gaze for more than an instant. The
intensity of the flames had increased in recent days, ever since his battle
with the demon, and they now dominated his eyes and were all but impossible to
miss. Birch’s eyes were one of the things that marked him as something more
than just another paladin.
The other visible sign was his cloak. A paladin’s cloak
assumed the color of the Prismatic Facet the paladin most reflected – which of
the six primary virtues he most embodied. Seven colors, including white, but
Birch’s cloak was a dark, steely gray, which was unheard of in the Prism. No
one could explain it, least of all Birch, but he somehow knew it was linked to
the six years missing from his memory. Everything important seemed to be linked
to those years, or so it seemed to him, and it frustrated Birch to no end that
he couldn’t unlock those memories.
Birch stared a moment at the charred outline that was all
that remained of Sal, then he turned away. Stepping to the edge of the
battlements, Birch leapt off and glided slowly to the ground below, using the
blessed power of his cloak to slow his descent. On his way down, he passed over
the site where Wein Drolgis had died.
Wein had been a Violet paladin who had accompanied Birch and
the others on their jintaal , and somewhere along the line he’d developed
a personal hatred of Birch. They had since determined that he’d been under the
influence of one of The Three, because Wein had led Birch and Garet jo’Meerkit into a trap inside the dwarven citadel. Wein had
tried to kill Birch, but Garet fought him off while Birch stayed to deal with
Sal and a room full of lesser demons. In the explosion of Sal’s death, Wein had
been flung over the side of the battlements where he fell to his death on the
rocks below. Garet had been unable to save him.
Birch landed only a few yards from where Moreen was
standing, and he immediately moved to wrap his arms around her. She returned
his embrace enthusiastically, then she pushed him away and pointed imperiously
at a pile of heavy sacks that hadn’t yet been loaded.
“You promised you’d help load, Birch,” she said with mock
severity. “So load. Where have you been all morning? The tide turns in an hour
and we’re still not finished loading.”
“I was just looking around, love,” he said lightly, and
immediately her face softened. Not that she had actually been upset with him.
“I was up on the battlements.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I saw you. You spend far too
much time up there.”
Birch shrugged. “Being at the scene helps me to think about
what happened, to try and make sense of everything I saw and heard, everything
I felt and did.”
Moreen nodded, knowing better than most the inner turmoil
Birch faced.
“James was looking for you,” she said after a moment. “He’s
on board in the captain’s cabin. He hasn’t helped much this morning
either.”
“He’s in charge of the jintaal ,” Birch said, smiling
slightly. Moreen was even more lovely
when she was mad, even now when she was mostly joking. “He’s got more to worry
about than us peons.”
Birch easily hefted two burly sacks of grain and disappeared
into the ship before Moreen could say anything else. He loved her more than
life itself, and he couldn’t resist teasing her by not letting her get in the
last word. Behind him, Moreen held a scowl as long as she could before she
couldn’t help but smile after the man she loved.
- 2 -
When he had safely stowed the grain, Birch climbed to the
deck and entered the captain’s cabin. There he found James Tarmin and the ship’s captain leaning over a battered map. The charismatic Yellow
paladin was thumbing his chin in thought, and the dwarven captain was scowling
up at him at him, obviously irked by whatever they were discussing.
James was about average in height, but years of weapons
training and physical combat had given him an above-average build. He wasn’t as
large or muscular as
intensity of the flames had increased in recent days, ever since his battle
with the demon, and they now dominated his eyes and were all but impossible to
miss. Birch’s eyes were one of the things that marked him as something more
than just another paladin.
The other visible sign was his cloak. A paladin’s cloak
assumed the color of the Prismatic Facet the paladin most reflected – which of
the six primary virtues he most embodied. Seven colors, including white, but
Birch’s cloak was a dark, steely gray, which was unheard of in the Prism. No
one could explain it, least of all Birch, but he somehow knew it was linked to
the six years missing from his memory. Everything important seemed to be linked
to those years, or so it seemed to him, and it frustrated Birch to no end that
he couldn’t unlock those memories.
Birch stared a moment at the charred outline that was all
that remained of Sal, then he turned away. Stepping to the edge of the
battlements, Birch leapt off and glided slowly to the ground below, using the
blessed power of his cloak to slow his descent. On his way down, he passed over
the site where Wein Drolgis had died.
Wein had been a Violet paladin who had accompanied Birch and
the others on their jintaal , and somewhere along the line he’d developed
a personal hatred of Birch. They had since determined that he’d been under the
influence of one of The Three, because Wein had led Birch and Garet jo’Meerkit into a trap inside the dwarven citadel. Wein had
tried to kill Birch, but Garet fought him off while Birch stayed to deal with
Sal and a room full of lesser demons. In the explosion of Sal’s death, Wein had
been flung over the side of the battlements where he fell to his death on the
rocks below. Garet had been unable to save him.
Birch landed only a few yards from where Moreen was
standing, and he immediately moved to wrap his arms around her. She returned
his embrace enthusiastically, then she pushed him away and pointed imperiously
at a pile of heavy sacks that hadn’t yet been loaded.
“You promised you’d help load, Birch,” she said with mock
severity. “So load. Where have you been all morning? The tide turns in an hour
and we’re still not finished loading.”
“I was just looking around, love,” he said lightly, and
immediately her face softened. Not that she had actually been upset with him.
“I was up on the battlements.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I saw you. You spend far too
much time up there.”
Birch shrugged. “Being at the scene helps me to think about
what happened, to try and make sense of everything I saw and heard, everything
I felt and did.”
Moreen nodded, knowing better than most the inner turmoil
Birch faced.
“James was looking for you,” she said after a moment. “He’s
on board in the captain’s cabin. He hasn’t helped much this morning
either.”
“He’s in charge of the jintaal ,” Birch said, smiling
slightly. Moreen was even more lovely
when she was mad, even now when she was mostly joking. “He’s got more to worry
about than us peons.”
Birch easily hefted two burly sacks of grain and disappeared
into the ship before Moreen could say anything else. He loved her more than
life itself, and he couldn’t resist teasing her by not letting her get in the
last word. Behind him, Moreen held a scowl as long as she could before she
couldn’t help but smile after the man she loved.
- 2 -
When he had safely stowed the grain, Birch climbed to the
deck and entered the captain’s cabin. There he found James Tarmin and the ship’s captain leaning over a battered map. The charismatic Yellow
paladin was thumbing his chin in thought, and the dwarven captain was scowling
up at him at him, obviously irked by whatever they were discussing.
James was about average in height, but years of weapons
training and physical combat had given him an above-average build. He wasn’t as
large or muscular as
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