THE CELESTIAL PALADIN
(The Order of the Lion Book 1)
By Gil Hough
Expanded and revised version published in December 2014 by Gil Hough
Originally published and Copyright 2011 under the title Celestial Justice by Gil Hough
Revised cover art by Ash Arceneaux 2014
Original Cover Art and graphics by Ginny Manning 2011
Acknowledgments
Writing has been a lifelong dream, and it has only been made possible due to the support of a lot of people, notably my amazing wife Kelly and our wonderful children Jonah, Steven and Autumn. Both Kelly and Autumn played key roles in beta reading and editing. I also need to recognize my editor Eddie Lunsford.
My parents, of course, should never be left out of acknowledgements of any of my accomplishments.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - ENDINGS
Chapter 2 - FROM THE ASHES
Chapter 3 - THE RAVEN TOWER
Chapter 4 - A FRESH START OR AN OLD PROBLEM
Chapter 5 - A PLACE OF PRIDE
Chapter 6 - LUNCH WITH THE ENEMY
Chapter 7 - A TIME TO PREPARE
Chapter 8 - THE TEST BEFORE THE TEST
Chapter 9 - INTO THE FIRES
Chapter 10 - THE OTHER KIND OF PAIN
Chapter 11 - THE NATURE OF BONDS
Chapter 12 - TO WALK AN OLD PATH
Chapter 13 - A CHALLENGING PAST
Chapter 14 - THE ORDER
Chapter 15 - DARK SHADOWS
Chapter 16 - TO RAISE A SWORD
Epilogue - BEGININGS
Resources
About the author
CHAPTER 1
ENDINGS
“Move along, move along,” Rodregas said. He prodded the prisoner up the roughly hewn stone steps none too gently with the butt end of the lit torch in his hand. "We don’t have all night."
The rough handling of the prisoner seemed like a brash act for a man of sixty years, since the young man could have broken him in half with ease if he chose to do so. He was powerfully built, and towered head and shoulders over Rodregas. In fact the man looked rather like the hero from a bard's tale, with his square jaw and short black curls and fine dark eyes. In contrast Rodregas sported a bulging paunch, scrawny legs and loose teeth which gave him fits when he chewed on anything harder than a half-baked wheat cake.
Rodregas' confidence in the prisoner's lack of retaliation came from the expression of dazed uncertainty on the man's face, a look he recognized on other prisoners whose world came crashing down around them without warning, whose lives changed forever in the blink of an eye. It was hard to feel sorry for the young man; since he was the kind of fellow Rodregas had lost out to all his life. Somewhere in the recesses of his soul, though, a glimmer of compassion flashed forth; if only because of what awaited the prisoner.
On the other hand, knowing what was to befall the female prisoner mounting the stairs behind him thrust Rodregas deeper into a foul mood. Her long auburn hair fell in waves about her shoulders, and her startling green eyes were almost too large for her angular face. Her skin was the golden hue of the High AElves, the most magically powerful of all the Ijosalfar people.
Although her auburn hair and her slim athletic build marked her as a half-breed, a woman such as she drew many an appreciative stare. She was not beautiful in a way that Rodregas was used to, yet the odd combination of her features captivated Rodregas.
She was young and her innate abilities in the magical arts were thought to be immense. At the moment the possibility that she would ever achieve such power diminished with each step nearer the tower roof. Her eyes were alert, and she gazed around her for an opportunity to escape. The gag on her mouth and the iron bands on her arms prevented her from calling on her magic to help her.
“Sergeant," said the other guard. "If we don’t hurry them, we will feel the master's wrath when we get to the top.”
Rodregas grunted in agreement, “I will double your ration of food tonight and it will be fresh if you move a little faster," he said to the prisoners.
With that hope dangling before them, both prisoners climbed faster up the stairs.
Rodregas thought the other guard was going to laugh out loud at his comment. As a senior guard familiar with the impending ceremony, the fellow damned well knew that neither prisoner would be worrying about food within the hour.
Rodregas groaned to himself as the group picked up the pace on the tower steps. Over the last few years, his right knee acted up whenever he mounted stairs. That, of course, was just one of many complaints advanced years bestowed upon him. How ironic that the young prisoners were on their way to die, when old useless men like him, and scumbag fellow guards, continued to live.
He suppressed a shiver of excitement at the notion that this time will be different. This time, he would not just cry out to the gods about the injustice while innocent people burned.
He filled his lungs with stale air tainted with burning pitch and tried to sink into the mindless guard mentality that kept him functioning for the past decade and a half. Once a man loses all hope of a decent life, it is astonishing what he will do to stay alive. For the last twenty years his following orders and doing his duty, along with his better than average training for a guard, had served him well. He had been safe from the bounty on his head and for the most part. His life was more boring than anything else.
He approached the door to the tower roof with the prisoners. Instead of formulating a plan of action his mind kept going back to the horror of last week's practice when his master, Ravenhurr, demanded a rehearsal of the ritual ceremony with the senior guards. At the time he assumed they would merely walk through the procedure. Ravenhurr, however, was the kind of man who demanded perfection. He demanded it both in himself and from those around him.
That perfection required no less than an exact replication of the ceremony. As usual, he acceded to his master's wishes and did as he was told. He knew the value of following orders and it had kept him alive so far.
When he placed his hand on the tower door an involuntary shudder racked his body at the idea of following those orders one more time. He looked over again at the AElven maiden. To an exotic beauty like her a balding overweight man like himself would be invisible under normal circumstances. Some of the other guards might be tempted to take what would not be given, but not him. Like his mother always told him, a person did not have to own a beautiful sunset to enjoy watching it.
The door to the top of Raven Tower was large and deeply carved in intricate designs and runes. Though as a youth Rodregas had trained in the basics of magic, a secret he was careful not to share, the magical runes were far beyond his understanding. He led the prisoners through the door and walked out onto the top of the tower. The circular roof was flat and open to the sky. The only covering was the landing for the stairs in the East corner.
The cool night air refreshed his spirits somewhat. Before the prisoners could look around, he shoved them to the right side and strode over to Ravenhurr, who was peering into the night sky through a long tube with tiny glass panes at each end.
Ravenhurr loved to boast that the tube brought the stars closer to him. He was never one to hurry about anything, at least not before tonight. At that moment, though, his lean body quivered with excitement.
“Master," Rodregas said, with a respectful bow, "The prisoners are ready.”
Ravenhurr looked up. His eyes passed over Rodregas to glance at the prisoners. He nodded without a word and went back to peering through the tube.
Rodregas had never understood how the stars in the night sky could make the world closer or farther away from the Celestial Realm, where the Gods lived, or how that could a
ffect magic, but he knew the placement of the stars was critical to the success of the ceremony tonight.
Ravenhurr was an attractive man, like most of the Immortalist Sorcerers. After all, if you can pick your body, why would you ever choose an ugly one? Rodregas looked over again at the man that he had brought up the stairs. With the ability to select your body you would choose someone like that: attractive, talented and a natural athlete.
Rodregas stood to the side waiting for Ravenhurr’s signal. Ravenhurr raised his head up from the tube again and scanned the rooftop making sure all the parts of the ceremony were in place. Rodregas had always thought that it was only Ravenhurr’s eyes that gave away the fact that what was inside him was not as attractive as his exterior. Ravenhurr’s eyes had an intensity about them, a habit of weighing everyone else and finding them wanting. Rodregas felt that Ravenhurr saw in everyone else a lesser person whose best function was to be used by his betters.
Rodregas looked over the rooftop following Ravenhurr’s eyes. Most of the open flat roof of the tower was covered in various circles. The largest circle held all the others and was made of a glittering white sand-like substance. Its diameter had been drawn as large as possible within the limitations of the roof’s edges. On the inside were sigils, runes, and small candles set out every few feet.
Rodregas knew enough of magic to understand that the purpose of this circle was to keep out unwanted magical influences. They could interfere with the spell casting inside the circle. Also, the circle would hold in any magical forces inside which someone wanted to store or manipulate.
Inside the large circle were four smaller circles. Rodregas’ eyes immediately went to the one on the north side made of blue sand, where inside sigils made of a yellow waxy substance laid a giant lion. This was not a normal lion such as those found in the nearby forest, but a giant beast. Ravenhurr had been lucky indeed. He had been able to buy several Dire Cats from the Immortalist Guild dealer Taiga. With magic, he caused them to go into heat. It was known to be very difficult to affect Dire beasts with magic, and his success had shown his power and accomplishment as a mage.
Rodregas had regretted not being on duty when the Dire Cats were staked out on the roof. Rodregas had heard from the other guards that the cats were in heat, and as Ravenhurr had hoped, a Celestial Lion had sensed their presence while the lion was out during the full moon with the Wilde Hunt, and the great lion had spent the last few nights doing his best to impregnate both of the female beasts. The whole keep could hear the wild rutting going on.
Ravenhurr then had goats released on the roof and the Celestial Lion had gorged himself on them when he had finished rutting. The well-satisfied beast lay limp, sleeping, confident in his celestial power, and oblivious to his surroundings. He lied unbound, as required by the ceremony. Rodregas assumed some subtle magic had been used to influence the beast to sleep in just the right spot.
The unlikely success of having an actual celestial animal as part of the ceremony had put Ravenhurr into an unusually good mood. Using one of the Dire Cats in the ceremony would have been good, but an actual Celestial animal would provide much more power.
Rodregas’ hands clutched into a fist at his side as he could not help thinking that the last thing the world needed was for Ravenhurr, or any of the Immortalists, to acquire more power. Rodregas knew there was almost no opposition to the Immortalist left, but futile as it would probably be Rodregas could no longer go along with their immoral acts.
Rodregas pulled his thoughts back to the roof. He would only have one shot at this. In a fair fight no mortal was a match for one of the Immortalists. “Luckily,” thought Rodregas, “I have no intention of playing fair.”
The two female Dire Cats that had been used to lure the Celestial Lion to the tower had fascinated Rodregas since Ravenhurr, at the expense of a very large part of his fortune, had been able to purchase them from the Immortalist Guild dealer Taiga. When Rodregas looked into their eyes he had seen a greater understanding than that possessed by mere animals. When they growled, it felt like the earth trembled.
When Rodregas had seen the Dire Cats in their cage he had not been able to imagine a more powerful lion. The Celestial Lion was simply breathtaking; almost twice as large as the Dire Cats and even more powerfully built. It was not simply size that set him apart however. It was a way of moving, a grace that spoke of perfection.
To look at a Celestial Beast made Rodregas wish he could write poetry like some noble in one of the high western courts; it made him struggle for words that he simply did not have. And what did this marvelous beast do? Rutted, gorged, and fell asleep ready for the slaughter. Rodregas could not help but shake his head at how life can show you miracles that made you want to live again, and that using the same miracle drives home the fact that there is truly no justice to existence.
His eyes jerked back to Ravenhurr, as the sorcerer made a jerking motion, rising up from his sky tube. “Now,” he said and quickly repeated in his deep but smooth voice, “NOW!”
Captain Poir, the leader of Ravenhurr’s guards, had stepped out of the shadows and approached the prisoners, but Rodregas stepped forward first and grabbed the half AElf maiden’s arm. With a quick twist of the key he removed her iron shackles but grabbed her arm hard so she could not run.
“This way,” Rodregas said to her. As he separated her from the male prisoner he whispered to her, “If you want to live, don’t do anything until your circle starts to burn, then I will throw the club at the other guard. Run and make sure you get out of the circle.”
She jerked towards him as he spoke and Rodregas was struck once again by the beauty of her amazing eyes, but he forced her forward hoping that she could think on her feet. Rodregas carefully led her over the outer white circle and into a yellow circle that was across from the Celestial Lion. Captain Poir led the man into the pale green circle that was the closest to being in the exact middle and was most strongly interconnected to the other circles.
As Rodregas crossed into the main circle, the sense of power almost made him stumble. He knew his own power was minimal, not much above average, but his few years of training as a boy had opened him up to magic more than the other three guards on the tower roof. Rodregas knew that if Ravenhurr had ever thought he had more than basic magic training he would long have been reassigned to a duty far from the ceremony. The very air seemed to strum like a stringed instrument with the gathered magical power.
Rodregas could not help but think about how out of his depth he was trying to interfere with the ritual ceremony. However, as he forced the beautiful woman forward, the woman whose name he had refused to learn, he knew he was indeed going to try. “I will do it this time,” Rodregas thought to himself, “This time I will not choose my survival over others.”
His life was not worth living if he did nothing again; he wanted to feel at least a small measure of being the man he had been raised to be. “Celestial Gods, please let my life be worth something in death, if not in life,” he prayed quietly.
Captain Poir and Rodregas carefully put the two prisoners in the middle of their circles, and then stepped out. They each picked up small wooden clubs. Dale and Junnit stood across from the two of them holding matching clubs. The ceremony required the prisoners to stay in each circle unbound. The job of the guards was to remain outside the circle but make sure that the prisoners stayed inside. Metal would interfere with the magic so the guards held simple wooden clubs and wore only linen clothes with no metal fastenings.
As Rodregas pushed the half AElf into her circle, making sure not to disturb the bluish sand covered in swirls of colorful small crystals, he was surprised at how vulnerable he felt without his armor but readied himself for the task at hand. He quickly reached out to the woman and pulled off her gag, as even that would count as a binding and would interfere with the ritual.
He wanted to whisper to her as he removed it, and give her a hint of the desperate gambit that
he was about to try, but he knew that it was not worth the risk of others overhearing. Both of their lives depended on her doing what Rodregas had told her.
If he succeeded, she would know what Rodregas had done; if he failed, well he was familiar enough with that feeling. He saw her lips forming something under her breath, probably a spell, but she did not have time to execute a spell of sufficient strength in the time left her. Magic took too long to prepare to be useful so quickly.
Ravenhurr stepped into the last circle; the one made entirely of what appeared to be fresh blood and of symbols made from the careful placement of living organs. Rodregas breathed in deeply, trying to settle himself, and almost gagged from the smells: the stench of fresh blood, the scent of fear from the prisoners, the smell of power, and other smells that he could not identify. Rodregas closed down on himself, “Duty,” he thought. “My real duty this time, focus on the next step. I can do this.”
As Rodregas raised the club, he kept his eyes away from the AElf maiden not wanting to give himself away to anyone watching. “Gods,” Rodregas quietly prayed. “You have never answered my prayers. I have never had much to give you as an offering of wealth to your temples, nor have I done great deeds in your names, but if any of you hate these life-stealing Immortalists as I do, then let me know your favor.”
Rodregas could not help but add a selfish plea to his desperate prayer, “If by your grace I live, then I promise you gods that I will make it my life’s duty to fight the Life Stealers.” Rodregas doubted his prayers would do any good, but if nothing else he was a practical man and when you are pushing the odds it never hurts to call in divine favor.
Rodregas knew things would start moving quickly now. Ravenhurr had been preparing the circles for months, feeding them with unearthly energies. Ravenhurr had not wanted the prisoners up on the tower roof until the last moment, lest their fear lead them to take desperate action.
Ravenhurr started to speak the final words of the spell, setting off months of careful preparations. Rodregas knew that sorcerers use ancient languages so that others who might be watching cannot understand what they are saying and guess their intent beforehand. During the practice walk-through the week before, Ravenhurr had spoken the same words that he started to utter now.
Ravenhurr’s deep, melodious voice rumbled out, “Spitualu seperatia orgirgia turia,” and the middle, pale green circle started to burn. Rodregas could not pronounce the ancient version of the Eastern Common language Ravenhurr was using, but he thought that he understood the gist of the meaning.
Rodregas could not believe the man did not try to battle his way out. The captain and Dale were both large men but it would have been very difficult to keep such a gifted athlete in the circle, even with clubs, if he was determined to escape. However, he was young and clearly lacked battle experience. He seemed unsure of what to do.
Then it was too late; the blue flames of the circle rose high, then inward, and engulfed him. The young man started to split in two. The physical man stood there, but as he watched, another ethereal version, the man’s spirit, his very non-corporal essence, was suddenly pulled from his body, and then whipped around and out of the burning circle.
Rodregas was not sure, but as this ethereal version of the man was pulled apart, Rodregas thought he could see him screaming.
Rodregas pulled his eyes away from the horrifying vision as the corporal man went from looking confused and unsure to having no expression at all, like an empty piece of meat. Rodregas’s eyes flinched away from the terrible sight as he felt he might scream in horror and fury at what was happening.
Then Ravenhurr yelled out, “Spirea faira podia turiana,” and the circle holding the Celestial Lion started to burn in the same blue flames, the blue flames that make up the creation forces of life that can only be called up when the Celestial Realm was close. Suddenly the sleeping lion looked up in surprise and started to growl and then he started to burn. Rodregas had seen enough of lesser versions of the ritual to expect it, but to watch it was amazing. The circle blazed with an intense heat that blasted his face and the magnificent creature inside blazed with blue creation fire. It was a sudden and violent and primal process.
The lion started to stand up and then simply fell apart into blazing blue energy. That energy surged out of the circle and swirled around inside the larger outer circle. Every hair on Rodregas’ body stood at attention. Then the blue flaming energy was sucked into the pale green circle. There the prisoner, now empty of his own essence, stood still. As the blue fire was sucked into his body, the corporal body suddenly seemed more solid than before.
Once more Ravenhurr yelled out in his melodious voice the trigger words for the next part of the ritual, “Mana faria podia ricoria.” It was now or never for Rodregas to strike. Rodregas raised his arm up and threw his club forward with all his strength. There was no time to see if his club hit Junnit or if the half AElfin maiden ran.
Rodregas half ran and half jumped to the next circle, where Ravenhurr stood with raised arms. Ravenhurr was focused on his inner magic and was not prepared for his own guards’ sudden action. Rodregas grabbed Ravenhurr’s arm and his belt, and using his weight and momentum against Ravenhurr, threw him bodily into the circle of colorful crystals where the half AElf maiden had stood moments ago.
Ravenhurr, in an amazing act of balance, almost caught himself. He seemed to defy gravity as he hung in the air. Rodregas tried to reach out to push Ravenhurr into the circle, but before his hand touched the sorcerer, Ravenhurr lost his balance and fell into the circle.
The moment that Ravenhurr crossed into the circle he started to burn. His body twisted in pain as he burned the same blue fire of creation that he had called forth to rip apart a man’s soul and steal the physical essence of a Celestial Lion. The flames that he had called forth to steal the AElfin maiden’s magical abilities now burned him.
The timing had been near impossible. The spell calling forth the flames of creation could only burn one life. But the timing was perfect; Ravenhurr called forth the fire, and then he was in it. The flames consumed his body in seconds, and flaring from the circle went the multi-colored energy of his magic, the one element that the circle was designed to protect from the flames. His magic power shot out of the circle and started orbiting the larger circle. He was completely gone. Rodregas excitedly thought, “Victory!” He had done it. He had killed the Immortalist Sorcerer Ravenhurr.
The multi-colored energy of his magic swirled around the outer circle and was sucked into the empty vessel of the young man. The magic energy throbbed and Rodregas could feel the ritual screaming for the final release of the magic; there was no way to save anyone else. Rodregas would probably die in the next few seconds in the magical backlash of the failed spell, but he thought that he had understood the meaning of the final trigger words used in the rehearsal.
Rodregas’ years of rejecting his early upbringing made him embarrassed to say the words, but he reached down into that deep, nearly empty place where his little bit of power still sparked. Rodregas reached deep inside and pulled that spark of power up until he felt the tingle and inner sensation that he always inelegantly called ‘my itch.’
Rodregas filled his words with the power and the intent behind them. “My mind,” he said. “My soul to be made one through the flame,” he whispered, and then the circle of blood and living organs started to burn and he burned. He burned so deeply that no scream crossed his lips. He felt every fiber of his being simply burn. Rodregas tried to scream, but no sound could pass his lips.