// Trying out a new structure and style. To anyone following along so far, please let me know in a PM what you think. Better or worse?
Molding a light - part 5
---The road had been a long one, filled with unexpected stops to provide aid to fellow travellers on the road, including a two day investigation of the death of one of the stablehands at a local tavern roughly four days ride from Waterdeep. The murderer, it turned out, was a drunk self-proclaimed knight whom had struck down the young man in a drunken stupor when he had advised against riding while drunk. The man had been identified when his was the only horse missing from the stables. William, along with one of the local hunters in the area, had tracked the man to a nearby town where they caught up with him and were able to subdue him.
---His fate, William later learned, had been to pay repairs to the innkeeper and the young man's family, as well as banishment from the local community when his two months in the garrison's jail had been served.
---William, the paladin of Lathander that he was, had offered the man redemption for his sins. The man had accepted and listened to William's words quite eagerly for the better part of three hours. When the man's habit of unhealthy drinking had been called into question, with a requirement that the habit be abandonded, the man had yelled at William, telling him to bugger off and not meddle in the affairs of others.
---All that had happened when William was travelling to Everlund. Fortunately the rest of the trip had been rather uneventful. The meeting with the scribe had gone well, and they had set out for the return trip just after midday the following day. The only event worth mentioning at all had been when the carriage had struck against a rock on one side, while simultaneously sinking into a hole on the opposite side, causing the entire thing to lurch to one side, throwing one of the handlers off his seat. He had managed to land on his feet rather than his head, which saved his life, but it had cost him a sprained ankle. It had been three days before the man could comfortably assist his fellow handler with driving the carriage, which meant that progress had been slow for those days.
---With all the interruptions on the road, three tendays had passed before William once again returned to the Spires of the Morning temple in Waterdeep. The scribe had been provided accomodations at the temple, and arrangements had been made to have him meet with Tolan on the following day.
---Tolan, loving his father as much as any other boy, perhaps even more, had, as Camille had predicted, not been happy about William's departure. Often the question of when his father would return, had been raised, several times each day in fact. However, when William returned that evening, all of Tolan's misgivings and sometimes sulking mood had disappeared like morning dew before the sun. His father had returned, and that was all that mattered to him.
* * * * *
---The scribe leaned forward and took another look at Tolan's eyes, his ears, his angular facial features. This was the fourth time in the past half hour that the scribe had taken a closer look at Tolan. Halfway through the afternoon Tolan had been brought to the temple by his father and introduced to the scribe. With both William and the High Priest accompanying them, Tolan and the scribe had moved to small meeting room where they could speak unhindered and unobserved by the masses coming and going in the temple.
---Tolan had initially been a little afraid of the scrutinizing eyes that the scribe had laid upon him, but when the man had presented him with a sheet of paper and a thin block of charcoal with which to write or draw, Tolan had relaxed some and begun drawing scenes from the stories his father had told of his missions for the temple, as well as inspirational tales based upon heroes and champions of light that were now long gone. He no longer seemed to mind when the scribe stared at him, too absorbed in his drawings.
---"Tolan, look at me," the scribe's words made Tolan's attention shift to the man sitting opposite him at the table, "these words that you speak, do you know what they are, where they come from?"
Tolan glanced to his father, standing with the High Priest near the only door in our out of the room. When William nodded, Tolan looked back to the scribe and shrugged lightly.
---"I do not know. But they are fun to say and it feels good to speak them." Tolan replied. There was a brief moment of silence before Tolan tentatively continued, a sudden pang of worry in his eyes as if he had done something wrong. "Are they bad?"
The scribe shook his head lightly, trying to calm the young boy before his livid imagination made his work more difficult than it needed to be.
---"No, they are not bad. Why do you think that?"
---"They are easier to say when I am upset."
---"Can you say them at all when you are not upset?"
Tolan slowly nodded.
---"What should I say?"
---"Anything you like, Tolan."
The room fell silent then, as if everyone were waiting for Tolan to use the strange language that he for some inexplicable reason was able to speak despite having received no training in it at all. Just when it seemed that the scribe would have to encourage the boy to say something, Tolan spoke a few words in the strange language.
---"Faciunt vobis om oi?"
---"Quae i faciunt. Vobis sunt doiyel bona at oi," the scribe answered.
So surprised was Tolan that another could not only understand him, but also answer in the same strange language, that he nearly fell from his chair as he rocked back in surprise. The scribe, however, was quick to grab Tolan's hand, pulling him back before the chair, and he with it, toppled to the ground.
---Over by the wall, both William and the High Priest sucked in a surprised breath, fearful that Tolan would get hurt when he hit the ground. William had even pushed himself away from the wall, already taken two steps towards the table when the scribe caught Tolan.
The initial surprise over, Tolan looked over to his father and smiled.
---"I am fine, father."
William began to speak, but was cut short by the scribe as he further questioned Tolan.
---"Would you like to speak with me using these words of yours?"
---Tolan looked to the scribe and nodded. "Yes, I would."
---The scribe and Tolan then went on to speak to eachother in the strange language that only they seemed to know. Both seemed in a good mood, Tolan especially, finally able to speak with someone in a language that he had come to love ever since first discovering his first words. At first it seemed like Tolan had to struggle to form some of the words, but gradually, as the minutes passed by, his confidence grew and his words came much quicker.
---Nearly two hours passed this way before the scribe decided that he had heard all he needed to hear, and seen all he needed to see.
---"I think we are done here for now. You are quite capable, young man."
Tolan grinned from ear to ear.
---"Continue practicing on your own and you will find that the words come naturally to you."
---"I will!"
The scribe then turned to William and the High Priest.
---"I am in need of some rest. Will either of you show me to chambers?"
---"You will not share what you have learned?" William asked, cearly hoping that the scribe would.
---"Once I am rested, we will speak, Sir William."
William nodded to this and gestured to the door.
---"Very well, I will see you to your chambers then."
Together the four of them left the small meeting room, with William first escoring the scribe to the chambers provided for him, and shortly after returning to take Tolan home.
* * * * *
---Later that day, as the sun begins to set over the horizon and both Tolan and Miran have been put to bed, William and Camille made their way to the Spires of the Morning temple. William had told Camille of how Tolan seemed to interact so naturally with the scribe as they spoke in that strange language. Tolan had always been a little too energetic in his ways, but while speaking with the scribe, he had seemed so calm and well-mannered, as if the language itself commanded a sense of calm upon those who spoke it.
---As they arrive at the temple they are greeted by the High Priest and ushered into the same meeting room that had been used for the scribe's talk with Tolan. After exchanging pleasantries and seating themselves at the table, side by side, opposite the scribe, with the High Priest at the end of the table, William asks a question that had been on his mind since earlier in the day.
---"What was it Tolan said to you?", William asks the scribe, "And what did you answer?"
---"He was very sensible with the use of the language," the scribe answers, "he asked me if I understood what he said, to which I replied that I did, and that his decision on what to initially say was a good one."
---"What else did you speak of?"
---"We spoke on how it was that I could understand and answer him. As our talk continued and his ability to master the language developed, we moved on to speak about the drawing he had begun."
---"Why about the drawing?"
---"Because it gave me the opportunity to hear him speak one of your stories from previous missions with his own words, Sir William."
---"My stories?", William asked, surprised that Tolan had chosen to draw something from one of the his stories.
---"Yes. He went to considerably lengths to explain everything in detail. Whenever he would stumble and not know the word, I would ask him to describe in detail, and then offer him the appropriate word in return."
---"I see."
---"What can you tell us about our son and this language he speaks?", Camille suddenly interjected.
The scribe looked to the High Priest, who gave a slight dip of his head, giving his permission.
---"Tell them. They need to know this."
Although she did well to hide it, Camille inwardly frowned at the thought of others determining what she could and could not be told about her boy.
---"Please, tell us," Camille implored the scribe, her tone neutral, not revealing her inner-most thoughts.
---The scribe coughed and shifted slightly on his chair, getting himself comfortable before speaking on what he had learned from his talk with Tolan.
---"Your son is Aasimar, a human child with a celestial grandparent somewhere in his bloodline."
Neither William nor Camille showed any sign of surprise at this, having already been told such by the High Priest some years ago.
---"But I suspect that is not news to you."
Both William and Camille nodded in unison.
---"His command of the celestial language comes natural to him, as it does most who share a similar bloodline. Given his choice of words and how he put them together, I would say that there is a very distinct possibility his celestial blood comes from a solar."
---"What makes you say this?" Camille asked. William must have been about to ask the same question, Camille noted, for he closed his mouth just as she spoke.
---"Even the celestials have dialects, lady Camille. They all share a similar ancestry and speak the same language, but how the pronounce certain words and what words they use in favor of others, vary from race to race."
---"I see. Are you certain though? Solars are quite powerful angels, are they not?", Camille asked and looked to the High Priest, "High Priest?"
---"They are indeed, lady Camille," the High Priest answered.
---"Tolan's blue eyes, a brilliant topaz color, are also indicative of a solar somewhere in his bloodline," the scribe went on to explain.
---"So our son is part solar, speaking the language of the celestials?", William asked to make sure he had understood everything correctly.
---"That is correct, Sir William."
---"Anything else that we should know?"
---"Aasimar are often prone to turning away from the path of good due to fear and ridicule from others who do not understand their nature. You will need to guide and shelter him as he continues to grow. Something I am told that you are already doing."
---"We have been told as much, though not why.", William said before looking to the High Priest.
---"I did not wish to give you further cause for concern, Sir William.", the High Priest explained.
William nodded once, accepting the explanation and hidden apology. Beside him, Camille swallowed down her dismay of once again having others dictate what she could and could not know about her son. William must have sensed it, for she suddenly felt his hand on top of hers under the table. With an effort, she calmed herself and put on a smile for the scribe.
---"Thank you for telling us."
---An hour later the meeting drew to a close and William and Camille left the temple to head home. In a few days time another paladin of the temple would escort the scribe back to Everlund. William had offered to do it, but the High Priest had declined the offer, stating instead that William's time was better spent guiding Tolan and taking care of his family. There would be a time for William to journey out into the world on behalf of the temple again soon, but for the coming months, his place was with his family as both husband and mentor.
---Over the next many months, William, aided by Camille, continued to guide and train not only Tolan, but also his elder brother, Miran. As the months turned to years, Miran, and later Tolan as well, joined the temple ranks as junior acolytes along with several other children. Upon his thirteenth summer, Miran entered into service at the temple as an acolyte squiring under the tutelate of one of the knights of the temple. Tolan on the other hand, also upon reaching his thirteenth summer, would study as an aide to one of the priests of the temple.
---Throughout all the days that came and went, two things never changed: Tolan's love for his family, especially his father; and William and Camille's vigilance in sheltering him from not only the judgemental eyes of others, but also from the true nature of the strange language he came to master, and the physical traits that set him aside from the other children.
* * * * *
---Meanwhile, in a tunnel complex carved into the hillside by magic and hidden from view in a remote area some forty miles east of Waterdeep, Dhalia, the High Priestess of Bhaal that William had defeated only months after Tolan had been born, seethed with rage at her underlings.
---"You fools! Defeated again by that impudent paladin and the rest of his despicable Lathandarite friends!"
She lashed out with a hand at one of the men covering before her wrath. Dhalia accepted only one price for failure, and each and everyone of them knew what it was. A black shimmer formed around the unfortunate man.
---He tried to scream, but it was too late, his lungs already filling with blood as the powerful spell eviscerated him from the inside out. The others could only look on in utmost terror as their comrade, their friend through the past two years, was torn open like an overcooked tomato ripping from inside pressure. A thin coating of blood rained down upon the remaining men as their friend collapsed into a heap of broken bones and torn flesh beside them.
---"Let that serve as a lesson to the rest of you. I expect better results the next time I tell you do do something. Is that understood!?"
The covering men knew better than to speak any word at all, merely bowing their head low, nearly prostating themselves before Dhalia.
---"You may go. You all have duties to attend," Dhalia commanded them in a light voice that showed no trace of the wrath she had unleashed just a moment before, "and take that mess with you."
---With a wave of her hand, she dismissed the group, letting them drag their eviscerated friend from the room that served as both audience chamber and throne room for Dhalia, their High Priestess, their queen.
---From somewhere behind Dhalia's throne, a man stepped out of the shadows and calmly walked up to stand at her side. He was dressed in a robe as black as night, the laces a blood red that made it appear as if blood was trickling down his body as they swayed to his steps.
---"If you continue to eviscerate our ranks when they fail in their service, we will not have enough left to retrieve what was stolen from us during the raid," the man offered in a low tone as he came up beside Dhalia.
---"Is that a complaint, dearest?", Dhalia asked, her soft velvet voice containing just a hint of annoyance, yet it was all too obvious to the man that he was threading on dangerous ground. He carried more favor than most with Dhalia, even so far as being her consort, yet he fully understood that not even he was above her wrath if he mispleased her in some way.
---"No, dearest, merely an observation."
---Dhalia seemed to think on his words for a few moments before she nodded slightly, "I shall attempt to restrain myself in the future."
---"But I grow weary at our lack of progress. It have been too long and neither of us are getting any younger. If my vision is to come to pass, we need progress."
---"Yes, dearest." the man dipped his head respectfully and began to move towards the archway connecting the room with the tunnels beyond.
---"I did not say you could leave yet," Dhalia spoke behind him.
Halting in his tracks, the man turned around and offered a bow to Dhalia, awaiting her words.
---"You would do well to remember, dearest, that that which was taken, was taken from me, not us," she scolded him.
---"Yes of course, Dhalia." the man bowed low again, accepting her reprimand.
---"Now, go make yourself useful and devise a plan to further our goals." Dhalia waved her hand to inform him that their talk was over and she wished to be alone.
Turning for the archway again, the man huriedly left the room, sinister ideas already forming in his mind. The trick, he knew, was to lure the paladin out of Waterdeep and to a place where they could ambush him. But how to achieve that without inviting all the knights of the Spires of the Morning temple out with him, that was the true task.
---As he rounded a corner and came within sight of door to his private laboratories, a malicious smirk formed on his lips as an idea began to form.
---"Be wary, William Faeglin, paladin of Lathander. Be wary."