I already knew the quick answer to that question, of course, (I'm nothing if not a thorough background builder) but this gave me a chance to dive into the bare bones I'd established (over a year ago now! Eep!), and I ended up pounding out nearly 3500 words in one day. And now I share with (/impose upon) you, with the brief explanation that Severan is nine years old when this goes down.
***
The day had been stiflingly hot, and although the medics had pulled the tent walls up to let in any breezes that might decide to grace the camp, none had obliged- so Severan had spent her hours there feeling closely akin to a quail egg buried in the fire pit. A busy quail egg, at that- the medics had kept her hopping, fetching and carrying water for drinking, washing, and sponging. The sun was setting now, bringing with it some measure of relief, and Severan was looking forward to sponging down her own limbs. She wondered, briefly, what her naturally bright-crimson skin would look like sunburned. She thought back on some of the painful patches she’d seen today, on the necks and forearms of young mercs who “Didn’t have the good sense Tyr gave a turnip,” the medics said, and how those young men and women has winced even as the burn cream was applied. Severan shook her head: she could live without knowing what reddened red looked like.
She was cutting between two of the supply tents when she heard the scuffle; nasty laughter and what sounded like blows.
“Please! Please stop!” The voice was small, high-pitched, and terrified. Severan immediately halted, trying to place a direction.
“Leave me alo-!” There. She had it. Severan ran towards the noise, bursting out from between the supply tents, dodging down another cloth-alleyway, and finally emerging to find a pack of children her own age. She recognized them: merc kids, like her, but mostly from the Ashen Gnolls, the company her own company, the Sunning Drakes, had joined up with a fortnight ago.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. A few of them turned and flinched, and she held herself tall: she knew what she looked like.
“None of your business, demon,” the biggest one said. She knew his name was Darriz. He had not flinched at her appearance, but she noticed he took a step back. She took one forward.
“Doesn't look like nothing to me,” she said, although the truth was she couldn’t actually see what they were doing: it was blocked by their bodies. She remembered the terrified voice, tho’- and she couldn't hear it now. Something rose up in her chest, and she took another step forward, fists balled.
“Move aside,” she growled.
“Make us, freak!” one of the other children said, this one a girl named Sorga. There was a subtle emphasis on the word us, and in that moment the others seemed to remember that they outnumbered the young tiefling. By a lot. Severan realized it, too- but she didn’t stop. The children spread out, and she saw what they’d been gathered around: a halfling child, curled up and bleeding in the dirt, a noose around its neck. Severan’s vision went red, and without thinking, she stooped down and picked up a stick.
Later she would be confused by that- she hadn’t done it consciously- hadn’t seen the stick and thought to pick it up. But she’d known she needed a weapon- and so she’d reached for one. And one had been there.
It was a good stick, and it evened the odds considerably, especially in Severan’s hands. Her father had started training her with a practice sword some months ago, and her body was well-drilled on what to do. She struck out, again and again, driving the other children away, snarling and cursing at them. Only three actually tried to fight her- the others fled almost immediately- but those three didn’t last long.
“You’ll be sorry!” Darriz yelled as he limped off, holding one arm his arm to his chest awkwardly, blood trickling from a cut under his eye where Severan had managed to land a punch. “You- you hellspawn bitch!”
“Better hellspawn than a- an evil bully!” Severan shrieked. “Don’t come back, or I’ll thrash you again! All of you!”
But they were gone. Severan, shaking, and suddenly aware she hadn’t come away entirely unscathed, either, pushed all of that aside and turned to examine the little halfling child. She couldn’t tell how old it- he, she corrected herself, seeing the cut of his pants- how old he was, but surely not older than Severan herself. He was fatter than a merc child would be, but so small- he could never have defended himself against even one of the bullies, let alone the pack of them. The rage flared up again, but she pushed that aside, too, and bent to gently loosen the braided cloth from around his neck. He flinched as he did so, and she realized he wasn’t unconscious, after all.
“Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s okay.” The halfling opened his eyes- a luminous shade of hazel-green that put Severan in mind of a warm forest pond- and gasped, scuttling backwards in spite of his injuries. Severan felt a pang.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said, trying to ignore the stinging of her eyes, trying to make herself look non-threatening, wishing her horns hadn’t finally emerged from her hair this last year. It wasn’t fair. “I know- I know what I… what I look like, but-”
The halfling was staring at her, a look of stark terror on his face, chest heaving with too-fast breaths. Severan felt her own face crumple, in spite of her best efforts to keep it calm.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” she pleaded. “But you... you need help. And… I’m the one who’s here.”
The halfling began crying, and Severan wanted to disappear into the earth. But then-
“You saved me,” he said. “You- you chased off those… those…” his words were lost to sobs, and Severan couldn’t help it- she reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.
“They’re bad people. And they’ll be punished, I’ll see to it But right now I want to take you to the medic tent, so I can clean up your cuts and maybe put something on that bruise on your neck. What’s your name?” The halfling boy hiccupped, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“My name is Brannon. But,” he gave her a shy smile, “My friends call me Cubby.”
“My name is Perseverance,” Severan said, “But my friends call me Severan.”
“Are we friends?”
“I think so, Cubby.”
“I think so, too.”
***
As soon as the medics saw Cubby, they gently- but firmly- put Severan to one side and tended to him themselves. They narrated what they were doing, so that Severan would know how to handle it in the future, but they said she needed to tend to her own wounds- and so she did.
Once the two of them were properly bandaged and salved, they were made to tell the story of what happened. Severan started to report as her father had taught her: short and simple, leaving out any details that weren’t pertinent, but Cubby, apparently over the worst of his fright, all but fell over himself to interject his much more colorful version. He had just gotten to Severan “wading in with nothing but a tiny stick, barely more than a twig!” when Eurig arrived, summoned by some eldritch fatherly instincts. He listened to the rest of Cubby’s story, a troubled look on his face.
“What did you say your name was, young man?”
Cubby squirmed under the older man’s gaze. “Um, Brannon. Brannon Thistledown, sir.” Eurig nodded thoughtfully.
“Ah. Well, Severan,” he squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “You’ve done quite well. But I think perhaps I’d best return young master Thistledown to his family’s wagon, while you get yourself to the mess tent, and then bed.”
“But father-”
“But nothing. You can see Master Thistledown in the morning, if he’s feeling up to it.”
“Yes!” Cubby’s face brightened considerably. “Oh Severan, do come by for first breakfast! My mother makes the most wonderful apple fritters- you’ll love them!”
“We’ll see what your parents say,” Eurig interjected gently. “And I’ll report back to Severan any invitations they issue.”
“Oh, of course they’ll want her to come,” Cubby said blithely. “They love company for meals.”
“We’ll see,” said Eurig again, and that was that.
***
The Thistledowns did invite Severan for breakfast, and if there was a bit of a tightness around their eyes, they treated Severan with such affection and courtesy that she felt certain it had nothing to do with her. They didn’t even glance at her tail- not once!- and they fed her more than she thought possible to eat. Cubby chattered the whole time, pointing out gleefully how much his bruises had faded, and how the cuts weren’t even going to leave scars.
“Which is too bad,” he whispered to Severan around a mouthful of bacon, “Because scars are so terribly impressive and exciting.” Severan grinned at him.
“Don’t worry, you’re bound to get some sooner or later, traveling with merc companies.”
Ellan Thistledown dropped another fritter on Severan’s plate with such force that Severan jumped. Ellan smiled apologetically.
“Actually, my dear, our caravan is going to be parting ways with your company until- well, for a while.”
“Oh,” Severan said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. The merc companies loved it when merchants traveled with them: it was extremely profitable for both groups, and usually lasted for several weeks, at least. But who would want to travel with a merc company that came close to killing their child?
“Don’t worry, Severan!” Cubby piped up. “I’ll send you letters, and Mom promised that we’ll travel again with you one of these days!”
“Oh,” Severan said again, trying to hide her confusion. “I’ll- I’ll like getting letters from you. How will I send letters back to you?”
“Just send them along with any merchant or peddler you come across,” Ellan said with a smile. “Our family is... not unknown, to those who travel the roads of this world.”
***
The Thistledowns- and the rest of the caravan- pulled out later that day, and Severan was desperately sorry to see them go. She’d known Cubby less than a full day, but she already felt like he was the best friend she’d ever had, and she felt it was terribly unfair that she was being separated from him because other people had to be so hateful.
Then again, she thought as she picked her way carefully through a nearby boulder field, if those other children hadn’t done what they’d done, would she even have met Cubby? Severan wasn’t sure. But if that was the case, better that she’d never met him at all than for him to have gone through what he went through.
Severan was lost in these thoughts, arms full of moss scrapings for the medics, when something rammed into her back, sending her sprawling forward in the dirt. She scraped her chin on a rock, and felt strangely betrayed by its presence.
“Hello hellspawn bitch,” giggled a voice. “Not so tough without your stick, are you?” Severan looked up to see Darriz, arm strapped tightly to his chest, standing next to an even bigger boy- nearly a man- who bore an unmistakable resemblance to him.
“You broke my brother’s arm, little bitch,” said the larger boy as she struggled to her feet. “And then you ran your mouth and got our family cut out of the company. So I think I’ll break your jaw, to make us even.”
Severan felt sick to her stomach- the boy was twice her size, and wearing gloves she recognized as having metal sewn into the knuckles. He could easily kill her. And there were no sticks here.
“I’m not scared of you,” she said, and wished her voice hadn’t broken as she said it. The boys just laughed.
“You should be,” said the older one, and lunged for her.
Severan dodged him, trying to get her back to a boulder so that Darriz couldn’t sneak up behind her. She dodged his second swing, and his third- but the fourth one managed to connect with left side of her face, exploding the world into white hot pain, robbing her of her vision. She fell to her knees, crying, knowing she was going to die-
And then there was a strange thk noise, and someone was screaming, and something heavy fell on top of Severan, but she couldn’t fight it off, couldn’t do anything but drown in the pain of her face, her face, her broken face... A second thk followed, and Severan’s world went from white to black.
***
A calm voice gradually floated up into Severan’s consciousness. “...one blames you, of course. Any of us would have done the same- maybe not even have been so merciful with the younger one. The family is crying for blood-”
“I’ll give them blood,” a second voice snarled, and Severan realized, in a detached sort of way, it was her father.
“-but the company had already terminated their contract over the Thistledown incident, so they have no one to back them, and none of them is good enough to challenge you to combat. Still, they may attempt an assassination, so we’ll stay on the alert for that.”
“I hope they try to employ Nix, I surely do.” Eurig’s laugh was bitter, and Severan realized she must be dreaming. Her father hadn’t spoken her mother’s name since she’d left them, more than a year ago.
“I doubt they have the funds for that,” the first voice said dryly, and Severan suddenly recognized it as the Commander.
“Eurig, Lady, can you perhaps have this conversation elsewhere?” a third voice floated in, one that reminded Severan of the smell of rubbing alcohol and sun-bleached cotton. “I promise I’ll…”
Black again.
***
“My face hurts,” Severan said. Or, rather, tried to say. It came out as a mumble, the side of her mouth having been packed full of something soft. She opened her eyes to see one of the medics leaning over her, face illuminated by a pink magelight.
“I’d be willing to bet my last silver piece that you’re complaining about your face,” the young man said with a sympathetic smile. “Let’s get that moss out of your mouth so you can properly express yourself, and maybe drink some water, and then I’ll go fetch your father, eh? He only just stepped away to get something to eat.”
Slowly, gently, the medic plucked the moss out, and gave her a little cup of cool water. Severan swallowed carefully, trying not to gag on the blood taste.
“Tk ooo,” she whispered, then grimaced at the pain- then grimaced again at the pain the grimace caused.
“Sorry about that, dearheart,” said the medic. “It’s going to hurt for a long while, I think. He managed to split you open pretty good. Now sit tight, and I’ll get your father and some more willow bark.”
After he’d left, Severan reached up to touch the left side of her face as delicately as possible, trying to assess the damage. It was terrifically swollen, and she could feel row after row of neat stitches, radiating across her cheekbone from her ear to her nose, up to her temple, back across her jaw, and down almost to the corner of her mouth.
“Hello my love,” her father’s hand covered hers, gently, and she turned her eyes up to him. He smiled down at her. “You’re going to have one hell of a scar there, my Perseverance. That little shit hurt you pretty badly.”
“Dn’t... brk... m’jw…. tho,” she muttered.
His brow furrowed. “Didn’t… didn’t what?”
“Jw. Nuh brkun.”
“Your… jaw? He… didn’t break your jaw?”
Severan nodded, and Eurig threw his head back and laughed.
“I’m sure you’ll explain the relevance later, my love, but no- he didn’t break your jaw! He broke your face open, but he didn’t break your jaw, or your spirit.”
“Hpn’d… tim?”
“What happened to him? Well I killed him, of course,” Eurig’s voice was casual. “Put an arrow through the base of his skull from a hundred yards. Perhaps the finest shot I’ve ever taken in my life.”
Severan’s eyes filled. So that had been the thk, the weight.
“I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” Eurig said, and moved his hand up to the uninjured side of her face. “Please forgive me for not protecting you.”
Severan turned her face into her father’s hand to cry.
***
The medics wouldn’t let Severan look at her face until they took the stitches out, several weeks later. And even then it wasn’t that they let her look at her face, it was that Severan got up out of bed in the middle of the night and went hunting for a shaving mirror. Her father, who kept his beard full as a nod to his human heritage, didn’t have one. But she knew there would be one somewhere in the camp, left hanging and forgotten on a tree limb.
Sure enough, she found one near the showers, and she used the eerie brightness of the full moon to examine her new visage. Her scar spread across most of the left side of her face, a paler, almost silvery pink against the crimson. It was… huge. But it also wasn’t quite as ugly as she’d been afraid it would be. Her features didn’t appear to have been twisted by it, at least.
“Look familiar?” Severan almost dropped the mirror when her father appeared out of the darkness between tents.
“Of course it looks familiar,” she said tartly, trying to cover her racing heart. “It’s still my face.” Eurig chuckled.
“That it is- but that’s not what I meant. Look closely at the shape of your scar.”
Severan turned back to the mirror. “It’s a star!” she said suddenly. Eurig smiled.
“Not just a star, my love- a tailed star.”
“Like your pendant,” she said turning to face him again, and he nodded. He stepped closer, and reached into his shirt to pull it out. The silver pendant hung against his brown shirt, one point stretched out further than the others, shimmering mysteriously in the moonlight. The same point that stretched out and down Severan’s face to her mouth. Eurig tapped the pendant softly.
“You’ve been marked, Perseverance.”
“I can see that, father,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. Like she wasn’t monstrous enough to begin with. But Eurig shook his head.
“Not by the boy. By Sh’lan. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it’s the only thing I can think of.”
“What do you mean- the only thing you can think of?”
“The only reason I didn’t get there soon enough to… prevent it. Because Sh’lan had already chosen you, and wanted to mark you as her own. So she brought me soon enough to save your life, but not so soon that you wouldn’t bear her mark for life.”
Severan reached out a hand and touched the pendant.
“Sh’lan… chose me?”
“For your valour in protecting the halfling child. In facing off against those who were persecuting someone who couldn’t protect themselves, you proved that you have the heart and spirit of a paladin, the willingness to act as both sword and shield for those who cannot bear arms. Sh’lan honors you as her true follower.”
Severan shook her head at this. “But… but… I thought the gods rewarded those who pleased them? This… I’m sorry, father, but this doesn’t feel like a reward.”
Eurig touched her new scar gently. “I know, my love. And that’s fair. Because when you serve Sh’lan, if you choose to do so, it will not be for rewards. There will be no rewards, or if there are they will be rare, and usually only so that you can better serve her purpose. If you choose not just to worship Sh’lan, as I do, but to truly serve her, as a paladin, it will be be because you choose to serve as a force of light in a world of darkness. Because you choose to be the gift, rather than the recipient.”
Severan dropped the pendant and looked at her hands. “That sounds… hard. And lonely.”
“It will be hard, yes” Eurig grabbed her hands in his own, and squeezed. “But not necessarily lonely. And Sh’lan believes you have the strength to do it, or she would not have marked you.”
Severan mulled this over. She wanted to be strong. Not so she could hurt people, but so that people would not be hurt when she was around. She wanted to make a world where people like Cubby never had to feel afraid walking alone. If Sh’lan would help her do that, she would serve Sh’lan for the rest of her life, and gladly.
“What do I have to do?” she asked in a tiny voice. “To serve Sh’lan? Do I have to go to a temple and be trained?”
Eurig gathered her to his chest and kissed her between her horns. “No, my love. You don’t have to go anywhere. We can continue to train you as a warrior, and in the meantime you can serve Sh’lan anywhere, at any time. All you must do is listen carefully- she’ll speak to your heart, through signs and portents, and you’ll know what she wants you to do. Fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. Protect the innocent. Be the light in the darkness, a ray of hope for the oppressed. Stand ready to act as her sword and shield on earth, and soon enough she’ll put you to work.”
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