust. She waited patiently for Alhandra to continue.
"We found a hunter's lodge and built a fire. Argyll suggested we dry our clothes in front of the fire, but…uh…that's an old gambit, and I wasn't about to fall for it. I told him that I loved him and that I was saving myself for him. He made some half-hearted suggestion that that particular day was the rainy day for which I was always told to save. I told him that we were destined for connubial bliss, and I wasn't going to trade it away for an afternoon's ecstasy in a musty old lodge where he would probably have to share his love bites with the fleas in the sleeping furs."
"And do you have regrets?" asked Yddith. "Do you think you drove him away?"
Alhandra breathed deeply before answering, "It was the right decision, little sister, though it came to even more of a foul end than you realize. I not only lost the man I thought I loved. I lost my reputation, also."
"But you said," interrupted Yddith, "that you told him you wouldn't!"
"And I didn't," responded the paladin, "but we returned to town after the storm and the gossips were already telling their tales at Washerwoman's Rock. His mates at the tavern couldn't believe he could possibly be alone with such a beauty and keep his hands off. My love not only failed to defend his fair flower of womanhood, for such he had always called me, but he didn't bother to tell them that the fair flower had kept every petal of her womanhood intact."
"He lied?" asked Yddith in such refreshing disbelief that Alhandra couldn't help but laugh.
"He lied," answered the paladin. "He lied with words and he lied with silence. Not only did I lose the opportunity for that nuptial match, but I was considered a tainted woman. It wasn't long before I joined the service of Heironeous, where actions speak louder than words, particularly louder than lies, spoken or unspoken. I guess that's why I have no patience for those who choose to live between the darkness and the light as shadows."
Yddith winced as Alhandra's sermon came full circle back to her. She knew for certain that the paladin disapproved of the emerald's power, but she also sensed that she would need the gem's assistance to have any chance against the clerics of Gruumsh. She had heard it claimed many times in the tavern that it was necessary to fight fire with fire. Now that she was comprehending the nature of the gem, she vowed to fight evil with evil and trust the two negatives to bring a positive conclusion.
18
Archprelate Laud observed the uncertainty on Calmet's face and lectured his star pupil once again. "I promise you a demonstration of power that you will never forget." He escorted Calmet along the cavern walls and pointed out the characteristics of each hybrid warrior. "Here's an interesting one," the hierarch expounded. "I was planning to use these as shock troops."
Laud snapped his fingers, and the chained orc soldier contorted its face until the skin pulled away from the skull, exposing bare bone.
No sooner had Laud revealed the purpose of the strange monstrosity than it unleashed a horrid screech. The archprelate watched with amusement as Calmet mustered every ounce of courage within himself to remain rooted beside Laud. Laud wanted his apostate apprentice to visualize how entire armies might run away upon seeing the death mask visage and hearing the preternatural wail of his monster. After all, Calmet was obviously growing in power and needed to be reeducated on the depth of his tutor's ingenuity.
Laud pointed to the next specimen, a beefy human knight encased in a brown, crusty suit of armor. As Calmet looked closer, however, Laud pointed out the chitinous shoulders bulging out from the freakish human's torso and the arms encased in an insect's armored shell. The massive arms fairly dragged the ground like a troll's, even though the mutated human was standing upright in the alcove. Laud seemed particularly anxious to demonstrate to Calmet that the chitinous arms ended in sharp, clawlike pincers instead of hands.
Laud couldn't wait to explain how he formed these diabolical nightmares. He was proud of his accomplishments, and he gave no credence whatsoever to the Peloran admonition that pride presages a plunge. Laud wasn't even sure he liked the proverb's alliterative conceit, much less its philosophy that pandered to the weak.
As he led Calmet to the next monstrosity, he calmly explained that he had done considerable research in necromancy and transmutation since turning to the one-eyed god.
"Gruumsh honors the strong," contended the archprelate, "and what is stronger than the victor? Every time I heard of a monster being slain, I sent my men to gather vital body parts. I took the combat ready portions of a monster's body and sewed them onto amputated and decapitated humanoids."
Laud amused himself by watching the Gruumshlike tinge of green that colored Calmet's face as his pupil considered the implications behind Laud's words.
"Decapitated?" the younger cleric asked.
"Decapitated," affirmed Laud. "Of course, one must then raise the dead without destroying the transmutation magic and the potency of the necromancy. You saw my ethereal slaughterer, did you not?"
When Calmet's face looked blank, Laud continued, "It's an ethereal marauder, really, but I can't wait to unleash it on southern troops. I hope it lives up to my new name."
The next specimen would have looked human enough were it not for the blue-black tentacles protruding from his shoulder blades. The tentacles were long and curled menacingly in front of the abomination, each ending in a lighter, almost violet pad filled with thornlike protrusions.
"Strike him!" the archprelate commanded Calmet.
Calmet hesitated.
"Strike him!" ordered the hierarch once more.
Calmet brought his flail out and aimed the blow viciously at the unfortunate's face. The priest nearly winced as the weapon struck unerringly, but he was glad he hadn't. If he had winced, he wouldn't have believed that the blow passed through the monster without causing any injury, or without actually striking anything whatsoever.
Laud cackled with pleasure. "Try again," commanded the harsh taskmaster.
Calmet focused on his swing and prepared to bash the monster's head in. He knew for certain that he would connect this time. He didn't.
"Will I always miss?" Calmet asked his mentor.
"No, not always," laughed Laud with a sinister chuckle. "I believe you'll miss about half the time. That's often enough for him to destroy his enemies by attrition. He keeps wounding and weakening them while they…" Laud couldn't resist the pun as he glanced at Calmet's weapon, "flail away aimlessly."