The Vow
How the young wizard became a paladin of vengeange
Daoiness arrived, her traveling cape still dirty with the dusts of Tel’Taurn Tal, when she left her steed to the caring hands of the stablemaster and asked a stable boy to unload her bags for her.
The letter had been surprisingly short.
“Your presence is required at home, come with haste”, it only had said. Her mother usually blabbered on whatever had happened at the fortress and telling her trivial things like how the locals were upset about the price of milk or whatever. But not this time, and it had gotten her alarms up. Something odd was going on, and the feeling only grew stronger the further she made her way in to the fortress. The few servants she encountered avoided her gaze, bowing their heads as she went, timidly, but somehow radiating an odd melancholic air.
She didn’t knock, as she was expected to arrive anyway. If this was something important, her father would know about it. And it better be important, she was already pissed off because the long travel had taken its toll on her, but the summon had come at the worst possible time, the exam week approaching faster than she liked. She wasn’t even sure if she could make it back in time.
Big wooden doors let out a creak when she just stepped in, noticing how there were no guards at the door. Strange, but not necessarily seriously out of place. The great hall was emptier than she had thought. The two junior guards, whose faces were still soft on the edges and in their body remained the lankiness of a foal, were taken by surprise when she just barged in without a knock and for a moment they didn’t know what to do. Newbies, clearly, wearing armor they barely were able to carry. Amateurs.
“I have arrived.”
Daoiness stated and marched closer. Lord Feyrith Luneiros, whose presence was familiar to her, as he had always been close to her father, best friends even. And Ilakhan family had always protected the Lords and Ladies of Luneiros with their best ability.
“Ah…. Welcome, Daoiness. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Lord Feyrith stated tiredly and gave her a half-hearted smile. A smile which couldn’t fool her. He wore muted colors, odd shade of grey and green she wasn’t accustomed to seeing him in. It underlined the feeling that something was certainly off. “Sir.”
She nodded, burrowing her brows.
“Where is father?”
Daoiness continued, tilting her head a little, observing. Usually he was everywhere where the Lord was, as his position of the head of Lord’s bodyguards required so. But now the lord was alone, apart from those two mockeries-of-a-guard. The Lord turned away, to look out of the window, shoulders stiff. She could tell he didn’t wish to answer the demanding, almost arrogant stare of her spring green eyes. Not many did, but they weren’t strangers with the Lord and usually he did give her a straight answer.
“We were on our way to Ravanoth [forest gate] a fortnight ago when we were ambushed… by drows, which…”
He began, still turned to look away from her. Suddenly black, cold fear washed over her like water from the deepest of the wells. Daoiness immediately put pieces together, logically, and even if the puzzle nor represented itself in all its glory before her eyes, she didn’t want to believe it. No, she tried to desperately take hold of something, to have even a tiny sliver of hope that not all was lost.
“Where is Lafellon?”
His big brother should have been there, too. He, as the rest of her brothers, had taken the vow to protect the Lord with all their might. But this time Lord Feyrith stayed alarmingly quiet. Daoiness felt like something nasty would have been living in the bottom of his stomach, making it harder to breath. She didn’t want to ask, but panic and desperation were raising their evil, sharp-fanged heads in her mind. If her father and big brother… what about the twins?
“Tahlanis? Avelir?"
She continued, voice trembling, legs feeling shaky. But Lord Feyrith only offered her silence and a slow shake of head. It felt like time would have frozen. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t get out a sound, but like in a dream she stood there, still like a statue.
“Lafellon and Tahlanis made it possible for us to break through… Avelir made it out of the ambush with us, but something spooked his horse and he fell before we got to the safety. Your father succumbed to poison few hours later. There was nothing we could do but to ease his pain when we finally got to the save waters.” Lord’s explanation barely reached her mind. She didn’t care how. She didn’t care when. She only cared of one question: Why? And that had been already answered. Silently she turned around, walking out of the room, impolitely leaving the Lord of the Fortress without any parting words.
“I have only a few words to say.”
She began, still holding her father’s sword. It was heavy in her hands, but she had sworn to herself that after some time it would start to feel like waving a magic wand. As familiar, as lightweight. It was a promise.
“The name of Ilakhan family will not die with my father and my brothers. It lives, and the vow we have kept alive for generations will, too. I, Daoiness Ilakhan, will protect the Lord Luneiros like my forefathers before me. I have taken on a vow of Shevarash, and will head to the training after the funeral.”
It caused people to murmur and not even that silently. There was restless movement in the crowd, even the priests of the temple glanced at each other, trying to decide if they should intervene or not. But she had expected to cause a small uproar. Some men, father’s old allies he could tell, stepped already forward, but then she raised the greatsword and took a proper, balanced stance.
“And if someone has something against it, they may try to pry the sword of my father out of my cold, dead hands.”
She hissed, now dangerously, light green eyes lit up in angry flames, which told everyone that she was serious and had made up her mind already. Nothing could make her budge.
Daoiness had calculated that most likely no one would dare to oppose her directly in the middle of funeral service, of which she was correct. She felt slightly remorseful that she had used her own father’s funeral (and her brother’s memorial service at the same time) for her own gain, but she kept repeating to herself that this was just their final gift to her, as there would have never been any other way for her to become a holy warrior, if it was up to the anyone else to decide. Their final handshake; How many times her brothers had helped her, getting her back when some boy had taken a bit too much interest on her, or when they had taken her with them to ride and sparring when she should have -at least in the mind of adults- stayed inside and do some dull embroidery instead. Her father had slowly given in to her hot-headed daughter during the years, and none of her immediate family could say anything to her, as they knew it would just blow the things up much worse. Luckily, she hadn’t needed to protest that much -she wasn’t a rebel, just determined. The final gift of her brothers, and the loving hug of her father, like when she had been still small enough to sit on his knee. I will make you proud, the men of my life. I will show them all how well you raised me, and that your sacrifice has not been in vain. I will make those bastards pay. She bettered her hold of the sword and calm, determined fire burning inside her, waited to strike down the opposition.
“Ah…. Welcome, Daoiness. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Lord Feyrith stated tiredly and gave her a half-hearted smile. A smile which couldn’t fool her. He wore muted colors, odd shade of grey and green she wasn’t accustomed to seeing him in. It underlined the feeling that something was certainly off. “Sir.”
She nodded, burrowing her brows.
“Where is father?”
Daoiness continued, tilting her head a little, observing. Usually he was everywhere where the Lord was, as his position of the head of Lord’s bodyguards required so. But now the lord was alone, apart from those two mockeries-of-a-guard. The Lord turned away, to look out of the window, shoulders stiff. She could tell he didn’t wish to answer the demanding, almost arrogant stare of her spring green eyes. Not many did, but they weren’t strangers with the Lord and usually he did give her a straight answer.
“We were on our way to Ravanoth [forest gate] a fortnight ago when we were ambushed… by drows, which…”
He began, still turned to look away from her. Suddenly black, cold fear washed over her like water from the deepest of the wells. Daoiness immediately put pieces together, logically, and even if the puzzle nor represented itself in all its glory before her eyes, she didn’t want to believe it. No, she tried to desperately take hold of something, to have even a tiny sliver of hope that not all was lost.
“Where is Lafellon?”
His big brother should have been there, too. He, as the rest of her brothers, had taken the vow to protect the Lord with all their might. But this time Lord Feyrith stayed alarmingly quiet. Daoiness felt like something nasty would have been living in the bottom of his stomach, making it harder to breath. She didn’t want to ask, but panic and desperation were raising their evil, sharp-fanged heads in her mind. If her father and big brother… what about the twins?
“Tahlanis? Avelir?"
She continued, voice trembling, legs feeling shaky. But Lord Feyrith only offered her silence and a slow shake of head. It felt like time would have frozen. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t get out a sound, but like in a dream she stood there, still like a statue.
“Lafellon and Tahlanis made it possible for us to break through… Avelir made it out of the ambush with us, but something spooked his horse and he fell before we got to the safety. Your father succumbed to poison few hours later. There was nothing we could do but to ease his pain when we finally got to the save waters.” Lord’s explanation barely reached her mind. She didn’t care how. She didn’t care when. She only cared of one question: Why? And that had been already answered. Silently she turned around, walking out of the room, impolitely leaving the Lord of the Fortress without any parting words.
****
Her mother was a complete wreck. She had lost her appetite, and every word she tried to utter came out as a muffled sob. She made her only daughter feel awkward and anxious, but something else was brewing inside her than the pain of loss. Somebody had hurt her mother so badly, that even after two weeks she wasn’t apparently noticeably better than on the first day of the news. Her mother tried her best not to cry when they washed her deceased husband’s body together. Two weeks in a cold cellar doesn’t do the best for a body, even if put under a reserving spell. The man she remembered was no more; how handsome he had been, standing in his polished armor holding his greatsword and smiling reservedly on his lord’s side, like in the painting which hung upstairs in the Lord’s study. Now his skin had lost all the color and turned into a waxy, disgusting shade of green, veins noticeably purple, perhaps because of sepsis caused by poisoning. They bathed him, dressed him in his best suit and as the tradition went, braided his hair into elaborate hairdo which took several hours to make. But during those hours her resolve only grew stronger.
Daoiness came to the temple in the evening before the ceremony. The temple grounds were quiet, only the night watch glanced at her when she made her way to the middle of the altars. She felt slightly lost, hesitated at first, but decided that it was all or nothing. Nothing would change, if you only stood still. And she felt the hot and tangled feeling inside her. Knotted ball of everything hard to handle. Like it would have burned her fingers if she even tried to poke it. She wasn’t scared, no, it wasn’t in her nature to be. She needed a way to handle these feelings, and she knew the perfect way. Her family had been taken from her, she had been robbed of her brother and father, before their time. The twins would have reached adulthood in a few moons.
Quiet steps took her to the altar of the Black Archer, his symbol, broken arrow over a tear, carved into the smooth stone. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, kneeling to pray.
She had had enough. And she was furious. Who could have been a better listener to her anger and sadness than the lord of vengeance, loss, and hatred? She cried for her father and brothers. How dared they die on her. How dared the darkskins come here, where they had once been driven off. They should stay were they were, and even better, be completely wiped out like the menace they were. Nothing good ever came out of them, being just tortured, brainwashed drones of the Spider Queen. Could that even be called living? And that spidery bitch she would take head on, she swore. She would decimate the disgusting half-spider whore like only proper. She would, if only the Arrow Bringer could hear her plea. Let me do it. Let me do it now, and I promise you will not regret this. She will pay for all what she’s done. All what her kind have done to this world. Drows are nothing but poisonous insects, locust beneath our feet. And the Spider will suffer. World wouldn’t at least become a worse place than it now is, when she’d be gone. And as she has now robbed the world of four talented soldiers, protectors of the weak, there needs be a replacement. I cannot offer anyone else but myself, and that’s I’m going to do. I am going to protect everyone, and if I must be worth of four men, I will, and I will prove every doubter wrong. I swear my loyalty to you.
****
The Day of the Funeral was surprisingly beautiful. Sun shone, birds sang, and the funeral guests were sweating in their best clothes. Daoiness had come to carry her father’s body, even though many looked at her strangely and she had had to fight to get to be one of the pallbearers. She had been finally approved to the task, because they were out of able-bodied men anyway. This was a special situation and she was allowed to take the place instead of her brothers, who now, too, were thought to be deceased. Their bodies were never recovered, but considering the situation, it was highly unlikely they would have survived. And if they had, she wished they hadn’t. It was better to die to a crossbow bolt, or even to poison, than being the new toy of some drow slaver and die as a sacrifice to the eight-legged whore.
Daoiness stood in the front row, waiting the priest to have their talk, holding her father’s greatsword almost gently in her hands. Lord Feyrith gave a heartfelt speech, and when she raised her hand to have a turn to say a word, people stared at her awkwardly, but she didn’t care. She patted her mother on the shoulder and made her way to the front of the chapel. She expected someone to run in and ruin this, forbidding her from stepping up to the platform. It was not a woman’s place to speak in the funeral.
“I have only a few words to say.”
She began, still holding her father’s sword. It was heavy in her hands, but she had sworn to herself that after some time it would start to feel like waving a magic wand. As familiar, as lightweight. It was a promise.
“The name of Ilakhan family will not die with my father and my brothers. It lives, and the vow we have kept alive for generations will, too. I, Daoiness Ilakhan, will protect the Lord Luneiros like my forefathers before me. I have taken on a vow of Shevarash, and will head to the training after the funeral.”
It caused people to murmur and not even that silently. There was restless movement in the crowd, even the priests of the temple glanced at each other, trying to decide if they should intervene or not. But she had expected to cause a small uproar. Some men, father’s old allies he could tell, stepped already forward, but then she raised the greatsword and took a proper, balanced stance.
“And if someone has something against it, they may try to pry the sword of my father out of my cold, dead hands.”
She hissed, now dangerously, light green eyes lit up in angry flames, which told everyone that she was serious and had made up her mind already. Nothing could make her budge.
Daoiness had calculated that most likely no one would dare to oppose her directly in the middle of funeral service, of which she was correct. She felt slightly remorseful that she had used her own father’s funeral (and her brother’s memorial service at the same time) for her own gain, but she kept repeating to herself that this was just their final gift to her, as there would have never been any other way for her to become a holy warrior, if it was up to the anyone else to decide. Their final handshake; How many times her brothers had helped her, getting her back when some boy had taken a bit too much interest on her, or when they had taken her with them to ride and sparring when she should have -at least in the mind of adults- stayed inside and do some dull embroidery instead. Her father had slowly given in to her hot-headed daughter during the years, and none of her immediate family could say anything to her, as they knew it would just blow the things up much worse. Luckily, she hadn’t needed to protest that much -she wasn’t a rebel, just determined. The final gift of her brothers, and the loving hug of her father, like when she had been still small enough to sit on his knee. I will make you proud, the men of my life. I will show them all how well you raised me, and that your sacrifice has not been in vain. I will make those bastards pay. She bettered her hold of the sword and calm, determined fire burning inside her, waited to strike down the opposition.
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