Thoughts of a Paladin

Thoughts of a Paladin




            I heard the two voices before I even came to the bench I had been directed to take a seat on. One was unfamiliar, the other belonged to a man I had taken to calling Uncle. He was not any relation to me of course, he was my guardian, my teacher, and the only friend I had ever known.

            Brother Tomas was a cleric of Kelemvor. It was a fairly new sect only coming into existence after what was called the Times of Trouble, where the deities were made mortal for a time. Some were defeated in their time of weakness and some mortals were elevated to deity-hood later as things went back to some semblance of normality. This was the case of Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned, who had been a mortal warrior before the shifts in the pantheon.

            I don’t recall any of those things. I was born sometime after that, how much I’m not so sure. The cleric that found me as a child, wrote in the church books that he assumed I was two years of age. If that were true, I would be ten now, which is what I answered when anyone asked my age.

            In all my life, our Lord has looked out for me and guided my steps it seems. I say ‘our’ Lord, because Brother Tomas had begun teaching me the doctrine of the Church for the past five years during our travels. I don’t think he had permission from any of the temples to do this, but I’ve found out along the way, Tomas does what he wants and what he thinks is right regardless of anyone else’s consideration. Like taking a five year old child out on the road with him, which is why I’m sitting here in patched leather pants, that already show my ankles, a brown homespun tunic, and boots that have walked far too many miles, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation coming from the other side of the skull embossed wooden door. Sitting here with dirt still under my close cut nails, I can imagine I look like exactly what I am, an orphan.

            I have to admit, when Tomas had said we were going to be traveling north along the sword coast from Candlekeep to the port city of Neverwinter, I did wonder why. We passed other cities along the way that had temples we could have stopped to worship and get in touch with the goings on of the Church, such as Waterdeep with it’s beautiful cemetery called the City of the Dead. Why we would go so far north, I couldn’t understand, but I was not one to question, I was what Tomas affectionately called a doer. I was soon to find out why Tomas had chosen to travel so far just to find a temple for us to take a respite in without asking questions.

            As the voices escalated in volume I could no longer keep my pretense of not eavesdropping, anyone that came within a few feet of the room would be able to hear the debate.

            “Why do you keep refusing her the chance to take her test and her vows?” I heard the usually jolly voice of Tomas ask.

            “The child? She isn’t even old enough to bear children yet.”

            “Bear children? What does that have to do with being a capable cleric?” I heard Tomas roar at the owner of the unknown voice. I had to admit, I agreed with him, the ability or not to produce children really didn’t have anything to do with the dogma of Kelemvor’s clergy.

            “She’s too young. Noone would take her seriously. Besides there’s too much for her to know. It would just be a waste of time to allow her to take the test.” The snide reply floated out into the hall where I sat. I know I had never heard of a cleric in any denomination as young as I was then, but I know if Tomas thought me ready for any ‘test’ then so I should be. If not then I would give my best and return later when I had learned enough to pass this thing.

            “What does age matter? She has been in Candlekeep with me for the last six months studying everything she’ll need to know including undead, necromancy and combating it, planar studies, and anything else I thought she might need. Her mind absorbed those books like a normal child would devour sweets at a fair. She is more than ready on the scholarly front.”

            Now I understood more of Tomas’ intent in indulging me during our stay in Candlekeep, that famed library. I had read hundreds of books during our months there. After our evening meal Tomas and I, sometimes accompanied by another scholar or two, we would sit around with mugs of mulled wine(mine much watered), and discuss books I had recently read.

            I loved those evenings discussing the differences in a planar canker and a primeval scar and all their manifestations, why some areas became haunted creating a bad place when others were not, and what caused various eidolons. We would sit for hours on end amid hazy clouds of pipe smoke and talk of planar denizens and all their powers, abilities, and alliances.

            “Nevertheless, I make the final decision and I say she is not ready. Look at her, she looks like a teenage boy. She’s a child and already taller than most grown men.”

            “First she was too young, then she wasn’t learned enough, now she isn’t attractive, what other excuses are you going to try and pawn on me?” I heard Tomas’ voice get that low dangerous quality that I always associated with a storm at sea, it always meant he was very close to losing his temper. In the five years I had been traveling with him, I had only seen him truly angry twice. It was something I didn’t like to think about.

            “I’m trying to say she isn’t right for this Church. Perhaps she should think about serving Lord Kelemvor in another way. There are other professions that she could choose from, gravedigger or perhaps a mortician would suit her better since you claim she is intelligent.”

            I sat and stared into the empty eyes of the skull carving on the door and waited to hear the sounds of Tomas breaking the owner of that voice. I sat there for what seemed an eternity before I heard a creak as of a leather chair covering, then Tomas’ slow quiet voice replied. “She will be a cleric of this Church, I will make certain of it. Did you know she already receives answers to her prayers? Almost a year ago she healed a woman of a fatal wound. I admit, afterward she couldn’t recall what she had done to create the healing, but she did it. All you have done is offer excuses and hollow reasons why ‘you’ don’t want to admit her. Did you ever stop to think perhaps our Lord has already inducted her into ‘His’ service? I’m sure it will keep you awake at night knowing he didn’t ask your permission first.”

            I heard the unmistakable sounds of hobnailed boots on wooden floor slats and knew Tomas had finally had enough and was leaving the meeting.

            “Now wait just a minute Brother Tomas, you didn’t mention those things before. Maybe after some prayer on the subject we can come to a compromise of some kind.”

            “Compromise? The dream I was sent of Toleen wielding Lord Kelemvor’s power against a horde of undead didn’t include any compromise. Either she takes the test tomorrow or I give her the vows myself, without you, without the test, and anyone else in this blasted gods-be-damned cesspit! Mark my words and mark them well Myrkulite, she will be a cleric.”

            Calling someone a Myrkulite inside this particular church was the most vile of curses. Myrkul had been the previous Lord of the Dead. He had been an evil, vile, and torturous deity. Some of his followers still remained in the hierarchy of Kelemvor’s church, but they struggled continuously with the new doctrine they were given. Tomas could not have done worse to the unknown speaker than call him that vile name.

            I stood up as the door opened and a red-faced Tomas stalked out. I don’t think he realized I would be right outside waiting.

            “I spose you heard some of that did ya lass?”

            “I heard enough.” I replied.

            “So I’m sure. Get back to your chores then, be ready to leave at first light tomorrow.” Tomas turned and left without another word of what I had overheard. I didn’t know what he had planned, I didn’t think whatever it was would be good for him in the end. I could only hope he knew what he was doing like he always seemed to.

            I awoke long before the first paling of the eastern sky. If Tomas said first light that was exactly what he meant. I packed the few belongings I had, a wooden comb, two extra daggers, my tinder box, a whet stone to sharpen my blades, a small box containing bandages and a few salves, and a change of clothes.

            I scoured the room to make certain I had left nothing behind, something left is something lost. My crude mace was strapped to my belt, an old long sword was strapped to my back, and my homemade holy symbol was in it’s usual place. It was an ugly attempt at wood carving on my part, and was barely recognizable as a skeletal hand gripping the golden scales of justice, but it was no less precious to me for it’s look. It was more for the idea than the actual item I kept on a leather thong around my neck.

            As the sky began to pale I heard the heavy tred of Tomas in the hallway. I grabbed my satchel and went to meet him. At first I noticed he didn’t carry any of his gear, then I took note of what I had taken to calling his nervous twitch. Over the years I had come to find out that when Tomas was either deep in thought or worried his thick greying mustache would began to twitch. He had been totally unaware of this phenomenon, until I had begun to tease him over it.

            “Lass put your gear back in your room, that means all your weapons too, even the hidden ones.”

            After I had done as directed, I reentered the hall. As was my usual attitude I didn’t ask what was planned or expected of me. I knew I would soon enough find out. So when Tomas turned and began to walk away without another word, I fell into step behind him.

            We left the acolyte’s quarters that I had been housed in, and made our way across the sanctuary. As we came to the large sculpture of the same symbol as I carried, my hand found that familiar lump through my tunic and I said a silent prayer to my Lord. It was a secret ritual I had picked up somewhere in childhood during my days in the orphanage run by the Church in Tilverton.

            Leaving the sanctuary we came upon the area used by the various brother’s and few sister’s as offices, meeting rooms, and teaching areas. We stopped outside a plan panel door at the end of a deserted corridor.

            “Listen Toleen,” I knew this was serious with the use of my given name and not the familiar ‘lass’. “After you go through this door you can’t talk to anyone. In this room you and a few other youths will be given a written test. You can’t take anything but the clothes on your back in with you. Neither look, talk or glance at anyone or anything in that room except your own parchment, even after you answer all the questions..You know the answers I’m sure, so don’t panic. When you open that door the test will unofficially start, they will be observing you from the very beginning. Just be yourself and may our Lord watch over you and show you a path worth traveling.” As Tomas finished he ran a gnarled finger over my forehead in the holy symbol of our deity, then he motioned me to the door.

            I gave him one last look over my shoulder before going into the room. I had no idea what I was about to face, but I knew if Tomas thought I was up to it I would do my best and see what happened in the end.

            I must admit now after all these years, walking into that room and taking my place amidst the boys that were at least six to eight years my senior and not knowing what was to happen, I was fairly scared. I remember thinking I hoped the ones giving the test wouldn’t give me bad marks if they heard the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

            Regardless, I did take the test, I was the second to finish after only nine hours. We still had to sit until all were done. I stayed in that room for thirteen hours, without food, water or a chance to visit the out house. It wasn’t as hard as most would think, I kept my mind on other things like various hymns we sang during funerals or practicing taking my mind to that total void Tomas had taught me when he began to instruct me in sword-craft. It was a place of no light, sound, feel, or any other sensation. He said all great swordsmen knew the place, whether they knew it for what it was or not.



OOOOOOOOOOOOO



            I still remember the smell of lilies hanging in the moist sea air. I so hate the smell of lilies, they always make me sneeze. That was my one great fear that day, was when the few to pass the test given the day before, were presented with our holy symbols and spoke our vows to the Church, mine would be riddled with sneezes. They weren’t of course. Somehow that was the only time in all my life the heavy perfume of those flowers didn’t cause a chain of sneezing from me.

            I walked toward the raised platform with my head held high, bedecked in a white cotton robe just like the four other boys that had passed the test. It wasn’t very good odds, considering almost fifteen had been in that room.

            I remember seeing Brother Tomas, for now I could call him that, standing with the other members of the church. As I was accustomed to, he stood in worn leathers, with a great sword strapped to his side, his thumbs hooked behind his sword belt. He stood out so much in that company, with his shaggy mustache, his barrel shaped form, and jolly laugh. I had no idea then that I only had three short years left to enjoy his company and learn so many wondrous things from him.

            I still recall the single tear I saw on his rosy cheek that day as I said my vows. That site comes to me every time those same words do.



Recognize that death is part of life. It is not an ending but a beginning, not a punishment a necessity. Death is an orderly process without deceit, concealment, and randomness. I will help others die with dignity at their appointed time and no sooner. I will speak against those that would artificially prolong their life beyond natural limits, such as the undead. I will honor the dead, for their strivings in life brought Faerun to where it is now. Forgetting them is to forget where we are now, and why. I will let no human in all Faerun die a natural death without one of Kelemvor’s clerics at their side.



            These last seven years I have done everything I could to uphold that most solemn vow I made one spring day surrounded by the heady smell of flowers and the sea, in the company of the only two people I ever could truly say I loved, my mentor Tomas and my Lord Kelemvor.





Toleen & Tomas copyright me=Luma

The world and deities copyright=WotC

The vow is from "Faiths and Pantheons" Forgotten Realms sourcebook pg 33 paraphrased.