by Tiger Hebert
The crowd murmured, but Renlar heeded the Vei’thalo. He got his feet under him.
No pain.
He placed all his weight upon his feet and he began to rise. “There’s no pain. There’s no pain!”
The crowd roared with excitement as Renlar reached his full height. Clapping and praises to the Light echoed throughout the courtyard. The war-angels now stood only a couple paces away from Renlar. They towered over him and the entire crowd in reverent silence, so as to not interfere with the praises.
After a long moment, the shouts died down, and the angels spoke together with a powerful but clear voice. “Renlar Alsiiv Demass, you are not worthy of the blessings of the Light.”
The damning remark of the Vei’thalo silenced any lingering sounds in the crowd. The weight of their words was palpable.
Renlar couldn’t deny it, he wouldn’t. He nodded, and his face fell downcast.
“But who is?” and voices continued. “None are, but the Light has heard your silent prayers. Prayers not for gain or strength for your own glory, but prayers for the strength to protect your world and the ones you love from the evils of the Nine.”
A murmuring swept through the crowd once more as the Wardens were stunned with the revelation.
“Renlar Alsiiv Demass, lift your eyes, there is no shame for you.”
Renlar obeyed, lifting his eyes to meet the face of the foremost Vei’thalo.
“Your compassion has been seen from on high, and it has moved the Light, for the Light is compassion. Your request was granted, your victory secured.”
Then with a crack of thunder, the angels said, “It is time to fulfill your oath.”
Surprise and even fear rippled through the crowd. Vacinne even gasped at the implications. Instinctually she jumped out in front of him protectively.
“Vacinne,” Renlar said softly, with a hand placed on the back of her right shoulder.
She turned back toward him.
He stared into her big beautiful blue eyes. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. He smiled at her.
He nodded and said, “It’s okay.”
“You can’t—”
He cut her off, “Trust me.”
The Vei’thalo nodded. “Step forward.”
Renlar looked past her, to the towering war-angels. “My oath stands.”
Renlar ignored Vacinne’s pleas, and stepped around her to stand before the foremost angel. The angel opened his mouth and blew. A shimmering breath leapt from its mouth. A gentle, but powerful gust of wind rushed toward Renlar. He opened his mouth wide and drew in the angel’s breath.
Renlar fell to his knees. Silence hung over the courtyard for a dozen heartbeats, only to be broken by his gentle sobs.
“What did you do to him?” demanded Vacinne.
The Seraphim ignored her. Their eyes remained fixed upon Renlar as a smile slowly formed upon their three pairs of lips.
Confused, she turned back toward Renlar. His weeping continued. Fresh tears streamed down his filthy cheeks and that is when she realized, he was smiling through it all. Confused she spun back and glanced back at the angels. Then, through the tears, she heard laughter behind her. She whipped her head around to see Renlar laughing, through his tears. Behind her the angels, for the first time, not in unison, joined him in the laughter.
Then it hit her. He was not crying out of pain or grief or sorrow. She didn’t understand it, but these were tears of joy.
“W...what? W...why?” she stammered.
Even while their laughter grew, four voices somehow spoke through it in perfect harmony, “How joyful is he that is pulled from the fire! The penitent ones lament not, but oh how they rejoice with laughter, and all of the Heavens with them!”
She turned in amazement as she watched the last word leave Renlar’s lips.
Their words, quite familiar ones at that, played over again in her mind. They were words she knew well, for she’d recited them in her own oaths in the temple. They were her oaths to the Light. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Things she’d spent her entire life believing, hopes she held near and dear to her heart, despite every contrary doubt, was on display before her very own eyes. The very faith she’d committed her life to was brought to bear right here on the battlefield, with her a witness to it all.
Vacinne’s heart leapt within her breast. It raced with new life and joy as she watched a man surrender his life to the Light. It wasn’t just some spiritual journey or even a religious ceremony like so many that she’d witnessed before.
No, this is different.
As she stared in awe at Renlar, she watched him laugh. Tears continued to wash his dirt-stained face. He held his upraised arms out to the heavens above.
Through laughter and the tears, Renlar’s voice boomed with new strength. “My life is yours, my God!”
This is real! Emotions crashed within her like the violent surf. And it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Vacinne crashed to her knees in reverence and wonder. Tears of joy burst forth as she realized the miracles set before her, for not one, but for the two she’d just witnessed, and the truth that the latter was far, far greater.
The three angels roared in unison one last time, “Uphold your oath.”
The Vei’thalo nodded with approval. The war-angels then turned and started to walk away. Vacinne stammered as she tried to speak. She threw her arm forward, “W...wait!”
But even as the words stumbled from her lips, the Vei’thalo vanished from the mortal realm like wind-swept wisps of vapor. The whole crowd murmured in amazement one last time.
Vacinne groaned as the heavenly warriors left their world. She sat there, still on her knees, left in awestruck wonder at everything she’d just witnessed. Everything from the Vei’thalo’s arrival to Renlar’s sudden transformation in both his power, and beyond. It was all so much to take in.
She looked up and saw Renlar standing before her. He extended his hand.
She reached out with her right hand and placed it in his. With a tug he helped pull her to her feet. She studied his face. It was still filthy from the dirt and mire of battle, the streaks where the tears had washed away at least some of the grime were clearly visible. She found her way up to his green eyes. They were still stunning, though they’d shed a few tears of their own. No words, only his charming smile met her. She lunged forward and threw her arms around him. She pulled him close and squeezed, as a mixture of tears and laughter escaped her.
Their embrace lingered for a half-dozen heartbeats before she heard someone clear their throat.
“Ahem.”
Vaccine turned to see her uncle, Vichont standing there scowling with his arms crossed.
“Uncle!” she said as she left Renlar’s embrace.
The old man pursed his lips.
Vaccinne blurted, “Uncle, can you believe all of this?”
He grunted.
She continued with excitement, “The return of the angels, the defeat of Jherenon, and—”
He cut her off, “And the Vei’thalo accepting the oath of a Hellborn...”
His sharp tone trailed off.
Vacinne’s face twisted in confusion, “Uncle Vichont, you can’t be ser—”
His biting tone cut her off like an axe, “It’s unbelievable. Some would even say that just believing what we’ve witnessed would be blasphemous. That it was just trickery, a devilish device, some illusion of the Nine to sway our beliefs.”
“Unc—”
“Crimes punishable by death...”
His threatening words hung like a noose before the condemned.
Vacinne shifted over, now standing between Renlar and her uncle.
Vichont was unfazed. “As the new Grand Master, I understand that issues like this are like a spark in a dry land. They must be addressed swiftly and with extreme prejudice, lest the ember become a wildfire that consumes those that should have contained it.”
Her stan
ce shifted and her hand slowly moved to the pommel of her sheathed blade.
“So, as Grand Master, my first order is to recognize what was done here today, as an act of...”
Vacinne wouldn’t let Renlar be condemned. If her God didn’t condemn him, neither would any man, woman, or priest. Her fingers found the grip of her runeblade and they grasped it. The blade slid from its sheath.
Vichont continued, “Divine mercy. And this day, the Light has shown us just how far away our understanding can be from the truth. In our sacred texts, it is written that the Light delights in mercy.”
Vichont turned away from Renlar and Vacinne for a moment, and shifted his gaze from the defensive walls up to the towering monolith that loomed ominously behind them. He shook his head.
“Perhaps our seats of judgement have sat so high above the reality of our world that we’ve forgotten this. Perhaps, even, that we were never even meant to judge at all.”
Vichont’s gaze dropped low to the ground for a moment, followed by silence.
He continued, “Today, my brethren, we should recognize this great act of our God’s mercy. Today we have seen the Light, draw a man unto him, not by birth right or by condemnation, but by mercy. We should remember this. We should remember this day. As the Grand Master of the Korthari Temple, the Wardens of this temple will remember this day. Not only will we remember it, but we will embrace it as our new way of life.”
The fingers of Vacinne’s sword hand relaxed. The grip of the sword fell away and the sword slid back into its sheath.
Vichont continued his declaration, “When this temple was originally founded, it was done to protect our world from the attacks of the Lords of the Nine Hells, in the name of the Light. But somewhere along the way, we lost the fact that the war with the Nine always has, and always will, begin in the hearts of men and women.”
The crowd of surviving Wardens said nothing as they listened to their commander and chief priest’s charge.
“My brethren, by the Light, we’ve won a great victory today, but,” Vichont ran his fingers through his blood-spattered beard as he looked around at the bodies of his fallen comrades, “with a heavy price. We cannot, I will not, continue to battle this way. Not just with swords and shields and our so-called Lightborn abilities. We must fight it with our very lives. We must fight the influence of evil in our word with our hearts and our words and our deeds. Do you understand? It wasn’t a sword or a demon that turned Jherenon’s heart to darkness. It was his own unchecked desire for power and revenge that corrupted him. Again I say, we must fight this war in a new way from this day forward, and fight it with the way we live our lives. Only in this way can we combat the evil, because the war starts in us.”
Not a single word could be heard from the audience.
Vichont turned back toward Renlar and Vacinne and said, “And it starts with me. Renlar Demass, I’ve wronged you. I’ve judged you when it was never my right to do so. Years ago, you wished to join the Wardens. You were wrongly denied on false claims that you were Hellborn, simply because you did not come from a family of means. I did not make that decision, but I was aware of it, and like so many others, was complicit in my silence. Furthermore, I not only overlooked this wrong, but accepted such prejudices regarding Lightborn and Hellborn. I pray that someday, you can forgive me.”
Renlar said nothing, he responded with a simple, reluctant nod. Vacinne didn’t have a response either, she simply stood there with her mouth agape as her uncle continued to address.
Vichont cleared his throat, then said, “Brethren, I understand these changes will be a departure from what some of us have grown accustomed to around here. We’ve all taken oaths that our lives are to be dedicated into the service of the Light. We’ve drifted away from that. The old Code of Conduct will be strictly enforced once more. We also renounced the practice of using labels such as Lightborn and Hellborn. It is a lie, and one that we will no longer uphold. There are many forms of magic in our world. Some are good, some are evil, but Riftborn are just that. Whether they choose to do good or evil with their gifts is up to the individual. If anyone here has objection with any of this, and is therefore unwilling to uphold their oaths, please renounce your title of Warden now, free from the fear of condemnation.”
Vichont fell silent while the crowd murmured. Sidelong glances were exchanged throughout the crowd of Wardens. Vacinne could feel the tension rise as the anxious soldiers began to stir.
The real commotion began when one red-headed young man stepped forward. Vacinne recognized him. It was Envar, one of the Wardens that had bullied her. She watched as he tugged at his belt. That is when Vacinne realized he was unfastening the buckle. He pulled the leather strap free from the clasp and pulled the belt from his waist as he emerged from the crowd.
Vichont stared Envar down as he took a few steps forward, where he threw down this belt with sheathed sword.
Her heart sank with disappointment.
“This isn’t what I signed up for,” Envar asserted.
Unrest swelled within the crowd.
“Deserter,” and “Coward,” were shouted from somewhere in the crowd to which Vichont simply raised a calming hand.
Two more males from the young man’s entourage followed in his footsteps. Dedric and Kiar stepped forward and tossed their belts down. Several other men of different ages and ranks stepped forward too, each surrendering their blades.
One of the more senior Wardens, a man with a graying beard that Vacinne guessed was in his forties, stepped forward sheepishly.
Where was all the confidence befitting a Warden, she wondered.
He couldn’t even make eye contact with Vichont or the men and women that were once his peers. Struggling to speak, he said, “T...things just won’t be the same, they can’t be.”
With disappointment and sadness in his eyes, Vichont simply nodded his head in quiet acceptance as the seventh man abandoned his oath. He said nothing for a long moment as he waited for others to step forward, but none came.
He cleared his throat once more. “I trust that everyone that remains is committed to their oaths. If that is settled, then it is time we get to work.”
20
Clarity
Renlar walked the rampart with Vacinne and Vichont LeDroux at his side. Wardens worked busily all across the temple grounds in the cleaning efforts that came in the aftermath of every battle. The wounded were tended, spoils collected, and the bodies were sorted. All the demon’s corpses, or at least what was left of them, were dragged outside the temple walls where the bonfires were already burning. The sulphurous smell of their burning would be awful, but if they were left to fester, they would spread disease.
The bodies of the slain Wardens would be gathered and they too would be burned, but in right fashion with a proper funeral pyre for all of the fallen. Theirs would be a memorial.
The spoils of war were of course the weapons and armors left behind by the fallen. As the bodies were sorted, they would be stripped of the things that still offered value. To many people it seemed like a crude task, but the cold hard truth was that, to the living, those blades still had value, and war was never cheap.
The fallen were left clothed, but anything with metal was stripped away. If the item was still functional it would be cleaned and placed back into the temple’s armory. If it was damaged, the metals would be cleaned, then brought to the forge where it would either be reforged or melted down and sold off.
Renlar stood atop the perimeter walls next to Vichont. He scanned the beehive of somber activity below. Vichont shook his head as he fought to maintain his composure.
“By all that is holy, why did it have to come to this?”
“It didn’t,” replied Vacinne.
Vichont said, “So many lives have been lost today. This day, so many families have lost sons and daughters, sisters and brothers.”
Renlar said, “It could have been worse. We should be thankful that the threat in High Crown was eliminated before a
similar invasion could take place.”
Vichont replied, “Indeed. It saddens me to know that Marcellus was taken by the darkness too.”
Renlar nodded.
“My agents tried to bring him in but...”
“I’m guessing he didn’t surrender,” answered Renlar.
Vichont shook his head and sighed with heaviness. “So many lives thrown away...”
The silence hung for a moment.
Vacinne reached over and grasped him by the arm, “Uncle, hell rifts were prepared to be opened in the three largest civilized cities in Northeastern Durghast. The stages were set for the largest full-scale demonic invasion of our lifetime. The fact that so few have died is... well, incredible.”
Renlar watched Vichont look into his niece’s eyes. The lines of sorrow were etched into his face.
“Vacinne, you’re absolutely right. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve stopped the Nine Lords from invading our realm. You’ve given us a second chance, a chance to wake up, and to remain vigilant. Heavens, you’ve even somehow managed to get the Vei’thalo to return!”
“Uncle, I didn’t do it,” she said as she turned and smiled at Renlar, “We did.”
Renlar lowered his eyes at her remark.
Vichont sighed, “Oh, how wrong I’ve been.”
“Uncle,” she asked with confusion.
He replied, “I’m just an old fool.”
Renlar looked up to Vichont, and extended his hand. Vichont LeDroux looked at him, then stretched forth his hand.
Renlar grasped his hand and said, “All is forgiven, Grand Master.”
For the first time the lines of pain and sorrow on his face found a reprieve and were replaced with the hint of a smile. “You know, Renlar, it appears that we have a few openings in the temple, and I could really use someone I can trust. You wanted to be a Warden once. What do you say?”
Renlar flashed his brilliant smile. Then he turned back to Vacinne and said, “Thank you, Grand Master, but I think we’ve got other plans.”
Vacinne met his smile with excitement.
“Oh, is that right?”
Vacinne eagerly nodded with an ever-growing smile.