The Anointed’s Paladin

1. A brush with death

1

A brush with death

Talon

T he hot breath of the nagai brushed against my neck. Struggling, I held the creature back, though just barely. My arms were shaking with the effort, but the sweat on my back wasn’t just from exertion.

If its sharp fangs pierced my skin, I would have mere minutes before I dropped dead. I somehow had to extract myself while avoiding it’s venom.

It was glaring at me, a semi-human face illuminated by the beams of sunlight streaming through the old floorboards above us. Its top half was humanoid, with features that could have been handsome if its jaw wasn’t unhinged, stretched to a disturbing length.

It hissed, pushing forward against the staff I was using to hold it at bay. Its long, snakelike tail tightened around my chest. I growled back, surrendering to Mirilith’s curse and letting it course through me, giving me strength .

The nagai twisted, and I saw my chance; I let go of the staff and grabbed its chin, snapping its neck in one swift crack. Heat pulsed through my veins, my heart thundering as it roared with rage and power. My vision turned red as I struggled out of the coils of thick muscle around me and staggered forward. The nagai was already dead, but I continued to tear at it, my mind struggling to regain control of my body. Finally, the red receded from my vision, and I stopped, panting.

It was done.

The elation that came with victory soured as a burning sensation started on my arm. Looking down, I froze.

The fangs had nicked my forearm, leaving an ugly gash that was turning an alarming green.

I sank to the ground as the burning spread further up my arm.

Damn.

My mind spun frantically, and I reached for my healing. As Mirilith’s curse pounded in my head, I struggled to push it back—I needed to concentrate, not fight. If I focused and if I was fast, I had a small chance of cleansing the venom. I reached out for my oath magic, but as had been happening more and more lately, it didn’t come. Instead, I only generated a small trickle of healing. I blinked sweat out of my eyes, trying not to panic. Not now, damn it. I took a breath, trying to focus my magic by reciting my oath in my head.

I swear to be a guardian against darkness until my dying breath.

May my work bring solace to the tormented, protect the vulnerable, and bring just retribution to any that shed innocent blood.

My life, dedicated to the greater good until the spirit of my heart finds rest.

I grasped again for the healing magic, but none came .

For ten years, these words had empowered me, mentally and magically. Reciting them was supposed to stoke my magic like pouring oil on a fire.

Recently, they had not brought me peace or strengthened my resolve. Instead, they left a bitter taste in my mouth. Thinking of them at this moment made me face what I had been avoiding for months; I truly didn’t believe in them anymore.

My oath was hollow. Empty.

It seemed my fate was sealed.

I was breaking out in a sweat, my stomach turning as nausea built within me. My fear was pounding through my veins, and I pushed back Mirilith’s curse again. If I was going to die, I wanted to be in my right mind, not lost in fiery bloodlust.

What had gone wrong? I racked my brain, desperate for anything that could bring back the meaning in the words of my oath. I wanted to believe.

They had been made with hope that I could make a difference, despite my appearance. That I could find acceptance and my place in the world. Find a proper channel for the energy that simmered within me.

I had chased that dream for so long now and had realised recently how utterly unattainable it was.

It hadn’t worked.

I hugged my knees, swallowing around the lump in my throat. My arm was cramping up.

First, I thought maybe I hadn’t killed something big enough, saved enough people.

Then, perhaps, I needed to be more polite, more amiable, or save people the right way. Do better. Hide my storm .

Then I had thought acceptance in the Guild would be the missing piece.

It hadn’t changed anything.

I would always be a monster. Never able to be anything beyond that.

And that was it. The end of my story.

Listen, listen, listen: the tale of the enferni Paladin, who gave everything to everyone else, who followed every strict Guild rule, who fought in dungeons and sewers and swamps, and died alone in the broken basement of an abandoned shack. The end.

My eyes stung from the rage that built in my heart. My whole body was trembling now, and I swallowed again, fighting the urge to throw up.

What an idiot. What a waste.

Please , I prayed. I wasn’t sure who to; I didn’t have a patron God. But I felt I should try. Please give me another chance. I don’t want this to be the end. I need to try something different.

I leaned back, the whole world spinning.

A breeze stirred in through the broken floor above me, and a golden light appeared, a ribbon that passed through my body. I felt a thrumming of energy, warm and comforting, fill me.

And then…the nausea left me, and my vision cleared. My muscles steadied, and the pain drained from my body. I blinked, sitting forward. The gash on my arm had healed, my skin back to its normal dusky blue.

No, that wasn’t quite true. I squinted, pulling at the skin.

A black mark had appeared where the gash had been, like a tattoo.

Evidence that it hadn’t all been a mad dream.

I breathed the damp air deeply, a wild laugh escaping my lips. Tears streamed down my face .

It was all right. I had another chance. My life could mean something now.

***

In a dark room, Ajax stopped the vision. The unfortunate enferni should not have survived. Yet a connection had formed, magic reaching across miles and miles to pluck him from the clutches of death. He drummed his fingers on the smooth side of his chair, causing the man kneeling before him to pause in his work.

“He did not command you to stop.” Snarled the woman at his side, but Ajax raised his hand in peace.

“Leave me. All of you.” He commanded. The man at his feet hesitated, and that was all it took before he was swept backwards. The woman’s sharp reprimands cut through the stone chamber until the door closed behind them.

Ajax stood, adjusting his waistband and re-fastening his belt buckle. It was unfortunate timing, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. He walked behind his throne, pushing aside the curtain and walking towards the large table stationed back here.

Ajax sat down heavily, his many necklaces and bracelets settling a moment after he did. He tapped a particularly thick ring on the table.

The magic he’d seen had been too bright, too powerful to be overlooked. Every interested deity would have noticed, and that meant trouble. With a sigh, he took off one of his necklaces and laid it on the table. Three plain golden rings were strung to it. He rubbed his forehead, then stretched out his hand. The rings glowed as they activated.

Pollux was ready first. He always was. Ajax wondered if he even did anything nowadays, except sleep and wait for Ajax’s call. Rat was next, and Ajax sighed again as he waited for Ilyana.

Finally, her ring pulsed, too, indicating they could talk without interruptions .

Ajax opened the connections fully.

“This better be good, Ajax. I’m in the middle of a purge,” came Ilyana’s irritated voice through the ring.

“I’m sure the slaughtering of the helpless can wait for another time, angel,” said Ajax. She didn’t rise to the barb.

“So, what is it?” asked Rat, her reedy voice coming through even thinner than normal.

“Do you remember the little secret that was tucked away after the last turnover?”

“The key to hell?” asked Ilyana.

“The very same. It’s at risk of becoming…a lot less secure than it is now.”

“Well…” Pollux spoke in his low, sleepy voice. “That’s sure to grab the Gods’ attention. But none of them can enter the tower. Hmm… Can we assume a new anointed will soon join our ranks?”

“Exactly,” said Ajax. “A contest of champions is coming.” He paused. “Including those put forth by the missing Gods.”

Ilyana sucked in a breath, and something next to Rat clattered to the ground.

Ajax leaned back. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you guys. Good luck.”

With that, he severed the connection.

He’d be keeping a close eye on the proceedings.