The Paladins of Naretia

Chapter 7

It always amazed Olórin how well Aramus could sleep, his nights unbroken by nightmares of the terrible life he had lived. Even now as Olórin watched over the young man curled up by the dying fire, his powerful chest rose and dipped evenly. His large black wings fell gently behind him as he slept, and his handsome face was a picture of serenity. 'How handsome he truly is,' Olórin thought fondly. 'It's such a shame that no woman will ever see what I see.'

But Olórin was no fool. There was a reason Aramus slept so well, and he had to admit that it worried him. Inflicted with his father's curse of a heartless existence, he could easily have slaughtered men, women, and children at a whim, and without a single sentiment of remorse too. Should he reach the age of maturity without learning the value of life, or love, then Naretia would surely be doomed.

To have killed Aramus as he held the dagger to his throat would have been easy. It might have even saved the world from the prophecy that followed this young man like a shadow. However, killing him would have not only ended Olórin's life, but also the lives of the wizarding caste. Such was the Goddess Edwina's unyielding belief in the sanctity of life.

But a flame of hope lit itself inside Olórin's chest for the first time since he had embarked on his quest over two hundred years ago. Last night, Aramus had shown a side to him that Olórin had not seen before. He had shown remorse, anger, frustration, and even fear of death. All the things that he had been trying to coax out of him for the past six years. It was Aramus's human side and, although it had only shown itself briefly, it gave Olórin great faith just to know that it was there.

The only thing potentially powerful enough to bring Aramus's human side closer to the surface, was the tug of true love. But even if, by some unfathomable reason, he did find true love, it was no guarantee that his dark side would be permanently squashed. Regardless of how it might have helped, Olórin knew it was unlikely to ever happen. Women, it seemed, were more terrified of him than men or children – presumably as a result of the violent stories of how Aramus's mother had conceived him. This only served to reassure Olórin that his potion was the only resort left to take. But his faith that they would find all the obscure ingredients needed for it in time, was beginning to wane.

"Aramus," Olórin said, gently shaking the young man's shoulder. "Aramus, the sun has risen and now we must too."

As though he were never sleeping, Aramus opened his slatted, amber eyes and blinked only once at the bright light that shone through the ice of the cave entrance. Without so much as a yawn or a stretch, he got to his feet and righted the backpack between his shoulder blades. He held out a hand to help Olórin up and Olórin accepted it gratefully. His old bones and the cold were long enemies of each other, and today the cold had gained the upper hand.

Taking off his wizard hat, Olórin threw the frying pan and the remnants of the uneaten bread into it. He plopped it back on his head, like it weighed nothing at all, leaving behind only the charred remains of their fire. Pointing his staff toward the icy impasse, a thin, silvery line snaked out from it and melted the ice at its touch. Within a matter of seconds they were free to walk back out onto the precarious, frozen ridges of the crag.

"Where to?" Aramus asked.

"Up, we go up," Olórin replied.

*

Aria was beginning to miss having Edwel about and that confused her more than anything. His incessant cheeriness and talking would often drive her to distraction, not to mention his constant advice on how to be a benevolent leader, which often made her want to throw up. But now that she was alone, surrounded by creatures who would love nothing better than to slice open her neck, she missed the security of the great big, stone oaf.