© Antidarius 2020
***Author's note: Hi everyone, for those of you new to this story, this is the third volume of The Paladin Saga. You might find it a bit confusing to start from here as it's been a long journey thus far, so if you want to enjoy the story in its proper order, please read: A Paladin's Training and then A Paladin's Journey before beginning War. Please enjoy and vote/leave a comment if you are so inclined. Thank you.***
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A PALADIN'S WAR
CHAPTER 1
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1.1: To Catch a Thief
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The famous Sarreshi markets were alive with bustle and noise as Sara deftly wound her way through the crowds. She was careful to keep her cowl pulled well forward, even in the heat of the midday sun. Street after stone-paved street was lined with shops and stalls, the proprietors crying their goods to the countless droves that passed. Everywhere she looked, gold glinted and silver shone, whether it be on display in a smith's shop, or on the neck or fingers of a finely dressed woman or man.
Fashions from every corner of the land covered bodies as varied; short and tall, stout and slender, dark and fair, all milled together with one of two goals in mind: spending gold or making gold. Women in full-length form-fitting dresses so sheer you could see right through them walked alongside men who wore the same material in loose, flowing pants and shirts in shades of pale blue or green or yellow, or a combination of colours. Those last would be from Beringarde, or at least had adopted the fashions of the city. Beneath their transparent clothing they often had one or both nipples pierced with either ring or bolt, depending on their preference, women and men alike.
Where the Beringardians wore sheer yet all-covering fashions, the Rendari favoured the reverse; opaque garments that covered as little as possible. Well, those that had the bodies for it did. Sara saw women wearing tight halters that slung round the neck and covered the breasts but left the midriff bare, and pants that looked as if someone had taken a tight pair of breeches and cut them off at the upper thigh, leaving the legs bare entirely, and in some cases a portion of their bottom. She made mental notes of these designs; they would be fun to try on sometime, if she could find them or make them. Perhaps Rayna could help her with that. A flutter of excitement tickled her belly when she thought of showing them to Aran one day.
Hopefully one day soon, Aran, she told herself as she stepped aside to let a broad-shouldered man through. Bare to the waist but for a yellow sash across his chest, he carried a wide-bladed curved sword at his hip as if he knew how to use it. Hard eyes passed over Sara, but she kept her face down. It was best to stay clear of the Sarreshi Peacekeepers. They had a reputation for suspicious natures, and for swift and brutal violence with little provocation. She did not worry about looking guilty; a woman hiding her face in this city would excite no comment, for many who came here did not wish to be seen.
Beside the Beringardians and the Rendari were the more conservative preferences of the Maralonians, wearing wide-skirted dresses in dark colours that only sometimes showed a hint of bosom above a neckline, and deep bonnets that covered their faces. The men wore sharp jackets with pointed tails in the back that hung over their trousers, and crisp leather shoes of polished black that glinted in the sunlight. Tall, circular hats graced their heads, and they often carried walking canes, though few appeared to need them.
Of all the different cultures in the crowds, the ones least seen were those from the Dawnguard cities of the north. The part of the world most tightly under Herald control. The few men from there that were here today were all clean-shaven and they wore heavy robes of white or colours so pale they might as well be. The women on the other hand wore the same in darker colours, and even covered their faces with thick veils so that only their eyes showed. Sara wondered if the Heralds knew what would happen if they continued to suppress their peoples' desires and expressions for much longer. Wars had been fought over less. Revolution was more likely by the year.
She suppressed a grimace as the crowd parted slightly to give her a view of a nearby stall behind which three women stood. One Human, one Elf - Eryn'elda, by the look of her - and one Dwarf, all collared and naked, their collars linked by thick chain to a stout post nearby. There was no question as to what was being sold at this stall. Men stood around, all shouting and waving coin purses at the proprietor, a short, fat man with greedy eyes that glinted as the bids went higher.
Fighting the urge to help the poor women, Sara made herself move on, though she couldn't help hating herself for it. There were bigger things happening than the lives of three slaves could account for, may she be damned for it. If I can, she told herself silently. I'll come back for you. How she would fulfil that promise was beyond her, but she made it anyway.
It was when she passed a narrow side-street much like any other that she stopped dead. She had just sensed a vala! Someone bumped into her from behind and uttered an angry curse. Murmuring an apology, she stepped aside, pressing herself against the front of a shop displaying bolts of silk. The rotund woman inside eyed her sharply and crossed arms under a bosom far too large for the bodice of the clinging dress she wore.
Sara mumbled something she hoped sounded friendly as she absently fingered the silks, waiting for that vala to show itself again. Had she not been so focused, she would not have felt the very lightest of brushes against her coin purse, tied to her belt beneath her cloak. In a flash, she seized the thief's wrist and spun, bringing her face-to-face with a boy. Dark eyes wide, he seemed shocked that she'd caught him. Their eyes met in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, and Sara felt her lips curving in a smile. Not a boy, she realised suddenly. A young man about her own age. Good-looking, with a strong jaw and bold cheekbones and deep brown eyes that she had no doubt many young girls had fallen for. Dressed in fine flowing silks in the Beringardian fashion, he appeared well-to-do, probably because he was such a successful pickpocket.
Neither he nor she spoke a word for long moments. He opened his mouth to say something, but commotion in the street drew his eyes that way. "Out of the way!" Gruff voices shouted, and Sara saw two Peacekeepers shoving their way roughly through the crowd, headed in their direction.
The handsome thief pulled at Sara's grip, but she held him easily, even with her vala almost fully suppressed. His eyes widened further when he felt her strength. "You have to let me go!" He hissed. Sara shot a glance at the street; the Peacekeepers were getting closer. In a few seconds, she and her new friend would be in clear sight. Thinking quickly, she spun and made for the nearest side-street, dragging the light-fingered arohim with her. He had no choice but to follow. That, or be dragged.
What to do? She thought frantically. I can't leave him here, but I can't take him with me. She didn't know exactly how she knew, but somehow, she was certain that if she brought company along on this journey, everything would end in disaster. Pushing through the crowed as quickly as she dared, she broke into a less crowded, narrower street and from there turned again as soon as she saw the nearest alleyway. A woman dragging a man along by the wrist got them a few odd looks as well as some suggestive comments, but she ignored them. The alleyway was an access lane that ran behind a long row of shops and was largely empty save for stacks of crates and wooden boxes and piles of refuse. Sara pushed the arohim-thief up against a brick wall where they would be hidden from the sight of anyone passing by the alley. She pinned him there, pressing his arms back against the wall.
"Do you know what you are?" She asked him as she pressed herself close. She needed to stay out of sight, too. He was taller than she thought, and she could feel his fit body beneath his thin clothing.
"I am a man, last time I checked," he said wryly, his firm lips curving in a smile that slipped as he pushed against her, trying to free himself. "How are you doing that?"
Letting one of his arms go, she caught his chin between her fingers and held him fast. "You need to stop fooling around," she growled. "You are in danger."
His brow drew down into a frown. "Because you won't let me go!" His words were muffled from her grip on his jaw. "If they catch me, they'll cut my hands off!"
"Then you should have chosen a different occupation," Sara said. "I'll ask you again, and this time don't play the goat! Do you know what you are?"
He met her hard stare for a few moments, then finally dropped his act. "No. It started a couple of years ago. It was getting me into trouble until I learned to hide it. Are you like me, too? Is that how you're so strong?"
Sara watched him for a few moments, thinking about what to do with him. The shouts from the street were getting louder; it sounded like more Peacekeepers had joined the search. She nodded as she released his chin. "I am like you. What is your name?"
"Mikel," he replied, then smiled again. Sara felt a flutter from her vala as Mikel used his limited control to try and charm her. She was sure it had worked on countless women and girls; even a crude control of the vala could do that, but she brushed aside his attempt and countered with her own, careful not to use too much. Mikel gasped as he felt her power wash over him. Eyes losing focus, he sagged as his legs went to jelly, forcing her to hold him upright. "You are like me!" He muttered as he shook his head to clear it, then smiled down at her. It was a different smile, this time. Less arrogant and more genuine, and perhaps a little sad. "I thought I was alone," he said softly. He brushed her cheek, and Sara felt her heart skip a beat. He was very handsome, and her vala yearned to entwine with his, singing a counter rhythm to his quieter, but persistent song.
"You are not," she told him firmly. "Not anymore." Finally knowing what she needed to do, she kissed him. It was the same as with Ayla; the long tunnel, the apparently infinite emptiness surrounding a single, small spark. It happened faster this time. Mikel was further along than Ayla, and he was most definitely not a virgin. He was stronger, too. Much stronger. Sara got a shock when she found the boundaries of his ability. He had as much potential as she herself did.
By the time she broke the kiss, Mikel's vala was like the sun compared to the single candle flame it had been moments ago. Breaking the kiss, she pulled back a little. His face was a mask of rapture; eyes shining, tanned cheeks flushed, mouth agape. She seized his face in her hands gently but firmly. "Mikel, you need to go," she told him. "You need to be as far from people as you can get."
