The First Paladin (The New Earth Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  The New Earth Chronicles

  The First Paladin

  by

  J. J. Thompson

  Text Copyright © 2017 J. J. Thompson

  All Rights Reserved

  For the dreamers. Your visions shape our future.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Notes

  Chapter 1

  The late spring day was warm and a breeze, heavy with the scent of flowers, delighted the senses. Even after weeks of hard travel, the caravan of refugees felt their hearts lift as that joyful smell danced past them. It added to the happiness they felt as they crested a hill and finally saw their destination.

  “Is that the castle, lady?”

  A boy of about ten looked up at the armored figure that stood and stared at the distant edifice.

  “Yes Steven,” she replied quietly. “That is Nottinghill. We are almost there.”

  The child laughed excitedly and clapped his hands.

  “Yay! It looks amazing! I didn't think that we'd ever make it.”

  The woman smiled down at the boy.

  “And how many times have I told you to have faith, lad? The gods are watching over us. Come now, your mother is waving at you. Hurry along.”

  “Yes, lady paladin.”

  Steven raced off, running past others in the group to join his parents. He accepted a small pack from his father and swung it over his narrow shoulders as the man ruffled his hair and the family kept walking forward along with the rest of the refugees.

  Liliana Travnikov, once a native of Moscow and middle-aged mother, now the chosen paladin of unnamed gods, watched him affectionately for a moment before allowing her eyes to drift along the length of the caravan.

  Thirty people had begun the journey from the southern coast of England two weeks earlier. Liliana had felt an urge to travel to their location and had found the group camped out near the sea, low on food and desperate for aid. To reach the shore, the people had boarded a cramped old fishing trawler in a frantic attempt to escape the goblin hordes that were slowly taking over all of what had once been western Europe, hoping to make it across the English Channel and start a new life in Britain.

  Brave and foolish in equal measure, the paladin thought as she watched over her charges. It is any wonder that the gods wanted me to take care of them and see them home? If she had truly been sent by the lords of Light, that is. She did not know for sure.

  It had been over a decade since the world had been invaded by the dark old gods and their minions, the dragons. Humanity had been all but wiped out back then, and the few people who had survived had been Changed into something new. Magic permeating the atmosphere had warped and altered the remnants of humankind to allow them to survive on the New Earth.

  Some had found themselves able to control these magical energies and had been reborn as mages, wizards, seers and witches. Others, like the ragtag refugees that Liliana was caring for, were simply altered versions of themselves. They had become younger, stronger, and were now able to live in an atmosphere thick with magic.

  And some, a very few, had been chosen by the lords of Light to serve as humanity's champions against the rising Darkness. Liliana was one of those; the first paladin to exist since ancient times.

  “My lady, are you well?”

  Liliana blinked several times, gathered her thoughts and then smiled at the man who had stopped to speak with her.

  Harold Wagner, the leader of the refugees, was trailing along behind the others, watching over them as he had since the beginning. A head waiter, once upon a time, Harold had Changed into a strapping young man almost as tall as the paladin herself.

  He had gathered his compatriots together as he'd traveled westward from Berlin, picking up survivors in small camps and destroyed towns along the way, until they had reached the coast with a goblin army nipping at their heels.

  It had been Harold who had suggested hurriedly repairing an old boat and attempting the dangerous crossing over the channel. The others had followed his lead. Not that they had had much of a choice. It was either flee across the water or face a horrific death at the hands of the goblins.

  The man was, like the other refugees, wearing a simple tunic and leather pants and was armed with a crude iron sword. He was muscular, with long black hair and a tidy beard. His eyes were pale green.

  “Yes, my friend, quite well,” Liliana replied.

  She turned and began walking with Harold, both of them watching the group ahead.

  “You've done well by them,” the paladin continued with a nod at the caravan. “To make it all the way to England from Germany on foot? Impressive.”

  Harold chuckled and ducked his head.

  “Thank you, lady, but it was hardly that,” he demurred. “Desperation makes us all brave, don't you think? Is it heroic if you survive because you have to, rather than because you choose to? I think not.”

  Liliana glanced at him with raised eyebrows.

  “I disagree,” she stated firmly. “In such situations, many people would simply have given up and accepted their fate. You did not. You were determined to make a new life, not only for yourself, but for a group of strangers to whom you owed nothing. That sword of yours has tasted the blood of more than one goblin, not to mention monsters and wild animals. These people are alive today because of you, my friend, and that is the simple truth.”

  Harold's face flushed a little but he met her eyes calmly.

  “I owed them nothing? Lady paladin, they are human beings, as am I. How many of us are left in the world? Hundreds? A few thousand? We cannot afford to ignore each other's plight any longer. This isn't like the old days when it was every man for himself. We rise or fall together in this savage world and that is the simple truth. But I thank you for your kind words.”

  Liliana smiled at the courtesy. The one telltale sign that a person had been Changed from someone older into a younger version of themselves was the way that they spoke and acted, and Harold sounded much more mature than he looked physically.

  So do I, she thought ruefully.

  She had been a fairly content mother, and grandmother, when the dragons had returned and ripped that all away from her. Her family, her friends, her entire life had been destroyed in a tide of fire and blood. How had she survived when so many had not? Liliana had asked herself that question many times in the years since the old Earth fell.

  Why me, she thought yet again. Why was I chosen to live? And how many others had asked themselves that very same question?

  The night that Moscow had been leveled by the dragons, Liliana had watched from the lawn of her little house in the suburbs of the city. She and her neighbors were frozen in shock and disbelief for a time as they saw wave after wave of enormous winged creatures descend upon the city, vomiting streams of dragon fire that consumed everything. And then they had run.

  Living on the outskirts of the city had saved my life, she thought soberly as she and Harold walked along at the end of the line. When the drakes had come sniffing th
rough the neighborhood the following morning, looking for prey, she was already miles away.

  She remembered the hungry cries of the drakes as packs of the monsters had searched for survivors. There were so many of the horrible creatures that they could be heard for miles around, terrorizing those fleeing the city. When the hunting packs had caught up to her, Liliana had huddled in terror inside of a small shrine on a hill, waiting for the monsters to find and kill her. But they had not.

  Instead she had lain there silently and listened as distant screams and shrieks of agony marked where the drakes had discovered helpless survivors. How many had they killed and consumed as they ravaged across the land? Tens of thousands, at least. Or more. The number of hunting packs seemed endless and they spread out in all directions. It was literally a time of hell on Earth.

  The sweet old Liliana, the patient, somewhat submissive woman she had once been, had died back then. What had been left was someone consumed by rage and aching for revenge. And then she began to be physically altered as well. Unlike so many others, she hadn't begun the Change before the dragons had attacked. Instead, her metamorphosis happened afterwords as she fled the carnage.

  Her body ached, and stabbing pains shot through her muscles and along her bones as she was transformed. Her skin tightened and smoothed, she became leaner and more muscular. Her clothes ceased to fit her as her body increased in weight and height. In short, she was reborn.

  Liliana didn't know what was happening. She suffered in silence, constantly moving to avoid the hunting packs. The pain was so intense that she sometimes forgot about everything else, even the loss of her family. All she knew was torment, for an uncounted number of days.

  And then one morning, when she awoke from a thin, restless sleep inside of an old abandoned house, the pain was gone. Her agony was past. She was completely Changed.

  Her body almost glowed with health. Ripples of muscles that she had never had before moved beneath her skin. Her hair was long and thick, healthy and strong again instead of dry and brittle. She was a new person.

  Is it a gift, she had wondered at the time. A gift from some divine agency? Perhaps. How else to explain it?

  “A penny for your thoughts, lady.”

  Liliana looked at Harold, who was smiling at her, and chuckled.

  “They are not worth even that much, my friend,” she told him. “Just memories that I haven't delved into for a long time.”

  “Ah, memories,” he replied with a knowing nod. “Yes, we all struggle with those on occasion, do we not?”

  “I suppose so. And we will all have many more, I suppose.”

  She raised her hands, calloused and strong, and laughed to herself.

  “It has been ten years or more since the dragons destroyed most of us,” she said quietly. “And apparently I haven't aged a day.”

  She gave Harold a quick glance.

  “None of us have. Only the children born to us since then have aged, and I suppose that once they reach maturity, they too will remain young for an extended period of time.”

  “Was that not one of the results of our Change, lady?” Harold asked as he looked down at himself. “The old man I once was would not have known this person that I became. I do not begrudge the trade-off; frankly I was a rather skinny, weak old fellow once upon a time. But I still wonder why. Was it the old gods of Light who did this? Or was it simply a result of the magic that returned to the world?”

  Liliana looked ahead at the castle. It was a thing out of a fairy tale and yet it was also a normal sight now. A fortified refuge was necessary to protect people from the creatures that roamed the wilds. How would her old self have reacted to it?

  “I can't say,” she finally replied to the patiently waiting man. “If the few divine visitations that I have received over the years are to be believed, then yes, the lords of Light forced some of their power through the barrier between this world and the Void to save at least a remnant of humanity.”

  Harold absently stepped around a large stone that protruded from the dirt path that the group was following. He frowned in thought.

  “But you are a paladin, lady,” he said. “Surely you trust in the gods and what they tell you?”

  Liliana barked a laugh, loud enough that several people at the end of the line looked back over their shoulders at her curiously.

  “I trust no one,” she told Harold harshly. “Before my dear friend, the wizard Simon, disappeared from this world, we both felt that the gods of Order were well on their way to defeating the dark lords of Chaos. That was five years ago. And now look at us.”

  She waved at the line of refugees.

  “Where once the mages of Nottinghill would have been able to Gate you and your charges from the coast directly to the castle, now you have to walk for days through dangerous territory to reach it. Their powers have faded to the point where they cannot even light a candle. Nottinghill is now being run by warriors, not mages, and I believe that it is the poorer for it. And as for those of us who once were empowered by the lords of Light...”

  She nodded at Harold's left arm and the stained bandage that was wrapped around his bicep.

  “There was a time when I could have healed that slash that you got from a tree branch in seconds. But now I've had to learn how to apply first aid techniques to care for wounds. I can set bones and stitch up cuts if needed, but the threat of infection always looms. My powers are gone. So much for the strength of the gods.”

  Harold frowned at her scornful tone.

  “Lady, it is not my place to criticize,” he replied diffidently. “But your gods are still out there, somewhere. Their power exists still.”

  She looked at him quizzically.

  “And what makes you say that?”

  “You found us,” he answered with a shrug. “Like some figure out of a old story, you came over that hill near the coast where we had set up camp, dressed in your shining armor and carrying a sword and a shield, and told us about Nottinghill. You offered us hope and a refuge after our mad dash across Europe.”

  He took a quick look at the castle and smiled.

  “Whoever is in charge in there is of no concern to us,” he added. “As long as we are offered shelter and given a chance to live in safety and, in turn, contribute to the rest of the community, that is all we seek. Now tell me, was it just an accident that you found a little group of lost souls huddled on the coast? England may be small but it is still a rather large place to stumble across survivors just like that, is it not?”

  Liliana gave him a rueful look.

  “Perhaps so. It was just a feeling, you know, that I should head south and scout out the coastline. I am a free agent, no matter what the ruling counsel of Nottinghill likes to think. I take orders from no one.”

  Her expression darkened as they ascended the last long slope toward the castle.

  “And some of them have learned that lesson rather forcefully,” she added sourly.

  Harold remained silent and then moved forward to encourage the stragglers to keep up, leaving the paladin alone with her thoughts.

  What had happened in the war between the forces of Light and Shadow, she wondered for what seemed like the millionth time. Was Harold right? Had she been guided, somewhat gently, toward his group? Possibly. But if that was the extent of the gods' power, humanity was in deep trouble.

  A short time later, the group approached the massive front gates of the castle and Liliana moved to the front of the line. When they were within hailing distance, she stopped and raised her hand to signal for the others to do the same. And then they waited.

  Harold moved ahead to join her and he looked up at the battlements looming over them.

  “What is wrong, lady?” he asked nervously. “Surely whoever is on watch recognizes you?”

  Liliana smiled wryly.

  “I'm not the most popular person with some of the guardsmen in the castle,” she told him. “They don't seem to like my independence, or my lack of decorum. If we are k
ept waiting, it is probably some petty gesture by the watch. Don't worry though; they are desperately in need of more people to increase the castle's population. An especially virulent type of influenza struck Nottinghill last year and unfortunately killed off about a third of its people, including most of the magic-users for some unknown reason.”

  She shook her head as she watched the gate.

  “Several friends of mine were among them,” she added bleakly. “This place isn't really the same now without them.”

  A narrow door to the left of the main gate opened with a loud squeal of hinges and a man stepped out into the light. Several people behind Liliana gasped as they saw the size of him. He was almost seven feet tall and wearing dark gray armor.

  His head was bare and his dark skin and long braided hair were intimidating, at least to some of the refugees. Liliana, though, smiled widely.

  “Malcolm!” she exclaimed. “By the gods, I thought that you were still away.”

  The warrior grinned back and removed one mailed glove. He shook the paladin's hand warmly as he looked past her at the waiting group.

  “Happily I'm not,” he replied in a smooth baritone voice. “Aiden and I got back a few days ago. If I'd known how badly things were going to go while we were off in Scotland looking for survivors, I never would have left.”

  His smile faded as he looked at Liliana.

  “Do you have any idea how long Lincoln was scheming, preparing to take charge? We've only been away for five or six weeks, since early spring. Surely the place should have been able to run smoothly for such a brief period of time, don't you think?”

  Liliana shrugged.

  “Lincoln? I have no idea. I left on my own patrol not long after you did. I don't even know who this Lincoln person is.”

  Malcolm looked at the listening refugees and lowered his voice.

  “It doesn't really matter. Who he is now is the newest resident of the castle's prison cells, along with several collaborators. A few others are in the infirmary. Aiden and I were rather, um, forceful when we learned that they had attempted a coup. But we can discuss it later. Let's get your friends inside, shall we?”