The Kaladin Chronicles

Epilogue: A Call to Duty

Kaladin's eyes snapped open.

He knew there was no light, yet he could see. Acting more on instinct than concious thought, he moved forward, towards the tomb before him. The sarcophagus was made of dwarven stone, still sealed after centuries. Upon the lid lay the perfectly preserved body of... someone.

The memory eluded him, and he shook it off. The corpse on the sarcophagus held in its hands a staff that glowed of magic. Kaladin gazed at the corpse's face for a moment, searching for a name. None came to mind.

He asked of the darkness through which he could see, "Where am I?"

There was no answer.

"Why am I here?"

Something... Something about the corpse, about the sarcophagus, and about the room, called to Kaladin's attention. He couldn't remember. It was nipping at the back of his mind like a wolf. But he couldn't remember.

* * *

Astus pulled on the reins of his horse, and the huge charger pulled up, impatiently stomping at the ground. The paladin dismounted, holding tightly to the reins, and examined the ground around them.

The paladin was not the stirring image of the hero that King Korrox, or other more well known figures cut. He was short, balding, and rather old; his beard, though well-braided and clean, was completely gray with age. He was in well enough shape from years of swords and armor, and his experiences were written in the lines upon his face. When he spoke, it was after careful deliberation. "He was here."

His companion remained seated upon her tan-colored mare. She was a third of Astus' age, but already the lines of weathering and concentration were setting into her face. Her sharp eyes missed nothing through the long brown bangs that continually fell before them. Her short hair and chain mail caused many to mistake her for a man at first glance, but her lack of endowment or feminine grace never daunted her. Astus's grand-daughter, Sebrina, asked, "How can you tell?"

Astus looked over the mound of rubble and stone again. The building had once been a large tower with several wings, but all that remained was the barn and the stables. Over the edge of the nearby cliff, he could hear the surf of the Deep Wash against the shore. The wind laughed through the trees, and the setting sun cast a golden light upon growing grass.

The older paladin said, "The grass was burnt, and hard. There," and he pointed to a druidic knot lain upon a stone in the midst of the meadow. "The druid's charms helped the grass to grow back, and quickly. But look there, around that one piece of debris."

Where Astus pointed, Sebrina looked. The large stone had tumbled loose from the tower when it fell. It lay apart from the rest of the debris, and the grass near it appeared sickly and brown.

Sebrina dismounted with the impatience and spring of youth, and quickly led her horse over to the stone. She looked closely at the stone, as her grandfather moved through the grass, leading his own mount.

He asked, "Do you see it, Sebrina?"

The young woman pursed her lips, enjoying the challenge, but frustrated by her impatience. "No."

Astus chuckled, and kneeled, pointing at something in the grass with his free gauntlet. Where he pointed, a black raven's feather lay, but the feather was old, worn, and distorted in a way that piqued Sebrina's interest.

The younger paladin frowned. "A raven's feather? It's a powerful omen, but I see nothing else..."

"It's fletching. From a black-shafted arrow."

"Shades don't use arrows, grandfather."

He smiled, the evening sunlight making his eyes sparkle. "No, they don't. But I think this shade used them, when he was alive."

Sebrina nodded. "It makes sense. Only a creature as dark as that, that would use raven's feathers for fletching, would become a shade."

She stood up, and looked around with a fresh perspective. "He's visiting the places in death, that he visited in life."

Astus nodded, still kneeling. "Perhaps. This was the Magician's Academy. They could have summoned him, and he escaped, somehow."

Sebrina shook her head. "No. You're right, grandfather. He was here. Perhaps we was with the dark dwarves that attacked Dhulnarim?"

The older paladin stood up, and patted his impatient mount. "I think so. Perhaps a necromancer, or merely an archer. I've seen other clues, like this one. The grass refuses to grow where he's been, but I often find black ink."

She blinked, her brown eyes wide. "Black ink? Like blood?"

Astus shrugged. "Perhaps. I brought it to Rath, and he-"

"Who's Wrath?"

"Rath is Dhulnarim's apothecary. He studied the sample I brought to him, and said it was ink. In particular, a rather expensive ink only available to scribes of the highest calibre -- and mages."

Sebrina nodded, raising one eyebrow beneath her bangs. "I'm intrigued, grandfather. This is much better than just reading about our work."

Astus smiled sadly, and shook his head, causing his braids to swish back and forth. "This part of the hunt, I enjoy. But when you find your quarry, be it a left-over, animated skeleton, or a death knight, you must put your excitement behind you. Your emotions will betray you, to such as these. They feed off of your fears, and grow the stronger for your surprise."

The younger paladin rolled her eyes. "Oh, grandfather. That skeleton just took me by surprise, is all. A wight or some other buggedy monster isn't going to scare me."

He looked at his grand daughter with a great sadness in his eyes. "We'll see, Brina. We'll see." He glanced around one last time, and mounted his horse.

She asked, "Where to, now?"

"Now, we find the druid that lay these knots down, and see if he can't help us find this shade that's been terrorizing the area."

He pulled his reins hard to one side, making the horse turn in a tight circle. A gentle pressure from his knees sent the big charger forward, towards the trail that led out of the woods, and to the road to the south.

Sebrina asked, "Where do we look for this druid?"

"The War Hall of Order. There's a priestess there of the Red Knight. The local priests of the Red Knight are hungry for knowledge -- anything and everything, no matter how obscure. They might know where the druid is, or have a way to contact him."

The younger paladin pulled her bangs to one side, where they stayed for a few moments. "Then what are we waiting for?" She kicked her mount, and rose up in the saddle to veritably fly past her grandfather at a dead gallop.

Astus said, "Oh, hells," and urged his faithful charger to follow. He muttered to himself, "Kids."

* * *

Astus said, "Oh, hells."

He held his torch higher, hoping that its feeble light would push back the darkness. Near him, his grand daughter's cheeks were grimy from where she had absently brushed at her hair with a soot-stained glove.

Before them lay a beam that crossed the darkness, far below. The beam was large, perhaps two feet across, but it was also very small. Its venerable wood held up to the centuries, as they wandered through the ancient ruins of Bridgestone Keep.

"Grandfather. I feel him."

Astus nodded. "As do I. He's getting away from us. Hurry."

Leading the way, the paladin stepped onto the beam, and quickly walked across. His chain mail clinked against his leg greaves and his scabbard as he hurried across. Behind him, Sebrina followed, her own torch held up against the darkness.

Finally across, Astus let out a sigh of relief, and helped his grand daughter off of the beam. Together, they moved down the hallway after the undead shade.

Held in his other hand was neither a sword nor a shield, but his holy symbol. Astus knew the shade would fear the righteous wrath of a god, especially Astus'. Deep in his heart, he knew that the chase would end that night, one way or another.

Sebrina's breath came easier to her, in her youth. She had breath enough to exclaim, "Oh, grandfather! This is what it's all about, isn't it? The hunt! The chase!"

The elder paladin shook his head, and muttered, "Kids," loud enough for his grand daughter to hear. Otherwise, he had little breath left to her, as they ran along, chasing their quarry through the ancient castle.

Their month old search was coming to a climax, and Astus felt the excitement in himself that Sebrina showed, though he kept it hidden with a smile. Even after all the years of battling the vile creatures of the dark, chasing even a minor shade gave him a thrill.

Tired of running, the shade had stopped, and was waiting for them.

Astus and Sebrina ran into the room, but the older paladin ground to a halt, holding one arm out to catch his grand daughter, and keep her back. Though the power that flowed in the family flowed strongly in her, she would be no match on her own for the shade. But Astus was powerful enough to put down hundreds of shades, and his confidence shown to the undead monster.

He handed his torch to Sebrina, and drew his sword, Daycore. Calling upon the magic lain in the blade ages past, one sky-blue rune after another began to glow, rising up the blade to the point. The light began to outshine the torches, and the shade drew back into the shadows -- and still it refused to run.

"A courageous one, this is," Astus remarked. "He stands and fights, even when faced with Daycore's might."

Sebrina held both torches high, the pendant of her faith dangling from between the fingers of one hand. "Give it to him, then, grandfather!"

"I shall!" Astus lunged forward, Daycore leaving a trail of blue in his retinas as he stabbed at the shadows.

The shade easily moved to one side, avoiding the blow, and used the flickering shadows cast by the torches and Daycore to slide out of Astus' reach.

"Blimey!" The old paladin moved more cautiously, realizing his prey was no ordinary shade. "He moves like a sneak-thief, not a warrior, as we suspected. Even more dangerous."

Sebrina moved back a bit, and asked, "Do we use his name, now?"

Astus shook his head, adrenaline moving his arms like those of a youth many years younger. "No, not yet."

He crouched warily on the balls of his feet, Daycore's blue light piercing the shadows.

Two red eyes appeared from the heart of a shadow, and lunged forward. Astus brought Daycore up and out to stab at the heart of the onrushing shadow, but it had been a ruse. The shade flowed around the debris on the floor, into the very shadow of Astus that Daycore cast.

Sebrina screamed, "Behind you!"

The paladin yanked back on his lunge, flipping the blade down and along his forearm, striking backwards at the shade he was just whirling to see.

Electric arcs of blue slathered the room in shifting rays of light as Daycore struck true, impaling the shade deep in its chest. Lit from within, the shade seemed as insubstantial as an illusion.

Sebrina yelled, "Yes!"

Astus pulled the blade from the shade's core, and brought it back for a massive overhand swing. The blue light from the blade went behind his head, casting a massive shadow before Astus. In that one heartbeat, he realized his mistake.

The shadow that fell over the shade from Daycore and Astus gave the illusion strength. It struck with all the fury and pain Daycore had given it.

The younger paladin froze, both torches held high, and whispered, "No."

Astus of Kalparim fell over backwards, his chest and neck and face covered in frost and frozen blood. He fell as a tree, landing with a crash that sent Daycore skidding away from him. He lay there, unmoving, as the dim blue glow from Daycore faded to nothing.

The room was cast back into shadows of oranges and reds from the torches, and two blood-red pools that were the eyes of the shade turned towards Sebrina.

She whispered, "Grandfather?"

She shade's eyes never left her, and it grew stronger in the darkness beneath the keep.

Anger tinged her thoughts and her mind, driving all conscious thought away. She rushed at the shade swinging both torches, and screamed, "You murderer!"

The shade dodged to one side, and the other, as she futily swung the torches. She reared back, and threw one of them at the shade. The torch whirled end over end, and struck the shade. And then passed through it, the cold of the undead monster extinguishing the torch instantly. The extinguished torch clattered against something in the darkness, before rolling to a stop.

Astus whispered, "Brina...?" in the voice of an old, old man.

She moved quickly to her grandfather's side, the torch -- and her holy pendant -- held high in the direction of the shade.

"Brina, listen to me. You must..." He paused, gasping, as a wave of pain rolled over him. "You must use Daycore!"

She wailed quitetly, "Grandfather!"

"Use... Daycore," he whispered. His eyes locked on to hers, and then clouded over. He slowly became limp, lying back down upon the dirty, filthy floor of the castle.

Sebrina's lips turned into a sneer, as she turned her tear-stained gaze upon the shade.

She cast the torch about, looking for the sword, but could not see it in the debris scattered about the room. Moving cautiously, she edged in the direction she thought it lay, keeping the torch and her holy pendant towards the shade.

The shade stood there, collecting shadows about itself, a pool of darkness within the black night of the void. Its eyes watched her carefully, and it stared at its hands, as though seeing them for the first time.

Her foot found Daycore, and she slid the toe of her boot under the hilt.

The shade turned towards her, its red eyes full of hurt and anger.

They stared at one another for a moment, before Sebrina whispered, "I call upon your might, Morning Lord. I call upon you, Lathandar!"

The shade startled, and moved to rush past the young paladin deeper into the halls of the keep.

Sebrina expertly kicked the blade up into her waiting hand, and swung at the shade.

The undead monster vaulted over the blade as its runes flared to blue life in Sebrina's hands.

The young paladin continued the momentum of the blade, spinning around, causing the torch light to flutter in protest of the wind. She rounded on the shade, catching it from behind, and knocking it against the wall.

"And now," she said, ready to deliver the killing blow. "You go to hell, Kallus."

The shade's red eyes closed to slits. Daycore struck forward in a killing blow, and the shade caught it in both hands.

Sebrina gasped, pushing forward with all her strength, but the shade's hands held the blade, crackling with electric blue energy.

The young paladin quickly leapt back, pulling the blade with her. Daycore felt heavy in her hand, the tip striking the floor with a sparkle of blue light.

She said, "I, am a paladin of Lathandar. Grand daughter of Astus of Kalparim!"

The shadows spoke from all around her, from before her, and behind her. "Kaladin."

Sebrina's voice grew in power, as she latched onto her grandfather's teachings. "I am Sebrina, grand daughter of Astus of Kalparim, paladin of the Morning Lord Lathandar." She threw the torch aside, holding Daycore aloft for light. In her other hand, she held the symbol of Lathandar high, so that the shade could see it.

She knew she had nowhere near her grandfather's power, but she had the power to make the shade flee from the castle, and she called for it. "Begone, Kallus! Begone from this keep forever more! The tomb of Tugren Brightshield is forever sealed to you, in His Holy Name!"

The shade fled, sliding into the shadow realm with the power of Lathandar soon on its dark heels.

Sebrina sank to her knees, exhausted physically and emotionally. Beside her, the torch guttered, and died.

The soft blue radiance of Daycore barely illuminated her grandfather's soft white braids.

Grasping Daycore's blade, she whispered, "I swear, grandfather. I swear upon your body, and by all that Lathandar holds holy, that I will destroy this shade."

Her blood slid down the length of the blade, to begin pooling at its point on the stone floor. She slid her hand down its length until she felt the sharp blade begin to slice through her tendons. "I will destroy this shade, grandfather."

The tears and the mud bound her bangs to her cheek, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, brushing blood across her face. She leaned forward, putting one foot solidly in the pool of her blood, and grasped her grandfather's shoulder. With a gasp, she propped him up, and then stepped beneath him, shouldering his bulk.

Grim determination slid across her face as she hefted her grandfather's body, and moved forward, her grandfather's sword lighting her way to the surface, and to the light.

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