Chapter 6: Coincidence is Their Domain.

“The Storm Knight took his lance of iron and drove it into the Jotunn's chest. With his mighty blow came a clap of thunder and a lightning strike. Eyes burning with Stormlight the Knight slew the Jotunn. Piercing its hearts and scouring its soul. Freeing the lands of its rapacious cruelty.” The Book of Paladins

The crow of a rooster pulled Natalie from her rest and made her jump. Earning an indignant yowl from Stockings, who protested having her own sleep disturbed. Surprise and confusion flooded Natalie as she glanced around her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was. Memories of the previous night flooded back, and she quickly shot up to her feet. Muscles protested their treatment; sleeping on the floor, knees curled to her chest, had been anything but comfortable.

Only the faintest light peaked through the shed’s loose wooden panels. Dawn had just arrived and hadn’t even peeked over the mountains yet. It was still early, and hopefully, nobody would have noticed her disappearance. Stretching slowly, hoping to tease out the aches, Natalie yawned and then ideally addressed the unconscious form of Cole. “You better be thankful for this, you suicidal Pilgrim.”

A cracked voice answered her. “I am very appreciative of your aid, but I am not a Pilgrim.”

Natalie jumped like a frightened cat and swore. “Infinite Hells! You’re awake?”

Cole responded with a dry-sounding chuckle. “Yes, yes I am. I hate to inconvenience you more, but would you mind getting me some water. I lost a considerable amount of blood.”

Still slightly shocked, Natalie mouthed to herself, “inconvenience?” but quickly got a cup and filled it from the pipe. Cole tried to sit up to take the desired drink but promptly failed. Natalie held the water to his lips and helped him. “After everything that happened last night, I don’t think getting you some water counts as anything of an inconvenience.”

Finishing the cup, Cole sighed appreciatively and asked, “Yes, what happened last night? I last remember collapsing against the gate; I think inner door was unlocked.

Natalie snorted. “Yes, it was, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that you made it that far. If I hadn’t found you by complete happenstance, you’d have bled out there.”

Gesturing around her, Natalie continued, “I dragged you back to the Silly Goat and patched you up the best I could. We are in a shed behind the inn, and we really should get you to a healer. All I did was clean your wounds and try to bandage them.

Cole looked down at his body as if only now noticing the myriad of bandages covering his scarred form. “Again, I must thank you, Miss Natalie. You have provided me much aid, and I find myself in your debt. That being said, a healer will not be necessary.”

At that, Natalie raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Goatshit, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re practically torn open. Even with healing, magical or mundane, you will still have a whole new set of scars for your collection. Cole, I used honest-to-Uncle Maker Lunashine to clean your wounds. We keep a bottle of that stuff for non-human customers, ones who require what’s practically poison to get drunk.”

At that, Cole just chuckled and managed to sit up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows. To her surprise, Natalie only saw a hint of red underneath his bandages; she’d expected them to be soaked in blood by now. Grunting slightly in pain, Cole responded. “Many of my scars come from wounds as bad as those that received even less aid. I will be fine, just a day or two of rest, and I’ll be back on my feet. Days of rest that I will, of course, be happy to pay the Silly Goat for.”

At that, Natalie just rolled her eyes and sighed. “I find that hard to believe. Anyway, if you are not a Pilgrim that what are you? Actually forget that, what in the Pantheon did this to you.”

Gesturing at Cole’s torn-up body, Natalie found herself annoyed at the scarred man’s attitude. Did he not get how close he’d been to death? Natalie had been often accused of being painfully stubborn, but Cole had her beat in that regard. Chewing on her lip for a moment, Natalie continued. “I changed my mind; I want answers to both of my questions and any other I can think of. You owe me at very least an explanation for all this.”

Cole was silent for a moment, contemplating his following words. Speaking slowly, he said. “I will tell you what I can. But this knowledge is dangerous.”

A slight chill went up Natalie’s spine at that; she expected something like that, but to hear it confirmed was harrowing. Cole picked his words carefully. He seemed to be trying to tell the truth with as little detail as possible.

“I am not a Pilgrim; I am a Paladin. One of Master Time’s sworn knights, tasked with enacting his will and protecting his domain.”

Natalie’s immediate thought was “Ah, well, that explained some things.” Quickly followed by dropping the empty cup she’d been holding in sheer surprise. If Cole was telling the truth, which he seemed to be. Then she was in the presence of a true Holy Warrior. Priests serving a God are fairly common; priests who even take up arms to face evil are not unheard of. A Paladin is a special and exceedingly rare type of Priest. Who are vested with divine authority and responsibility, acting as chosen agents of their particular God. They are the type of being whose songs are written about, whose legends and deeds might define an entire era.

Every culture had its own accounts of Paladins, with different names but similar stories. Twelve Paladins supposedly served the first King-Elect of the Holy League, whose students founded the Knight-Errant tradition. The Goblins sing of the righteous Bogatyr and their gallant quests. Even in the far distant east, in the land of the Golden Dragons, they tell of Youxia-Warriors who battle against injustice and cruelty.

To be a Paladin is to have the trust of a God, to be chosen to act as their mortal agent. The Gods are limited in how much they can influence the world. Ever since the Gates Beyonds were closed at the start of the Age, they cannot act without consent. Requiring devotion and prayer to enact their will. Reacting to an ever-changing world, not acting as they please. Paladin’s are the exception to this rule, a way for a God to influence the world through an empowered agent. Cole, it seemed, was a powerful and exceptionally dangerous servant of an enigmatic God.

A long silence filled the shed, but eventually, Natalie found her voice. “Okay, assuming I believe you, what could injure a Chosen servant of Master Time to this extent.”

Cole made an expression that was both a smile and a wince. “I miscalculated and found myself facing four Vryko-Ghouls. Well-fed ones at that.”

A shudder went through Natalie; she had heard legends of those undead. How they could tear apart entire buildings looking for prey and could survive anything less than their entire head being destroyed. Cole lifted up his right arm, examining the bandages wrapped around the strange cuts in it. Natalie had not known how to bandage his bloodied knuckles and left them exposed. Looking down at his hand, Cole experimentally flexed his fingers and seemed pleased with the result.

“One of the smaller ones tried to bite my arm off, managed to get my entire forearm down its throat. I got myself free, but it was not pleasant.” He then ran his hand across his stomach. “People talk about the Vryko-Ghoul’s strength but fail to mention their nails. I guess most strikes are so destructive they leave little sign of sharp claws.” Continuing exploring his wounds, Cole glanced at his shoulder and chest. “When the small one got my arm, the others started taking bites out of me. It… was unpleasant.”

Stunned and more than a little horrified by the truth of Cole’s ghastly injuries, Natalie managed to ask. “How did you manage to survive that? They should have ripped you apart!”

Cole only smiled at that. “I am a servant of Master Time, and he chooses us wisely. Everyone has a talent; mine happens to be fighting the Undead.”

Leaning against a cabinet, Natalie chewed on this information. It was shocking and unbelievable. The thought that Cole was simply delusional or worse crossed her mind. She’d heard stories of the Dark Gods tricking people into believing they were Paladins. Or even their own empowered servants masquerading as true Paladins in order to do terrible deeds. Yet, something in Natalie’s heart told her that was not the case. For all his strangeness, Cole was polite, kind, and survived something he had no right to. All classical features of a Paladin, he was just missing the shining armor and stunning beauty. Which considering what God he served, was understandable.

“I don’t want to believe what you are saying, Cole, but I don’t think I have a choice,” whispered Natalie.

At that, Cole only let out a slight laugh. “That’s the nature of truth; it does not care what we want. I had hoped to simply complete my mission here and leave. Miss Natalie, I must sincerely apologize for getting you caught up in all of this.”

Natalie felt herself smile at his words, and she went to refill the cup. “Stop calling me Miss; you really do talk like some gallant knight from the stories.”

Moving over to hand Cole the cup, Natalie paused and asked a question that had been nagging at her. “Something else I’ve been wondering about. While you were gone, I cleaned your room and found this skull….”

Cole shot out a hand and grabbed Natalie’s wrist. Squeezing with intimidating strength, not enough to hurt but still an inescapable grip. Dropping the cup, Natalie’s eyes went wide in fear as the Paladin’s countenance completely changed. Gone was the kind and soft-spoken wanderer; instead, she saw an iron-hard warrior glaring at her with icy eyes.

This new intensity froze Natalie, and she only started to process what was happening when Cole growled: “How did you find that skull? Did you tell anybody about it?”

“It was under the bed! I saw the bag and got curious! Nobody knows. I made sure to lock your room up so it wouldn’t be found!” stammered Natalie.

Cole’s grip relaxed slightly but did not break. “I wove a spell on that bag; you could not simply find it by accident. Quickly tell me everything. Did you touch the skull?”

Natalie recovered and pulled her hand away. Cole glanced down at his hand and hers with confusion, like he didn’t realize what he’d done. “No! I didn’t touch the skull, at least I don’t think so.”

Taking a large step back, Natalie checked to see if she still had her carving knife. Wrapping her fingers around its hilt and holding it behind her back. “If you really want to know, I nearly passed out while cleaning your room. Felt like someone was squeezing the life from me, and when I collapsed, I saw the stupid skull!”

Seeing the anger and fear in her eyes, Cole’s expression softened into guilt. “I… I am sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. The skull is precious and incredibly dangerous. Fear makes us weak, and in mine, I acted poorly.”

Pausing for a moment, Cole looked down at his hands and then back to Natalie. A slight smile appearing on his face, an apologetic tone coloring his words: “If I scare you like that again, please feel free to stab me with that knife of yours. It would be well within your right.”

Natalie released the handle of the knife. Was this a bizarre attempt at humor to calm her nerves? Or a subtle way of informing her he knew about the blade she carried? Probably both with an honest apology woven in as well if his tone was anything to go by.

Cole pondered her words in silence as Natalie relaxed slightly. With his left hand, Cole idly adjusted his bandages and spoke. “You said you almost passed out. Could you describe what you felt in more detail? I have an idea of what you experienced, but I am not certain.”

That got a raised eyebrow from Natalie. It was true these episodes only started when Cole arrived and seemed related to him. Maybe he had answers; he owed her that much, at least. So Natalie described what she’d felt. The crushing cold weight of some alien presence, how she needed to fight to breathe, and the acute sense of mortality that came with it. Cole listened quietly and seemed to grow more still with every word Natalie spoke, letting her explain the strange feeling had come three times. By the time she finished, Cole looked like some tragic sculpture of a wounded soldier.

Finally, Cole broke the almost-trance he seemed to be in. “I know exactly what you speak of, Natalie. Thank you for sharing this with me; it can be incredibly distressing to experience it without context. It seems you fit into my God’s plans in some manner. Master Time felt it necessary to push events on a certain course.”

Natalie was quickly becoming tired of being shocked and surprised. “You are telling me that Master Time is the cause of this? But that is supposed to be impossible? I didn’t pray to him, and I’m not sworn into his service like you or a priest!”

Cole smiled sadly and gestured to himself. “When it comes to matters involving their Paladin’s, the Gods are allowed some carte blanche in this matter. I cannot speak for certain, but it seems you are related to my reason for being in Glockmire. Natalie, you saved me and uncovered one of my most dangerous secrets by sheer coincidence. And coincidence is where the influence of the God’s is most easily felt.”

Natalie was not sure if she liked what she heard. While she had nothing against Master Time, or any of the Pantheon, being used as a pawn rankled her. Surely one of the most powerful entities in existence could find a way to aid his champion without nearly crushing her under its own presence?

Cole gathered up his strength and pulled himself up from the cot. Natalie was surprised; she’d expected him to be bedridden or at least close to it. Looking at the bandages and scars that covered the Paladin, Natalie mused that he must be used to this sort of thing. Flexing and tensing his muscles, Cole experimented with his body’s current limits. Again Natalie found herself admiring his sculpted form; even under the scars and wounds, it drew an appreciative eye from the young woman. She caught herself staring and felt a slight blush on her cheeks. Annoyed at herself, she pulled her eyes away. Ogling the divinely appointed champion of the God of Time and Death, was not her best moment.

Trying to find a topic and keep her mind on task, Natalie asked. “So, what do you plan to do now?”

Cole finished his stretching, attempting to not wince in pain with every movement. “That depends on several factors. I’d hoped the Vryko-Ghouls were my reason for being called here, but that does not seem to be the case. Something else requires my attention, and I must find out what it is.”

“So you survive being torn open by a quartet of monsters, and now you are looking for more trouble? An undead-hunting champion of Master Time is not exactly welcome in the Blood Duchies. Your existence is practically anathema to the Nobility, and if they discover you, I doubt even your God could save you.” Chided Natalie as she checked the cot for bloodstains.

Cole reached down to pick up the tattered remnants of his clothes and cloak. Seeing if any of his garments were salvageable, Between the dried blood, rips, and cat hair, Natalie doubted any of them would be of much use. Turning to her, Cole asked. “Indeed, I would meet with a gruesome fate. So that leads us to the question of will you tell others what you have learned? If so, I will disappear as quickly as possible and continue my task through more clandestine methods. I would not blame you if you did alert the Guards. Glockmire exists in the shadow of undeath, and it is wise to fear the Vampires who rule over you.”

Bundling up the ruined undershirt and leather armor, Cole continued. “If you were to keep my secret, then I would be in your debt. A debt Master Time or any of his servants would gladly honor.”

Seeing Cole ready himself and the sharp axe buckled to his side, Natalie felt her mind wander back to that terrible night three years ago. The sounds and smells of her Mother’s death, refusing to go away. The sight of her Father’s grief gnawed at her. What Cole was offering might be an opportunity to put those terrible memories to rest. Closure could come in many forms, including that of a swinging axe.

Squeezing her hands into fists, Natalie gave Cole her answer. “I will keep your secrets and hold you to that debt.”

Pausing for a moment, Natalie took a deep breath, fighting back the tide of terrible memories but keeping hold of the anger they stirred in her. “My Mother was killed by a Varcolac three years ago. It escaped the Lord’s knights and is still out there in the wilderness. Find it, kill it, and that will settle your debt.”

Cole gave Natalie an appraising glance then slowly got down on one knee. “Natalie Striga, I swear by my God, Master Time, and my oaths as a Paladin to honor this debt. It is my duty to be a spear and shield standing against the darkness. The Varcolac will be laid to rest; may its end bring you a measure of solace.”

Natalie didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed or awestruck. Seeing Cole kneel and the look of solemn duty on his face, she was reminded of the Bards’ songs during festival time. Stories of great heroes who vanquished evil at the request of a noble youth. While neither Cole nor Natalie fully matched the mythical archetypes, the similarities were striking. It was a guilty secret of Natalie’s, for all her aloof and sharp-tongued airs, she loved those old stories. The sense of wonder they’d given her as a young girl was still there. Natalie knew reality is little like the stories; the world is much murkier and crueler; than the fantasy depicted in those tales. But at the same time, every story had a grain of truth in it, and maybe the Paladin kneeling before her was one of those grains.

Getting up to his full towering height, Cole looked down at Natalie and spoke. “It will take me a few days to fully heal, and I must finish another matter first, but I will honor this pledge.”

Now it was Cole’s turn to look slightly embarrassed; he gestured down at his ruined clothes and asked. “Since I seem to be developing a considerable debt to you, I’d like to add to it. Could I trouble you to grab a spare shirt from my belongings in my room? I’d feel tremendously awkward retrieving one wearing nothing but a tattered cloak.”

At that, Natalie couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was surreal, saving the life of a Paladin, discovering she’d somehow attracted the attention of Master Time, getting an opportunity to avenge her Mother, and now being asked to retrieve a shirt for the near-mythical warrior who’d been passed out in the laundry shed.

After an uncharitably long period of laughter, Natalie recovered herself and turned to leave. Stopping at the door to ask another question that had been bothering her. “You said you put magic on the skull, so it wouldn’t be found. If so, then how did I find it?”

Cole looked pensive a moment before he answered. “I truthfully do not know, but I can hazard a guess. The Gods are allowed a measure of atypical influence around their Paladins, but they still must respect the Covenant and cannot breach the Gates Beyond. I believe Master Time helped you see past my spell, which admittedly would not be that difficult. Similarly, I think your cat’s strange behavior last night might also be related. Master Time prefers to use Crows, but Cats are not unheard of. I cannot say for certain why my God felt it necessary to involve you like this, but he has.”

Natalie found this information extremely disconcerting. She knew the Temple preached of how the Gods influence the world in a million minor ways every day. Answering prayers and providing protection with subtlety. But the difference between knowing something and experiencing something is like night and day. For example, Natalie knew the world is but one of countless touched and connected by the Beyond. A dimension of pure magic and creation, home to Gods, Spirits, and Strangeness beyond reckoning. Now she had experienced a taste of that cosmic domain, having nearly been crushed by the mere attention of a being from that part of existence.

Showing that disturbing knack for insight he possessed, Cole addressed the unspoken anxiety Natalie felt. “It’s natural to feel uncertain and disoriented when the truth of the Gods and their actions become clear. My own experience was dramatically different from yours, and I don’t know how much it relates, but I can tell you this. The universe is far, far larger than we mortals can comprehend, but we still have the power to change it for the better or, the worse. I take comfort in that, knowing I can help fix the universe, even in my own tiny way.”

Natalie did not say anything; those words resonated in her in a way she hadn’t expected. “To fix the world,” a grandiose notion, but one familiar to her. Iona, her Mother, had said something similar once. The words escaped her at the moment, but the idea was the same. Other words did, however, enter her mind. Words she’d heard half-whispered at her mother’s funeral. “It’s not right. Why did Iona have to die? She was so kind, for her to suffer such a fate proves the world is broken.”

Looking up at Cole, his heavily scarred face wearing a kind smile. Thinking of the terror in her Mother’s eyes before she died. Natalie felt the truth in both Cole and that unknown mourner’s words. She just didn’t know which of them was correct. The world is indeed broken, a place of monsters and horrors beyond counting. That did not mean you had to accept that status quo and could not try and better it. Natalie’s eyes glanced down toward Cole’s exposed neck, where hundreds of scars were visible. This man who seemed to exist solely to try and help others had suffered terribly. Tortured and wounded in myriad ways, and he still preached an optimistic creed. Was he the ultimate vindication of his own worldview or the ultimate refutation?

Had his attempted good deeds done anything more than earn him scars? Natalie could not say and was afraid to ask Cole for the truth. While she wanted to believe in the hope Cole espoused, Natalie could not bring herself to. She’d already seen so much terror in a young and relatively sheltered life. Both Iona and Cole tried to fix the world in their own small ways, and all they got for their efforts were death and suffering.

Finally leaving the shed, Natalie slipped back into the Silly Goat and up towards Cole’s room. It was early on Godsday, the first day of the weekend, and most people slept in. In other parts of the world, Natalie knew that people woke up before dawn on Godsday to pray and attend Temple. In Glockmire, services were held in the evening. Better to lose part of an evening than being forced out of bed on a day of supposed rest. There was supposedly complicated religious reasoning behind this practice, found in Glockmire and across the Blood Duchies. In truth, when dusk fell, and the Nobles arose, any protection the Gods might offer was needed. There were laws about how the Nobles fed, but if one truly wanted to take someone as a blood-slave or blood-servant, little could be done to stop the Vampire.

Wilhelm was not awake yet, and it was too early for customers, so retrieving the shirt was uneventful. Natalie had resisted the urge to go snooping through Cole’s belongings. The possibility of discovering something else like the skull quashed any curiosity she had. Even thinking of it and how Cole had reacted to learning, she knew of it, sent a shiver down Natalie’s spine.

Returning to the shed with the shirt and a few clean rags, Natalie found Cole engaging in a staring contest with Stockings as he cleaned his blade with a dirty rag. Acknowledging her return, Cole spoke. “Thank you, one other thing, make sure you burn anything with the Vryko-Ghoul’s blood on it. It’s mildly toxic, usually not enough to be dangerous, but it is best not to let such things fester.”

Cole finished wiping the tar-like ichor off of his axe and examined the metal. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take them. I’ll dispose of it when I release the Vryko-Ghouls.”

To that, Natalie squawked. “The Vryko-Ghouls? What do you mean? You said you destroyed them?”

Returning his axe to his belt, Cole looked at his bandages before responding. “That is the unfinished business I need to attend to before tracking down the Varcolac. I destroyed the Vryko’s bodies or at least damaged them enough to stop them. Their souls are still trapped; my injuries prevented me from properly consecrating the bodies. A failure on my part, I must admit. The quicker I can return and release those poor souls, the better. The few days they must wait while I heal are on my head.”

At that, Natalie scoffed and gestured at the shredded form of her Paladin-Patient. “Are you serious? You want to go back out there after a day or two of rest? What if you run into something else, a Feral Vampire, Bandits, or the Varcolac? You would be in no condition to fight.”

Cole shrugged off her concerns with an apologetic tone, giving her the same beatific smile she’d grown accustomed to. “Your concerns are appreciated, but I will heal quickly. Anyway, it would be three days, not two.”

“What?” asked Natalie, not understanding his point about the number of days.

With what might be the first bit of actual humor she’d seen from him, Cole raised up three fingers. “A few is three, not one or two.”

To that, Natalie gave an exasperated sigh and left the wounded knight to his rest. Natalie could not tell if Cole was overconfident, insane, or simply this used to dangerous and horrible circumstances. The latter seemed the most likely, and that was not comforting. He’d only survived his experience with the Vryko-Ghouls thanks to literal divine intervention through her and was now ready to leap back into the jaws of danger. Barnabas had said something once when she’d tried to tell him about a new tale she’d read. The crotchety old merchant had scoffed at the story of a Dragonslayer and commented. “Anyone who willingly goes into that much danger is a fool. Anyone who goes into it for no reason aside from faith or duty is worse than fools; they are mad.”

As a little girl, hearing Barnabas denigrate her beloved stories had provoked a playful if vicious argument between the two. Now having met Cole and seen what exactly is involved in a life like his. Natalie had to wonder if Barnabas was right.