Snake Eyes and the Warlock's Luck

Once upon a train station…

“I simply do not understand why you lack the ability to cast a suitable blessing, is it a lack of desire or a lack of ability?” Everest Dalethorn the Third grumbled as he charged through the train station crowds.

Seas of people parted for the Knight Commander, a Paladin of Parandor, the stronghold to the north, gawking at the brick wall of a man and the short, stout woman scrambling after him.

“My apologies, Father,” Avelina whispered for the umpteenth time as they rushed toward the Eshorion station, headed back home.

Not my home, his. Her red hair flicked around her face, almost coming loose from her bun.

Never been good at keeping it in check. Once upon a time, her mother affectionately called it a ‘wild mane of crimson flame’.

Currently it was in her mouth and tasted salty.

Not long ago, her mother would dress her in vibrant colors, like she was a princess’s favorite doll.

And now I’m a dust urchin. As Avelina hoisted up her stone-gray skirts around her black boots, she missed those playful fabrics dearly.

Heavy linen choked her as her father did not allow her to wear anything less than cleric’s robes.

Long charcoal gray sleeves under a fitted vest with the Order’s crest on the breast, a long skirt that dragged across the dusty earth even in her shoes, and stockings.

In this heat? Under the goddess’ golden beams? Ripped from mother’s favorite city…

The glittering capital city was a metropolis of life, the very air full of magic.

Clerics, paladins, spell slingers, a place where people were less restrictive with not only their clothing but their hearts.

And yes, the sun was always oppressive. Blessed by the SunBringer.

Blah! Blah! Blah! She could hear her father’s monotoned sermon playing at the back of her mind.

Daughter of a Paladin who takes his job seriously is a rough position to be in.

Avelina stopped to glance over her shoulder at the carriage they’d taken to the station. The driver was glaring at her father from his perch while the two boys rushed to unlock her father’s heavy chest from the back of it.

“Apologies are no longer welcome, Avelina. I want results,” Everest spat over his cloaked shoulder, returning her focus to his broad back.

You only want results because she’s dead.

They say grief does strange things to a person.

The Order dictates a specific path the paladins must take when a loved one dies.

It’s all crisp, clean, and well documented.

Just like her father. Dressed from boot to throat in heavy armor, a glimmering gold much like his beloved goddess, sun iconography embellished on nearly every surface of it.

A cloak of dense, white linen that cracked like a whip when the wind hit it just right—in fact, it nearly lashed out and carved up a poor gawking boy’s eye as her father stomped through the train station.

His boots rattled with righteous thunder as the world bowed to his whim.

If it wasn’t the armor, it was the broad sword strapped to his back.

Mountain Breaker, a sword so big, only certain people could even hoist it.

Her father obviously being one. Avelina, obviously, was not.

It glinted so brightly in the sunshine that she was forced to cover her eyes.

Using her hands, she blocked out the eyeball-sizzling glare.

One of the few trinkets bestowed upon the Paladins of Parandor was their armor.

Their weapons, their blessed pendants, their shields, all in worship of Her. SunBringer.

The air buzzed with people talking over the whining metal as the beast rolled into the station.

Right on time. Thankfully, the awning of the train station cut through the sunlight and drenched them in shadow.

Steam coated everything, making her skin tacky.

She was quickly coated in the dust kicked up around them.

Her head swam from all the sounds, smells, and movement.

Is it heat stroke or am I having a panic attack?

She tried not to look at any faces, but each one she passed was a fiendish expression.

Eyebrows pulled down, smiles too big, all mouths full of teeth, ready to eat her alive.

She jerked away from glinting eyes. Plump little lamb, what a good little snack you’d be.

Her throat closed and she coughed to clear it.

Avelina fought through heavy smog. She narrowly avoided another person cutting through the crowd the wrong way.

It spun her around. She dropped her gaze to her feet to avoid the hungry, wolfish smiles of men at the edge of the station.

Twisting around on the concrete, Avelina glanced through the densely populated streets in prayer.

As if. She hoped that Tala would be somewhere on the horizon, a firm presence meant to steel her resolve. You can do this, Avie. Just be strong.

“I’m not strong,” she muttered under her breath.

Weak, pathetic little lamb. Coughing up more pockets of dust, she turned back to her father’s disappearing visage.

The train attendant waved her on, clearly irritated.

Great. Another person the haughty, argumentative Paladin pissed off that would inevitably make her life worse.

If it wasn’t the nice lady at the front desk of the inn they stayed in, it was the maids.

The cooks incident was the final straw, really.

She’d eaten charred bread for the last week because her father was insufferable.

A strong Paladin is proud of his devotion.

She rolled her eyes as she ducked into the train.

He definitely harassed the staff, who likely only inquired about his ticket.

Avelina stood in the entryway of the train, the tickets in her pockets because it’s hard to carry things when one is in heavy armor.

With a sigh, she waited for the staff he’d hired to carry their things from the carriage to the baggage cart.

Avelina managed to wrangle the paper chunks out of her skirts as two skinny, over-worked boys came scrambling after her.

“There ye-are miss,” they panted for air.

A pair of matching orcs, green as grass with big yellow eyes.

Their pointy ears were covered in piercings; a point her father chastised them for when he hired the carriage.

Avelina liked them, liked the little charms they had dangling from all the rings.

Reminded her of Dalgna, her mother, who was known for having intricate earrings she wore when her husband was nowhere to see them.

“Sorry, he walks fast,” she grimaced at them.

One of the boys, Tavrin, bowed his head and jogged to the luggage cart with the giant suitcase.

The other, Renauld, handed over her duffle bag.

She fished out coins from the purse on her leather belt and handled it over. “Thank you for suffering through that.”

Renauld shrugged, tucking away the coin. “Stuffy ole’ bastard. My mother used to say if yer gonna be a fuckwit, ya better be a tough one. So, it’s a good thing he’s got coin. No offense, miss.”

Avelina sputtered, cupping her face with her hands. The giggle that rose up in her was hysterical, on the brink of madness…because she sat on the edge of a very thin thread.

The Order says when a Paladin suffers grief like her father did, that they seek refuge at the closest temple of The Sun Bringer.

Seven days at the temple with nothing but the mind and aching heart to allow Her beams to reach down into the deepest darkness of one’s soul.

Avelina lived in the capital city to work on her mother’s health, away from her father.

But when Dalgna Dalethorn died, Avelina lost the last protection she had from her imposing father.

The order who commanded he mourn his wife he didn’t love, he saw fit to destroy Avelina’s life as well.

And what does the Order say for whelps like me?

There was no path for her to walk. No crisp, clean, cut and dry way for her to face her grief.

Avelina was expected to swallow the lump in her throat and smile.

A magicless, useless girl on the cloak-tails of her important father who absolutely wanted nothing to do with her other than to get rid of her.

Not to mention he hates Tala. If he couldn’t get her shipped off to some SunBringer temple to study as a cleric, then he would find the first acceptable man to take her off his hands. This way I can’t embarrass him.

Avelina laughed at the boys comment. Cackled so hard it hurt her belly and made her dizzy. He is a stuffy ole’ bastard. The sound of it tinkling off all the iron inside the train. A harsh whistle called over their heads and her father popped out of his cabin to glare up the row at her.

“Avelina! What are you doing gawking? Get in here, the rabble will be boarding soon!” He slammed the door. Avelina’s scowl returned. Down to her bones, woven in her flesh, her very sinew loathed her father.

“Miss, is he gonna ride the whole way there in that armor?” Renauld balked at the idea, ripping her out of her fury.

She smiled at him sweetly. “Oh, he never takes it off.”

“Tight quarters in here, miss.” Renauld shook his head softly.

He’s right. A train is nowhere for heavy armor and a massive sword that takes up an entire seat.

Yet, her father would never be caught dead in less than his glamorous best. Renauld nodded at his brother that joined them, hands empty of her father’s heavy chest. Avelina gave Tavrin a tip as well, waving them off.

The boys bowed their heads. “Thanks for the coin, miss. Safe travels.”

Avelina bowed her head to the boys, stepping into the aisle as the rabble boarded.

Body heat filled the small space, as if it wasn’t already swelteringly hot, people elbowing and shoving their way into their cabins.

There was so much yelling that it was comforting.

At least when there was so much noise, she couldn’t hear the mean voice at the back of her skull.

Say something. Why do you never say anything? Why do you never fight back?

Weak. Useless. Talentless.

Pathetic!

“Pardon me!” A skinny child barreled past her and shoved her into a wall.

Avelina swallowed over her yelp of surprise.

Shoulders pressed to the warm wallpaper, she stared at dozens of wanted posters.

It was a corkboard full of faces all over dark parchment paper.

Wanted for exuberant amounts of coin, the numbers made her head spin.

She clutched her fists to her chest as she read down the lists of names of the kingdom’s most wanted criminals.

Daggertooth Dan, Murderin’ Mary, Throat Cuttin’ Carter, Cottonmouth.

All outlaws, all the worst of the worst, with laundry lists of crimes attached to their names.

Tacked onto the board as well was a local newspaper.

Beware Gloomsdale. A ghost town of outlaws. Not even the Paladins of Parandor can traverse this cursed swamp…She couldn’t keep reading.

Avelina reached into her skirt, pulling out the shiny, smooth orb.

Her thumbs pressed to the opal, as if it would allow her to feel her best friend’s palm in hers once more.

Tears welling up in her eyes, people shuffling past her, no one saw the red-haired ghost of a woman sink down to the floor.

She pressed the enchantment to her lips.

I should have told her. She might have found a way to save me from myself.

Avelina trembled as she thought about telling Tala she was frightened, that she was sad, that she didn’t want to go back to the stronghold with him.

But she would have told me to fight him. And Avelina couldn’t fight her father. She would have told me to…

She almost told Tala that she was getting off the train and to meet her at their favorite spot. Then the iron beast whistled and jutted forward, cutting her off. Avelina took a deep breath then spoke into the rock, “We made it to the train in one piece. Talk to you soon.”

Maybe in a different life she would have told her best friend she was too afraid of her father to stand up to him. That without Tala, Avelina was a scared, miniscule, mouse.

Coward.